It had been a month since Draco had accidentally told Astoria that he loved her. Surprisingly, she hadn't run screaming from the room but had told him that she loved him too. This was a shock to Draco but he decided that he would be more than happy to live with it.
Life had been treating the pair well, Draco sometimes wondered if he was dreaming. Astoria went out with friends and occasionally wrote a freelance piece for the Daily Prophet. Draco got an interview for an internship at Gringotts and, much to his surprise, he got the position. At first even the goblins had treated him callously, the wizards and witches being far less subtle about their dislike for him. But as days passed, they figured out that the Malfoy heir might not be such a bad sort anymore. He would get back to their apartment and start cooking dinner. On rare occasions he found Astoria cooking, much to his delight. Their lives fell into a cadence, slow and sweet.
One night mid-March, Draco arrived home later than usual. The day had been long and stressful and filled with paperwork. To his bitter disappointment Astoria was not in the kitchen, in fact there was no sign of dinner anywhere. Since it was later than usual he had half-hoped that she would have started it. Draco himself felt too exhausted to start the meal himself. "Astoria?" He called, wondering where she could be. She emerged from the study, hair piled haphazardly on top of her head. Looking at her ink covered hands; Draco could tell that she had been writing. "What, Draco?" she asked, sounding annoyed at being interrupted. Her tone of voice sparked something in Draco that had been building all day. "What do you mean 'what'? Where is dinner?" he asked, his tone of voice sounding awfully like the one he had used during his days at Hogwarts. Astoria frowned and put her hands on her hips. A tiny part in the back of Draco's mind was sounding alarm bells but the warning was ignored.
"You tell me, Draco, I've been working all day," she said, stalking closer to him. She had been trying to write a piece for the Daily Prophet all day but, to her frustration, had found that she had developed writer's block. Draco loosened his necktie, looking down his nose at Astoria, "so have I, at my real job," he quipped. At his words, Astoria drew herself up to her full height; with all the pureblood superiority that she could muster she spat back, "at least my job pays me."
This comment stung Draco because he was rather proud of himself for bothering to get a job in the first place. Sure the internship hadn't turned into a job yet and sure, he wasn't getting paid yet but at least it was a step. "I don't need the money," he sneered down at Astoria. By this point, Astoria's temper, which was slow to ignite, had flared up. "Well at least I don't rely on my family's money," she retorted, straying into dangerous territory.
Both Draco and Astoria had been raised in two prominent pureblood families. Whatever disagreements that pureblooded witches and wizards had with each other it was generally understood that one thing was above insult. That was family. An insult to a pureblood's family was far from a few mean words. It was the first step on the warpath. Centuries ago, a slur on a pureblood family would have ignited a feud between those two families, usually ending in multiple deaths. It was unforgiveable and considered to be stooping incredibly low. The Greengrasses were relatively new to pureblood society, having only being considered upper class for the past two hundred years. The Malfoy family, however, had kept themselves in the upper pinnacles of society for seven hundred years. They had hoarded gold, stolen power, risen to unimaginable heights, much like the dragon constellation for which Draco was named. To insult a Malfoy usually meant that you had a death wish or that you were really, really, stupid. Astoria was just angry.
Draco squared his jaw, "My family isn't low-class at least," he said through gritted teeth. Astoria's eyes snapped to his face, Draco could see white hot fury in her eyes. "I'd rather be low-class than a Malfoy," Astoria said in a low voice. Her words seared through Draco in a pain that was not unlike the feeling he had felt when he had been given the Dark Mark. It was made worse because Draco had skipped lunch to go look at engagement rings. Astoria's words reminded him of his family's dark history and his own role in it.
Astoria watched Draco's grey eyes darken like dangerous storm clouds. She knew she had crossed the line and instantly wanted to take back her words, but she lifted her chin in a show of uncaring arrogance. "You are no one, Astoria Greengrass, no one," Draco hissed down at her with cold eyes. A hard slap hit him across his pale cheekbones. Rubbing his face Draco only saw Astoria fleeing down the hall before she slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. Immediately Draco was sorry. Of course Astoria was someone, she was an incredibly wonderful someone. He was incredibly ashamed that he had picked a fight with her. Sighing, he sat down heavily on an armchair and put his head in his hands.
In the bedroom, Astoria had locked the door and pushed a heavy trunk full of Draco's books in front of it. She had curled up in the farthest corner of the room and to her great embarrassment; tears began to trickle down her cheeks. The harder she tried to stop the water leaking out of her eyes, the faster they seemed to fall. Giving up on the endeavor Astoria let the sobs rack her body, no longer able to keep them silent.
Down the hall, Draco was running his hands worriedly though his hair. He knew he should apologize but wasn't quite sure how one went about doing that. From the end of the hall it came, faint but present; the unmistakable sound of a girl crying. Draco sat up straight in the chair and looked agonizingly at the closed bedroom door. "Bloody hell," he mumbled, striding quickly to the door and rapping his knuckles against the wood sharply. "Astoria?" he tried, trying to put notes of apology in his voice. "Go away!" came the muffled yell quickly followed by the sound of a lamp hitting the door. "Astoria let me in." This was answered by a jinx hitting the door and shocking him. Frustrated Draco whipped out his wand and pointed in at the door. "Reducto!" he muttered. The door was blasted off its hinges; Draco rushed in, promptly tripping over the trunk of books. From the ground he saw Astoria curled into a corner and glaring at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her nose was pink from crying, the sight pulled on Draco's heartstrings. Cautiously he made his way over to her, carefully, oh so carefully, Draco wrapped his arm around Astoria's slim frame and pulled her closer. Much to his surprise she leaned into him, slowly draping her arms around him.
Astoria buried her face in Draco's shirt, loving the crisp fabric against her warm face and inhaling the familiar smell of his cologne. Draco's hand had begun to gently stroke her hair and she felt the faint pressure of his lips on her head. Taking a deep breath, Astoria braced herself to give an apology. Before she could speak however, she heard Draco murmur something into her hair. "What?" she said, raising her head to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Astoria," he said again, slowly brushing a piece of hair away from her face.
Astoria blinked her big eyes at Draco, he wondered if she had heard him. "I'm sorry too, Draco," she blurted before flinging her arms around him again. Draco heaved an internal sigh of relief, the choking sensation of fear was ebbing and he held Astoria a little tighter. "Let's never fight again," he heard her murmur into his shirt, he had never agreed with anything more.
** Ha! Two updates in one day! Even more Drastoria! As always I love it when you guys leave thoughts or suggestions when you review. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.