Beater 2, Holyhead Harpies :)

Prompts:

12 (word) echo

14 (quote) 'I drink to make other people more interesting' - Ernest Hemingway

The room echoed with a sedate, classical music. The sort of music Astoria had grown up with. Somehow it wasn't her style anymore. The pale pink robes, be-laced, fully bedecked with every imaginable ounce of what could on be called "decorum" didn't quite suit her anymore either. It was Daphne, their mother, Pansy, but it wasn't her. Not now. Not for a long time. Maybe it never had been.

As a little girl, Astoria had loved these parties—bored out of her mind, falling asleep in her soup—she loved them, anticipated them. The rare moment of attention, the glamourous people, the pretty clothing. But what she'd loved most of all was the importance, the knowledge that she was one of them, that she was a part of this important group of people, with their important jobs and important connections. It wasn't until later that she began to understand concepts like "rich" or "elite," but that understanding had only deepened the pleasure that Astoria had felt at belonging to these people.

Eventually she grew up and ever so slowly she came to understand exactly what these people were and precisely what it meant to belong to them. The propriety grew stifling, the prejudice infuriating, the expectations exhausting. The glamour turned to ash before her eyes. And then they endured a war, a war that should have changed everything, but somehow changed nothing.

"Quite a farce, isn't it?"

Astoria glanced up, her eyes widening as she recognized the speaker as Draco Malfoy. She hadn't seen him since the war ended—neither had anyone else, so far as she knew—yet there he was: infamous recluse, ex-sycophant, disillusioned pretty boy, voicing her own cynical thoughts.

"Long time no see, Draco."

"Astoria Greengrass—charmed as ever."

So sardonic. So aloof. So different. It occurred to Astoria, suddenly, that maybe he'd moved past the spineless scandal he once was and become an actual person. Could such a thing even happen?

"You know my favourite thing about this little soirees?" Draco drawled, his words gently slurred.

Astoria cocked an eyebrow inquisitively.

Draco took this as an invitation in more ways than one, plunking himself down into a seat next to her. "My favourite thing about this parties, is the way that they're modeled on the Muggle aristocracy's. It's basically an ass-backwards celebration of Muggle culture that we think is a celebration of our own pureblood, opposite-of-Muggle supremacy. We're sticking it to the Muggles, as we flatter them with our blatant mimicry." He smirked. "And no one here is educated enough to have a bloody clue."

Astoria rolled her eyes. "I suspect your favourite thing about these 'soirees' is actually the alcohol."

Draco grinned. Grinned. "I drink to make people more interesting, love."

She snorted. "You'll need a lot more than alcohol to make these people interesting."

"Worth listening to, you mean?" Draco said. "Absolutely. But I assure you they're much less tedious the drunker you get."

"I must not be getting drunk enough then, because I've always found the opposite to be true."

"That's entirely possible. Luckily there's a remedy." Draco gestured for more drinks and they appeared in a house elf-ish flash. He smirked over at her. "Drink up."

Astoria gazed into the glass he'd pushed into her hand, then at the room around her, at the people dancing and gossiping and making polite conversation. "What the hell," she muttered, and took a large gulp of fine, meant-to-be-sipped, goblin-made wine.

"Atta girl. We're going to have us some fun."

The next few glasses went down easy, and the conversation passed similarly, if conversation it could be called as it mostly consisted of mocking the other party-goers.

"Look there! Pansy's doing the chicken dance!" Draco snickered into his glass.

"She is not, Draco. Someone's just spilled their drink on her shoes." Astoria heard herself slur. It occurred to her, in a fleeting moment she barely caught notice of, that she was indecorously inebriated. The thought sort of thrilled her. She wondered if anyone would notice. She wondered what they'd say if they did.

"Chicken dance," he asserted firmly. His gaze darted quickly around them before he launched into a jerky imitation of Pansy's flailing.

"You're such an idiot," Astoria said, but she nonetheless couldn't prevent a bubble of laughter from escaping.

"I think it's less stupid to come up with ridiculous explanations," he retorted, though a flicker of emotion flashed across his face, "than it is to spend all my time frustrated with these people for their stupidity."

She shrugged; he had her there.

"Tell me then," Draco said, regaining his aloofness, "are you sufficiently drunk?"

"To find everyone more interesting?"

Draco nodded.

"I suppose I am. More entertaining, certainly."

"Ah, well, we aren't doing it right, you know. We'll have to go and mingle for the full effect to become entirely evident."

Astoria wrinkled her nose. "You want to mingle?"

"Suddenly more than ever. Would you join me for a dance, fair lady?" he asked, with a smirk and an outstretched hand.

Astoria gazed at the hand. It all felt a bit surreal, and perhaps she oughtn't to have had so much to drink after all.

"Afraid what the gossips will say?" he challenged.

"Never!" she scoffed, indignant. Her hand slipped into his immediately and together they slipped out onto the dance floor where Draco rested her other hand on his shoulder. Had she been any more sober the moment would have been awkward. There was rather less space between them than there ought to have been. Astoria accepted that challenge too.

Eyes were on them. Many. She could feel them burning into the back of her head, her dress robes, could see the turned heads from the corners of her eyes. She held back a mad urge to flip them all off, and instead allowed Draco to lead them around the dance floor with surprising skill.

"Let them look," he whispered.

Astoria caught his gaze, then tore away from it, everywhere they touched suddenly on fire. Instinct screamed for her to pull away, to escape this situation she suddenly felt she had no control over. And everyone was watching. She didn't. Astoria took a deep breath, and pressed just a fraction of a centimeter closer. "What will they see?" she whispered back, her eyes meeting his again.

He smirked. "I guess we'll have to wait and see, won't we?"

Astoria glanced around at their audience, many of its members turning abruptly and obviously away. She smirked back. "I guess we will."