Draco's secret wish, one he had tried to curb, and bury within him, was to be liked. He could not stand the thought of people not liking him. If he was not liked, he wanted to feared, respected. That was better than being thought of as a failure, a coward, or someone to mock. He hated being laughed at.
Draco knows that he shouldn't care what others thought of him. He especially knows that he shouldn't care what the girl he was about to kill thought of him. He really shouldn't expect her to like him. But yet, she seemed to know a lot about him. And while her method of revealing her thoughts on his person were unconventional, they were intriguing. It was hard to kill the girl who made such an effort to reveal her thoughts to him. He wanted to know how much she knew of him. He had puzzled out that her last story was simply a story of an incident from his first year at Hogwarts, one he barely remembers himself.
And so, though it fills him with self-loathing, he says "Tell me of the king's folly." He tries to ignore the tug at his heart, when he sees her face break into a smile. While she is no great beauty like her sister, there was no denying she is an attractive girl. Her dark brown hair is full and thick, and her dark eyes are expressive and shining, a trait most woman he knew learned to stamp out long ago. They live in a world where emotions are better hidden. While Bellatrix said the girl was sickly, he can not see it. She is slim, but not in an unhealthy way, possessing many natural curves, a shape not expected of the ill.
"Alright. If you insist." Astoria jokes. Draco grants her a small smile in return. He knows the irony of the situation. It is her who was desperate to tell the stories. Although, if he was honest with himself, he is desperate to hear the stories, desperate to stall the inevitable. He cannot face killing her. He doubts his ability to even cast the curse.
"The cruel king grew bitter and angry with the world around him. He took great stock in the nobility of the land, believing those with noble blood ought to be respected and revered. However, over his lifetime, respect for blood had faded, and respect for other virtues grew. People started to value who one was, over the contents in their veins. However, the cruel king coveted the old ways, and longed for their return." Draco says nothing, and bites the inside of his lip. Astoria continues. "The cruel king wasted no time indoctrinating the prince to his beliefs. However, the prince was a disappointment to him, for he learned that the knight's scholar had bested the prince in his studies. He wanted his son to be above others in all things and was most displeased to learn that he was not."
Draco stews for a moment, before asking "This king, why did he care so much if the prince got beat? Does he not love his son just the same?" Astoria narrows her eyes. Draco wonders if she has figured out that he know who the subjects of her little stories are. Astoria seems to think carefully before answering him. "I think the king has a warped view of love. I do not know if the king loved the prince. Perhaps he did, and did not know how to show it." Draco smiles a cruel smile. He does not like this story. It is reaching into places in his mind and heart that he had buried. This girl cannot possibly know anything about his father, and he does not appreciate her assumptions.
She had no business prying into his life like this. Bringing up questions that he had wrestled with for years, is not his idea of a good story. He had always had doubts of his father's love for him, and this girl giving her opinions on the matter is quite intrusive and annoying. "It is your story, shouldn't you know?" Draco sneers.
He can tell Astoria senses his annoyance and he experiences an odd sort of vindictive pleasure in the way fear and uncertainty begin to fill her eyes. He has the power after all. He holds her life in his hands, and here she is, making up a story to tell him his father didn't love him. For what purpose? "I cannot know everything about the stories, for they are not mine I am telling them to you, but that does not mean I crafted them myself." Astoria responds. What did she mean they weren't her stories?
Draco stands up. He had thought this would be a good idea. A part of him longs to finally confront these truths, and for whatever reason this girl seems equipped to help him do so. But, now, he just wants to leave. He wants to go anywhere, perhaps back to Moscow. He likes it there. Astoria flinches upon his standing, and the guilt returns.
He hadn't raised his wand, but Astoria also stands up from her place on the bed. She walks toward him slowly and whispers in his ear, "Your godfather made me promise to tell you these stories." She has placed a hand on his arm and is gripping him firmly. His eyes widen in surprise. "Snape is dead. What could he have possibly told you?" Draco barks. She sighs and says "It was before his death. Right before the battle of Hogwarts, he gave me something. A memory. I couldn't get access to a pensive for a few years, and by the time I was able to break into Professor Carrow's office, you were gone."
Draco can barely breathe. His godfather is perhaps the only person who ever believed in him besides his mother. He was devastated to learn of his death, and guilty, because he had not treated his potions professor as kindly as he should have in those last few years. "A memory? What memory?" Drack asks.
"Are you a legilimens?" Astoria asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can cast the spell. Though if you at least mediocre at occlumency I won't be able to break through." Draco replied. Astoria nodded and then closed her eyes, and dropped her hand from his arm to his hand grasping it. The gesture was surprisingly intimate and made Draco flinch, although he did not pull away. "Let me show you." she whispered, and she looked up at him. He nodded and rested his forehead on hers, and whispered the spell "Legilimens."
Astoria is sitting at a table in the Great Hall. To her left is Imogen Stretton and to her right is Hestia and Flora Carrow. She is watching him. He looks terrible and stares down at his plate, not even bothering to keep up with the pretense of eating. Stretton notices the subject of Astoria's line of vision and giggles. "Staring at your crush again Ri?" He can feel Astoria's embarrassment and the butterflies in her stomach when he looks up, catching her eye for a moment, and then looking away.
Draco marvels that he barely even noticed this girl. She really is staring at him quite a lot. Astoria is blushing and looks down. "He just seems off lately. Haven't you noticed?" Imogen shot the Carrow twins a look and rolled her eyes. "No Ri. We haven't. Although, we don't really watch him as much as you do. The only person who may have you beat is Parkinson"
Draco knows this memory is from his sixth year at Hogwarts. He is surprised at how thin and pale he looks. He doesn't know if he as ever looked that terrible in his life, although, as he thinks about his seventh year, he can probably recall a few times. Hestia turns to Astoria and says "Yeah. Why are you so fascinated with him? Ever since your first year."
This memory is fading, and a new one is materializing around him. This time she is at a ball, and he recognizes the place as Malfoy Manor. She looks very young, and if he had to guess he would say she was no more than eleven. Daphne is tugging her along, fussing over Astoria's dress and murmuring something about her hair. Astoria yanks her hand from Daphne's and remarks how she needs to use the restroom. Daphne rolls her eyes and tells her to be quick as she doesn't want Astoria to miss the dancing. Astoria rolls her eyes, mumbling that no one will be asking her to dance anyway.
She starts off down a long hallway, and it isn't long before she is lost beyond hope. She passes painting after painting, room after room, and yet no sign of any sort of washroom. As she turns a corner her ears began to pick up yelling and the sound of someone crying. She wonders deeper into the labyrinth of hallways and comes across some old parlor of sorts. She peaks through the door. Draco can recognize the voice and a sick feeling churns in his stomach. He doesn't want her to look. He tries to pull from the memory, but an unknown force seems to be holding him there.
His father is standing in the center of the room, a cold and frightening sneer upon his face. He towers over, what can only be himself. A young, very frightened Draco, who is shamefully crying. "I can barely stand to call you a son of mine, while you cry like a cowardly little girl. Here I am, paying money for books and tutors, only for you to come and tell me that yet again, a filthy mudblood has bested you in every—" Lucius raises his cane, an impressive stick of ebony wood, crowned with a silver snake head, sporting glistening, sharp fangs— "single", another hit, "subject." Lucius finishes off with a nasty crack across his face, blood dripping from the cut.
Draco is angry. This stupid little girl was watching something for his eyes only. This was supposed to private. Why didn't she leave? At that thought, he sees Astoria turn and run. He can sense her fear, and worst of all her pity.
The memory shifts yet again, this time the scene is the Hogwarts Express. There she is, watching him talk to Crabbe and Goyle. He thinks he may be in his third year, or possibly fourth. She is to far away for him to catch the topic of his past self's conversation. She is watching him with concern. He can feel her emotions, the concern, the pity, the fear. He had thought she had a silly school-girl crush on him, and while he can feel that, its certainly only a small part of her fascination. He can feel that it's mostly concern for his wellbeing, and that irks him beyond belief. It's only based on looks he hears her tell herself. It's not as if she actually knows him. Of course, she may be the only one in the whole school who knows his darkest secret.
The memory shifts again. It's Astoria and she is waiting outside Snape's office. Draco hears a voice call, "Are you planning to come into my office Miss Greengrass, or stand lurking out there all night." Draco smiles at the familiarity of the voice, and aches to hear it again. Little Astoria Greengrass timidly opens the door and takes a few steps in. "What business do you have here tonight? It's close to curfew Miss Greengrass." Snape drones. "I..er…well…" she stutters. "Spit. It. Out." the potions Professor hisses. "I saw something at the Malfoy's Christmas Eve Ball." Astoria rushes out. Snape, who had been furiously writing on a student's potions essay, sets down his quill, and looks up at Astoria, indicating for her to continue. "Mr. Malfoy," Astoria paused, taking a deep breath, and then steeling herself, before continuing. "Mr. Malfoy was hitting Draco." She says it in a rush, and it comes out fast, and jumbled. Yet, Professor Snape seems to understand what she said. He sighed, but says nothing. Astoria seems to falter at his silence, and tries to compensate by giving more information.
"It was with his cane. It didn't look like discipline. It looked really bad. I know a lot of people…" she pauses, searching for the right words, "in our community, you know, purebloods,." She took another deep breath, rambling on "I know a lot of purebloods hit their children. It's customary. But, it looked…., more vicious. This was beyond discipline. This was dangerous."
Draco bristles. He could not believe she was telling on him, telling his business to others. Yet, he cannot not ignore, the tug he felt, the slight gratitude to the girl, who was clearly very distressed over what she had seen, and he knew, was attempting to help in some way.
Professor Snape holds up a hand, silencing the girl. "Thank you, Miss Greengrass. I will attend to this matter." he says. Astoria sighs in relief. He can hear her thoughts. There, she had told an adult, Draco would get help, and everything would be fine. She turns to walk out the door, when Snape calls "Miss Greengrass." Astoria whips her head around. Snape gave her a blank look, and said "Are you friends with Mr. Malfoy?" Astoria's cheeks turn pink, and she said "No, we've never spoken. But, I just thought I should tell you." Snape nods, his expression unreadable. "Very well. You may go."
The memory shifts again, and this time, it was back to his sixth year. He can hear Astoria's thoughts clearly. He must be getting used to the legilimency because it is easier to see what she was thinking and feeling with each passing memory. Astoria hardly thought about him. She always payed attention when Daphne spoke of him, but otherwise, he had simply faded to the background of her life. She barely saw him, and when she did, she could not deny that he looked attractive. However, any silly thoughts of him noticing her, and being enamored with her were soon gone, replaced by more important things such as school, friends, her sister's constant prying, and whether that Harper boy was ever going to ask her out.
This time she is walking down the hall. It is after dinner, and Draco assumed it is the dinner in the first memory, but he can't be sure. It is the first time she had really looked at Draco in quite a few years, and boy, did he look awful. He looked gaunt, his skin grey, and his cheekbones hollow. There was a haunted look in his eyes. Gone was the confident, arrogant gleam, replaced by an emotion she couldn't place.
She is on the second floor and is headed to the girl's bathroom, because she really didn't want to face any more of her friends teasing. They meant well, but it was really starting to rub her the wrong way. The bathroom on the third floor would give her a few minutes to cool down, and she could face her friends without saying a few things she would regret later.
At this point Draco is feeling dread. He knows what he did in the second floor girl's bathroom. He hates that anyone had seen him like that. He hates that she had seen him like that.
Astoria rounds the corner when she hears the crying. Her first thought is that it is simply moaning myrtle. But the crying doesn't sound quite right. The cries are softer, subtler, and voice is deeper. These aren't attention crying sobs. These were the sort of sounds someone makes when they are crying, but they desperately want to stop.
She peeks in the doorway, to find him, hunched over, hands braced on the sink, hair disheveled, staring at himself with such self-loathing that it shocks Draco to see himself like that again.
Astoria's eyes are drawn to his left fore arm. His sleeves are rolled up, and there it is, thick, black, and ugly. A mark that would forever mar his skin. She knows what it is. She has seen it on the forearms of her father's friends and colleagues as they urge him to get one too. She has seen it drawn in the Slytherin common room, on pieces of spare parchment. She knows that it is dangerous.
She turns, and quietly exists the bathroom. Draco can hear her wondering how in the world he had got himself into this mess. She knows what she has to do.
Draco follows her down the hallway, though he already knows where she is going. Astoria reaches Snape's office yet again, and gives in a quiet knock. "Come in" he hears the potion's master call. Astoria steps in and before Snape can open his mouth she blurts out "If I tell you something, about a student, could you promise they won't get in trouble? Could you promise that you would help them, instead of punishing them?" Draco supposes he should be grateful for her reluctance to rat him out, but he finds himself angry she even saw anything at all.
"No. I won't promise anything. However, if it's the right situation, I could consider your request." Snape replies. Draco snorts. Snape already knew everything Astoria was about to tell him. It made no difference what she said.
Astoria looks down clearly wrestling with the dilemma. It appears that she decides to take the risk, because she says, in the softest whisper, "Draco has a dark mark." Snape says nothing, just looking at her, his face impassive. Astoria began to wring her hands, clearly distressed. "It can't mean anything good. Please, if you could just help him, maybe talk to him."
Draco had shaken his head in disbelief. As if she could have any idea, as if she could ever understand what he had been going through. And then to attempt to tattle on him? If she had told the wrong professor, if she had gone to someone else, anyone else, if he had been caught and unable to complete his mission, he would have died. Death would have been the preferable fate, had that happened.
The memory shifts around him, and this time Astoria is racing up the staircase until she gets to the entrance to the Headmaster's office. She looks older now, so he guesses this could be her fifth year. She looks unsure how to enter the office, simply staring at the stone gargoyle barring her way. However, the gargoyle moved away of it's accord, meaning the Headmaster must have been expecting her.
Draco see's Snape come into view as Astoria bounds up the circular staircase, and he infers that it must be during his seventh year. Astoria looked around the circular room in wonder, gazing at all the portraits on the wall. He can feel her guilt when her eyes rest on Professor Dumbledore's picture.
"You asked to see me sir?" Astoria says, her voice, as always, small and quiet. "Sit down, Miss Greengrass." Snape gestured to the seat across his desk. Astoria took a seat, and nervously works her lip between her teeth. "You aren't committed to the Dark Lord's cause." Snape says softly, his words cutting and crisp.
Astoria's face drops, and fear fills her eyes. "Yes. Yes I am." She insisted fervently. She shrank down in her chair as if to disappear from his stony gaze. "No you are not. Which is why, you may be the only one left that I can entrust this task to." Astoria stands from her chair, moving to slowly back away. "What do you mean?" her voice trembling. Snape pulls a vial out of the pocket in his robes. The vial is filled with shimmering, silvery liquid, that floats and dances in the light. He passes it to her. "When you can, you will need to come up here, to the pensive." He indicates a stone basin on a pedestal to his left. "Pour the vial into the water, and stick your head beneath the surface. You will see what I have for you."
Astoria looks at the vial in her hand. "If I refuse?" she questions. Snape reaches forward, across the desk to grab her shoulder, giving her a shake. "This may very well be the most important thing you will do in your very pathetic, very short, existence. There are greater things at work here. You will do this. The consequences are far to great for you to refuse!" the potions master shouts, the portraits on the wall rattling with the volume.
Astoria wrenches herself out of his grasp, her eyes frightened and wide. Draco watches as she turns to run. Snape calls out, stopping her. "Astoria!" she turns around, the use of her first name surprising her. "Lives depend on it. Draco's life depends on it." Astoria closes her eyes and sighs. "Promise me. When you discover the task I have for you, you will do it." Astoria deliberates, and gives the Headmaster a resigned look. "I'll do it. But, why can't you just tell me? Why can't I use the pensive now?"
Snape crosses the room to reach her and stands towering over her, his expression giving away his frustration at her questions. "I can't tell you everything. If you were to be summoned before anyone who was halfway decent at legilimency, they would be able to discern what your task is. It is imperative that you never know how the pieces of what you are doing fit together." Astoria opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by Snape yet again. "You can't use the pensive tonight. In a matter of minutes battle will be upon the school. Focus on staying alive. When you can, please, come back here, or find another pensive."
Astoria looked like she wanted to refuse, but Snape closed her hand around the vial and hissed vehemently "Promise me." Astoria clutches the vial, and gives a singular nod of the head to Snape, before turning and running from the room.
Draco wonders how many more memories could she have to show him, as the scene changes yet again. This time, Astoria is running, and chaos surrounds her. He recognizes the time and the place: The Battle of Hogwarts. Astoria is calling for her sister, frantically looking at every head of blonde hair she sees run past her. Then, her eyes fall on him. He looks bad. He has a few cuts an bruises on his face, and he is covered in soot. He can feel Astoria's thoughts churning around him. For a moment, she debates breaking her promise to Snape.
However she can't. She can't abandon him. This helpless boy, who she has watched for so long. She curses herself for her fascination. She curses herself for her need to fix things. She curses herself because she does not want him to die. And if Snape is to be believed, he will if she doesn't whatever task he granted her right. An explosion lights her vision and she is thrown backwards, her world fading to black.
Draco finds himself watching Astoria. She is talking to Imgoen Stretton in this new memory, and she is whispering urgently. "I just need you to distract Headmaster Carrow. I need ten minutes in his office." She is pleading. Imgoen crosses her arms. "No way Ri. This is such a bad idea. We have gone all seven years of Hogwarts without so much as a detention, and you want to mess it up on our last night here?" "Look. I've been trying to get into that office for two years. I just want to see it before I graduate. Come on Imgoen. Just ten minutes."
Stretton sighs and closes her eyes. "I think that is absolute bullshit. You just want to see it? Well, I'm not buying it." Astoria opens her mouth to object, but Stretton holds a hand up, interrupting her. "I don't want to know what your reason is. I'll do it. But if we get caught, I will rat you out in a heartbeat. I'm not risking the Carrows for you."
"Thank you Imogen." Astoria says, embracing the girl, who tolerates the hug a few moments, before throwing her off. "Ten minutes. That's all." Imogen answers.
Draco once again is watching Astoria in the Headmasters office. She is pouring the vial into the pensive, her eyes wide with fascination. She takes a deep breath, and sticks her head into the water. The scene around the both of them transforms. Professor Snape is in the potion's storeroom. He is lifting the box of abraxas hair, in the very back of the very bottom shelf, and buries a small, thin, black leather journal, amongst the ingredients.
Snape's memory ends, and Astoria lifts her head out of the pensive, looking confused. Draco hears her wonder at the short memory, and he can't help agree with her sentiment that it's oddly anticlimactic. He watches Astoria carefully exit the office and wonder down to the dungeons.
She reaches the potion's classroom and murmurs a quick "Alohomora" to unlock the door. She moves through the dark rows of chairs, until she reaches the storeroom in the back. Sure enough, after another unlocking charm, at the very back, beneath the abraxas hair crate, there is a slim, black, leather journal. Astoria reaches for it, opening it, to find a letter, folded up inside.
"Lumos" Draco hears Astoria mutter. She uses her wand light to read the letter:
This is a book of stories. While seemingly insignificant and trivial, these stories hold great importance, for they are a code. Some are lessons, some are observations, some are vitally important revelations; they all hold power. The stories are all part of a larger one, a story that can save lives, a story that is a call to action. You will not know what they mean. Only Draco can decipher the code, and only Draco can do what is necessary. Commit these stories to memory. Leave nothing out. When you have done so, burn this journal. Find him, and tell him each story, each piece to the final whole. For these stories hold a great secret, one that only he can know.
Draco can feel Astoria's consciousness pulling back from his own, and he releases her. It is slightly disorienting to be back in the small room, with narrow windows. He looks down at her, and she is panting, seemingly out of breath. He feels an irrational anger towards her, which he knows is likely driven by shock and fear.
"Tell me the stories" he says lowly, dangerously. Astoria takes a step back but he is still gripping her hand. "I will. I will tell them to you. I want to tell them to you." Draco tightens his grip and Astoria winces. "Then do it." He commands.