Book 2: Astoria Greengrass and the Haunt of Azkaban
Song rec: "Careful You" by TV on the Radio

Astoria heard the strike of ten o'clock ringing from the bell tower and thought that the powerful noise might motivate her to do something other than cry into an old sweater. She was wrong. It made her cry more, for she remembered that she had been miserable since eight-thirty. She wondered if anyone would notice if she went back to her room and went to sleep. Her parents would, and who knows how much trouble she would be in then. They were likely still going by others' statements that they had seen Astoria in the banquet hall a half an hour ago, but Astoria's time alone was running out. Others would have to see her somewhere soon, or else she would start being searched for. The problem was that she could not stop crying out loud. She could not even get herself to the point of only having tears fall quietly. If anyone saw the hosts' daughter walking round like that, there would be plenty of things to say about it.

"What a ruckus," Astoria heard someone say in the hallway.

Alarmed, she stood to hide amongst more boxes, but she was not quick enough.

"Who's crying? Oh," said Draco Malfoy as he stepped into the room.

Astoria faced him, standing stiffly and clenching her teeth in an attempt to keep the sobs locked in. There were one-hundred forty-four other people besides Astoria in the house — why did it have to be Draco who found her? Only Philippe, Zéphir, or Asenath would have been worse. With Draco, though, the whole school would know about this when they returned, and Astoria would hear about it from Draco until he graduated.

"Why do you people think that you can roam my house as you please?" Astoria uttered, referring indirectly to the young man's parents.

"We can't," Draco said. "The upstairs is blocked with a charm."

"Wh—? Why were you trying to get upstairs, Draco?"

"To see if your house really is bigger than mine."

"Goodness, Draco, go back to the ballroom, please…"

"Why are you crying?"

"Oh, did the sound of human misery draw you in here?" Astoria asked sardonically.

"You know me too well, I think," Draco said, trying not to laugh. "Where's Phillip?"

"Not here."

"You're still crying," Draco noted dumbly.

"If it offends you, then leave."

Draco sat on a box to show Astoria that he was not going anywhere. Astoria continued to stand, but she tossed the soiled sweater behind a stack of boxes so as not to look quite as pitiful. He probably already noted the sweater anyway, but at least she could show him that she no longer needed it.

"What are all of these boxes for?" Draco asked, leaning his back against the wall as though he intended to take the room for himself.

"The family puts together things to donate to charity during the season," Astoria said, rueing the fact that she was brought into a conversation.

"That's a lot of donations."

"Yes, we donate to Illyius Orphanage this time of year. Most of it is out-of-season clothes."

"There are going to be a lot of smartly dressed orphans running round," Draco commented.

"Most other people only donate worn out robes or moth-eaten coats."

"Ah. So, why are you crying?"

"Give me one good reason why I should talk to you about this," Astoria confronted.

Draco sat silently with a grin on his face. Astoria got another box of clothes to sit on.

"Because Clarke isn't here to listen to you," Draco said as Astoria plopped onto her box.

"That's not a good reason."

"Because holding things in is not healthy."

"You read that in a book."

"Because I am not leaving until you tell me."

"That is a very sorry reason."

"Well, if you tell me, I promise I won't tell anyone else. How is that? It must be pretty bad if you're crying at your own ball on Christmas Eve," said Draco.

"Your promises mean nothing," puffed Astoria.

"That's not true. I'm not like Phillip," Draco said, raising his eyebrows.

Astoria started crying again, releasing what she had been forcing herself to hold. Even Draco disappearing would not be a good enough remedy; she wanted to disappear. Her hands were wet. She no longer had the sweater to catch her tears and hide her face. She remembered Parkinson's comment at the worst time. She was ugly when she cried, and she was crying in front of Parkinson's boyfriend. Thinking of how ugly she was when she cried always made her cry more, even when she felt it should have been motivation to stop crying.

"I can't believe I'm actually going to have use for this," she heard Draco say.

He was holding his pocket handkerchief in her direction.

"Do not give that back," he insisted.

Astoria felt a single laugh come from beneath her hand that was trying to hide her face. She took the silk handkerchief, which was not very absorbent. After cleaning away the sorrow, she kept her face buried behind it, for she knew her face was still screwed up and red. It smelled like Draco, though.

"Thank you," Astoria said.

"Yes, you ought to thank me. Father's going to say, 'Draco, boy, where is your pocket square? You are the only one here without a pocket square, Draco — even the Squibs have pocket squares!'"

"Then remind him that a gentleman always offers his handkerchief, and that he has a nobler son than he thought," Astoria said in a sniffly voice.

"…Gentleman? You've never called me that before," said Draco carefully.

"You've never been one before."

Draco didn't respond, and it created an awkward silence that felt worse than if he had said something rude. He really should have left. Astoria did not want to show any more weakness. Since Draco knew about the situation with Philippe, his staying there was humiliating Astoria.

"So," Draco coughed. "Clarke and the Frenchy both left you, then."

It hurt even more when someone else said it.

"They did," Astoria confessed.

"Wow. You're the reason they're even allowed to be here. Ungrateful gits."

Astoria did not reply. She did not have much energy left to think of things to say.

"Clarke's with that Gryffindor cousin of yours."

"I bet she is."

"Phillip's with Jennifer Pettrochi."

"That's his Ravenclaw then. Thanks for the update."

"I danced with her a couple of times. She had bogeys in her nose."

Astoria smiled at the floor.

"Thank you," she said.

"Thanks for what?" he asked carelessly.

"For making me feel better," Astoria clarified.

"I was only stating a fact. Are you going to go back to the ballroom, or are you going to stay in here all night?" Draco pressured.

"I can't show my face there," Astoria said honestly. "I might go to the game room so my parents don't get angry."

"Oh," he said. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"The girls aren't impressed by your French, are they?" Astoria teased.

"Not at all," Draco said.

Astoria was surprised that her joke had been so accurate. Draco looked like he had a very embarrassing memory fresh in his mind, perhaps related to his escaping the ballroom and travelling through the house.

Astoria and Draco went to the banquet hall first, since Astoria desperately needed something to drink for her sore throat. The two sat down by the window, keeping their eyes on the food table rather than each other. Tracey Davis came over after spotting Astoria.

"Astoria, are you okay? Montel said you were really upset earlier, and I couldn't find you."

"I'm sorry. I feel better now. Thank you, Tracey. Are you enjoying yourself?" Astoria changed the subject.

"Oh, yes! Gosh, do I love this place. It's like a palace! And the music and the dancing and the decorations… Max said your place feels like something in a storybook! Haha, it's great. Thanks for inviting us!"

"Of course, Tracey! Oh, I think Max has your hot chocolates. Send him my regards."

"Your regards? You're so funny, Astoria! I'm glad you feel better."

Draco finished his butterbeer soon after Tracey left, and as soon as he stopped looking in her direction, something else, apparently unpleasant, caught his eye.

"Oh piss," he mumbled.

"What's wrong?"

Draco's ironic laugh mostly consisted of air.

"My father doesn't look very happy that I've missed the last twelve dances."

"I can't even imagine what my parents are thinking. I haven't danced since the third song," Astoria sympathised.

"Agh, he's still looking over here…" Draco grumbled. "Plenty of people are not dancing…"

"Dancing certainly isn't mandatory for the guests," Astoria reminded him.

"Yeah — well, no," he said, scratching the back of his neck restlessly. "Father said that if I'm not dancing, I should be mingling. Do I hate mingling."

"It should have looked like you were mingling enough for him," she thought aloud. "Tracey was over here, and you're still talking to me. Perchance he just had a look on his face…"

"No, no," Draco sighed in utter exasperation. "He did the head jerk."

"The… the head jerk?"

"Yes, you know…"

Draco checked to make sure that Lucius had left before flicking his head to one side a single time with his eyes wide and his eyebrows firmly set.

"…the head jerk."

Astoria understood what it meant when laughter was hailed as the best medicine.

"I see. You ought to go dance or mingle, then, I'm afraid."

"That's another problem," Draco said dramatically. "Do you remember last Christmas when I did that huge favour of dancing with Daphne at the Yule Ball after Blaise had dumped her? She won't return the favour, but my parents said that I needed to dance with a Greengrass before the end of the night so your family likes us, or something stupid like that. I don't think your family is going to like us either way, really."

Astoria recalled Mrs Malfoy telling her husband to be careful about what he said about the Greengrass family. The Malfoys had been unsuccessfully trying to ingratiate themselves for several years. Draco was comically unaware that he was not supposed to indicate that, but Astoria's family knew the Malfoys were sycophants anyway.

"Ah. All of Uncle Faunus's girls are either too old or too gay for you, I'm afraid," she said. "And Aunt Thalie's daughter Artemis is twenty-three next year…"

"And your sister's really unappreciative," he groused.

"Oh! Adamina and Sofronia are getting biscuits right now. They're my cousins; they just don't share my last name. You can tell your father that. Go ask one of them; they're really nice," Astoria said, trying to be of some help.

"I know. They're too nice. They won't associate with me — somebody must have said something to them in school…"

Most of the student body was well aware of what sort of a person Draco was. It was his own fault if no one in her family would dance with him. It would not look good for a Greengrass to dance with a Malfoy even though it would look very good for a Malfoy to dance with a Greengrass.

"Don't make that face at me," he said dryly. "Listen, would you get your sister to dance with me just once — for a two-minute song or something, so my father will leave me alone? She really owes me, you know."

"Don't you think you'll look a bit sorry if you send me to do that? Besides, I saw her go to the ballroom with one of those beautiful Humberston boys. We aren't going to see her any time soon."

"Damn it."

Astoria and Draco sat quietly for a few moments, pondering how much they had danced around the issue of dancing. Astoria took both of their glasses back to the table and returned with resolve.

"I also owe you a favour, since you had to pull me out of my hiding spot and back to my own ball," Astoria said to Draco, looking at the window above his head rather than him. She regretted that, for she missed his resulting facial expression.

"I thought you couldn't show your face," he said.

"I can show my face if I'm with someone who can't show his face, either. I am curious about what you said to my cousin Aura that caused that problem, but I will let it go since I don't want to feel your second-hand embarrassment."

"Oh, thanks," Draco said. "So, er, the next song, then?"

"Well, we can't jump in in the middle."

"We could if we pushed Phillip and Pettrochi out of the line. I have plenty of experience of getting people out of my way."

"Such savagery," laughed Astoria.

Astoria never imagined that she would ever walk arm-in-arm with Draco Malfoy. She felt like she had eaten strawberries with mouldy cheese. It was one of those times when he was acting agreeably. He was calling Rhiannon "Clarke" instead of "Mudblood." He was helping Astoria feel better. He was tartly funny without being too offensive. All of that was decent.

But Astoria remembered Draco differently. He was painfully immature. He caused trouble for the sake of causing trouble. He was inconsiderate and arrogant. He placed even more value on material things than Astoria did, and Astoria often worried that she was materialistic. Draco was ingrained with prejudice by a father who was about to fight on the wrong side in the upcoming conflict. What would Astoria's family think when they saw her dancing with Draco? What would Rhiannon think?

If Astoria could broadcast a message to their minds, it would be that she was only dancing with Draco Malfoy's good side. If she could keep only this side of Draco, if she could get rid of the fear that he would follow in his father's footsteps, then she would actually be quite happy despite all of the terrible things that had happened that evening.

"You missed a step," Draco said snootily. "I thought the Greengrasses were impeccable dancers."

Astoria didn't say a word. Draco was a much better dancer than she thought.

"You know, people don't usually smile when they're insulted," he continued. "Too many butterbeers?"

"That must be it," she smiled again.

She made a few glances round the ballroom, and those were all she needed to see that Rhiannon had already seen her with Draco. Her parents had seen her with Draco; she could tell by her mother's aghast face. What happened to Philippe, her mother would wonder. Well, Philippe and Jennifer Pettrochi were almost parallel to Astoria and Draco on the dance floor, looking as if they had fallen in love. That's what happened to Philippe.

Astoria could notice the slight fuss that her family was making and hoped that Draco would not see it. Evidently, some of her mother's side had caused him enough embarrassment already. It seemed that the only people in the entire manor who were happy to see Astoria and Draco dancing were his parents. Maybe Draco was happy, too. So Astoria did not care if anyone was happy about it or not. She did not even care that Rhiannon had actually managed to fight off some of Asenath's hypnotism in order to stare at this event. Both girls were dancing with people whom each other thought were very poor choices. But Astoria had done enough for Rhiannon already. It was time to do something for herself — to dance with Draco, who had alone salvaged what was left of the Christmas Eve ball.

"You didn't tell me your family was going to be so upset over this," Draco said quietly.

"I didn't tell you because I don't care how they feel about it. Not one bit."

"…Oh."

"You missed a step," she pointed out.

"That's all right. You've missed about five now."

"I've missed two," Astoria said truthfully.

"Hm, no, it was definitely five," taunted Draco.

Astoria rolled her eyes and finished the dance with only two, not five, missed steps.

"Let's go to the game room before your dad makes you mingle," she said.

Astoria lost a game of draughts to Draco, who had plenty of things to say about it which distracted him from being able to win the second game. He was then quite sore.

"Do you want me to bring you anything back from the banquet hall?" she offered to cure him.

"You are Astoria Greengrass, right? She would never ask me that."

"I am, but if your father sees you out there, he's going to be upset that you've missed nine more dances. I think the last formal one is coming up now."

"Oh," Draco said, rapping his fingers on the table nervously. "Is it… Is it starting?"

"Is that your way of asking me to dance?" Astoria said with a slight air of superiority.

"Is it working?"

Astoria's second appearance with Draco in the ballroom drew even more attention, but Rhiannon was among the few who did not catch a glance at the pair; she was being swept round again by Asenath and looked oblivious that other people were in the ballroom.

About halfway through the dance with Draco, things started to feel strange, and Astoria wasn't exactly sure why. She did not know if only she felt awkward, if Draco had started acting awkward which made her feel it in turn, or if awkwardness had swallowed both of them at the same time. Refusing to let the feeling eat away at the moment, Astoria prompted a conversation about the holidays which buoyed them to the end of the dance. She found that Draco's family typically had a quiet Christmas Day, but they often had a New Year's gathering in which his parents invited "a bunch of important old people" with whom he had to converse.

"More mingling?" she asked.

"No, it's worse than you think," he insisted. "Everyone notices everything I do, even more so than they do here."

When the song ended at the stroke of eleven, Astoria and Draco went into the entrance hall and took seats with views of the ballroom. There, they poked fun at those who danced freestyle, saying they looked like their pants were on fire. Eventually, Draco daringly brought up the subject of Philippe, but Astoria decided she didn't mind.

"That Frenchy of yours looks like he got hit with a bad Dancing Feet spell."

"He's Jennifer's problem now," Astoria commented. "And Lavender's. And Medea's."

"…Hey, isn't he staying here?" Draco wondered.

Astoria was overtaken by an awful feeling. Philippe was supposed to stay until the Ciel side of the family left. That meant two more days of having him in her house and seeing him at mealtimes. After what had happened, she did not care if he was forced to stay in the stables until he left. Maybe they could kick him out. No, that would cause a scene.

"He is."

"That's going to be interesting," said Draco.

"It'll be Christmas, too, so it isn't like I can stay in my room," she complained.

"I still think it's better than my New Year's spent talking to Madam Marchbanks about her Brussels Griffon."

"I hope you're right," she said. "Oh, look, Daphne just tripped!"

The two were back to sniggering again until Philippe and Jennifer Pettrochi slinked out of the ballroom and started kissing, unaware of any other presence. Astoria looked at Draco, who stared judgmentally of the two. It heartened her.

"I got the drinks, Philippe," she said portentously from her seat.

Philippe whirled round whilst Jennifer peeked over his shoulder.

"Astoria—"

She stood up and stepped toward him only once.

"Not in my house, you bastard."

Jennifer fled. Philippe nervously scratched his head before escaping to the ballroom without another word. He would be spending the rest of this trip next to his parents for protection.

"That was scary," Draco congratulated.

"I tried."

There were only thirty minutes of Draco's company left. Would he relapse as soon as the night was over and be repugnant again?

"What time is it?" he asked.

She didn't want to tell him. She wanted to keep him the way he was.

"Eleven-thirty," she said at last. "The clock's right there."

Draco wasn't looking at the clock.

"Do you want to go play a game of backgammon? I'm tired of sitting in this old chair."

Astoria was terrible at backgammon.

"All right," she said.

She lost.

The final dance of the night drew a large crowd to the ballroom to try their feet at freestyle one last time. Astoria and Draco watched from the door of the game room. She half-expected the stroke of midnight to release some pervasive spell from Draco — he would start acting intolerable again at any moment.

His parents were not among the first to leave; they were busy waiting for their turn to flatter hers. Guests started filing out of the ballroom to go to the fireplace. Astoria's relatives located her, and she lost count of how many hugs she had to give. Over the shoulder of her aunt Laureline, she could see Rhiannon and Asenath kissing goodbye. Astoria wore the same expression about Asenath that her relatives wore when they saw her arms around Draco.

"Your family is enormous," Draco remarked after Astoria had seen off most of her relatives.

"Sorry, I didn't expect them to trap you in the room like that with their hugging."

"My parents aren't ready to leave anyway."

As soon as he said it, he jinxed it, for Lucius did the infamous head jerk. Astoria followed Draco to the threshold of the entrance hall, where their parents stood. It was difficult for Astoria to face Mrs Malfoy after overhearing two of her extremely private conversations, but when Mrs Malfoy made a wholly false fuss over her, she responded as warmly as possible. Astoria said goodbye to Draco, which absolutely should not have been as difficult as it was. Then the Malfoys went home.

Rhiannon had already gone to her room. After a few short and unavoidable conversations with her parents, Astoria went to hers without paying the other girl a visit. If Philippe had not made some excuse to go home, he was probably saying bad things about her to Zéphir in her own house. Philippe wasn't important anymore, though. She would determine what to say to Rhiannon when she got to her room, would wake early the next day, and would make amends with her before the Christmas festivities took place. Astoria was all ready for bed when she started to well up again.

Tomorrow is going to hurt.

She skulked back out of her bedchamber, down the main staircase, and into the west wing on the first floor. In a room full of boxes, Astoria retrieved the sweater she had cried all over. Fallen between two boxes was a silk pocket handkerchief.

The sweater was thrown down the laundry chute. The handkerchief still had some more confused tears to catch.