Book 3: Astoria Greengrass and the Legilimens of Hogwarts
Song rec: "Bad Ideas" by Tessa Violet
Note: Teen pregnancy mention

Astoria had never been a fan of Pepperup Potion. The steam that came out of her ears whenever she took it was hot and uncomfortable, and sometimes it even whistled. Head colds were miserable, but so was the steam. Yet Astoria had a performance on the wireless that afternoon, and her throat was scratchy and painful. She was supposed to have met with Draco, but since the Hogsmeade trip had been cancelled, the steam wouldn't matter. She still had to go perform at the Wizarding Wireless Network building with Pariah, but not many people would see her. So, she took the Pepperup Potion.

The WWN building was stuffy that day, which wouldn't make for the best performance experience. This performance was much earlier than their gig on the Witching Hour had been last year. At least it wasn't in front of an audience; Astoria could remain relaxed and not have to jump and strut all over. Ms Chittock found the steam coming from her ears very amusing, saying that she was lucky to have never had a cold. There was no way Pariah would get away with not playing all the songs from their new EP, but apart from "Guest Soap," they saved them for last. They had heard too much of their own music lately and needed to get into the mood to perform first. They opened with "Saccharine," followed by "Ivy," because Hestia, proud of her composition, said it was a must. This time, Ms Chittock simply enjoyed the performance and did not ask them personal questions. It might have been due to the war. One never knew who was tuning in.

Each time Astoria took a drink of her water, the steam from the Pepperup came out faster, but she could not neglect to drink after singing so much. She finished her water before "Ashes" in the midst of a commercial break, during which session musicians from Infinite set up their equipment for the symphonic song. Astoria didn't know any of these musicians; Pariah had brought down students from their old Music class for recording the EP and had planned to have them at all live performances. It didn't work out that way. These strangers were much older than they were; Astoria doubted they would give the song that much care. In fact, the only reason they could play the song was because they had been given the sheet music from the label. Astoria didn't look at them much, even though her manners called for it. They probably thought she was a stupid kid with a cold, but she had always liked proving people wrong. The phrase "even better live" was reserved by the papers for the most experienced of performers and was such a hard goal to achieve. Astoria had come far in music, but she knew that Mr Davis's production helped the songs stay crisp. She was on her own here, and had to be confident. Like Rhiannon had said, "don't write songs you can't sing."

It was time for the last song. The band began to play. Before she sang, Astoria thought of the hallways in her estate with the proudly displayed wedding portraits. There wasn't a pair in her family's history that had not been welcomed onto that wall. Supposedly.

My coronation has gone all wrong

The air of my kingdom shifts

I wandered to the sea

I wasn't always like this

My name once meant something

My name once meant something holy to me

I wear my heart on my sleeve

She wears all your jewels

I live in cinders, love in shadow

My kingdom burns under my rule

And what do I have to show?

Ashes, ashes, I

Ashes, I've awakened

Ashes, ashes, I

Ashes, I'm forsaken

I've been fending for myself

In the dust of my common sense

You'll enjoy my lack of it

At your throne's expense

Your name once meant something

Your name once meant something holy to you

Her eyes will lock on you

And only glow for gold

I once had a claim to this land

Before my heart grew cold

Only to burn up in your hands

Ashes, ashes, I

Ashes, I've awakened

Ashes, ashes, I

Ashes, I'm forsaken

Ashes, ashes, I

Ashes, I feel this curse

Ashes, ashes, I

Ashes, I will burn

I'll destroy your coat of arms

I somehow can't get near

You, the reason my bridges burned

The adrenaline in my fears

"That was another beautiful performance from Pariah, here on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Pariah's new EP, Flare, can be purchased at any wizarding record shop, and can be mail-ordered directly from Infinite Records in Diagon Alley using the promo code HEART, H-E-A-R-T," Ms Chittock announced. "They will be performing live in Diagon Alley on the fourth of April, opening for Cannibal Coven. Discount tickets can be pre-ordered from the advert in Weird Witch until the fifteenth, after which tickets can be ordered from Infinite's circular or purchased at the door. We'll be back shortly with Spellbound. I'm turning it over to Martin Brightmeadow with the weather."

"She didn't mention the concert in May," Hestia whispered.

"She's only going by what Mongaby told her to say. We have to wait and see how the Diagon Alley performance goes during Easter holidays," Rhiannon explained, and thanked the additional personnel before they all left the building.

"I'll have you four know that this is not how I prefer to spend a Saturday," Professor Snape said as something of a greeting between Hogsmeade and the castle.

As Head of House, he had been responsible for escorting them, since the student body was not allowed to go to Hogsmeade unless there was a formal trip. An exception had been made on account of the girls' "job," about which Professor Snape had never had high opinions.

"Thanks for making the time for this, sir," Rhiannon said as though his comment had been a polite one. "I think the show went real well."

"Really well."

"Yeah. Really well. And I'm doing really well in that writing book you gave me."

"Keep it up," he said indifferently, but the girls knew he would not have given Rhiannon that duty if he did not care about her upcoming written O.W.L.s.

Like many Saturdays before, the girls could not agree on where to hang out. Hestia had a penchant for the Clock Tower courtyard no matter the rainy weather, while Flora would have rented the library as a home if she were allowed. Rhiannon and Astoria once agreed on the common room, but Astoria much preferred the Astronomy library ever since their group had been given passes. Since Astoria had not had her way for some time and there were too many first- and second-years in the common room, the four packed for the journey up Astronomy Tower. Being back in the Astronomy library motivated Rhiannon to give them a talking-to about Patronuses that the others did not want to hear.

"Come on now, nobody's done any better since the beginning of the year. It's better than doing real homework. What if it's on the D.A.D.A. practical O.W.L.?"

"My depression says no," Flora brushed off, pulling out her Muggle Studies essay.

"Oh, Flora, let's try again," said Hestia. "Maybe we have the same Patronus!"

"No, my Patronus is another dementor. I'm sure of it."

"Now you're being over-the-top. Rhiannon, could you show us your Patronus again? It might cheer us up!"

Rhiannon held up a finger whilst she shut her eyes and concentrated. Astoria preferred her not to sit on the desks, but she did not distract her from her positive meditation by telling her to use a chair.

"Expecto Patronum," Rhiannon said.

Astoria admired the greater ease with which Rhiannon had cast it. No, there weren't any dementors about, but sometimes life was enough to make the charm difficult.

"Expecto Patronum," followed Hestia, and what looked like wispy ribbons floated forth from her wand and over the snout of Rhiannon's wolf.

"Is it gonna be a snake? How boring! That would be like getting a bird if I was in Ravenclaw," Hestia said.

"I wouldn't mind having a lion as a Patronus if I was in Gryffindor," Rhiannon said. "Or an actual griffin. That'd be sick."

"What do you think the most disappointing Patronus is?" Hestia asked.

"Hmm… a flobberworm," Rhiannon laughed.

"Disappointing? That would be outright sad."

"The Quibbler once published a 'Worst Patronuses' list," Rhiannon mentioned. "I kept it in my scrapbook! I'm trying to remember some of the funniest ones… Oh, one was a Puffeskein. I think another was a snail. No flobberworms, though. I bet anyone with a flobberworm would be too embarrassed to even submit to the magazine."

"Quit saying 'flobberworm,' or that's what I'll end up with!" Astoria said, trying to get ready to cast one herself.

"There's no guarantee mine's not one yet!" Hestia said, watching as the thin wisps dissipated with Rhiannon's wolf.

"Expecto Patronum," Astoria said, simply trying to recount the good day she and her friends had had.

Sometimes that worked better than picking a single memory, because she was afraid to sanctify any memory too much lest it not make a Patronus. It was such a pain to work with those anxieties. She still had not made a corporeal Patronus, but it was more substantial than in the past. Astoria noticed some sort of curvature at the front of the ghostly form, but nothing else stuck out to her, and she enjoyed the energy for what it was.

"Yours is a snake, too! Yikes, we need to get out more," Hestia said to Astoria.

"No, wait, I thought I saw feathers like!" Rhiannon said, squinting into the Patronus trail.

"Whoa! Maybe it's an occamy!" Hestia said excitedly.

"It'd be much bigger if it was," Flora said, finally gaining interest. "Still, a small animal makes an equally powerful Patronus."

"Aw, size don't matter after all," Rhiannon sniggered. "Are you going to give it a go or not, Flora?"

"No, I'm already tired from drumming."

"There's no telling you won't be tired in front of a dementor!" Rhiannon wagged her finger.

"Oh, very well," said Flora. "Expecto Patronum."

"Not like that, you silly!" her sister said. "Get happy first! Oi, you two, let's do the Macadamia for her."

"That will make it worse," Flora laughed, pretending to cover her eyes as Rhiannon, Hestia, and Astoria lined up to dance the Macarena in tune with Rhiannon's humming.

"Alright! Stop it, stop it, I'm going to try… Expecto Patronum."

It more or less looked like Hestia's, and though there were more flobberworm jokes to be made, Flora looked rather heartened at the sight of its similarity to her sister's. The twins did not have very many of the little things in common, but Flora was glad to know they were tight deep down. Later, without precedence, she cast another one over Astoria's Arithmancy homework to be funny, and it had turned out quite well. The ribbonlike form perplexed Astoria, as it had begun to look like a trident.

"Good news, Hestia, I believe what we have is actually going to be a Runespoor," Flora postulated. "Not too shabby."

"Oh Flora! Do you remember Dad's Runespoor from when we were little?"

"Yes, I wanted to give each of its heads a separate name, which is more appropriate than the name you picked."

"Rusty. I named him Rusty. He loved the name," Hestia asserted.

At dinnertime, Astoria's sweet tooth got the better of her, and she opted for hot cocoa instead of her usual pumpkin juice or water. That was a mistake, because the steam from her Pepperup Potion, which had diminished slightly, poured out of her ears anew and right into the faces of Flora and Alexa Crover, who were seated next to her. Flora and Alexa both scooted away out of necessity. Astoria and her friends were talking so excitedly about Patronuses that she did not, at first, notice Alexa's old spot being taken.

"You startled me," she said to Draco, who was too exhausted to be perturbed about the steam in his face. "I took Pepperup today."

"I see that," he said, then lowered his voice. "Sorry about Hogsmeade. I heard you on the wireless, though."

"It's not your fault the trip was cancelled. So, what did you think?" Astoria asked.

Sometimes she cared what he thought, and sometimes she didn't. She would have to decide whether she cared or not based on the rudeness of his answer. Draco waved her forward to whisper something. He was too tired to comprehend that he would get a mouthful of steam that way! She refused to move closer.

"I like that song you wrote about me," he therefore said aloud.

Astoria's friends had entirely ceased eating, though Flora eyeballed him as she sipped from her goblet.

"Not everything is about you, Draco," Astoria answered light-heartedly, trying to play this well.

"Oh, but that was," he said, and started humming the song.

Under the table, as deftly as she could, Astoria cast the Distraction Charm her father had invented. She was forbidden from reading his papers from his old job, but they were about the library desks near the Occlumency books she needed at Christmas break. Indeed, her friends heard the incantation, since she could not do it nonverbally, but they had no way of knowing what it was. Soon they were staring at the candles flickering above them, trying to count them.

"Are you satisfied now?" Astoria said once she knew her friends were sufficiently occupied with counting.

"Nice spell. This means I'll have to write something about you," Draco said.

"Not on the ceiling this time, please," she said, referring to the Valentine's party.

"Ceiling? No, not on the ceiling again… It's so loud in here. I think I need to go for a walk after this," he said, rubbing his temples.

"You probably have a headache from lack of sleep. I think you need to go to bed," she said.

"Come with me."

"…Pardon?"

"Pff! On the walk, Astoria," he grinned.

"I have steamy ears."

"So? At least make rounds in the dungeons with me. I have to enforce curfew, you know."

"I'm not a prefect. Erm, so, going out after curfew…"

"Is that a no?"

"It's a yes."

It was almost certainly the fact that her friends were so mentally fuzzy that made Astoria agree, but the second she did, she regretted it. Going out past curfew would attract the attention of any other prefects about, and she didn't have a good alibi for any Aurors, either. Astoria briefly escaped the situation she had created by walking to the lavatory before dinner was over. When she saw herself in the mirror, she growled a growl that did not often come from Greengrasses. The coarse noise attracted the attention of Moaning Myrtle, victim of the basilisk and haunt of the lavatories. Astoria had found Myrtle to be quite the gossip and usually refrained from detailed conversations with her. For once, though, Myrtle did not seem to pry, and since Astoria had succeeded in turning her friends into arithmomaniacs, she confided in the ghost.

"I swear he had to pick the greasiest day of the year to do this," Astoria lamented as she glared at her sweaty reflection.

"Oh, I don't want to hear it!" Myrtle exclaimed. "I'm stuck with eternal acne."

"I'm sorry, Myrtle," Astoria said.

"Eternal acne!" the ghost emphasised, but then her sullen mood changed to one of bemusement. "Sneaking about tonight, Astoria?"

"Oh, you know it," she said before splashing her sweaty face with water.

She didn't have any good makeup, even back in her dormitory. That was for older girls, her parents said. Daphne had had it at her age, though. Astoria's hair had given up on her for the day, so it was going to take the work of a wand to give it life again. She would have time to do this before their walk, but why not do it now? He was sitting next to her at dinner, after all. Moaning Myrtle sat on the sink next to Astoria and helped her position her wand.

"You need to move your hand left… no, left. There! All the girls in my year knew how to do that. They'd put some Heat Charm on their wands and curl their hair," Myrtle sighed. "I always ended up burning myself."

"Nobody said I wasn't getting my fingers burnt right now," Astoria said.

"He must be really important to you."

"I guess he is."

"Pretty doesn't always take pain, Astoria. I think your hair looks swell."

"Well…"

"Really!" Myrtle squeaked. "In all my years here, I've seen a million girls give themselves that look you're doing right now in the mirror. I still do it, and I'm dead. It's not worth it. You're quite pretty as you are."

"Oh, Myrtle, thank you. The Pepperup steam has been frizzing my hair all day… I guess I'm getting too worked up. My friends know how to do their makeup and everything. Sometimes I feel like all I have to offer is my hair."

"You wouldn't think that if other girls weren't fribbling and bragging all the time. They're the ones with nothing to offer except bad attitudes."

"Since when did you get so good at giving advice?" Astoria laughed.

"Since when did you need advice, hmmm?" Myrtle said with her hands on her hips. "Since you started sneaking out?"

"…Yes," mumbled Astoria.

"Who's the boy?"

"I don't think so… You'll tell the whole school! Goodnight, Myrtle."

"Aw, you're no fun!" Myrtle wailed.

Astoria saw her roommates to the dormitory and eventually Muffled her own ears whilst they counted the bricks in the wall and, agonizingly, the threads on their rugs. The split-second nature of her decision to cast that spell had left her clueless as to how long it would last, given her wand's history. He might not have been especially concerned, but Draco asked Astoria when the charm on her friends would wear off. She hoped it would wear off before morning, or else she would have to explain far too much to the teachers.

"I'll blame you if it comes to that, Draco."

"How nice! They hate me anyway, so why not throw me under the carriage?"

"That was exactly my thought," she grinned. "How have you been lately, really? I still never see you outside of Astronomy, and I feel like we can't talk in there because the class is so small."

"I'm managing," he said offhandedly, then turned the conversation to her.

It was very unusual for him to not want to talk about himself, especially when the opportunity had been handed to him. Astoria talked about Pariah's forthcoming concerts, a little about the O.W.L.s, and then went unfailingly back to Astronomy.

"I still don't understand how Atmospheric Charms have anything to do with Astronomy," Draco said, concerned about their impending practical lessons.

"Magic is a turbulent force, as I've certainly learnt the hard way. In ancient history, many spells were created to control or enhance natural processes, such as elemental spells. As much as our own mentality and power has to do with it, magic can also depend on the weather, the sun and the moon, and to some extent, our position in space. Because of the advantages and dangers of growing certain plants and casting certain spells under different conditions, the International Wizarding Agency of Atmospheric and Space Magic were created as one. Our ancestors revered the seasonal positions of stars, which is why we have some seasonal celebrations most Muggles do not have. Long ago, the stars also served as compasses for a largely nomadic Wizarding population, seeking to keep their families safe from curious Muggles."

"Oh, they were more than curious, Astoria."

"Is that the only part of anything I said that you heard?"

They had only been near each other for twenty minutes. Why did he always do this?

"No, I heard you. It could be fun, I suppose. Lecture's absolutely boring for me when you're not writing me notes," he said.

Good grief.

"I'll have to do that more to keep you awake. Did you see Adamina fall asleep on Thursday? That was embarrassing," Astoria said.

"So… You call her Adamina when everyone else calls her Mina. It's no wonder she makes faces at us still."

Astoria thought about it for a moment, and she knew that it wasn't the only reason they occasionally earned a glare from her cousin. Still, Astoria was not comfortable with using nicknames unless it was with Rhiannon.

"I think I prefer to call her Adamina since she was named for my father. Going by Mina takes away that acknowledgement of my father and of our traditions. It's like how your mother's side has a tradition of choosing names of stars and constellations. My father's side of the family respects the Earth by picking names that evoke it."

"I like our traditions," Draco agreed. "Of course, I've been made fun of for my name plenty of times. When I first came to Hogwarts and people made fun of my name, my grandfather Cygnus said people used to call him Sickness. So it could be worse… I could have been Cygnus the fourth. You have several family members with numbers after their names, too, don't you?"

"My great-uncle's name is Quennell the twenty-third."

"No!" he laughed. "Somebody somewhere had to have read that wrong."

"Oh, it's true! The worst of it is that my family sometimes picks names of ancestors they don't know anything about because a good arithmanceutical number is next."

"As good an excuse as any. So, let me guess. You're named after your mother, Estelle," he said, quite proud that he had figured it out.

"I am. Daphne is named after my aunt Laureline since they both mean the same thing. You aren't named for anyone, though? Or, at least, you don't have a string of numerals after your name," Astoria pondered.

"I'm the first Draco in at least seven generations."

"That really surprises me," Astoria declared.

"How so?"

"It's a very nice name, that's all. Draco is circumpolar in our hemisphere," she said. "Not to mention the symbolism is pretty fierce."

Draco was thrilled to hear that. He bared his teeth and made a claw motion with his hands. Astoria was relieved to see him in this mood again, but she couldn't tell his dragon impression from a vampire one without context. She probably could do a better one and use her steaming ears to an advantage. Perhaps that was too juvenile…

Astoria had appreciated how relaxed she could be when she was with Draco. It was natural and meaningful whenever they spent time together like this. Her anxiety tonight, though, was not spoiling that. She was enjoying the deliberateness and calibration of their actions because of how obvious it made their interest in each other. She wanted to see him being awkward — Draco, who always tried to play it cool. She could afford her heart to race now. She recalled her first night at Hogwarts when the house-elves had lost her bags. It had been like this, except the hour had been earlier, she had been a child, and he had been an idiot.

"Quennell the twenty-third, hm?" Draco thought back. "I would say my family's at minimum that old on my father's side. Ancient, but not big. What's it like being in a family so large?"

"Well, you saw about one-sixteenth of it at Christmas," Astoria exaggerated.

"So… it's loud."

"It's loud when they're at the estate. We frequently have guests during the social season, but we only have a few major banquets and even fewer balls in a year."

"See, at my manor, it's quiet. I — ugh, never mind."

Draco readjusted his robes and reached up to fuss with his tie. Prying wasn't going to get him to finish his story. Astoria instead went with the compliment route, saying that she had seen photographs of his house and didn't think it a quiet place. She thought it would be a perfect place for an Allhallowtide or Samhain feast, given all the beautiful trees in autumn.

"I — You're not wrong. I, erm, I was going to say I used to think my house was haunted on account of its age… The people-to-room ratio didn't help, either. Grandpa Black caught on to this, right, and he would wait till Mother was busy to tell me ghost stories. Then I couldn't go anywhere in the house without her for fear of ghosts. And, you know her, she took her good time telling me there weren't any because she thought it was, er, cute I guess. I was five, just as a disclaimer."

"That's adorable," Astoria teased. "I've always admired ghosts, though. I spoke with Myrtle earlier. She's very gentle as spirits go."

"Have plenty of ghost experience, do you?" Draco asked.

Astoria noticed the subtle changes in the way he patrolled the halls. His eyes wandered more. He eventually moved next to the wall. Draco was still apprehensive about ghosts, and Astoria felt an overpowering urge to stay on the topic.

"Not plenty of experience, no. There is one ghost occupying the grounds of my estate. He told me his name is Quennell. I think he's the very first Quennell, though he refuses to say. He's a shy sort of man. My parents have always told me to keep away from him. I never did, especially as a child."

Draco looked both curious and disquieted, asking, "Why, because your parents told you?"

"Not at all. He kills the flowers. The first time I saw him as a little girl, I had run over meaning to scold him," said Astoria. "He had given me the most miserable look, like he hadn't meant to do it! So I used to bring him pressed flowers, that he might enjoy them without getting close to the ones in the gardens. He's a rather morose being, but I wave to him and try to talk to him when my parents aren't nearby. He always removes his hat for me! A tip would be a sufficient greeting."

"'Sufficient.' You do realise this is a ghost we're speaking of," Draco said, easing back up.

"What would you suggest?"

"I'd suggest hiding behind my mother," Draco said like it should have been obvious to her. It was so rare for him to use self-deprecating humour. He must have been comfortable. It meant that he both understood and expected their conversation to be special between them. Astoria let silence do its job for the length of a corridor, and then asked Draco, carefully, how his mother was.

"Apart from the fact that her life is spiralling out of control, she's doing fantastic. Honestly, though, I'm just trying to keep it together for her."

"That's thoughtful of you. I'm not sure I'd be able," Astoria said quietly. "Our parents always supported us. It's hard to know what to do the other way around."

"Well, she's done that too, for her parents," Draco said emphatically. "She's really the caregiver for everyone in the family. My grandpa had her at seventeen. I don't think he ever understood that these kids weren't going to take care of him just because they were all girls. So he didn't take care of himself, and he died in his fifties. He had his first kid at thirteen when he was still in school. And so did his dad. Erm, I remember figuring that out one day through maths. No one ever talked about it. Grandmother was a few years older. I was surprised then — it horrifies me now. Mother doesn't talk much about her childhood. I've noticed that."

"That is so young," Astoria said with a furrowed brow. "That's sad."

That was the youngest she'd ever heard. She and Draco were speaking quietly, but they lowered their voices even more when they passed Professor Snape's office and corridor. They hadn't seen a single errant student, probably more on account of the Aurors patrolling than anything, but Professor Snape's area was even off limits to the most multiplied of dares.

"I'm seventeen this June and cannot imagine that for the life of me. I've never even babysat."

"I've looked after my little cousins when we all get together, but it was mostly my family saying 'Watch them during this party,' not 'We will literally pay you to take this child off our weary hands,'" described Astoria.

Draco elbowed her, saying, "Please babysit this child we named Quennell the seventy-second who won't answer to anything less."

"It really rolls off the tongue."

They had reached a darker patch of the dungeons and ran into the seventh-year prefects making a return trip. It wouldn't be necessary to get close, but it was a little nerve-racking to follow them back from the area. They both knew Astoria wasn't a prefect. They both looked back at her every so often. They never did ask. Astoria used the experience with them to brace herself if she encountered Tracey or the prefects from her year. Or (oh please, anyone but) Professor Snape.

Draco motioned to Astoria, and she feared the worst, so they stepped into the Potions laboratory and waited quietly. It was only Horatio Pershore, walking by unaccompanied.

"You frightened me, Draco," she said.

"I didn't want to answer to him. He's nosy, but he never hits this room. I pulled two seventh-years out of here my very first week as a prefect."

"…You didn't."

"I did before it got too interesting, or Snape would have murdered them. If you're stupid enough to pick this spot…! Come on, it's the Potions room. I bet I did them a favour."

"It is severely lacking in ambience, I'll admit."

It looked like they were heading back to the common room after evading Horatio, but there wasn't an ounce of Astoria that wanted to. She couldn't do this perfectly safe "walk and talk" thing anymore, not a day longer. She sneaked her hand into Draco's. His hand was sort of dry and cool to the touch.

Draco gawped at her, perhaps surprised at the timing. It wasn't that it was late at night. It was that it was March. Pansy Parkinson had only attacked her a month ago with little reason… Well, Astoria could think of some reasons as she and Draco tried to pick how their fingers should lace.

They weren't taking the fastest way back to the common room, but then again, they weren't avoiding it. It was always the same thing. They were afraid of each other's families. They would hint at affection and never move. They had been looking at each other through glass.

Astoria wanted to lead him by the hand, abscond down a corridor they had patrolled themselves, and create a blond mess of his hair. He deserved it for leading her to fix her own hair with her wand earlier. Because nobody made a fool of her anymore. That had been her personal rule. The other rules… Well, she could break those.

"You're not secretly a Legilimens, are you?" Astoria asked.

"What if I was?" Draco asked quietly in turn. "You'd be more careful, wouldn't you?"

"I'd have to be."

There was no tug or pull of the arm. Draco simply lifted their hands, and she moved to him like a dance. He was beautiful. Every flickering shadow on his face drew Astoria's eyes to his cheekbones, down his jaw, to the grin on his lips.

"Well, I actually can't read your mind, so speak up," he advised.

Astoria went way up on her tip-toes to meet his kiss. He reached beneath her arm, traced his fingers up her back, and finally placed a hand on her shoulder to lower her back down. He would reach her.

Astoria's mind was not especially flush with observations, though her body knew there were plenty to be made; instead, she enjoyed the stillness of her nerves. There was no place here for thoughts of their families, of the war, of their disapproving friends. They were together, warm, safe, and secret. The simplicity of their touches and the absence of hesitation meant that they were no longer symbols of destruction to each other. Astoria was, at last, able to illustrate what he had come to mean to her.

Then she remembered her ears were still steaming and froze.

"M-My ears!" she gasped.

Draco didn't take his hands off her hips, which was perfectly reassuring, but the fact remained…

"I was wondering when you'd remember! Looks like I had you thoroughly distracted," he laughed.

"You didn't say anything!"

"I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice."

"So you could congratulate yourself!" she said in response to his smug expression.

"Don't look so embarrassed, Astoria. Remember, you held my attention enough for me to ignore the steam. Not bad for your first snog."

Astoria held her chin up, "How can you be so sure it was my first snog?"

Draco — who was all smiles, she might add — put his hand on her face and wiped the corner of her lip with his thumb. Then he poked her nose, a hint of superiority.

"It was an honour," he said smoothly.

Astoria and Draco held hands on the walk back, yet they let go at the common room entrance.

It goes without saying, doesn't it? she thought. We have to let go.

Draco wasn't ready to say the password. Astoria let the moment linger and watched his eyes fall. Astoria had had a few smudges on her personal record, but Draco was the spilt ink, and he knew it. She wanted him to know it. It highlighted the exigency of what they had done. This was not some fluke, or fling, or flippant decision. She had doubted this. She knew he was in Rhiannon's Foe-Glass from time to time, and she had yet to be certain of what that meant. He wouldn't be in her own Foe-Glass if she had one; she knew that much. Astoria had confronted him in the past, comforted him in the past, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Maybe there wouldn't be. You-Know-Who's influence over the Malfoy family was a hideous thing.

"You should keep this a secret," Draco murmured. "I will, too."

"I'll meet you the night the war is over," Astoria said, using the words with which he had turned her down before.

Draco murmured something and held her close, nothing more.