Book 3: Astoria Greengrass and the Legilimens of Hogwarts
Song rec: "Black" by Pearl Jam

Draco had to steady his nerves after the cursing incident with Potter. He had no more room to be emotional or scared. Draco had not envisioned this mission dragging out for the entire year, but here it was: the tail end of May. Astoria was studying vigorously for her O.W.L.s, so Draco did not need as many excuses for his long absences (not that he used very good ones in the first place). The Vanishing Cabinet remained thorny. Draco had consulted the library and had tried every relevant Mending charm first, followed by all of the irrelevant ones. Because this cabinet used dimensional magic, the normal spells never worked. He was left with thick, jargon-filled books about the Floo Network, a far cry from the magic used in the cabinet. Somehow, yet still painfully slowly, he was making progress. He had sent a few newspapers through the cabinet. They came back torn. It was better than the spiders he had sent through before. But Draco knew that if he stepped in there, he would die.

Can you imagine? Draco thought bitterly. I was told to kill Dumbledore and I could end up killing a whole squad of other Death Eaters this way.

The teasing tangibility of seeing his goal realised made Draco consider the consequences of his mission more seriously. He had to be choosy about the Death Eaters he would inform. The Lestranges were all mental, so even though they were convenient, they were out. Corban Yaxley, on the other hand, had a certain professionalism that Draco might need. He would never do anything rash. The Carrows were a tough twinsome, but they had family here and at least weren't likely to explode the school. That could work if he could get a hold of them. Anybody he picked would need to have enough faith in the Dark Lord to be at the scene of Dumbledore's murder willingly. He could not invite new recruits, nor could he invite the ones who killed anything that moved. Draco didn't know how long it would take the Ministry to arrive at the crime scene, but he guessed he would have ample time given their history.

Once the Ministry did arrive, though, things would get sticky whether Draco was still there or not. Even if he could make it beyond the grounds of Hogwarts and Disapparate, what sort of scene he and the other Death Eaters left behind would determine whether or not he had caused an inconvenience to the Dark Lord. The immensely important deed being done, inconveniences were still frowned upon. Draco, in his ignorant pride and excitement, had told too many fickle friends about his Dark Mark. He had become paranoid. He pulled Theodore aside after D.A.D.A. one humid morning.

"I need your help in undoing a mistake," Draco admitted at last.

"What could you possibly think I'll agree to?"

"I told Pansy and Blaise that I…" he whispered and pointed to his arm.

"You don't mean… No. A Memory Charm, Draco? No."

"I'm getting very close," Draco exaggerated. "I can't have them blabbing under pressure. Once the Ministry is here, Blaise Zabini will panic because of all that stuff with his mum. Pansy will tell all her friends how proud she is of me."

"Draco. No. You should have been more careful in the first place. Memory Charms take a very delicate hand. Remember what happened to Lockhart? I could end up on trial first if I use this against classmates. Now, that would be a shame. You always like being first."

"Theodore, I'm not going to ask you politely again," Draco said. "I trusted you with this because I already know I can't do it safely. I only need memories of me being a you-know-what erased. Nothing else. A small job, Theodore. A careful spell."

Theodore's messy hair shook out of time with the motion of his head. He had a slew of objections.

"What about Crabbe and Goyle? If I use a Memory Charm on them, they'll become infantile."

"I still need them anyway. You don't have to mess with them."

"What if Parkinson already told her friends?"

"She didn't. It's driving her mad, but she didn't. She's too afraid I'll be even angrier."

"Ah, well, I bet you didn't consider this. If Pansy forgets about that pretty little cattle brand you have, then she's not going to remember why you two split."

"I didn't say to get rid of her memory of our breakup. She knows it was because she's obsessed with criminals."

"What if I Obliviate more than intended?" Theodore asked, not as miffed anymore.

"You know the False Memory spell, right? So, put some replacements in there so they can function."

"It doesn't work that way. They would have fixed up Lockhart if it did."

"Then your option is to not bugger it up in the first place."

"I never said I would do this."

"I never said I wouldn't Imperius you," Draco hissed in his desperation and impatience.

Theodore looked profoundly hurt. He stopped walking and clenched his jaw, and finally gave up trying to keep his hair out of his eyes. Were his eyes red? Draco relented.

"I can't help you pull off a Memory Charm through that curse, Theodore — you know that. You need to be fully about your senses. We both know that. I'm not going to Imperius you."

"This is how you leashed Crabbe and Goyle, then, eh? With threats? All the way back to first year?" Theodore growled. "Threaten me one more time, Draco."

"I'm not, all right? I'm not. I'm running out of options, and I trust you. I don't trust myself to do it. I want them ignorant, not permanently damaged!"

"You don't prefer me to be blessed with such ignorance."

"It wouldn't be safe for you to suddenly not know what's going on, now, would it? Do what you want. I'll figure something out. Forget I asked you."

Draco did not have any time to read up on Memory Charms. There were experienced wizards who could not cast them. Yet he could not trust Blaise and Pansy at this fragile point in the mission and remained at a loss of what to do. It would take three Confundus Charms apiece to get something as serious as this out of their consciousness. But Theodore hopped back to him, his mop-top bouncing once more.

"I'll do it," he said. "Because I know how, and you'll try something stupid."

"I likely will," said Draco dismally.

"You have to help me, though."

"Lead on."

They found Blaise sitting in the Middle Courtyard, but he wasn't anywhere near the middle of the grass. He was in the shade by the wall of the castle, sharing his prized and pretentious cigar stash with Xander Lofthouse and Max Manson, keeping an eye out for teachers. It was awfully crowded in the courtyard, though not near their smoke.

"The Squib's spotted you lot smoking. He's on his way," Theodore said.

"Piss," said Max Manson, and Draco swore he looked ready to eat the cigar to hide it from Argus Filch.

The other two were much more casual, burning them out slowly on the brick wall. Blaise's eyes were shifty as he walked off the scene. That was when Theodore and Draco followed him. Blaise couldn't suspect anything whilst they were still in view of other students, so Draco tried to strike a conversation.

"I could use one of those, to be honest."

"I don't share my Panetelas with blood-traitors, Malfoy," Zabini spat.

"Silencio," Theodore said suddenly, and before Zabini could fight, Draco Immobilised him.

They drug him off to the nearest empty room and lay him flat on the floor.

"Alright, Draco, I need you to step aside and be quiet. Watch for interlopers. Nothing more. I'm removing his knowledge of your whole job, yes?"

Zabini's eyes were as wide as Theodore's were narrow. His facial expression was that of absolute struggle, but he wasn't moving any time soon.

"Yes. And get rid of that 'blood-traitor' rubbish, too."

"Are we talking, 'unweave the very fabric of his prejudice' or 'make him stop thinking I'm a blood-traitor because it hurts my feelings…?'" Theodore crowed.

"The second one, you arsehole!"

Theodore rolled his wand between his palms nervously, like he was trying to mould clay.

"Blaise, I suggest you think as hard as you can about Draco's mission, or else I might accidentally lob something else straight out your head."

Zabini contorted all the muscles of his face.

"Obliviate," said Theodore gently.

Zabini's expression softened considerably, and Draco and Theodore quickly lifted him up and countered the jinxes they had placed on him before he came to his senses.

"What on earth…?" Zabini grumbled.

"Shh, Filch, remember?" Theodore said seamlessly. "He's tailed us."

"Oh, right," Zabini said.

They waited a few moments, then Draco used his acting skills to pretend to search for Filch.

"It's clear."

"Good," said Zabini, and they all walked back to the common room without any sign of an accident on Theodore's part.

Draco had to wait out Theodore's Arithmancy class, but after that, they searched for Pansy. Draco was not looking forward to this confrontation. She would make a scene if he attempted to get her alone. Incredibly enough, they couldn't find her in any of her usual spots, so Draco had more time to think of what to say.

"You don't suppose she's in the library, do you?" Theodore asked.

"The library? Pansy?"

"It's either that or she's in her dormitory, and we'll never get to her."

"Might be worth a try… Finals are coming up."

The sight of Pansy in the library was hilarious. She must have come there right after D.A.D.A. to study out of fear of Snape. Luckily, nobody was sitting with her. Pansy's distractibility was at an all-time high; the second she saw Draco, she changed her demeanour. It was actually a bit sad. Theodore went first. Draco didn't know how he would ever thank him.

"We need to talk to you about the mission," lied Theodore.

"Me? Really, Draco? Oh… Certainly…" Pansy said, closing her book quickly. "I'm glad you showed up… If I had to listen to that Mudblood's scribbling for another moment, I'd—"

"You'd find another table," Theodore hushed Pansy, his eyes widening stupidly at the sight of Granger. "Let's go already."

There were no private spots near the library, so they had to take Pansy for a walk. She was already full of questions, which fortified Draco's decision about the Memory Charm. It was amazing that her enthusiasm had been contained for so long in the first place. Draco ignored all of her questions but made sure to ask her who all she told.

"I didn't tell a soul, Draco," Pansy cooed. "I'm not stupid. I know how important your mission is."

"Good."

Pansy looked so happy that she might have just offed Dumbledore herself.

"No sign of Filch," said Theodore, but regrettably, he led them out to the Clock Tower courtyard.

This was a famous dating spot. Draco and Pansy had only made it up there a few times during their relationship. Braving the weather was often a necessity to get the area private; other couples always seemed to get there first on nice days. The issue was averted with Astoria, who was not opposed to walking outside on the stormiest of days and using Atmospheric Charms to split the storms' paths and clear the courtyard. Nobody disturbed her and Draco out of fear of the storms, which would rage on loudly beyond their spot. Astoria loved the aesthetics of snogging in their magically dry courtyard during thunderstorms. She failed to realise that she wasn't immune to getting caught, but Draco liked the risk.

"Hello? Do I have to do everything myself?" Theodore said as Draco was reminiscing about a certain spot behind the fountain.

"Oh. Pansy. Sit down," he said, and she did.

"Immobulus."

He caught her and leaned her against a tree.

"Obliviate," said Theodore less cautiously than he had done with Blaise.

"You only Obliviated what I asked, right?"

"Er, yeah," Theodore chirruped.

Draco led Pansy quickly out of the courtyard before she gathered any new ideas about their being there. They could not possibly make it all the way back to the library before she came out of her daze, so Draco had to think of some explanation for why he was there with her. Or maybe he didn't.

"She has her books. Put her book in her hand."

Theodore obeyed. Draco started to walk away.

"She'll be fine, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I think I'll go to the library anyway. I'll make sure Pansy still functions. See you later," Theodore called.

"Hey, Theodore — thanks."

"Yeah."

The feeling of relief was a luxury. Draco made sure to tell Crabbe and Goyle to never mention the Death Eater subject again to the others. The pair took the increased secrecy as a sign of their own importance, so it all worked out quite well. But Blaise and Pansy would know what he was again one day. Everyone would.

Draco had been sending a few of his choice possessions home. It would be too obvious to send home everything, and in times like these, any larger packages were sure to draw the attention of the Ministry one way or another. He had some difficulty coming to terms with leaving so many of his things at Hogwarts when he would be forced to flee it soon, since everything he owned was nice. One of his new favourite possessions, and one he could not imagine leaving in a place like Hogwarts any longer than necessary, was the gift Astoria had got him for his seventeenth birthday. It was a Golden Snitch that had been commissioned by the French National Team in 1879 for a fresh start upon the Seeker's retirement. Astoria had asked her Grand-père Ciel to send it from France, simply saying that it would make the perfect gift for somebody special, and at first, Draco wondered why the old man was willing to be rid of it. The Snitch was engraved with the initials S. C. and encased in heavily charmed glass. It just so happened that Astoria's great-great-great-grandfather, Satordi, had only forged one "bad" Snitch in his career.

"Shake it," she said.

The Snitch seemed to warp, and it turned in on itself with the most haunting clanging that somehow rang through the glass. It was no longer recognisably golden but was reflecting everything round it like a dozen tiny mirrors. It flew about as normal Snitches do and hit the glass several times, but each time it impacted, it warped again until it finally resumed its normal state. Draco pondered how much noise it must have made in the post.

"The team opened up the box Satordi Ciel sent it in and deemed it cursed," Astoria said, and Draco's heart began to beat at the thought of its uniqueness. "What really happened, though, was that their new Seeker had already got into the parcel and attempted to weight the Snitch. Grandfather Satordi equipped all of his Snitches with anti-cheating spells that would render them unusable if tampered with. People did not have anything better to do than make a scandal of it at the time, saying Satordi was an assassin… It took him more than fifteen years to repair his reputation even though he had done nothing wrong. It was the Seeker's fault."

"So it's not cursed?"

"Why would I ever give you something cursed?" Astoria said.

"I wouldn't mind, so long as it didn't curse me. But this is also fantastic. Thank you for sending for it. I always like things that come with a story," he said, and kissed her on the cheek.

Somewhere between saying "I need to study" and "Snape wants me for something," Draco had to make more time for her. Well, he did not have to — he could have done the smart and respectable thing, but he enjoyed being with her too much. That was why, even though the Vanishing Cabinet was at last starting to heal from its damage, Draco stole her away from studying for her O.W.L.s. His own final examinations, he knew, were off the point. His life was about to change drastically yet again, and he doubted he would ever be back in school. He might be the Dark Lord's new favourite Death Eater come month's end. He could finally get control of his life again. His family would be out of danger and in power. Yes, the Malfoy family had good things coming, Draco thought yet again. He was going to be a great Dark wizard.

Well, he wouldn't be that great without the greatest witch of all at his side.

Astoria was fully aware that their time was running short, although she thought it was because of the Lestranges threatening him and her family needing to move. Draco let her think that. He let her think whatever she wanted to think because he had mere days left with her in his life. Her O.W.L.s would begin, and he would kill Albus Dumbledore.

Astoria did not know that this could be the last of it on that early summer's day. She loved the warm weather, and all she wanted to do was go outside. Draco was more than content to be led across the grounds. She had on a gingham sundress. She was going to get cold in that once evening fell, but they had time before then, too.

Draco still felt the roots of their relationship in the tips of her fingers. It had been over three years since they met. He was so glad his parents had made him soft-soap the Greengrasses back then, even though they were blood-traitors. Life had been very different before his father was arrested. Keeping the Malfoy name eminent involved doing the opposite of what it meant now. Though Astoria had never fallen for that approach, and her rejection of anything less than honesty had caught his attention. He had stopped trying to look good for her and started trying to be good for her.

We had a good run, he thought.

Astoria removed her shoes at the edge of the smoothest plane of the lake's shore. It wasn't the sandy beach he preferred to take her to; it was pebbly and brown. For some reason, she held the corners of her dress as she stepped along the shoreline. It was an endearing force of habit; that dress wasn't nearly long enough to get dirty from her walking there. Draco followed her, aware of all the reasons he'd never tried this before. Unimaginable creatures lived in that lake. Sometimes they would swim by the window of the common room and startle those sitting closest. Astoria kicked her feet in the water. Draco found a good skipping stone. He would never have guessed that he was a soon-to-be murderer if he was seeing this from an outsider's perspective.

Outsiders did arrive at the crest of the hill's path to the lake. This was always Astoria's favourite part — the escape. Where other girls would have been affronted, or at least saddened, to have their relationship hidden, Astoria agreed that it was for the best, and at times, delighted in the adventure. She had as much fun running from others' view in the nick of time as somebody else would enjoy winning a Quidditch match. She grabbed her shoes and ran barefoot along the path, way ahead of Draco. He sat on the shore and casually tied his shoes, keeping an eye on her. With her shoes back on and a careful glance at the approaching group, she conjured a book.

Pretending to read, Astoria?

She always liked to mix it up. The acts she put on were easier than coming up with the hundreds of explanations she would need for spending so much time with Draco. He watched her clumsily climb a low tree with a large branch that swung over the edge of the lake. He went round the long way, noting the number of people enjoying the good weather. Her role was to read her empty, conjured book, and she played it well for another group of students from her year. Draco finally got the chance to sneak up behind her. Astoria smiled down at him and hurled the conjured book over the water; it vanished in thin air just as it had been created. Helping her down from that tree resulted in Draco getting more action than he had bargained for. He knew that she was crafty and liked to think she had planned it that way. Two more relocations from the eyes of other students, and they both reclined against the cliff's cold surface.

"I was thinking about how I was home-schooled yesterday," Astoria said.

She was balancing her wand on the tip of her finger and watching it teeter in the breeze.

"Your parents thought Hogwarts would destroy you, I recall."

"It did," Astoria said, and her eyes lost the sunshine for a moment. "They also thought I would destroy Hogwarts once they started letting me use magic. You see, everything I learn I have to learn from reading, because nobody ever wanted me to do anything. They took a few examples of me messing up as a child and held it against me. Do you remember when you got your Hogwarts acceptance letter?"

Draco recalled it as one of the most exciting days of his childhood, though he had had to pretend not to be too excited about it, since his parents looked down on the school.

"My parents hid my letter and told me I didn't have the 'right kind of magic' to go," Astoria said. "They acted like I never got the letter at all, and they home-schooled me."

"Really?" said Draco, leaning forward. "That's ridiculous! You would think that if you blew things up…"

"Well, I didn't blow things up. The spells blew up! They failed! I showed magic very late for a child. They thought I was a Squib, and they had my cousin talk to me about what it's like to not have the same magic as our siblings, things like that. Well, once I finally started showing it, it was always out of control. Daphne — the most exciting thing she did was conjure snowflakes for Grandmother — she was allowed to go. I would have been an embarrassment to the Greengrass name. I was too much a wild card."

"Astoria, listen," Draco said. "It doesn't matter now. Whatever problem happened when you were little was reversed when you were advanced a year."

"That was for academics, not magic," Astoria said.

He could tell that she had needed somebody to talk to about her parents hiding her letter when she first found out, and he hadn't been available.

"I know you must hate it, but I'm glad for it," he said honestly. "I'm glad you weren't there your first year. We had dementors and hippogriffs and Sirius Black that year. And because you weren't there, you worked so hard that you did the equivalent work — yes, yes you did — to become a third-year. I shouldn't need to mention Astronomy. If nothing else, I've had more time with you this way."

"I have liked that."

"If you really are a Squib, you're very good at Kwikspells," Draco laughed.

"Hmph! The truth comes out!" Astoria said, twirling her wand like she was a majorette.

"Non, vous êtes une belle sorcière," Draco said in his lamentable accent, but she ate it up anyway and started speaking all sorts of French he didn't understand.

"What are you saying, Astoria? Dirty things, I'm sure."

"Where did you lose me?"

"I almost don't want to repeat what I thought I heard. You're very different when I'm the only one watching," he taunted.

"The same is true of you."

The fresh tenderness of her words at last stirred Draco out of his calm. Astoria was better at Legilimency, but she would never be able to get through him. He had a horrifying, intrusive urge to let down his mental guard and let her tear all through him. He was different when only she was watching. He wasn't a Death Eater at all.

Astoria, please pay attention. Pay attention.

She snuggled closer and looked up at him.

You need to forget me.

"I'll miss this," she said quietly.

I'm a murderer. Get out of here. Save yourself.

"Not to be grim again, but I want you to do whatever you can to stay safe in this war, Draco. I won't be here. You won't have to worry about me. I know your family is involved, so please," she struggled for better phrases, "be safe."

How could she barely be missing what he was thinking? Her responses were staggering him. Astoria was hearing his song but not the words in it. That was why she did not flee, but idly hummed a different tune entirely on their walk back. Draco was fairly certain he had danced to it with her one delightful evening before. Yet maybe that elusive vernal melody was only what he wanted to hear. Astoria could have been humming anything in the world, and he would have heard love. Even as he prepared to bring Death Eaters to the very grounds they now walked, he could not let her go and spare her the pain.

"Draco, look, the sunset's gorgeous," she announced happily, smiling at him.

I am a monster.