For anyone following this story, thank you ENDLESSLY for your patience! I moved across the country a couple months ago and haven't found my way back to the keyboard until recently. As always, comments are how I know what's working, so please share any thoughts you might have!

Chapter 3

The rest of the day was a distracted haze for Astoria. She'd skipped breakfast, preferring instead to mull in her room all morning, and only came down to join her family when summoned for lunch. Her parents were oblivious to their youngest daughter's odd behaviour, but that mostly due to Daphne purposefully distracting them. Every so often, her sister would shoot her such gleeful, wicked smiles, and Astoria knew she'd have to withstand some kind of interrogation from her eventually.

It came later that afternoon while Astoria was curled up in the library's corner window seat, reading a book called Pure-Blood Families of Britain.

"Looking up the Malfoys?" Her sister had sneaked up on her silently, though she wasn't surprised by the appearance. She'd been waiting for Daphne to corner her all day.

"I'm sure they're in here," she said dryly, trying to sound bored. It was exactly what she had been doing.

Daphne chuckled and hopped up to sit on one of the rungs of the nearby rolling ladder. "I noticed that you and a certain young Malfoy both decided to leave the party at the exact same time… so either you shot him down and stayed up all night feeling guilty, or you earned those dark circles under your eyes." Astoria reached up instinctively to feel beneath her eyes, and her sister laughed. "So which one is it? Mark of shame or badge of honour?"

In any other instance, Astoria would have politely told her sister to mind her business. But she was feeling too satisfied with herself and smiled coyly instead. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes! Yes, I absolutely would. And I know you've got that whole 'Walled Republic of Astoria' complex, but as your older sister and the instigator of the night, I think I've got the right to ask… oh, let's say… three questions.

Astoria let a laugh escape. She did find the straight-to-business side of her sister pretty amusing. And since she was in a good mood, she relented.

"Fine. Three questions. But no details."

"No details, pffft. As if I want to know the colour of Draco's…"

"DAPHNE!" Astoria was appalled.

"Right. So. First question: did he come back here with you last night?"

"Yes."

Daphne squealed and clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, I knew it!" Astoria shook her head at her sister's silly mood. "Will you keep it down? I don't want Mum and Dad to know!"

Daphne waved at her dismissively. "They're on the other side of the house. Question two. Did he stay here last night?"

Astoria smiled secretively and leaned her chin on her hand. "Yes."

Daphne squealed so piercingly that Astoria shot to her feet and clapped a hand over her face. "Will you PLEASE…"

"Alright, alright! I'm keeping it down. Right. Wow. Wow. I had a feeling. Sweet Merlin. Okay, third question. What's the deal? Do you want to see him again? Does he want to see you? Is my little sister FINALLY having some kind of torrid affair with a boy?"

Astoria ignored the comment about 'with a boy' and shook her head in mock disapproval. "That was three questions. But to answer the first of them, it was a one night thing. I doubt he wants to repeat the experience."

"What? Of course he does." Daphne shook her head disbelievingly. "Trust me, the way he was looking at you last night, I thought Pansy was going to jinx you into next week." She snorted. "Serves her right. She's been trying to get him back for ages and can't accept that she's ancient history. Why would you think he doesn't want to see you again? Did something happen?"

Astoria eyed her sister with annoyance. "You've already asked your three questions." Daphne responded with a very un-ladylike response.

"Well," Astoria couldn't help but laugh, "that's hardly a mature response."

"I'm the older sister here, I'll decide what's mature. What happened?" Astoria could tell her sister was genuinely interested, which was decidedly out of character. Since when has she taken any notice of my life? The last serious conversation they'd had together had been about Tullia, and it couldn't have been more uncomfortable. But it was thanks to her that Astoria even went out to the club last night, so she felt she owed her at least part of the truth. She just wouldn't say more than she needed to.

"Daphne, I don't know what you were expecting. It was a one-time thing. He left very abruptly this morning. And I'm not reading into it." But I think he might have been angry with me, she wanted to add. "He hardly seems the type to want to share a pot of Lovers' Oolong at Madam Puddifoot's."

"Hmph." Daphne looked thoughtful… maybe even frustrated? There definitely had to be something deeper going on. Had Daphne been planning for this to happen? And if so, why?

"Why are you suddenly so involved in my love life anyway?"

"I'm your big sister. Aren't I allowed to worry about your happiness?"

Astoria rolled her eyes. "Come off it, Daphne. You've never been that into my personal life before now. You want something out of this." She looked at her sister more closely.

Daphne knew her sister was too smart to come to any other conclusion, but she wasn't going to show her cards just yet. "Of course I do - I always want my share of everything. But we have more important things to discuss. For example, how we get you and Draco in the same again." She smiled mischievously and Astoria could only throw her hands up in surrender.

It turns out that her sister had already come up with a perfect solution: her birthday. She was turning 21 this September, an age that her mother felt was 'quite old enough to start thinking about a respectable marriage'. There was a rather old-fashioned tradition in the pure-blood circles of a Coming Out ceremony. It had historically happened when a witch turned 17, but the unrest of the last few years had stopped many families from holding them. In Astoria's opinion, the whole thing was a stodgy, outdated pure-blood concept. But Daphne and her mother, and even her father, seemed outright excited for the chance to show off to society.

It became Hemera Greengrass's grandest ambition to throw her eldest daughter the most elegant affair that galleons could buy, with a suitably elegant invitation list to match. This list included all the eligible (pure-blood) bachelors in Britain.

Astoria had continued to puzzle over what her sister's matchmaker endgame was, but to no avail. The only conclusion she'd come to was that it had something to do with Pansy Parkinson. It had never been entirely clear to her whether the two Slytherins were more friends than enemies; they'd always been fighting over the attention of guys, or of house popularity, even the title of Prefect. Whether her sister's commitment to the 'Astoria and Draco Project' went beyond the usual enmity… she couldn't say. What had Pansy done to inspire such vengeance in Daphne?

Overall, though, most of her thoughts were on seeing Draco again. It bothered her she spent so much time thinking of him. It wasn't as though she even liked him as a person. He'd been a Death Eater, hadn't he? And if the rumours were true, he had actively tried to assassinate Dumbledore throughout his sixth year. Their night together hadn't completely changed her opinion of him being a narcissistic, entitled prat. But every so often, she'd remember the intensity of those grey eyes, or the way his body had pressed against hers, and she'd exhale hard. Yes, she wanted to see him again. And more.

The day before the party, her mother knocked on her bedroom door. She'd been reading a book on medicinal herbology, of all things, and didn't really want to put it down. But duty came first, and she told her mother to come in.

"Astoria, dear, I just wanted to see what you were planning on wearing tomorrow. Did you decide?" She took in how pale her daughter looked, especially with that wretched hair colour.

"I haven't yet, no."

"Well I think the dove grey is best. You don't want to take from your sister's special day, do you?" She pulled out dress robes from Astoria's wardrobe that were the colour of fog. "Yes, these ones I think. Fletcher doesn't need to take them in at all, does he?"

Astoria didn't even want to think about that. "I don't think so."

Her mother nodded. "One more thing I need to talk to you about," she said, sitting down primly on the facing chair. "That hair."

Astoria defensively raised a hand to it. Her mother continued before she could interrupt. "Please spare me the well-prepared defense I am sure you have assembled. Merlin forbid you do something without a five-point argument as to why. Your father was not at all impressed the day you came home with… that," she gestured at the navy locks. "But I know that things have been… difficult for you, and if that's your way of acting out, well, then, at least it's a safe outlet." Astoria's frown deepened.

"A safe outlet," she repeated blankly.

"You've never been one to act out, thank heavens - that's been Daphne's specialty." Her mother sighed, obviously thinking of the multiple fights they'd had over the last seven or more years. "So if dark blue hair is the extent of it, it could be worse. I'm sure you'll grow out of it."

Astoria was seething with annoyance and frustration. She should have been pleased to know that her parents didn't suspect a thing about her rebellious activities. Instead she felt patronised and barely noticed. "Thank you," she finally managed. "I suppose what comes next is how inappropriate it would be to have blue hair at tomorrow's party?"

Her mother smiled with satisfaction. "You've always been the bright one, Astoria. I do miss your brown hair. You look so dignified. But I understand if you want to return to the blue afterwards. I'll permit it." Her fingers brushed a wave behind her daughter's ear.

She wanted to smack her mother's hand away. She'll permit it?

Before she had steadied herself enough to say anything in response, her mother asked one of Astoria's most hated questions.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Mother." Her mouth was tight when she said it, but she offered a smile to help prove it was true.

Hemera nodded and patted her cheek. "Good. Best to get lots of sleep for tomorrow, just in case."

"Yes Mother."

With an approving nod, her mother left the bedroom.

September the 28th was sunny that year. The air was perfumed by the late-summer gardens, brimming with roses, sage and windflower. Gold-shot green canopies had been magicked over the wide stone gallery to cast a welcome shade. Charmed golden dragonflies, like mini snitches, flitted and dashed above the crowd that milled there. The guests had dressed for the warm weather, in light coloured silks and linens. Astoria had even spotted some rather fanciful hats as the guests arrived.

The Greengrass family stood by the living room french doors, waiting for the perfect moment to walk out to join the crowd. A throne-like armchair had been set up by the Green Man fountain; as per tradition, Daphne would 'hold court' from there. It was customary for each of the attending families to approach Daphne and be formally introduced.

Daphne sparkled. She looked like a wood nymph in fitted robes of an eye-catching leaf green, her blonde hair a golden cascade down her back. Their parents had given her a beautiful set of earrings and a necklace for her birthday, goblin-made gold studded with light green diamonds. She glided confidently to her throne and sank into it with effortless grace. The early autumn sunlight dazzled all who looked on as it hit the gems and the water of the fountain behind her. She was beautiful, Astoria thought. Like a constellation brought to life.

It suddenly occurred to her, in a way it hadn't before, that the end goal of this day was for Daphne to end up promised, possibly even engaged. She's only 21, she thought. Is she really all right with this spectacle of a tradition?

But Daphne was smiling as though she'd been crowned empress, and no one looking at her would suspect anything but pure joy and delight at the day that lay before her feet. Astoria had often envied Daphne's place in the world, but not today.

The guests assembled themselves into a steady queue, and Astoria's mind blurred with the parade of family names and young men. She felt more like an accessory than a person. It didn't help that the dress robes she stood in were, in fact, a little too big for her after all, and she was more than half-convinced her mother had chosen them so she blended in with cobbled stone of the house.

The Notts had come, and the Flints. Lowes, Selwyns, Wilkes… they came and went. Astoria was momentarily shaken from her inattention when none other than Neville Longbottom and his grandmother stepped up.

"Astoria! It's good to see you." He smiled at her with genuine warmth, leaving Astoria to wonder what she had ever done to deserve it. Neville was the first of the young men to even acknowledge her, and she found she was happy to see him. "It's good to see you too," she answered politely - perhaps too politely, but she at least allowed her face to soften a bit into a real smile. A memory flashed like lightning in the back of her mind.

Neville squeezed Astoria's hand. 'She was close to you, wasn't she?" Astoria heard his words over the low static of the radio, but she couldn't answer. Didn't want to answer. It was the past tense that stabbed like a cold dagger. She managed a nod without meeting his eyes. He looked right at her, his expression grave and serious, and said "I'm so sorry." Tears started to run over her cheeks.

Her head twitched. Don't think about it, she ordered herself. Neville had moved on to being formally introduced to Daphne, so presumably no one had seen Astoria's momentary paleness. Before the Longbottoms processed away, Neville turned back to Astoria. "I hope we can talk later." His words were chased with another intimidatingly friendly smile. Astoria nodded, once again at a loss for words.

She was attempting to reassemble her face into its emotionless, polite mask again, only to turn back to find Draco Malfoy standing in front of her. With his parents.

It was comical. Or rather, she hoped that's how she would remember it when she looked back on the moment. Draco had been watching Neville with what could only be described as 'seething distaste' when Astoria's gaze fell upon him. Taken unawares by his sudden manifestation, her mouth gaped like a fish and her body froze as though someone had cast Petrificus Totalus on her. He looked back at her disastrously ridiculous pose, and did an honest-to-goodness double take.

Oh, you are a complete moron Astoria, she chided herself. You are a stupid, clumsy little girl.

The awkwardness continued to mount as they stared at each other and said nothing. Narcissa and Hemera were exchanging pleasantries and didn't even notice the interaction. Astoria, finally in control of her own actions, broke the gaze and looked away briefly. She could swear she saw Daphne's eyes sparkle as she watched them.

"Hello Draco," she said as she turned back to face him.

"Astoria," he responded just as flatly. His eyes locked again with hers, and she began to get that light-headed feeling she knew only too well. She forced herself to try and breathe like a normal witch.

Finally, Draco moved away from her to be presented to Daphne. She wanted to clutch at her chest with relief, but if she did, her mother would automatically assume the worst. She instead clenched her hands into fists. The sensation of her nails biting into her flesh helped pull her back into reason and reality.

This is what you wanted, wasn't it? To see him again?

She only looked back at Draco when she was sure he was walking away from them. His wheat blond hair was practically white in the sunshine, and the fabric of his robes pulled taut against his shoulders in a way that made Astoria want to sigh out loud.

Yes, this is what I want, she answered herself.

The rest of the queue felt endless and repetitive, and her legs were aching for the last ten minutes of it. Astoria wasn't sure she'd ever be able to stand up again once she found a chair. At last the final family walked away, and Astoria was freed to get food and to mingle with the guests. Encouraged, even. Her father (of all people) had suggested that she too be on the lookout for 'a suitable pairing'. Right now, Astoria considered herself suitably paired with stuffed mushrooms and other hors d'oeuvres.

As she picked up a mini tarragon chicken tartine from one of the hovering plates, the shadow from an approaching figure cast over her.

"It really is good to see you. Outside Hogwarts, I mean." It was Neville. Astoria wanted to stuff the tartine in her mouth and not have to say anything, but she was absolutely certain her mother would somehow sense that breach of manners and be on her before she could say 'gruyere'.

"Neville. You're looking very well." He grinned. He was looking very well. He'd grown even more, if that was possible, and was practically towering over Astoria. She figured she hadn't seen him in person since, well… since the evacuation of Hogwarts. But there had been many pictures over the last couple years of him in the Prophet; he'd been very involved in the restoration of Hogwarts.

"What are you up to these days?" She knew it was one of those stupidly polite questions she'd been drilled on before the event (thank you, Father), but she was sincerely interested in his answer.

"I think what you mean to ask is 'What are you doing here?" He smiled again, and gestured to a nearby couple of chairs. "Your legs must feel like murder after standing for almost an hour."

"Yes. Great Godric, yes." She exhaled in relief. "Please let's sit. And also yes to your reinterpretation of the first question."

Neville, the consummate gentleman, held her plate as she arranged her robes after sitting. "It was my idea, if you can believe it. Gran didn't really want to come. But I convinced her. I told her that the war with Voldemort may be over, but we still have a battle to fight when it comes to the pure-blood mindset. Being a Longbottom gives us a voice in spaces like this - something muggleborns or newer wizarding families don't have. If we can't have conversations about reconciliation here, we'll never make anything better and the war will just repeat itself in another generation."

Astoria was gobsmacked and tried not to fish gape for the second time today. She thought she had remembered just how decent a person Neville was, but even that memory seemed to have faded.

"I knew you'd been working on the restoration at Hogwarts, but I don't think I realized you were such an activist."

Neville guffawed. "Hardly an activist. Just trying to figure out what to do with my future, I suppose. And if Hogwarts taught me anything, it's that coming together despite our differences is the most meaningful thing you can try to accomplish in life." He gave her a half-smile, full of humility. "It's all we can do, isn't it? Try to make things better?"

His words were earnest, and Astoria felt a wash of guilt and shame. Here she had been wrapped up in her own issues for the past few years, not giving a passing thought to the greater wizarding world. She put her hand on his and squeezed, as he had once done for her. "I'd say you've been doing more than trying. You remind people how to be decent. Are you thinking of going into the Ministry, Neville?" He blushed and laughed out loud at that.

"No, that is one thing I have not considered. I'm no politician. But I don't like division. And so I try to pick the right places for a fight nowadays." His gaze flitted over Astoria's shoulder and hardened. "Today, for example. Not a place for a fight." She got the sense that the statement was self-directed and turned around.

Approaching the chairs, walking like he owned the place, was Draco Malfoy. Of course. He had that bloody arrogant smirk on his face again.

"Longbottom," he drawled. "Couldn't compete for Daphne, so trying for the younger sister eh? That's rather Slytherin of you." Neville's face reddened with embarrassment and anger.

"Hello Draco. I see you haven't changed much." Neville rose out of the chair in a controlled move and stood facing Malfoy. They were the same height now. He took a deep breath, as though he were swallowing the other words he wanted to say, and turned back to Astoria. She could see his smile was not as natural as it had been.

"I'd best go find Gran. She's probably tearing a strip off some poor family. I'm glad we got to talk for a moment. I hope it isn't too long until we meet again." And before Astoria could get up and respond, Neville had walked off.

Draco seemed unphased by the confrontation. He settled himself into the chair that Longbottom had just vacated, a glass of Bollinger in one hand. "What was that tosser boring you with?"

Astoria promptly forgot every possible reason she had been looking forward to seeing him again. "Neville was being an incredibly decent person and actually talking to me like I'm human and not a garden statue. You could probably take some notes." she retorted.

Draco didn't seem at all put off by the outburst. "What is he even doing here? The last thing I heard was that he was posing for photo ops at Hogwarts' ribbon cutting. He thinks he's the newest Harry Potter, his head's gotten so big."

"Neville Longbottom is the least attention-seeking person I know. Do I detect a touch of jealousy?"

Draco barked out a single laugh and tossed back most of his champagne. "Jealous of what? And since when were you chummy with that overgrown Pumpkin Pasty?"

Astoria closed her eyes in frustration. "Stop. Just stop. To think I thought you might have matured a bit since school."

The smirk stayed in place as his expression chilled. "I'm not a nice person, Astoria. I thought you knew that." With a practised movement, he flicked at his glass with his wand and it refilled. Astoria wondered how often he had used the spell. She was all too familiar with escapism to not recognize it when it was in front of her.

"I'm hardly one to judge."

The chilliness dissolved into real laughter. "You? You're a mouse, Astoria. I bet you haven't hurt anything more than a doxy your entire life."

Astoria took the glass out of Draco's hand and threw it back. "You shouldn't presume things."

He leaned over and plucked the empty glass from her hands. His face was inches away from hers. "Poor little Astoria Greengrass," he sneered. "Take away the blue hair, and all you've got left is a spineless princess that thinks she knows what suffering is."

She leaned closer to him, enraged. "At least I don't take it out on other people," she whispered sharply.

The air sizzled between them. She couldn't figure out if she wanted to slap him or drag his mouth to hers. He seemed to be handling similar emotions. Wanting this ridiculous display to be over, Astoria pulled away in a controlled movement and returned to her previously prim, stiff-backed posture.

Draco took his time recovering his control. He finally pulled back and looked away towards the hubbub. She followed his line of sight. Daphne was sitting on the wide stone railing at the end of the patio, at least five young men vying for her attention.

"I hate these things," Draco murmured. Astoria was a little surprised by the open confession.

"And here I thought that the Malfoys loved all things privilege and tradition." Draco looked down at his robes, which he picked at distractedly.

"I'm sick of privilege and tradition."

"Then why did you come?"

He looked up at her, suspicious of her question. "My mother thought it would be best for our image to be seen in good society." His disdain for the concept of it was clear. She watched as he looked back to the milling sea of linen and silk.

"I hate them too," she offered as a peace offering.

"Says the mousy brunette wearing a silk potato sack. Did your mother dress you to blend in with the house?" Astoria shocked him by laughing. He turned back, surprised at her reaction.

"I had the exact same thought the minute I stepped out on the patio." The expression of faint amusement on his face fed something in Astoria, and she felt a momentary pang. How is it possible to hate someone one moment, and want to move mountains to make them smile the next? "I don't suppose you're familiar with the Greengrass motto?"

"No, I can't say that I am. My mother would be ashamed of me."

"Legatum, Decum et Officium. Legacy, Dignity, and Duty."

Draco smirked harder. "That sounds…"

"Full of privilege and tradition? Don't I know it." She rolled her eyes.

"So to hell with it."

Astoria laughed. "Yes, right, okay. That's an option." She looked down at her hands, neatly folded in her lap as she'd been trained.

"I'm utterly serious." And he did sound serious. Something in his voice was graver, weighted. "To hell with it all. I'm sick of it. Aren't you?"

She looked up at him. "What does 'to hell with it' even mean?"

His fingers reached out and touched her temple, dragging them back to stroke her hair. Something heavy and alive churned in her.

"Why did you turn your hair blue?"

Why did she? At the moment, all she could think was how loudly her blood was pulsing through her, and how idiotic she was for being attracted to such a man as Draco Malfoy. Spineless, he'd called her. He was right.

"I.. wanted to change something. Make something different. Have control over some small part of my life."

Draco pulled his fingers away, but kept his eyes locked with hers.

Great Godric, Astoria. He practically has you on your knees again. So much for wanting control over anything.

"Let's start with ditching the onlookers," he suggested. "Where do you go to be alone around here?"

Astoria blinked. How had they got back here so quickly? But oh, she wanted to disappear with him, she realized. She wanted to rather badly.

"Come with me," she told him.