Chapter Three
White sunlight scorched through my eyelids, waking me in a groggy haze. My lifted arm did little to block it out, but a sear of pain shot through the skin of my hand. Shit. The splinching wounds.
"Accio dittany," I murmured, grateful my wand had been placed on the bedside table.
Only when the small amber bottle came whizzing into view did I remember where I was. Daphne's new place. And the bottle brought back memories of the night before, memories of Draco…
I clasped a hand to my mouth. My eyes roamed the room as though he might be hiding somewhere — in the wardrobe, or beneath the bed. The bottle clinked, chattering, as I shakily applied a few drops to my wounds, watching them close over before my eyes. Draco…
I closed my eyes, struggling to remember. The night meshed into one big blur in my mind. I remembered the kiss. It would take more than Euphoria to make me forget that. I remembered the way his teeth had gently nibbled on my lower lip, the way his arms had cradled my waist. Nothing beyond that, though. I didn't feel sore down there. But then, how had things ended?
I shrugged back into my jeans and coat, deciding I would say a hasty goodbye and go home to shower. The pounding in my head worsened as I stood, and I could not remember the headache curing charm for the life of me. I stumbled down the stairs two at a time, and accio'd a glass of water before I even made it to the kitchen.
"You've made a right racket in my house this morning, you know that?" Daphne said. "Bottles flying around, taps turning on and off."
She sat at the table, in a plush dressing gown with a towel on her head. The mess from the night before had disappeared — presumably the house-elf in the night. I frowned, hoping Daphne had tipped the extra galleons.
"Why do you look so miserable?" she asked, pouring me a coffee.
"I feel like shit, don't I? I can't remember the headache charm."
"It's capitis abiit, with the sort of squiggly motion."
It took a couple of tries, but finally the pain fizzled away, and I gasped with relief.
"So, what happened to you last night?" Daphne frowned. "Blaise and Draco left with the twins, they said you'd gone to bed already."
Something shattered inside of me like ice. "The-the twins?"
"Yes, the Carrow twins. Blaise has been after Hestia for a while now, and I suppose Draco just got lucky." She eyed me curiously. "Why, did something happen?"
"I don't remember," I lied. "I.. I tried Euphoria. I must have blacked out."
Daphne groaned. "Are you serious, Tori? For goodness' sake. You try Euphoria, and you go straight to sleep? God, I can't take you anywhere!"
An insult slipped to the tip of my tongue, but the small silver package at the edge of the counter caught my eye.
"Your present."
"What?"
I placed the parcel in front of her. "I brought you a housewarming gift. I must have forgotten to tell you last night."
Daphne eyed it warily. "Tori, you didn't have to—"
"Just open it," I said.
She peeled the wrapping paper away slowly, as though scared I'd concealed something harmful within. Instead, her eyes landed on the framed photograph of us both, taken last Christmas. The grief of the war was still fresh in the circles beneath our eyes, the thin hair, but we were laughing and covered in snow. When Daphne looked at me again, she had fresh tears in her eyes.
"Thank you," she said. A laugh escaped as she wiped the tears away. "It's interesting, you know. We were saying only last night about… about how messed up this all is."
My lips twitched. "What do you mean?"
"You know." Daphne lowered her voice. "I'm not saying V-Voldemort went about things the right way. But there was an element of truth to his ideas, wasn't there? We shouldn't have to hide away from muggles. And now look at us. We are shamed for our pure blood. It's backwards, and it's all because people are too afraid to speak out against it anymore, in case they're locked up for defending themselves."
I eyed Daphne cautiously. "I think there's more to it than that, Daphne. I mean, we actually supported Voldemort… Our parents fought alongside him."
"You've studied politics," she continued, "why shouldn't there be an opposing viewpoint? It's healthy, isn't it?"
My jaw clenched. "Murdering innocent people is not healthy, Daphne. Have you forgotten what that man did? Who he hurt, who he tortured? Innocent men and women. Children. Children, Daphne. He was demented!"
"I'm not defending his actions," Daphne hissed in retaliation. "I'm just saying, there's more to this than simply siding with Voldemort or against him. We can mirror his ideals without his methods."
"That is enough!" My chest rose and fell with each breath, my head throbbing with adrenaline. I rarely spoke out against my sister. "Daphne, if anybody were to hear you speaking like that… or me, listening…"
"That's exactly my point, Tori. We should be allowed to say whatever we please!"
I shot to my feet. "Thank you for the coffee. I need to go, I need to head into work early."
Daphne blinked. "It's Saturday."
"They're wanting me to do a piece for tomorrow's edition." I caught sight of the photo again, and saw that we had become bristly there, too. Daphne was elbowing me in the ribs while I pouted. "I don't want to fight," I softened. "I just… you know what it's like, Daphne."
She chewed her tongue for a moment, her glare fixed. "Why can't you grow up, Astoria? Stop moping around all day, simpering after Malfoy and embarrassing yourself. Writing your big words and throwing around your title… Why can't you just try to be normal for once?"
I recoiled as though stung. "You don't mean that—"
"I do! Of course I do. You're an absolute embarrassment. You always have been." She snatched her wand from the table and left the room.
A solitary tear dropped to the floor before I disapparated.
"Homenum revelio."
Nothing.
I had no clue where my parents had gone. They were prone to disappearing for days at a time, returning with some big speech about how lovely Sardinia or Majorca had been. They never did manage to catch a tan, though. While I loved the freedom of the place to myself, it did feel cold and lonely. Daphne's words from the night before echoed in my mind. You need to relax, make some friends. What friends did I have? The other girls in Ravenclaw had kept their distance the moment they heard the name Greengrass. A few of the lads had been okay, but it had been years now since seeing any of them. I'd tried to convince myself that I prefer solitude, that I'm too busy with work to maintain friendships. But now, with an empty weekend despite the lie I'd told about tomorrow's edition, the weight of my predicament combined with Draco's apparent rejection came crashing down upon me.
My body jerked with each heave, each sob, and it was all I could do to drag myself up to bed. I curled up in the blue comforter, allowing my body this release. He had kissed me. That had been real. That had been magic, the true kind beyond anything achievable with a wand. Then he had cast me aside for somebody else, taking them home for the night instead. The pain grew bigger and bigger, like a ball from my stomach starting the size of a cherry and growing to fill me completely. Just when I thought it might end me completely, it burst, and the tears subsided. I gulped and hiccoughed, and after but a moment of emptiness, the void filled with anger.
How dare he use me and then cast me aside like some trick wand. How dare he treat me as nothing but a meaningless moment in time. You will learn, Astoria. Maybe Daphne had a point. Perhaps I needed to grow up, to harden. And I knew what I had to do.
Astoria was pure. She was beautiful, innocent. She was everything good and carefree in this world, and Draco would not take her like this. Not high on fucking Euphoria, not in a spare bed of her sister's house. She snuggled into his neck as he carried her to the bed, and thankfully he had not needed to explain. By the time her head hit the pillow, her eyes had closed. She murmured quietly, nestling further into the bedsheets.
It was a sobering moment. Draco felt a wave of the effects wear off as he stood in that bedroom, came back to some semblance of his senses. He was still caught, though, as though in the space between dreams and waking. He could choose either. But he took a moment to consider Astoria, to really look at her and wonder. What drew him to her? Her effect had dulled now the world had returned to its normal colours and stopped buzzing around the edges. Did he still want her like this?
"Malfoy," Zabini urged through the door. "Come on, I need your help."
He gave one last glance to the motionless girl in the bed, then left the room.
"Astoria in there?" Zabini grinned. "Nice one. What's that shit all over your face?"
"Nothing," Malfoy grumbled. "What do you want?"
"I think I'm in there with Hestia," he urged, "but I need you to distract the sister."
"What the fuck?" He soured. "What for?"
"She won't leave us alone. Might be a bit jealous. Can you sort her out, mate?"
"That's fucking disgusting."
"Come on, you don't have to do anything! Just keep her company. Tell her… tell her she looks nice."
Draco sighed. If it had been for anyone else he would have outright refused, but Zabini was the only person left he knew he could trust. And the Carrow girl hadn't been a bad time, in the end. But still, at the end of the night, he left to shower alone and hurry into bed, praying there was still enough Euphoria in his system to keep the nightmares at bay.
When the darkness took him, he was in a forest, much like the one at Hogwarts. A snake slithered through the grass. It hissed eagerly, nipping its tongue into the air and growing hungrier by the second. Draco saw his father and tried to shout a warning but, too late, it saw Lucius waiting and approached. Draco watched, transfixed, horrified. The snake did not attack, though. Instead it greeted Lucius as though an old friend. Draco watched his father morph into another snake, a second snake, with eyes glowing bright red. He lunged at Draco with bared fangs, and Draco woke up to his own screams.
Narcissa ran into the bedroom and found Draco drenched in sweat on the floor, gasping for air.
"Lumos," his mother murmured, using the wand light to check his eyes.
He blinked at the harsh light, finally grounding himself in his surroundings. His breathing slowed from heaving pants to a normal pace, and Narcissa dimmed her wand.
"Let's get you back into bed," she said.
She dried off the sheets and tucked him in, still the same way she had when he was a little boy. She summoned a glass of water and Draco downed it eagerly, sploshes landing all across his bare chest as he gulped. Finally, sleep teased at his heavy eyes.
Narcissa rose to leave, but Draco stopped her with a hand to her arm.
"Mother," he said, nervous. "Can I ask something?"
She nodded. "Anything, my love."
"Where do you and dad keep going? It's not… It's not anything… like for him, is it?"
Her eyes creased with concern and she ran a hand across Draco's forehead. "I knew we shouldn't be leaving you alone. It's too much."
"No, it's not, I'm… I just need to know."
Narcissa squeezed his hand. "Voldemort is dead, Draco. Truly dead. He cannot come back. I promise you."
The sun had risen and began its descent again before Draco stirred. He knew he'd fucked up. If he allowed the night's torment to sap his energy, it threw him out of balance for days. Then the melancholy would kick in and he'd become irritable, angry. Already, he felt the risings of that particular beast in the pit of his stomach. He stopped fighting it, allowing a dour expression to take his face as he rose.
The bathroom mirror revealed ruffled hair and eyes thick with sleep.
"Rough night?" it asked in a lazy voice.
Malfoy glowered. "Piss off."
He apparated into the kitchen, his legs too heavy for the walk downstairs. Narcissa and Lucius's voices came from the adjacent dining room, discussing something in hushed whispers, and falling silent when his audible wand taps rang out.
"Draco?" his mother called.
He did not respond. He had no time or place for her simpering or pity. The way she'd look at him like a wounded animal, and beg what she could do to help. It only angered him further. Didn't she understand? Didn't anybody?
He kept his gaze low as her footsteps approached, fussing about his coffee far longer than he needed to. Finally, he sighed and turned.
"What do you want?"
"Just checking that you're okay," she murmured.
Lucius emerged from the shadows into the room, too. Though he'd regained his colour and some of his weight in the two years since the battle, there was still an uneasy tone to his voice, a flickering behind his eyes. He'd fallen from grace, Narcissa had said. It took time to mend. But when Draco met his eyes, he could see only the vicious snake from his nightmares.
"I'm fine," he spat. "Quit fussing, would you?"
He felt the exchange of nervous glances behind him as he took to the dining room. There was no Prophet to read today, so he settled for the evening's edition. He prayed Astoria's name would not turn up, would not set off the inevitable bout of nausea if he dared think about the night before.
"Where were you last night?" Narcissa asked, coming to sit beside him. His father's footsteps faded away up the stairs.
"I'm not a child, mother, and I don't think it's any of your business," Draco said. He saw the way she recoiled, the wound in her eyes, and the guilt only wound him up further. "Why not have a trace put on me if you're so concerned?"
"Of course I'm concerned." Her voice was no longer hushed, but firm. "I'm worried, Draco. I'm told nearly everyday how lucky I am my son survived the war, but… I don't know that you did. Not really."
He held his tongue and kept his gaze fixed intently on the page before him. He just wanted her to buzz off, to leave him alone. Maybe it was time he moved into a place of his own.
"I've been talking," she continued, "with a friend. He… he's felt out of place since the war, too. He's been talking to — well, to a mind healer at St. Mungo's. He says it-
"A mind healer?" Venom rose within Draco at the very notion. "Are you serious? My mind's not been addled, mother. I'm hardly rolling around the floor like the Longbottoms." They shared a glance, both recalling the way she had found him last night. Though they had an unspoken agreement not to mention the episodes, this acknowledgement was more than enough. "Perhaps you should stop making friends with weirdos and mind-addled victims. They'll only turn you into one of them."
Narcissa began to mumble a reply, but the doorbell chimed throughout the manor, a deep, melodic sound. Draco said a silent prayer for the distraction as his mother left. For a moment, there was only the scratch of his finger turning the pages. But curiosity got the better of him.
He took the hallway in long strides, faltering only when a female voice reached his ears, and his mother's murmured replies. He heard his name on both sides. Shit. It must be the Carrow girl.
He sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Still, he'd have to let down the poor thing at some point. It might as well be now, halting his mother's nagging.
"…I would like to speak with him if that's alright. I don't mind waiting."
"Draco has had a rough night, but I can-
"No I haven't," Draco demanded, drawing closer. "Who is it?"
He was not expecting Astoria, waiting in an oversized green jumper with her hair effortlessly tied up high. He eyed her for a moment in surprise, noticing the familiar thick brows and warm eyes, meeting his gaze with a new hardness to them.
"May I speak with you?" she asked.
Draco glanced between her and his mother, suddenly awkward. He nodded and waved the girl in.
The drawing room would be best, he decided, leading Astoria there without so much as a backwards glance to her. It took a few minutes, but finally they were inside, and he mumbled a muffliato at both sets of doors. He couldn't imagine his mother intentionally infringing on his privacy, but she was in an odd mood already.
The predicted nausea bubbled in his gut and he took a deep breath, hardening his face, before turning to Astoria.
"What is it?"
She sat on the sofa, rigid but for her hand trailing across the velvet armrest. "How was your night?"
The question took Draco aback. "Fine. Yours?"
"Confusing." She gulped. "There are a few gaps in my memory."
"Okay." He folded his arms, feeling vulnerable in his casual black jeans and white shirt. "What do you expect me to do about that? I'm no good with memory charms."
"You know what I mean," she continued. "One minute we were… well, you know. And then I woke up."
"And? That's a pretty common side effect of the potion." Draco softened slightly at the hurt in her eyes. "Nothing happened between us, if that's what you're asking."
"No," she agreed. "I hear you had the Carrow twins instead."
Draco fought the threat of a smile. "It's not like I had them both to myself."
"No," she agreed once more. "Wouldn't want to go getting greedy."
He sighed. "Why the fuck are you here, Tori?"
"I came to tell you," she said, the hint of a tremble in her voice, "that I do not appreciate being led on, and toyed with, and then cast aside for some Slytherin seventh year. That might be a new low, even for you, Malfoy."
"What the fuck does that mean?" he asked, heat rising.
"You know-
"Even for me?" He crossed the room and she stood, staring insolently. He drew so close they were almost touching, anger blazing through every cell of his body. "You have no clue. You've got no idea, Astoria, so shut up about things you don't understand." He felt the familiar glint come to his eye, the warning that he was about to lash out. He made no effort to stop himself. "It's not my fault you decided to get high and make an idiot of yourself. It's not my fault you conjured up some daydream in your mind, and I disappointed your illusions."
"Fuck you." Her lip quivered, and her hand twitched to her wand. "You know, I really thought something of you, Malfoy. I thought you were different."
He retreated. He had no time for this. God, the Carrow girl might have whimpered a little, but she wouldn't have held blame like this. And he'd actually ended up messing around with her, for heaven's sake. If Astoria was going to get so wound up about a stupid kiss, that wasn't his problem.
But it was more than that, a small voice reminded him. You know the way you looked at her.
He slammed his walls up hard. "Keep away from me," he warned. "I'm worried now you'll be slipping me a love potion or trying to Imperio me."
"No worry in that," she retorted. "Not even a gnome would want you."
She stalked away before Draco could retort, having at least the decency to disapparate from outside. He whirled around, pressing his knuckles to his head and groaning in frustration. What an idiot he was! Stupid fucking idiot. That's what he got for messing around, for daring to see the good in people. He sank deeper into his own misery, resolving that from now on he wouldn't go near Astoria, wouldn't even entertain her in his thoughts.
The section of his mind that housed the small voice, that remembered how she had looked with glitter on her face and changing lights above her, that recalled the way she had tasted and the rush when her lips met his; that part of his mind wondered how long he might last.
