Title: Dance with the Devil
Author Name: Shy Unicorn
Rating:M
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Main Character(s): Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy
Ship(s): Astoria/Draco, Lucius/Narcissa, Narcissa/OC, Lucius/OC
Summary: Four years after Voldemort is vanquished Astoria Greengrass starts working for 'Witch Weekly' magazine as a feature writer. Her very first job is to interview Draco Malfoy who has just made his first million galleons without the aid of his rich parents. What happens when they meet?
Author's Note (A/N): Hello all, new chapters will continue to appear on Fridays and Tuesdays. I hope you enjoy this new offering! Check out my blog for tidbits and behind the scenes info between updates.
Dance with the Devil
Chapter Seven: Crossing Over
My room has a stunning view of the River Seine. I dress early and sit for a long time watching the water, thinking on all that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. I feel like I'm living a dream.
A knock on the door has me on my feet. Of course it's Draco. He's standing in the doorway in yesterday's clothes looking as good as a bag of fresh ground coffee, I want to inhale him.
"Morning. I wasn't sure if you'd be up yet," he says, and there's a teasing gleam in his eye. "I wondered if you wanted to get breakfast?"
"That sounds good."
I feel shy around him. I'm worried yesterday was a one-time thing, like a granted wish, not a way of life. After some sleep and some time apart I wonder if he feels differently about me. I haven't changed my mind about him. I still feel open to him, like I did when we kissed outside my door last night.
"They have this fruit buffet here," Draco tells me in the elevator on the way down to the dinning room, "where they cut all the fruit into different shapes. You'll have to see it."
"How did you find out about this place?"
"A friend of my father's introduced us to it."
"He's got good taste," I say, looking around at the lobby as we arrive on the ground floor.
"She," Draco corrects me, and I don't know if he's implying something, because he takes me by the hand and leads me into the dinning room before I dare to ask.
It's like being in a palace. The ceiling is one big mural of Greek or Roman gods, the furniture is Louis XIV looking in gold and deep purple. There are plenty of other guests eating breakfast in the imperial looking room, all of them older and grander than us. It smells like warm pastries and fresh flowers.
We get a small table together and load up on fruit and croissants. He's right about the fruit being the best part; there are strawberry stars, mango snowflakes and kiwi flowers.
"What would you like to do today?" Draco asks, buttering his croissant. "We can go to the Luxemburg gardens or back to Place des Etoiles. There are plenty of things left to see."
"I have to get home," I confess.
My heart sinks at the thought of missing out on seeing more of Paris but most of all having to leave Draco. I don't want this trip to end.
"I always go to my parent's house for Sunday Dinner. They'll be expecting me."
"Oh," Draco breathes and I can tell he's disappointed. "We can go to the Ministry and get a Portkey when we're done here."
We eat in silence for a while. It slowly occurs to me that he might think I'm making an excuse to get away from him. Especially as his family set-up doesn't seem to be what I would consider orthodox. It doesn't seem like the Malfoys are big into family time these days. I sneak a look at him and even though he's just across the table Draco seems adrift in a way that pulls on my heartstrings.
"You don't… you don't want to come with me, do you?" I venture. "My parents always cook too much food, so it wouldn't be a big deal if you showed up with me. Daphne will probably be there. It's nothing special but… you're welcome to come, if you want."
Draco mulls this over as he eats.
"Both your parents would be there?" he asks gravely, his grey eyes hard to read.
"Yeah, but they're not scary. It's totally casual," I say quickly. Now that the thought has entered my mind I want him to come with me. "It won't be this big serious meet-the-parents situation. They're both pretty mellow."
"I'd like to meet your parents," Draco surprises me by saying. He gives me a ghost of a smile. "You've mentioned them a couple of times and I'm intrigued."
He's intrigued, about my parents? Does that mean it's okay for me to admit that I'm equally fascinated to know more about his parents, especially his dad who he's so enigmatic about.
I still haven't managed to work out how I feel about Narcissa Malfoy. I feel like I've got two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and I'm trying to make them fit together and they just won't.
"I've met your mother, it's only fair you get to meet mine," I say amiably. "Although you might want to lower your expectations."
"What do you mean by that?" he asks, raising one of his eyebrows archly.
"I just mean there are no estates and Big Houses where I come from."
"That's a good thing," Draco says determinedly.
After our late breakfast Draco shows me the way to get to the French Ministry of Magic. We secure a Portkey quickly because it's a Sunday and there aren't many people around. We have just enough time to admire the Luxembourg Gardens which are so serene and tranquil, before we're magicked back to England.
The house that I grew up in is a couple of miles outside a very small village on the Norfolk coast. Our house is set back from a small country road that only farmers seem to use. It's very peaceful, surrounded by fields and trees. My parents are both keen gardeners so the front yard is neat and colorful with flowers.
I knock the front door because I'm too lazy to dig for my keys. I glance at Draco and I'm surprised to see he looks tense. I give him a reassuring smile as I hear someone fumbling with the catch.
My mum opens the door and I'm instantly swept up into her comforting arms. My mum is tall and strong with capable hands and short brown hair. She's wearing a knit sweater over her robes and she smells like lemons. She swears it's the only scent that can blot out the St. Mungoish smell that sticks to her clothes at the end of a long day.
"Hi Mama Bear," I mumble into her chest. She's taller and broader than me, which I like because even though I'm an adult being hugged by her still makes me feel safe, like a child again.
"Hello, Treasure! It's so good to see you," Mum says and kisses the top of my head.
"I um, I brought my - a – I brought Draco with me. Is that okay?"
I'm not exactly sure how to describe him. Is he my boyfriend? Is he a friend? I want him to be both but I don't know how he sees our relationship so I momentarily look like an idiot as I grope for a definition.
"Hello, Draco," Mum says cheerfully. "Come on in. The more the merrier."
Mum steps back and heads for the kitchen where she's marshalling the vegetables. In the cramped hallway Draco and I take off our cloaks and hang them on brass wall hooks.
"Hi Story!" Daphne calls from the living room.
"Hey Starry," I yell back, using her nickname. "This way," I add to Draco and lead him into the living room.
It's a cozy, semi-circular room at the back of the house with a view out onto the back garden. It's dark and womb-like; crammed full of furniture, knickknacks and photos of me and Daphne as kids. The walls are bare brick but there are paintings of ducks, badgers and landscapes at intervals. The sofas are burgundy corduroy and laden with cushions. On a low coffee table by the fire Daphne and her girlfriend Martha are playing wizard's chess.
"I bought someone you might know," I say brightly to Daphne and look over my shoulder at Draco who's lingering behind me.
"Oh my gosh! Hi!" Daphne exclaims leaping to her feet and rushing at Draco.
Daphne is shaped like a string bean: she's tall and wispy thin. Her long limbs are uncoordinated and she gives the impression of doing everything by accident. Her blonde hair is neatly bobbed and right now she's rocking a pair of 50's style winged glasses. People say we look very similar when half her face isn't covered by her glasses but I'm not so sure.
"How are you? I haven't seen you in forever!" Daphne gushes, hugging Draco. He looks completely bemused and overwhelmed by this succession of warm greetings.
"I'm – I'm very well, thanks," he manages while carefully extracting himself from my big sister's grip.
"Good. That's really good!" Daphne enthuses. "Come sit down."
She goes back to her spot on the floor. She sits with her back to one of the couches and lets her legs stretch out straight under the coffee table.
"Draco, this is Martha. Martha, Draco," I say by way of introduction as I flop down on the couch.
"Hi." Martha gives Draco a cute little wave.
Everything about Martha is cute. She's short and slightly plump with a round, pink-cheeked face and soulful brown eyes. When Daphne came out to our family no one was surprised. When she brought Martha home we were all overjoyed. Martha is a year older than Daphne and works in the Beast, Being and Spirit department at the Ministry of Magic where she mostly champions Merpeople's rights. She's very kind and clearly loves Daphne to pieces.
"I didn't know you two knew each other," Daphne says giving me a sly look.
I can't hide my feelings about Draco from her. Just one big smile tells her almost everything she needs to know.
"We've been hanging out ever since I interviewed him for work," I tell her.
My eyes flick to Draco to gauge his reaction to my words.
He's perched on the edge of the couch looking awkward with his hands in his lap. His silvery eyes are sweeping over the room. I'm somewhat amused to see he's about as fretful at meeting my parents as I was when I saw him with his mother. I really want to hold his hand but I don't because that suddenly seems too telling a gesture so I settle for giving him another brief smile.
"We've been spending some time together," Draco corroborates. "I've been showing her all the best parts of Paris this weekend."
Daphne's eyes bug out. He might as well have just told her that we're getting engaged because that's what it will sound like to anyone I know! We don't come from stock who jaunt to Paris for the weekend without a pretty important reason.
"Daphne, it was incredible. There's this shop in Place des Etoiles that you would love. They sell all kinds of star charts and models of the universe," I rush to say in order to avoid any questions. "It's like Wiseacre's but bigger!"
Her eyes travel curiously between Draco and I. I get the impression she's trying to tell if something big happened in Paris, like my grand deflowering.
"Did you go to the Musee de la Magie?" Martha asks keenly.
"Uh-huh. Did you know they have Pierre Bonaccord's death-mask? It was so weird!" I tell her as my dad comes in through the backdoor.
He's wearing his gardening gloves and is carrying a bowl of freshly picked blackberries.
"Hello, Astoria," he says in his gentle, slightly monotone voice. "Hello," he says in greeting to Draco.
I get up and hug my dad, who hugs me as best as he can without spilling the blackberries. My dad is a mild-mannered wizard, slight and hairy with a thin face and large, owl-like eyes.
"Who've you brought with you?" he asks, his protuberant blue eyes slowly traveling to the unfamiliar boy in his house. "Did you find him in the shrubbery?"
"Dad!" I groan and give him an affectionately displeased look. "This is Draco Malfoy. He was at school with Daphne."
"Oh, of course," Dad murmurs.
I see him tense at the name Malfoy.
"Francis? Can you come in here and do the spuds?" Mum calls from the kitchen.
"On my way, dear! Make yourself comfortable, Draco. Dinner won't be long now. D'you want a cup of tea?" Dad asks kindly as he shuffles off to help Mum.
"Yes please, Mr Greengrass. White, no sugar," Draco drawls.
I suddenly get the urge to laugh because he sounds so wonderfully out of place in our house – everything from his voice to his expensive clothes is at odds with our surroundings.
I am deeply grateful to my dad for his courteousness.
Both of my parents are drawing room communists in their political beliefs which means they deeply disapprove of people like the Malfoys with their estate and their manor and their exorbitant wealth – not to mention their blood politics. Even though my parents are both purebloods I once had to endure a ten minute rant from Mum on the absurdity of demonizing Muggleborns.
"What about you, Astoria?" Dad asks. "You'll be wanting your fix, won't you?"
I'm a notorious tea drinker and general caffeine addict. Dad is clearly only asking me as a tease because the answer is always unequivocally, yes.
Dad levitates the tea in a moment later. For a little while Draco, Daphne, Martha and I sit in the living room chatting about the news, the weather and what Daphne's doing at work. Draco sips tea from one of Mum's favorite green Denby mugs and he relaxes when they begin to reminisce about their schooldays.
It's quite fun listening to him tell stories about his famous enmity with a young Harry Potter. He tells this great little tale about how he challenged Potter to a wizard's duel in the first week of their first term at Hogwarts when neither of them could cast any spells at all!
"Can someone set the table and get drinks and can someone give me a hand in here?" Mum calls, forcing us into action.
There's a flurry of activity as the roast chicken is transported from the kitchen into the dining room along with the accompanying veg. Drinks are poured, silverware is dug out of the drawer and everyone sits down at the table. I park myself on the corner between Draco and Mum, who sits at the head of the table as a tactical move so she doesn't have to get up if we need anything else from the kitchen.
The air is thick with the delicious smell of chicken and roast potatoes. Dad carves the meat as we all pass dishes of steamed carrots, green beans, honey roasted parsnips and roast potatoes around. Martha fetches the gravy, which had been forgotten and then the stuffing, also momentarily neglected.
"Has everyone got everything? Have we all got our forks and wands and other extremities?" Mum asks genially as we finally settle down to eat.
The food is great. I love coming home for Sunday Roasts it's very comforting and nostalgic, especially this time of year when the weather is getting cooler and the trees are beginning to turn brown.
"How're things at work, Dad?" I ask between mouthfuls. "Working on anything interesting?"
Dad works for the Charms Committee testing out and developing all kinds of new spells. He says his job is mostly tinkering and playing puzzles but he's actually done a lot of specialized work in making sure magical artifacts work the way they should. In his spare time he likes fixing things like sneakoscopes. When I was a kid there were always several broomsticks in the shed in various states of being stripped down and repaired.
"As a matter of fact, yes," Dad says readily. "We've been commissioned to work on some nifty little enchantments by the art dealers Zeller & Wilkes. You know, age resistant paints and dirt repelling spells, that kind of thing. It makes a change from the dull Ministry projects we usually have. And I must say, Draco, it's good to see your mum's publishing again."
Everyone stops eating and looks at Draco for a beat.
"Thank you, Sir. I'll be sure to tell her," he says quietly, his cheeks pinking up.
"She's a well respected magical theologian when it comes to jinxes," Dad explains because of the blank look on my face. "Very accessible writing style, which is unusual in an essayist. You might like what she has to say, Astoria."
I smile tightly, not sure why I'm as embarrassed as I am by his words. I did go through a stage as a sulky teenager when I was particularly infamous for jinxing my bedroom door knob which kept giving unwelcome intruders a fright.
"Oh, Mum, Narcissa Malfoy asked after you when I met her. She err was happy to know you're still doing neuro research."
"Is that so?" Mum says in tones of great surprise. "Daphne, what's your newest research proposal?"
I catch Mum thoughtfully regard Draco, who has his head determinedly bowed.
I look at her with utmost curiosity but because of patient confidentiality and for her own reasons she won't say anything. She gives me a pointed look and I return to eating. I get the distinct impression she's shielded Draco from something, perhaps further scrutiny, but I can't be sure. She's very attentive towards him and makes sure he gets second servings of the coveted roasties.
After dinner we have blackberry crumble with custard for dessert, then Draco, Dad and I practically roll ourselves into the 'library'.
It's not a proper library but we call it that. It's a tiny room at the front of our house that Dad has lovingly lined with books from floor to ceiling. There are a couple of armchairs and a table where Dad's broken artifacts await fixing.
"Anyone want Port?" Dad asks, as I settle myself in the armchair by the window.
"Yes please," Draco and I say at the same time. We share a smile.
Dad busies himself with pouring drinks and Draco wanders over to the table, drawn by the scattered contents on display. The most prominent things are a clock with several hands, a lopsided set of scales and a little silver box.
"That belonged to my Great-Grandma Violetta," I tell Draco as he fingers the box curiously. "It's a music box. Dad's been trying to fix it for ages. It stopped playing a while ago."
A deep frown furrows his brow.
"May I?" he asks Dad, before picking up the box which is no bigger than a deck of cards.
"Certainly," Dad says, handing me my port and moving to stand beside Draco, who has taken out his wand and is tapping the heavily engraved silver box.
"I don't think it's a music box," Draco mutters, turning it over in his hands. "It looks like one but it's actually a Legilimens Box. It's much prettier than the ones you normally see. I think I might know how to fix it."
He looks up at Dad, whose interest has clearly been piqued.
"What's a Legilimens Box?" I ask bemused and disappointed my old music box might not get fixed in the way I thought.
"They're not very common," Dad explains. "They were only fashionable for a short period of time, about 150 years ago. Apparently they could help the owner read people's minds. There's a little mirror behind the ballerina inside your box, it would have worked as some kind of screen or conduit, I imagine."
"But why would someone have needed a Legilimens Box? Couldn't they just have used a truth spell or Veritiserum if they wanted to know what someone was thinking?" I ask.
"The box is more subtle than that, Astoria! You could put it on a shelf or on a parlor table and perhaps even read minds without your guests knowing!" Dad points out, tickled by this possibility.
"Ugh, I'd hate to be able to do that. You'd know all the horrible stuff people were thinking about you," I say, pulling an unpleasant face.
While we've been talking Draco has silently been casting a series of spells so that all of a sudden the box glows phosphorescent blue and springs open. It begins to chime and the ballerina within starts turning just like it used to.
"Hurray!" Dad exclaims dustily. "Well done, Draco. That was a smart bit of magic. I'm surprised you even knew to think it was a Legilimens Box. It hadn't crossed my mind at all."
Dad happily rocks back on the balls of his feet, giving Draco a deeply approving look.
I notice Draco lights up at this praise. He seems to struggle for a moment in comprehending how to manage such high regard, then puffs out proudly.
"Yes, well, there are all manner of odd things in my family's home," he says self-consciously, "there's always something that needs fixing. I've gotten reasonably good at knowing what to look for with stuff like this. I still think you need to be careful with this. It doesn't seem trustworthy."
He glances at me and there's sweet concern shining out at me as he closes the box. I'm very impressed with his spellwork and his knowledge. It's so nice that he's getting along with my Dad!
The two of them stand side by side and look over the other items for a little while before Dad retreats to help Mum with the washing up.
"See, not scary," I say to him when we're alone.
Draco comes over and sits on the arm of my chair. Now that we're alone I feel pleased to have him all to myself. I lay my hand on his thigh, which is strong and warm under my palm. I breathe in his clean, cottony scent and start to feel that hot, melting sensation in my lap.
"Your family are really nice," Draco says sheepishly, looking down at me. "I wasn't expecting them to be so good to me. It's… a lot to take in."
I smile up at him. I finally understand why he's been so quiet; he's been overwhelmed! I was starting to wonder if he was bored and regretting coming.
"They need a firm hand, that's all," I say, leaning into the warm energy of his body. "Mum will try to load you down with leftovers. Consider yourself officially warned."
"You're really lucky," he says, as my parents' laughter drifts in to us from the kitchen. "Your parents seem to really love you."
He strokes a finger along my jaw and I thrill at the contact. I feel it fizzle through me like static. My whole body becomes super sensitized and I really want to kiss him.
"Your parents love you, don't they?"
Draco has turned wistful and sad, which is the last thing I wanted to do by bringing him here.
"Yeah, they do," he says quietly, "but not like this."
"Not like what?" I ask tremulously.
Draco doesn't seem to have the words. He looks like a lost puppy and I feel my heart cracking like thin ice.
"They aren't good with…" He sighs. "They both had weird upbringings, weird lives… I'm only starting to understand. You know how when you're a child you think your parents are invincible, god-like?"
I nod, but in all honesty, I never felt like that. My parents have always seemed fallible. Maybe it was because they admitted their mistakes and their weaknesses to me and Daphne. I can't imagine cool, aloof Narcissa Malfoy acting the same way.
"I thought my parents were right, you know? I trusted them and everything they said. And then…" Draco turns ashen and swallows hard, like he's trying not throw up.
I stroke his leg gently, slowly, like I'm stroking a cat. I want him to continue but at the same time I'm afraid - I'm afraid of him telling me all the things I've heard about his family are true.
"What do you do when you realize your whole life has been a lie?" he asks bitterly.
A sad longing comes over me as I look up at him. He looks so pure and perfect with his white skin, golden hair and angular good looks but so tragically forlorn. He could be the statue of an angel. A fallen angel, my mind whispers cruelly, recalling Pansy's warning words.
His eyes seek mine and I wish there was something I could do to make him see that I don't think he's as ruined as he thinks he is.
"You could start again," I whisper.
I rest my head on his leg so I don't have to look into his grieving face. He deserves that much from me.
I hear him breathing hard and I wonder if it's anger or sadness that's pushing up his pulse rate.
I feel his feather-light fingertips caress my cheek, upturning my face towards him. He leans down and kisses me hard on the mouth.
He kisses me like he needs me. I've never felt needed before in my life.
I try to soothe him with my lips and my hands but it's not enough. Draco kisses me as if he's trying to get through me, like my body is a cage and it's my soul he's trying to get at. If I could melt my bones to let him get to what he needs then I would. I would open my chest and give him my heart if that was the way to heal his pain.
It doesn't occur to me at the time that this is what love is.