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):Hi guys, just a little forewarning this chapter is rated M, probably bordering on MA because it gets pretty hot and heavy. I hope you enjoy.
Dance with the Devil
Chapter Eight: Wily Priory
It's Friday night and I appear with a pop on the edge of a scrubby, wooded area. I check the co-ordinates scrawled on the back of my hand in green ink and look around. I'm on the crest of a small, undulating hill with a view down the bank to a line of elm trees standing to attention in the cool evening chill. Breaking their ranks is a two storey grey stone building that looks like a Tudor parish church. It has a gothic roof, pointed gableheads, and a tall arched doorway. In short, it's exactly the place you'd expect to find a Malfoy.
All week Draco and I have been sending owls back and forth. I've learned he's no great wordsmith but it hardly seems to matter. He's invited me for dinner at his place and I'm quaking with anticipation as I skip down the hillside. The air smells rich and wet with the woody, earthy scent of the countryside. It reminds me a little of home and I fill my lungs deeply with the invigorating aroma.
As I get closer to the house I see diamond paned windows and a high, impenetrable wall that separates the back of the house from the outside world like a dam. I wonder sardonically if it's to keep people from getting out or to stop the muggles getting in. The huge wooden front door has a silver knocker shaped like a howling face. I hope this came with the house and isn't Draco's idea of welcoming decoration.
I knock hard and step back. It's then I notice an inscription above the door reads 'Wily Priory' and I wonder why and how the Malfoys acquired a church.
I don't have long to wonder because Draco opens the door and my brain is suddenly incapable of deep thought. He's dressed much more casually than I've ever seen him, his hair is wet and his cheeks are port pink like he's just got out of the bath.
"Hi," I breathe, unable to even pretend I'm not checking him out.
"You're right on time, as always," he remarks, holding the door open wider to admit me.
Draco smells amazing, clean and cool, and I can feel the residual heat coming off him as I pass under his outstretched arm.
"You gave good directions. I wasn't sure how easy it was going to be to find you," I say, stepping into a cold, stone hall.
Directly in front of me is an ornately carved wooden staircase that looks very old, maybe even Elizabethan. There's a painting on the wall of a green landscape that I think might be of somewhere close by.
"It's one of the reasons I chose to come down here," Draco tells me, leading me into a room on the left. "And the name," he adds with a smirk.
"The name?"
I follow him through into a cavernous F shaped parlor. To me it seems very grand but I imagine Draco finds it comfortable. The walls and floor are paneled with light cherry wood and hung with paintings, antlers and dark green tapestries with a gold vine design. A series of golden candelabras hang from the ceiling to stave off the dark.
"When I was little me and - " he breaks off abruptly, frowns and starts again. "As a child I used to think this place was called 'Willy Priory' which I thought was brilliantly funny. No one lived here back then, but when Father and I walked by I'd always look in. I don't know what I expected to see, the ghosts of naked monks, I suppose. When I decided to leave home I remembered this place and here I am."
"Willy Priory! You're such a boy," I say grinning and sitting down beside him on a low twill couch in one of the alcoves. "I saw the house from the top of the hill and it seemed appropriate for you."
"Appropriate how?" Draco asks warmly. "Do you want tea?"
"Yes, please. I just saw it and thought of you. It's fortified and a little gothic but very beautiful, if you don't let the history scare you off."
"That's a fair assessment," he says with obvious pleasure while summoning the tea set with a flick of his wand.
He produces hot water from his wand to fill the teapot. I sneak another look around, there's so much to see! There's fine glassware, china, old leather-bound books and antique vases everywhere as common as dust.
On a sideboard nearby there's a photograph of three sisters all in middle childhood wearing white dresses rushing through a bluebell wood. The youngest has straight blonde hair and I think it might be Narcissa. Beside that is a small picture of two little blond boys peeping out from beneath a giant fir Christmas tree. Either one of them could be Draco or a more distant male Malfoy, they all look astonishingly similar.
"So, you like the place?" Draco asks, a hint of self-consciousness in his question.
"I really like it. It makes a nice change from mildew and a sink full of washing-up."
"Mildew? When I first moved in here there were so many doxies you couldn't move for eggs and grease. I don't think it'd been lived in for hundreds of years. I've made a lot of changes," he brags.
"How many houses do your family own?" I inquire wryly, taking the tea Draco offers me.
"I'm not entirely sure," he admits and I baulk. "It depends what you count. There are a couple of croft houses, a farm and a several acres of farmland that we own but are rented to tenants. There's the Big House, Malfoy Mews, the Lodge, this place and the Gamekeeper's cottage."
He counts it all off on his fingers, straining to remember everything as he does so.
"Oh, there's the summer cottage and Father's London apartment."
"So, basically your family owns half the magical dwellings in the south of England…"
Draco has the good sense to look embarrassed.
I'd be lying if I wasn't massively intimidated by the sheer magnitude of his wealth. I knew he was rich, I just didn't realize quite how indentured he was.
"There was more," he protests, "but after the war Father sold some of it for quick cash."
I burst out laughing.
His attempt at down-playing his ridiculous wealth just makes his world even stranger and more divorced from mine. My parents' house, which I've always thought of as reasonably big, must have looked like servants apartments to him!
"I'm sorry," I tell him, because he looks discomfited. "I'm not laughing at you. I was just naïve about how rich your family is."
"Oh," he says quietly, looking down into his tea. "I suppose it is a lot of property these days. About three hundred years ago there were a lot more of us, so, it made more sense."
"What happened?" I ask hesitantly.
"Birth control," Draco says ruefully and I laugh again, this time he smiles too.
"I was worried it was going to be something sad like disease or war or something," I say unable to hide my relief.
"No. My Great-Great-something-Grandfather decided that one heir was probably enough and everyone after him thought 'what a good idea' almost certainly because it meant keeping the wealth in the family."
"And if there's one thing you Malfoys like, it's definitely gold," I chime.
"That's very true," Draco agrees, not looking at all offended.
"Wasn't it lonely being an only child?"
Daphne and I used to fight and disagree and get sick to death of each other during Hogwarts summer holidays but we've always loved each other. I find it hard to imagine a world without her, or a childhood without a constant companion.
"I didn't mind it," Draco says, which surprises me. "I can be really selfish. I got a double helping of it; both my parents are the same way."
After saying this he watches me carefully, and I know he's worried that he's said too much or the wrong thing.
"What you're saying is you're going to be insanely jealous any time I speak to another boy in your presence, aren't you?" I venture.
"No! Not at all," Draco says hurriedly.
For some reason I actually feel disappointed, but then I realize he's not saying he doesn't care about me. He's just saying he's not going to be clingy and that's definitely a good thing. I think of Xenia and Marcus, who are always glued to each other when they're together. I definitely don't want to be one of those couples!
"Are you hungry?"
"I could eat something about now," I say easily.
"Shall we go through to the dining room?"
I let Draco lead me back the way we came and into the room on the other side of the hallway. The dining room has a low roof, which makes me think there's no upper floor on the right side of the house to account for the parlor's high ceiling. Of course, this is a magical dwelling, so I might be wrong.
A huge fireplace is full of dancing orange flames and there's little more in this room than a very solid table big enough to seat ten. Above the fireplace is a large gilt mirror that reflects the tapestry covered walls. I feel very cloistered in here, like I could have a comfortable conversation and relax.
The table is set for two, the places opposite one another in the middle of the table which is directly in front of the fire. Draco motions for me to sit in the warmest spot and I don't protest because the house is chilly. He goes over to a brass gong and gives it a surreptitious tap with his wand. A low, baritone note sounds and food appears on the empty plates. It's a neat trick.
I don't know whether he's cooked or if there's a House-Elf hiding somewhere but the food looks good. It's salad, boiled potatoes, steamed salmon and some kind of fish sauce. There's also crusty bread rolls, butter and a little jug of salad dressing.
"This is very civilized," I say pleasantly, tucking in.
"We could make it more civilized, do you want some wine?"
"I'm not a big drinker," I admit when I've finished my first mouthful.
"That's a relief, but you'll have to at least try some of this," Draco remarks. He uncaps a bottle of white wine and pours us each a glass.
To me it seems very grown-up, maybe even a little pompous to be Draco's age and to know something about wine. However, when I curiously sip what he's offered me I quickly change my mind. Even to my unsophisticated pallet it tastes delicious.
"Draco, this is so nice," I say earnestly, meaning everything not just the food.
"I'm glad to have you here."
There's a softness in his face as he says this that melts my heart. A second later it's gone and he looks just the same as ever. For a little while we eat in silence and then I remember I have some news and something I want to ask him.
"I um, I got the go ahead to take on the events column."
"That's good. I know how much you wanted it," he says proudly.
I feel intensely pleased. The fact that he seems to really appreciate my success means so much to me – almost as much as the achievement itself.
"Now that I've got my own column it means I actually have to go to some of the events I'll be covering."
I watch him carefully to see if he can get where I'm going with this. He's either playing coy with me or being completely oblivious because he keeps on eating.
"There's a party next week for the start of the Quidditch season. It's being held at the Wigtown Wanderer's Quidditch ground. I've got two tickets and I – well, I wondered if you'd want to go with me?"
I don't know why it's so hard to get the words out but I managed it. I sit and watch him anxiously.
Is this too much too soon? It's going to be a highly publicized event in the Quidditch community and the Daily Prophet will cover it heavily. If he goes with me it pretty much makes us an official couple in a very public way – and I know publicity is not something he's fond of.
He puts down his knife and fork and gives me his full attention.
"Are you asking me on a date, Astoria Greengrass?" he says in tones of deepest smugness.
An adorable smirk splashes over his face and his eyes glitter in the firelight. He is so beautiful when he smiles I want to jump over the table and kiss that sly mouth of his.
"You're not going to go all old fashioned on me are you and say it only counts when a wizard asks a witch?" I say lightly, but I'm worried he's going to turn me down.
"I'll do you a deal," he says smoothly. "You sign my Secrecy Agreement and I'll come with you to the Quidditch party."
Oh. We're back to this again. He's a shrewd little git when he wants to be.
"Draco…" I shake my head and push back from the table.
I thought we'd already dealt with this subject. I look across at him and he's still smug around the edges. All the humor that was in me and all the bittersweet anxiousness has turned to irritation in a flash.
"This isn't funny," I snap. "I've only asked you to a party, you're asking me to sign my soul away."
"Astoria, I'm not asking you to do that," Draco retorts, and I think I've hit a nerve. "I'm asking you to show me you're willing to protect everyone who's important to me – that's what the Agreement is about!"
I open my mouth to protest, but he's not finished.
"There are a lot of people out there, even the so called 'good' ones like Harry Potter, who would love to see me and my family suffer a bit more than we already have. I need you to sign that agreement. I can't risk - I'm trying and you're – you just want me to go to some stupid party with you!" His voice rises and he gives me a contemptuous look.
"I want you to trust me! Why is that so hard for you?" I cry, exasperatedly.
"I do trust you! You're here, aren't you?" he sneers. "Do you know how many of my friends have seen the inside of this place?"
I shake my head. Blood is pounding in my ears and I feel adrenalin whizzing through my veins.
"One," Draco hisses. "I don't feel comfortable with people knowing where I live because that didn't work out too well for me last time round. You Know Who and his cronies moved in and – fuck!"
His voice cracks. He leaps up and punches the wall.
When he turns back around his mouth is clamped shut like he's trying swallow a mouthful of bile.
I'm dumbstruck.
"I tried to warn you. I've done and seen things – I'm not a good person! I've got plenty of secrets that would destroy my reputation if they got out."
He seems righteous in his anger and I can see it's cathartic, like it's been inside of him for a while now just waiting to get out.
"I can't leave it chance. Please, just sign the damn Secrecy Agreement so I can stop worrying. I like you too much already! I bet you won't want anything to do with me when you know. I just – please sign it!"
He seems to run out of energy at this point and I don't blame him. He slides back into his chair, his anger spent.
His eyes implore me to give him what he wants and all my resolve has gone. I feel as contrite as a disciplined child.
"Okay," I whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize… of course I'll sign it."
There's a long pause and I stare down at my hands, which are balled in my lap.
Eventually I force myself to look up. Draco is very white as he sits watching me. I think he's the one who's most afraid of what happens next. I hate fighting. I feel horribly uncomfortable and emotional. I'm trembling all over. I didn't realize the purpose of the Secrecy Agreement was to protect rather than evade.
"I'll sign it now if you want."
Draco's mouth is a thin line. He walks slowly, like a sleepwalker out of the room.
I cover my eyes with my hands and sigh heavily. I think I might cry. I didn't know coming here was such a big deal. I feel like I've been so feckless and stupid. I find myself wishing I'd listened to Pansy Parkinson a bit more carefully. She warned me that Draco has issues and I just ignored her and treated him like everybody else I know.
I can't believe I managed to provoke him like that. I feel sick to my stomach when I realize I might have really upset him. He also sounded like once I'd signed the agreement things could be over between the two of us. I really don't want another Zach Smith situation on my hands. Not this time, and definitely not with Draco. I want to keep seeing him. I don't want things to end now and certainly not like this!
Draco comes back into the room carrying the Secrecy Agreement and a quill. He sets it down beside my forgotten plate of food with stiff limbs like a wooden child's toy. He too seems uncomfortable with what just happened and unsure how to react to my acquiescence.
I pick up the quill, unroll the parchment and sign without re-reading.
"I'm sorry," I mumble and my eyes prick with tears. "I didn't mean to upset you. I didn't – I'm - "
Knowing he's angry with me and the fact I've been thoughtless makes me utterly miserable. My tears are hot and splash heavily down my face. I'm humiliated by them but I can't seem to stop myself.
I brush them away quickly, hoping that they'll stop coming if I can just get them off my face but it doesn't work.
"Let's… let's go back through to the drawing room," Draco says, shaken by my tears.
"I'm sorry," I apologize, still crying. "I – please don't be mad at me."
"I'm not mad," he says with surprising gentility.
He takes me by the hand as if I'm either a very old person or a very young child and guides me back to the parlor.
"I like you, Astoria. I like you a lot, that's the problem."
"I didn't mean to be selfish. I didn't know about – about You Know Who and – not for sure – I didn't want to believe it. I'm sorry."
"Please stop apologizing," Draco grumbles. "You weren't being selfish, you just didn't know about me. That's… oddly refreshing. I'm sorry for blowing up. I hope I didn't scare you."
He guides me to the sofa and hands me a tissue. I wipe my eyes and blow my nose. Eventually I get my breathing under control and manage to stop the tears coming. I feel like such a fool but confrontations frighten me. I can't stand people I care about thinking badly of me. At my core I want to please people and arguments are the antithesis of that so they freak me out an inordinate amount.
Draco peers at me trying to gauge if I'm alright now. I feel a lot better knowing he doesn't hate me.
"Are you okay?"
"I think so," I whisper and give him a tiny, shaky smile.
He's sitting so close our legs press together; I welcome that sliver of physical contact. Everything about him is comforting to me now that the argument seems to have passed. I revel in the scent of him and in the smooth planes of his calm face.
"Astoria, the thing is… my father wasn't the only Death Eater in our family. I was too."
This revelation cleaves through me like a lightening bolt splitting an oak tree.
I had wondered about Draco. I just didn't want to admit to myself that my mind had gone to that dark place. I knew that Draco's father had been a Death Eater, that's common knowledge. I sort of knew that You Know Who had lived in Draco's home but I hadn't wanted to think too deeply about it. I didn't want this horrible truth to be real.
My mind races as I let this information sink in.
I feel like Eve after she's bitten the apple of knowledge. Knowing Draco was a Death Eater changes my thoughts but in a distant, far off sort of way, like constellations changing with the seasons.
The Draco who's sitting beside me is still the same one who was there a moment before. Knowing that he was one of You Know Who's followers doesn't transfigure him into an Acromantula or a Werewolf.
"Did you ever kill anyone?" I ask in a fearfully small voice.
"Not directly," he says and looks almost ashamed.
"Did you torture anyone?"
"Yes."
I suck in a sharp breath.
"Astoria, I had to. I didn't want to. I didn't want any of it-"
"- It was a war, Draco. I understand," I say quietly.
I don't understand, not really. I understand doing what you have to do to stay alive. That I can fathom. That's what being at war is.
What I don't understand are all the small ways being in a war can break a person and that's what scares me. I don't think I want to hear anymore just now.
Looking at Draco with the knowledge that he was a Death Eater means knowing that he is cracked and damaged in ways eyes can't see. Maybe that's what Pansy meant when she said Draco was fucked up.
I think on this for a moment and then decide I don't blame him for being fucked up. I'd be a total walking disaster if You Know Who and all his followers had moved into my house and done God knows what in front of me and made me torture people!
"You're amazing," I say at last.
Draco blinks at me in dazed surprise.
"You know that, don't you?" I tell him. When he still looks stunned I keep holding his gaze. "You're amazing because people who go through what you went through don't become successful people. The fact that you're walking around and living your life is proof you're strong – but the fact you're making something of yourself!? That's unheard of."
His pale face flushes and his grey eyes disbelievingly search my face.
"You mean that?"
"Yes."
"You're incredible too," he rasps, his voice as rough as gravel.
I shake my head and cup his cheek.
"Not like you are."
I see the wonderment in his face, see him fighting back his softer side and I feel this powerful wave of love for him. I lean in to close the space between us and kiss him carefully on the lips. He's hot and he tastes sharp like the wine we were drinking earlier.
Draco looks out at me through his pale grey eyes and I know he's struggling under the weight of my acceptance. My reaction clearly wasn't one he'd been anticipating.
I lie back on the couch, pulling him down with me and refuse to stop kissing him. A rush of emotion goes through me as clean and restorative as a blood transfusion. He captures my lips between his and I feel the desperate gratitude pouring out of him. I like the determination of his lips against mine, the way his body presses heavily against me.
Our tongues stroke together and our hot, mingled breaths condense on my eyelashes. I slide my fingers through Draco's glossy hair, loving the sleek coolness and the way it feels like another caress. I can feel blood pumping through my veins. It drums in my ears, in my throat, between my legs.
My skin is abuzz, so that when Draco's lips leave mine and trail down my neck I gasp at the hot chill that goes through me. My hands clutch at his robes and I arch into the warm, suppleness of his body craving more. His breathing is labored and I feel his heart beating in his chest as he presses against me. The wet brush of his tongue along my collar bone makes my breath catch in my throat. When he cups one of my breasts and explores the soft contours the sensation is so intense I quiver and writhe in ecstasy.
I can't speak or moan or make any sound at all to tell him how amazing this all feels. He's bombarding all my senses sending them into overdrive. I tilt his head up and kiss him encouragingly. I feel like I'm chocolate melting in the sun. That pulse point between my legs is impossible to ignore.
Draco reads my body better than I can because as soon as I think this I feel his smooth, cool hand on my stomach. He's worked his way beneath my dress and I've never let a boy touch me like this before. His fingers dip into my panties and I grip his upper arms in rigid anticipation. As he looks at me his eyes are huge and unfocused like a cat looking into a fire.
I've never wanted anyone to touch me like this. I never dreamed it would feel so good. An involuntary sigh tumbles out of my mouth. I can't quite believe I'm letting him touch me like this, letting him see me like this. I feel so vulnerable but the way Draco is watching me as he teases me with his dexterous hands. The wonderment in his eyes makes me finally feel ready to do this.
I smile shyly up at him and bite my lip. God, that feels so incredibly good! I can't find my voice to tell him though. He's rendered my completely speechless. I cup his lovely head and draw him down for another deep kiss, drinking him up like Butterbeer.
He eases his tongue into my mouth, mirroring the action of his fingers and my eyes roll back in my head. The feeling of purpose and pressure against my skin is insanely good. I hold Draco tightly as he works my body, winding me up like a tightening guitar string.
I push against him wanting more. I'm blind and mindless, completely smothered by an intense pleasure I've never known and yet I know in some base, instinctive way that it can still get better and I want that. I want it more than I've ever wanted anything else before. That greedy need consumes me and I suddenly don't care what I look or sound like.
As I come I feel like a plucked string. I cry out in tense delight as my body shakes and quakes and I resound with joy from the tips of my toes to the depths of my soul.
"God, you are so beautiful," Draco whispers against my ear and I can hear his smile in his voice.
He continues stroking me with insistent fingers. I laugh and bite my lip at the sizzling after shocks that continue to rock my body.
"Stop!" I squeal at last, clamping my thighs together around his hand.
I am unimaginably happy and fatigued. I'm a gooey, puddle of a girl on his couch. I stare up at Draco's flushed face with lust drugged, satiated eyes and smile rakishly.
"I already told you that you're amazing, now you're just showing off!"
Draco smiles smugly and plants a lingering kiss on my sweetly sore lips.
I have fallen for him harder than a cauldron tossed from a second storey window – and in that moment I don't have the sense to care.