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):Thanks to everyone who has favorited, reviewed and followed. I hope you like this chapter, you make all the effort worth it. Thanks for your support, I've really needed it this past week.
Dance with the Devil
Chapter Nine: A Night At the Fair
Music is blaring from my record player as I add the final touches to my outfit. Draco is due to pick me up in a couple of minutes.
The Quidditch Mixer tonight is going to be a total media circus. There will be hundreds of celebrities there and delegates from every newspaper and fanzine imaginable. It's so crazy to me that I'm going to be there amongst them. I've never been to a party this showy before and I'm excited at the prospect of going with Draco.
Since dinner at his place and the revelations that followed our relationship has developed. On one hand it feels like things are more lighthearted, Draco seems more comfortable around me with every passing lunch date. On the other hand because we're emotionally and physically closer than ever before that adds depth and an unexpected seriousness to our relationship. I like it though. Except for when I catch myself looking at Draco and wondering who he tortured and why, and what horrible family secrets he hides behind his façade of control.
When I'd pushed to take over the events column attending extravagant parties isn't what I'd envisioned. I'd taken it on as a writing project, and if I'm honest as a way to help out Pace and all my other friends who are doing cool underground art projects that could do with some more publicity.
As I realize what a social whirlwind it's going to be tonight my stomach begins to churn. Under all my make-up I feel myself turn green. There are going to be lots of people there. There are going to be big crowds.
I glance at the top drawer of my dresser. There's a pouch of Sneezewort in there. I could take some and it would take away my anxiety. It would also potentially make me strung out and that's not ideal.
I start putting on my lipstick and notice my hand is unsteady. My heart is racing. When I lay my hands out in front of me they're trembling. My stomach knots itself into a tight ball and cramps up. My nerves begin to fray at the thought of being in a big crowd. I can't get my breathing under control to slow my heart palpitations. I think I'm either going to throw up or pass out.
I sit down on my bed and try to calm myself but I've let it go too far. I know, rationally, that I'm in my bedroom. I smooth my hands over my lilac bedspread and look at my beaten up Barney the fruit-bat stuffed toy. I look at my dresser and all the debris of girlhood scattered there but I can't quite convince myself this is real or put a cap on my nausea.
I can't do this tonight. I can't let my anxiety get the better of me. Every time I get into a big crowd fear overwhelms me and I can't cope. I can't do that tonight. I don't want to miss out on another amazing date with Draco.
Fuck it.
I cross the room in three steps and yank open the draw. I tap the newly fixed Legilimens Box with my wand making it spring open. Inside is my Mokeskin pouch and the remains of my summer Sneezewort stash. I dig out a pinch and take it gracelessly as there's a knock on the front door.
I flick off my record player with a wave of my wand and check my reflection in my wall mirror. I look elegant, grown-up, almost unrecognizable in my new dress robes and my dramatic make-up.
I sneeze hard as I answer the door.
"Bless you," Draco says, stepping into the hall. "You look...hot."
"Thanks," I say dabbing at my eyes, trying not to smudge my make-up. "I guess we have that in common."
He's looking delectable in expensive satiny charcoal grey robes that are classic but flattering. Draco's fair hair is pushed back to one side making him look older and somehow more sophisticated than usual. It makes all of his features sharper and more patrician. I like the way his expression mirrors mine. He can't seem to get enough of looking at me.
Seeing the stunned awe and wide-eyed approval on his face makes all my primping and preening worth it. I feel fizzy and special like a glass of champagne.
Draco slips his hands around my waist and pulls me into a deep kiss. A wave of warmth and comfort washes over me and I think the Sneezewort has begin to work its anesthetic magic.
"Wow, your pupils are huge," Draco murmurs, a look of satisfaction tugs at the sharp corners of his lips.
He thinks I'm turned on, not stoned!
I'd like it to stay that way. I don't know how he'll react if he finds out about my recreational habit. I don't think he'll understand. He can control everything.
"Shall we go?" I say as I rub my lipstick from his mouth.
"Don't forget you bag," he reminds me.
I go collect it from my room and poke my head into the living room to say bye to Pace and Xenia. They're playing a card game and listening to the news on the wireless box.
"Have fun, Cinderella," Pace grins.
"Get Blythe Parkin's autograph for me. I don't care if it's in eyeliner or lipstick. If you see her – get it!" Xenia demands.
"Okay. Got it. Goodnight," I say, feeling another sneeze come on.
I sneeze hard as I close the front door behind me and Draco. I feel an unusual amount of relief wash over me as we make our way down to the apple tree.
"Did your meeting go okay today?" I ask Draco, as we step out into the fresh evening air.
"Which one? My life is a lot of meetings," Draco admits. "The one at Gringotts with two crotchety Goblins went well. The one with the crotchety toothless farmers went better."
"What odd company you keep," I tease.
"It's been odder," Draco assures me.
His tone is light but I can't help wonder if he means from back when he was a Death Eater. This turn of my mind has been happening with growing frequency since I found out about Draco's past. I try to push it out of my thoughts entirely.
As we're about to Apparate I look at Draco in the moonlight and he seems unnaturally beautiful, like starlight made human.
"I'm so glad we're going to this party together."
"I'm glad you asked me."
He tucks several strands of my hair behind my ear and his fingers are so gentle and sweet against my cheek. All around us the night chirps and rustles. Everywhere smells like grass and honeysuckle.
He takes me by the hand and his touch is tender as we twirl together through the night.
We appear at the Wigtown Wanderers' Quidditch ground and I get the most incredible head-rush. I fling my hand out and grab Draco's forearm as little starry lights pop in front of my eyes.
"I've got you. Are you okay?"
His hands are firm as he rights me and it reminds me of when we last made-out on his couch. A fierce blush burns my cheeks and I'm embarrassed at the way muscles deep inside me contract longingly at the fiery memory.
"I'm alright," I say, flustered. "Oh, wow!"
There's a carnival atmosphere in the mild night air. The sky is intermittently lit up with fireworks that burst and bloom overhead. Not far from us there's a purple carpet leading up to an enormous red and yellow silk circus tent. Witches and wizards are crowding around, bellowing Quidditch chants and hoping to get the autograph of their favorite players.
Flash bulbs pop and wink as all manner of celebrities pose for pictures. Ahead of us the crowd is going wild for Harry Potter and his wife, the Quidditch sensation Ginny Weasley.
"Damn. I forgot he'd be here," Draco mutters, his eyes narrowed at Harry Potter.
"I thought you'd gotten over your rivalry with him."
"Yeah, well… He's still a swaggering show-off."
"You're so cute when you're snarky," I giggle, taking Draco's hand.
He turns from glaring at Potter to give me a bemused look. I try to smother my over enthusiastic outburst with an impassive face. I can't afford to get found out. I don't want to spoil the night by being a complete dope.
It's bizarre to have so many eyes on us as we walk the purple carpet. The photographers shout and holler at Draco and I, turning their blinding lenses on us. His hand presses against the small of my back, guiding and comforting me.
As the fireworks and camera winks brighten up his face I can't quite believe this is real or that this gorgeous wizard is my boyfriend. We hand over our tickets and are admitted into the party tent. It's like entering a fairground.
There's a huge Ferris wheel studded with bright lights taking passengers up to the ceiling and down again. All around are Coconut Shys and Ring Toss games. The air is full of the sound of accordions and Wurlitzers playing jaunty carnival songs. Overhead swarms of golden snitches and crackling, spangled firework Dragons from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes skim the tallest reaches of the tent.
"Have you ever seen anything like this?" I gasp, unable to focus on one thing because it's all in constant motion.
"Not since Father took me to Monaco," Draco admits.
"Monaco? That sounds funny. Isn't Monaco a fun word to say? You say it."
"I suppose it is," Draco says regarding me uncertainly.
Crap. I'm acting stoned. I steer him into the maelstrom and try to compose myself.
We investigate everything.
We play rounds of Dragon Derby, Draco shows me his Ring Toss skills and wins me a stuffed toy, we laugh at how bad my aim is when we play at the Coconut Shy.
We share a fluffy pink cloud of cotton candy.
Almost everyone here is a celebrity in the wizarding world. If I was in a state to be star-struck I think I'd be unconscious. On our way to the make-shift bowling alley Draco and I pass Oliver Wood, the Puddlemere United Keeper, proudly wearing his Quidditch robes and brandishing his broomstick for a photograph with friends.
There's much merry-making and despite the glamour, there's a bawdy, raucous feeling in the air which makes me giddy. I bowl the worst game of Ten Pin Bowling in history but I'm not too bothered because the whole time Draco has his arms around my waist and laughs against my ear.
After my glorious defeat we get a drink of Butterbeer from a fountain surmounted by a statue of Devlin Whitehorn, the founder of Nimbus Brooms. As Draco scoops up a glass of wine from a second fountain Gregory Goyle, who plays for Ballycastle Bats and is one of Draco's school friends chats to us while we re-hydrate.
Draco and I stumble upon a dance floor hemmed by tables and chairs. Overhead bunting and wisteria vines create a canopy. I've got my arm around Draco's waist and I suddenly find the warmth and shape of his body fascinating. I press myself against him and bury my face into the neck of his robes so I can breathe him in.
"Is that your laundry potion or cologne?" I slur. "You always smell so good."
"Are you drunk?" Draco asks incredulously.
"Not drunk," I mumble, shaking my head. "I don't drink, remember? I had a teeny bit of Sneezewort, that's all."
"Sneezewort?" Draco's expression darkens, until he looks very angry. "And do you make it a habit of using drugs?" he asks coldly.
"No. Yes. Sort of. Writers are always drunks and druggies or crazies," I tell him laughingly, with a flailing wave of my hand. "You shouldn't be so surprised! It's what makes us creative, tortured geniuses. I'm going to be a creative, tortured genius one day, you know."
"That's a load of crap," Draco says abruptly. "Merlin, Astoria! Sit down before you fall down," he commands, plonking me down onto a chair.
"The composer Eldridge Edison was really mentally ill – a total crazy - but he wrote all these incredible pieces of music when he was manic," I protest, staring up at him.
I knew he'd be mad at me. He looks funny from this angle, I can see up his nose.
"His music was always good there's just more of it from when he was manic because he was, well, manic," Draco says exasperatedly.
I feel his cool hands cupping my flushed face, tilting my head so that he can see deep into my eyes. He puts two fingers to the side of my neck. It tickles until I realize he's trying to take my pulse.
"Besides, Edison wrote the best pieces of music when he was old and relatively healthy. So, actually his life shows that you get good at stuff by getting old – which you won't do if you die of a drug overdose."
I'm momentarily impressed by his knowledge of Edison. Then I realize he's disproved my point. I brush his busy hands away, stalling his medical assessment of me.
"But what about Quirinus Quince? He was a notorious drug fiend, all his writing is exquisite. He really thought on a different plane of existence," I say dizzily. "Drugs helped him get to the heart of wizarding existence. He wouldn't have been able to write 'Quintessence: A Quest' without drugs."
"Your researching methods are really awful, Astoria. It makes sense you're a journalist," Draco says sardonically.
He folds his arms across his chest and peers down at me. I think I've been insulted but I grin up at him.
"Quince was a heavy drug user but he never produced anything while he was high," Draco says plainly. "The sad thing is he'd probably have written a lot more if he hadn't been such a loser stoner. He was a deep thinker, that's what made him a good writer, not the drugs."
This boy has an answer for everything! He just keeps getting better and better, he's such a smarty pants! He likes me, he's gorgeous, he's a millionaire and now he's a genius too? This boy is too good to be true. Oh, wait, not perfect - he still comes with a freaky Death Eater past.
"What about Sinistra Lowe?" I fire at him, thinking I've got him with her name.
"What about Newt Scamander? Or Fifi LaFolle? They were relatively normal people. We get told that artists should be drunks or crazy and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy," Draco says shortly. "We idolize the drunk and crazy ones but there are artists who are just as good, possibly even better, who don't get the time of day because they're normal."
"Yeah, but…but writers need to experience hardship and stuff to make their writing authentic," I say with more conviction than I feel.
"Or they could try using their imaginations and being observant," Draco retorts. "That might be more helpful than going out and mashing their brains with drugs."
He gives me a significant look.
My brain does feel a little mashed right now. I don't want to think anymore. I just want to look at Draco for a while. I like the way the eruptions of light in the background wash his pale face different colors.
"What you need is a moment of brilliance not a moment of manic depression or drug abuse, Astoria. Why did you take Sneezewort tonight of all nights?"
I can see he wants a good answer. I know he's right to be worried and upset about me doing drugs. Until I started doing Sneezewort regularly I'd always been strictly against them.
"I don't like crowds," I admit, toying with my robes. I sound so weak and pathetic. "They make me scared. It takes the edge off."
"You don't ever have to be scared when you're with me," he promises so quietly I almost don't hear it under the music.
"But you're a Dark Wizard," I say with a cocked eyebrow, looking up his skyscraper body.
"Is that what you think of me?"
"No – Draco! I was kidding," I say hastily because he looks genuinely hurt.
"Were you? Well, don't joke about that. It's not funny," he says in a harsh voice and I feel his fingers tense around my face. "Promise me you won't take drugs again. It's dangerous."
"I'm sorry. I needed it tonight."
"You don't need it. Promise me you won't take drugs again," Draco says fiercely, using his hands to move my head in a nodding motion.
I smile up at him. That feels funny. I was expecting him to be much angrier. I'd be much angrier with me, if I was in a state to experience anything other than laid-back bliss.
"I promise. I didn't mean to spoil things."
"You haven't spoilt things. Come on, let's keep you hydrated. I thought you were bowling badly on purpose to let me win not because you couldn't aim straight!"
Draco and I get more drinks before heading out into onto the dance floor. He surprises me when he pulls out some swing dance moves, spinning me and throwing me up in the air like I'm as light as a feather. It's ridiculously fun. Draco begins to lighten up after a while until we're both laughing.
I've lost count how long we've been dancing when I notice a woman coming purposefully towards us. She's perhaps in her late thirties but she has a girlish wide-eyed prettiness and the figure of a cartoon pin-up. Her body looks ridiculously sensuous, as I look at her I just want to reach out and squeeze her. She has a long, slender neck adorned by a huge diamond necklace like a complete blonde bombshell. She taps Draco on the shoulder.
He turns to her and his surprise gives way to polite amicability.
"Hello, sweetheart," she says warmly and kisses him chastely on the cheek. "Your mother told us you might be here tonight."
I can smell her perfume, spicy and sexy. It tickles my nose in a way that makes me twitch like a rabbit.
"I didn't know you were coming," Draco says stiffly, he glances at me and I can't hide the curiosity on my face.
"Anais, this is my girlfriend Astoria Greengrass," Draco says and it makes me insanely happy to hear him refer to me as his girlfriend. "Astoria, Anais Selwyn. She's the founder of Selwyn's Salves."
"Are you really?" I exclaim. I didn't expect a potioneer to be so… rich. "I love your shop!"
"You're sweet," she laughs, toying with her necklace and looking incredibly flattered. Her eyes are huge and blue, like summer skies. "It's nice to meet you. Draco, your father's here. I'm sure he'd like to see you and meet Astoria..."
"Did he send you over?" Draco asks shrewdly.
"No," Anais says tolerantly but gives him a reproachful look. "I saw you having fun and I thought I'd say how nice it is to see you out enjoying yourself for once. I had to look for so long to make sure it was you, I think Aidan Kiely thought I was going to hex someone!"
Now that I know Lucius Malfoy is here I can't help looking around for him. I'm intrigued by all the rumors about the man and Draco's own reluctance to talk about him.
"You're doing alright?" Draco asks Anais. There's a familiarity between them that I can't quite work out.
"Yes, I'm very well, Darling," she says fondly. "I'll let you and Astoria get back to dancing. I don't want to take up your evening, but it's lovely to see you smiling for once."
She pats his shoulder and gives me a little wave, dazzling me with her diamonds and her smile.
"How do you -?" I know I should know the answer to this but my brain isn't making the connections.
"Selwyn's Salves was the first investment I ever made," Draco reminds me. "I suppose we'd better go and see Father. He'll only moan to Mother if I don't. You don't mind do you?"
I shake my head.
I'm secretly rather glad that I'll be in this state when I meet Lucius Malfoy for the first time. I don't feel any of the stomach clenching trepidation I felt when I met Narcissa – quite the opposite. As we peer around I'm pleasantly curious to meet a real life criminal, one who's even spent time in Azkaban!
Draco spots his father on the Ferris wheel. As I look up and catch my first sight of Lucius Malfoy I feel like I'm watching a god descend from heaven.
Lucius is tall and leonine and sort of good-looking in the icy way that Draco is. He's decorated in gold and jewels like a mayor. He's reclining languidly in his seat, cigar in one hand, tumbler of whiskey in the other, legs spread wide with a brunette in the reach of his arm. I get the overwhelming urge to laugh because he looks so rich and deadly.
"Good evening, Father," Draco says coolly as Lucius' carriage docks.
"Hello, Draco. Your mother said you might be here," Lucius remarks in a rich, smooth drawl as he makes his way towards us. "It's good to see you out enjoying life. You spend too much time shut up like a monk."
He doesn't seem at all ruffled that we've caught him having what appears to be a very serious conversation with the witch at his side. That may be because on closer inspection I think he's drunk. His eyes are a little red and he reeks of liquor.
"Draco's no monk," the witch says in a dark voice, like clotted blood.
She smiles slowly, cruelly, at me like an alligator. I sense her intense dislike of me and have to assume the worst: she's another of Draco's ex-girlfriends.
"Who is this beautiful creature?" Lucius asks with relish, turning his attention on me.
"This is Astoria Greengrass. Astoria, this is my father, Lucius Malfoy, and Malandra Whitehorn," Draco says shortly.
"Pleased to meet you, I've heard so much about you," Lucius drawls, taking my hand and kissing it.
All the while his mercurial eyes are hooked into me. It feels so indecently intense it's a relief when he finally releases me and looks away. I feel like I've been scorched.
"I'd rather like to meet Astoria properly. I'm tired of hearing second hand tales," Lucius says and takes a drag on his cigar while his eyes incise Draco. "I'm planning on going to the ballet in a couple of weeks. The two of you should join me. What do you say, Astoria?" Lucius tone doesn't leave any room for refusal.
"Er – yes. That'd be nice." I force out.
"Good girl," he purrs.
"You promised me a drink," Malandra reminds Lucius petulantly and I can see she's jealous of the attention I'm getting. Lucius ignores her.
"Are you doing well? You haven't replied to my last two owls," he chastises Draco, a touch of acidity in his yawning, lazy drawl.
"I didn't have anything to say in reply," Draco says somewhat defiantly. "You're doing well I suppose? We just saw Anais."
It looks a bit like a wrestling match of wills taking place, watching father and son stare each other down. I wonder if Draco's antagonism is rooted in his shame at trusting his father's morals or if he's nettled by a fresher betrayal.
"I'm keeping busy," Lucius says and there's a tantalizing, secretive curl to his lip. "It looks as if you are too. I've heard of your success from almost everyone we know. They're all jubilant, naturally. If there's ever anything you need, you know you only have to ask."
"Money is easy to make," Malandra says scornfully. "Knowledge and magical skill such as yours, Lucius, that's proper success."
I can see that Lucius isn't charmed by her servile praise.
"I had a fine teacher," he says courteously.
I instantly wonder if he means You Know Who. Malandra smiles a crooked, cutlass smile like she's in on the secret too. Draco has clenched his teeth. I can see his jaw and neck muscles have tensed. I hold his hand for solidarity.
"I'm sorry, Draco, are we keeping you from your beautiful date?" Malandra sneers, linking arms with Lucius.
I see the way Malandra's dark eyes burn at Draco and then flick to fixate on Lucius' face. I think this girl has a thing for Malfoys.
"You're as impatient as ever," Draco retorts. "It's clear we're the ones who have interrupted something. Father, I'll look out for your owl about the ballet."
"I'll send it in due course. Astoria, I'm afraid I have another charming young lady demanding my time," Lucius says dryly. "I look forward to getting to know you better in the future."
His eyes smolder when he looks at me and I find myself holding my breath. I don't think I like his aggressive sexuality, the way he sears me with a look. It makes me feel scrutinized and objectified somehow.
"Oh my gosh! I think Malandra wants to fuck your dad!" I exclaim in gleeful mortification the moment they're out of earshot.
"Her mum got there first," Draco mutters darkly, staring after them.
My mouth pops open.
"Father's got an impressive scar on his shoulder, it was a gift from Tilda Whitehorn – she was Ottoline Higgs' sister, you know," he says, a look of distaste on his face.
"What!?"
I can't get my brain to work.
"You Know Who had a thing for psychotic brunettes," Draco explains. "He taught Whitehorn the Dark Arts along with… other witches. When He was gone the first time round Whitehorn took students. She didn't need money or fame or jewels, but what she did like was for her students to pay in violent and risqué sex acts. Apparently Father was into that kind of thing because he was her student for years."
I stare at Draco. He knows all that about his dad's private life? Talk about over-share! I'm scared to ask how Draco found out about his father's less than wholesome hobbies.
"Does your mum know?" I ask appalled.
"Yeah," Draco says and looks uncomfortable. "She was no saint herself. Tilda was just a means to an end." He assures me forcefully.
He looks so determined about this fact. I don't dare probe him any further. I file this bit of information away to analyze later but it prompts me to ask.
"You won't cheat on me, will you?"
Draco looks horrified and pulls me into a crushing, protective embrace that makes my bones crunch.
"No! Why would you say that?"
"I just thought because Malandra said…"
Draco takes me by the shoulders and holds me at arms length, looking seriously into my eyes. Behind him the circus party glows warmly with colored lights and cheerful sounds.
"Malandra was a mistake," he tells me firmly. "I don't make it a habit of talking about my past girlfriends, but there's only ever been one of them at a time."
"How many have you had?"
I'm curious and a little jealous of them, this string of girls who Draco has wrongly trusted. The thought of him having sex with Malandra Whitehorn depresses me – she made Pansy Parkinson look like a kitten. Was it because of them I had to sign the Secrecy Agreement? What did they do to hurt him so badly?
"Six," Draco says, stroking my cheek, his eyes dipping to my lips. "You're my lucky number seven."
I get this feathery, fluttery feeling in my stomach as he looks at me. The tenderness in his face puts my insecurities to rest. He's only got eyes for me. I'm his lucky number seven.
I feel powerful and pleased, completely separate of the Sneezewort.