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):Here it is! Thank you for being patient with me. I am so very sorry this took so long. The second quote from 'My Soul is Borne Through the Open Air' comes from Joanna Newsom's epic song Only Skin. Enjoy!
Dance with the Devil
Chapter Twelve: Oysters
Draco Malfoy knows how to do dating, which is sort of unexpected because of his complete lack of faith in humanity and our unromantic beginnings. When he shows up to take me to Vienna to meet his dad for our night out at the ballet he's in a handsome set of green robes and has a huge bouquet of flowers. I don't have a vase to put them in so they end up on my desk in a measuring jug that I embarrassedly charm to look a bit more decorative.
Vienna is breathtaking. The city is nothing but magnificent stone buildings all deeply impressive in their vast scale and strict uniform regularity, like an Escher drawing come to life. There's something about the grand symmetry and rooted stone immovability that I imagine appeals to Lucius Malfoy.
I'm really apprehensive about spending the evening with Draco's dad. Probably because the last time I saw him he was shouting insults at Draco, who was shockingly upset. I still get a tremor of anxiety when I think about it. It's a testament to how much I like Draco that I'm not loaded up on Sneezewort. As far as I can tell their quarrel seems to be over because Draco is talking animatedly as we approach the oyster bar where we're due to kick off the night's festivities. I'm not quite so willing to forgive Lucius Malfoy.
The oyster bar is dimly lit and decorated with plush velvet chairs and gold draping tapestries, giving it an intimate, opulent atmosphere. There are few customers but all of them have one thing in common: they look stupendously rich. Even though I look relatively smart tonight I still feel the need to put my shoulders back and try to stand a little straighter. I feel terribly out of place.
"I haven't eaten oysters before. I didn't expect all this," I say hurriedly, waving vaguely to the jewel encrusted goblets and silver platters of oysters heaped on beds of sparkling ice.
"You're going to get the whole Lucius Malfoy experience tonight," Draco tells me sardonically.
I must look slightly afraid because he half smiles and draws me into a sideways hug.
"I'll keep you safe. You've got nothing to fear. I'll teach you how to shuck some serious shellfish," he promises, cracking his knuckles. "I'm a professional, you know?"
I laugh at the smug expression on his face, how proud he is of this unusual skill. Draco makes my life better in an indefinable way. I find myself smiling for no reason other than the shape of his smile.
At a table in the back of the restaurant Lucius Malfoy is settled snugly with a companion. I'm relieved he's not alone. He's wearing satiny black robes and his long, pale hair is pulled into a low ponytail by a strap of leather. Although still broad-shouldered and intimidating he seems assuaged by the woman at his side. I recognize Anais Selwyn by her big blue eyes and her glossy golden hair that looks so invitingly soft. In the candlelight she's effervescent, her lips and cheeks as pink as cherry blossom. Lucius smiles, charmed by something she says as we draw near.
"Good evening, Father," Draco says, drawing their attention.
I shuffle behind him a little, using him as a human shield to protect me from scrutiny.
"Hello, Son. It's so good of you to join us – and Astoria too! You get prettier every time I see you. Come and sit down. I do hope this is respectable enough for you, my dear," Lucius drawls not deigning to get up, his last comment aimed at me.
I blush deeply, recalling my angry outburst to Narcissa Malfoy.
"Are you having a good week?" Anais asks Draco getting to her feet and drawing him into a hug.
"Actually my contract with Primpernelle's fell through," he grouches, relaxing into her arms and kissing her cheek. "But who wants to work with them anyway? They're just a bunch of painted up old hags. Ragnok warned me their accounts looked sketchy to begin with."
"There you have it, it was clearly for the best," she placates, stroking a soothing hand over his sleek hair. "Astoria, it's so lovely to see you again."
She turns her dazzling blue eyes on me and leans over the table to welcome me with a hug too.
"Hi, nice to see you," I breathe.
She smells of roses, which brings to mind the succulent Turkish delights we always eat at Christmas.
"Was your Portkey journey alright?" Lucius asks, pulling out a seat for me so I'm forced to sit next to him. "Drink?"
He doesn't wait for my answer before pouring me an almost overflowing glass of Elf-Made wine. We all shuffle closer together to fit around the table. I sit straighter than usual, tense and on edge, uncomfortably close to Draco's dad. The table gleams with bizarre cutlery and the oysters look wholly unappetizing in their slate-like shells.
I look to Draco for comfort and reassurance. He takes a sip of the drink he's been given and I follow his lead. The wine tastes amazing, which shouldn't surprise me but does.
"Er, yes. I'm not Portkey Sick, so it was fine," I say in that dumb uncertain voice that I apparently reserve especially for my dealings with Lucius Malfoy.
"We came out right on the corner of the Stephensplatz, so we didn't even have far to walk. What about you?" Draco asks, un-ringing his napkin.
"We came by the river. It's a beautiful walk this time of year, if a little bit cold," Anais answers, her eyes sliding warmly to Lucius.
"Have some more Elf-Made wine before I'm terribly rude and finish it," he says attentively, pouring her more wine. "Astoria, as our prized guest of honor, do help yourself to the first oyster."
I hesitate. I'm worried they're going to be obviously alive, like snails in their shells. Trying not to look revolted I pick up one of the scrubby gray molluscs between finger and thumb and set it down on my plate. It looks daunting. I think the person who discovered oysters were edible must have either been starving or mental.
"How are the tabloids?" Lucius asks me. "Do you have any salacious gossip to share with us?"
His eyes gleam meanly in his smoothly arrogant face.
"I'm working on an article about illegal dragon poaching because of the current craze for dragon hide bags and shoes. So unless you know any Eastern-European criminals, no."
"I've known plenty in my time," Lucius says quite calmly, "but none currently, I'm afraid. I've always found responsibly sourced dragons produce better hides to begin with. Of course those with little magical feeling will always be looking to turn a quick profit. It's a great shame, dragons are very noble beasts."
I'm caught off guard by his matter-of-fact tone and his smoothness.
"Help," I whisper to Draco.
He smirks at me and I see that he's pleased to be able to show off his oystery skills. Everyone gets busy de-shelling their supper and it gives me a nice excuse to cozy up to Draco under the pretense of him helping me crack open my oyster.
"So, here's how you do it," he says, picking up his oyster like it's a flat stone he's going to skip across still water. "Poke, prod and peel."
"And I thought you weren't supposed to play with your food!" I quip.
Draco snorts and gives me a quelling look. His gray eyes glitter in the soft light and I find myself smiling. His profile glows with strength and ruler sharp regularity, like the buildings outside. The only hint of softness is his mouth, pink like rose quartz.
Draco holds up his oyster and shows me the little indentation in the cleft of the tightly closed shell, it's a bit like a stone lipped mouth. He pokes a hooked knife into the groove and jimmies the shell open. With a couple of well placed scores he cuts the pale oyster meat free from its slate shell so that it can drift patiently in a pool of its own brine.
I have a feeling it's not as easy as he made it look as he hands me the knife.
"Poke. Prod. Peel," I recite as I try to follow his example.
The oyster is more obstinate than I expect it to be. I wiggle the knife around with increasing pressure until it eventually concedes defeat and snaps open for me.
"Hey, I did it!" I exclaim in gleeful surprise.
"They taste like snot if you don't put some lemon and Tabasco on them and maybe a little black pepper," Draco says, passing me condiments as I finish preparing my oyster.
"Charming, Draco," Lucius remarks snidely. "It's nice to know after all these years of fine dining your pallet is so sophisticated."
"Do I chew it?" I ask uncertainly, taking a wedge of lemon from Draco.
"Swallow it straight down, that's the best way," Lucius says, raising his oyster like he's toasting with it before knocking it back like a shot of liquor.
"It's a nice kind of saltiness," Anais assures me off the back of the apprehensive look I give my oyster.
"Nice?" Lucius questions, as if objecting to her choice of words.
"Nice," Anais repeats softly, a small smile playing around her lips.
The curl of Lucius' lip suggests some kind of a private joke.
I figure eating the oyster can't be worse than the time Xen, Pace and I accidentally created a cabbage flavored cocktail. I take a breath and slurp the oyster.
Draco's right, the texture is cloying and sort of gross like having a cold. The flavor is a kind of wild rich saltiness that makes me think of sea foam and that night by the swimming pool. The acidy lemon aftertaste hits the back of my throat and makes me cough. Blushing furiously with embarrassment I cough until my eyes stream.
For the rest of the supper, even though I'm starving, I don't dare touch another oyster. The conversation is animated and the wine flows in abundance. Lucius makes sure my glass is constantly topped up so I can't be certain how much I've had to drink. Lucius and Draco exchange news full of witticisms and scathing remarks, Anais and Draco talk plants and potions, which leads Anais to tell a very funny story from her travels in Russia searching for rare plants to use in the beauty products she brews for a living.
Every once in a while I see Draco looking speculatively at me out of the corner of his eye, checking on me to see if I'm okay. It warms me like the wine when I feel his eyes on me.
Lucius becomes indolent as supper progresses, whether from wine or from the sound of Madam Selwyn's voice, I can't be sure. He barely takes his eyes off her, and I can't say that I mind because it means I don't have to feel the weight of his attention pressing against me.
When we get up to go to the theater I realize I'm having an unexpectedly good time and that I'm slightly woozy from drinking too much. It feels very opulent and unreal to be in Vienna eating oysters and drinking the finest wine and going to the ballet.
Draco helps me on with my cloak which is such a gentlemanly gesture I beam up at him as bright as a lighthouse.
"You're wandering," Anais says to Lucius in an undertone as she slips around the table.
She strokes a hand down his back with luxuriant familiarity as she squeezes past him. For a second I get the impression she's intimately acquainted with the shape of his body. By the time I've blinked I don't know where that thought came from because there's not a hint of impropriety between them.
I covertly watch in spellbound disgust as Lucius touches his eyeball and rotates it slightly in the socket. The pupils are slightly mismatched in size and I realize that it's not a real eye at all but a glass one, a fake! I repress a shudder.
Outside the streets are windy and I huddle next to Draco greedy for his warmth. We slip our arms around each other, our scarves blowing like kite tails behind us. It's dark and the streets are mostly empty despite the fact I think we're in the very center of the city. It feels so good to hold him and rest my head against his shoulder.
"Are you enjoying yourself? You're very quiet," Draco remarks, finally getting a second to check in.
"I'm okay," I say, nuzzling his shoulder. "Your dad is a bit scary. I'm glad Anais is here. She seems to take the edge off."
"I'm glad you're here," Draco says, holding the theater door open for me and stealing a kiss.
It feels childishly sinful to kiss him in such a public place. I glance guiltily at Lucius and Anais to check they didn't see us. They're a few steps ahead of us, absorbed in their own conversation. Lucius is steering her with a hand on the back of her neck, his thumb absently caressing behind her ear as she talks.
"I started reading 'My Soul is Borne Through the Open Air'," Draco says as we go up a series of winding red carpeted stairs.
"What do you think so far?" I ask excitedly. "Isn't it great?"
"It's not what I usually read. There hasn't been any blood or sex yet, which is a shame, but I think I like it," he says loftily.
I smile at him, pleased that he's persevering with the book because it's been an important novel to me.
We emerge in a private box right above the stage. There are four red velvet chairs set out for us close to a golden spindled balcony. The theater below is grand and hums with the sound of many people. In the dimness jewels and expensive furs shimmer obliquely. Lucius positions me on his right hand side, Anais on his left, so I'm sat in the middle between him and Draco.
There's momentarily small talk between us about the glamour of the theater, the art work on the walls and the prestige of the Dance Company as we shed our cloaks.
"Do you agree with Quince about soulmates?" Draco asks, coming back to the conversation we were having before, "That there's one person 'who has locks that fit our keys and keys that fit our locks'? In a non-sexual way, of course."
I laugh at the hint of a sneer around his nose and mouth. I can tell from his tone that he's doubtful.
Trying to organize my thoughts is hard because I've had a bit too much to drink. I can't shake the weird feeling that all my paths were leading to him. How we so easily get along, how even though he's got this shady past and whole host of problems it doesn't feel hard to like him. Draco is so different to all the other boys I've known.
"It's complicated. I think ultimately, yes," I say slowly, surprised by my own conclusion. "I'm haunted by this line that Quince writes: Life is thundering blissful towards death in a stampede of nature's fumbling green gentleness. I just love that."
"I can see why Quince was such a raving crack-head if that's all he had going round in his addled brain – how we're all going to die and be forgotten in the end," Draco says archly. "No wonder it was so important to him that love was eternal."
I laugh.
"Yeah, but see, I think that's a really beautiful idea – that our lives are just this tremendous flash. It reminds me to live in the moment and that life is a gift."
Draco opens his mouth to say something but doesn't have time to speak because darkness is descending and a hush has come over the audience. The show is starting.
As the curtain pulls back Draco takes my hand in his. His thumb whispers against the back of my hand, scrolling in feather light circles that create fizzly fireworks of sensation beneath my skin. I can't concentrate on the show because in the dark Draco is all I can think about. His touch is excruciatingly tender.
The ballet tells the story of Mirabella, a human, who falls in love with a merman. Her family forbid her to marry him so she Transfigures herself into a haddock so they can be together. It's ridiculously moving. The dancers are insanely talented, even I can tell that. Their movements are as light as air and perfectly measured. The dancing mingles with magic so seamlessly it's like watching a dream. The last act manages to almost make me cry. Tears burn my eyes and I blink hard to dispel them feeling like a total wimp.
I try to wipe my eyes subtly and spy that Lucius casually has his hand on Anais' thigh, both of them are watching the dancing. A moment later she whispers something in his ear which makes him chuff with amusement before they settle back into companionable silence.
I stare at his pale hand for a long moment, my heart beating hard in my chest, trying to work out if this confirms my suspicions that they're lovers. I wouldn't put it past Lucius, I mean, there's that whole Tilda Whitehorn thing. I squirm, suddenly more awkward than ever. I feel somehow complicit. I like Anais but I feel like I shouldn't if she's Lucius' mistress, like I somehow owe my loyalty to Narcissa because she's Draco's mum and Lucius' wife.
I look to Draco, as if looking at him is going to help me solve the conundrum in my head. His face is splashed with light from the stage turning his gray eyes into iridescent crystals. A deep contentedness rolls over me when I look at him. How I feel about him is uncomplicated. It feels pure somehow. I lay my head on his shoulder. From time to time I hear his breathing and it sounds sweeter to me than any instrument in the orchestra.
When the show ends we all shuffle down to the bar, slightly dazed by the splendor of what we've just seen. Lucius insists on getting yet another bottle of Elf-Made wine. I still feel lazy and light headed from all the drinks I've already consumed and a little unsteady on my feet.
"A little secret between two witches," Anais says coming up to me and shielding me from Lucius and Draco, who are arranging to meet up to go Broom Racing together. "Switch to apple juice when you've had enough. Lucius could drink a troll under the table. It's hopeless trying to keep up."
She looks around and surreptitiously taps my glass of wine with her wand.
"Thanks," I sigh in relief and give her a small uncertain smile. I wish she'd taught me that trick a bit sooner. "I didn't want to seem rude."
Her brilliant blue eyes settle warmly on me. Standing beside her I can't help noticing her pin-up figure and her girlish prettiness. I decide that she and Lucius probably are carrying on together.
"You're not what I expected, but Draco's so much happier since he met you. It's lovely to see him enjoying himself," Anais says quietly, and I feel drawn in by her, as if she's telling me a secret. "You can't know what a miracle you've worked. It's such a relief. He's even started to be able to perform some quite impressive magic again. We're all so grateful to you."
I look over at Draco to see if I can see an outward difference in him since we met.
Lucius and Draco are standing by the bar, opposite each other they're the same height. They both look equally smart and impressive in their dress robes, though Draco appears leaner and fresher. His short, silvery blond hair shines silkily and although they do have a strong family resemblance Draco's good looks are more refined and delicate which I think is Narcissa's subtle influence.
"Wait," I say, frowning slightly, fighting through the fog of my drunkenness. "Draco's had trouble doing magic?"
"It's nothing serious," Anais says breezily, sipping her drink. I don't know if she's downplaying it because she thinks she's said too much. "He's always preferred potions and bossing people around to showy wandwork. He was such a belligerent little boy!"
She smiles nostalgically.
"What are you saying about me?" Lucius booms, coming up beside Anais and looping his arm around her tiny waist.
She pats his chest affectionately. He looks at her with feline indulgence, like a cat stretching after lying in the sun all afternoon. In her arms he becomes a paper tiger. I'm pretty sure he's drunk.
"We were talking about your fabulously successful son," she yawns as Draco comes over to stand with me. "What we ought to be talking about is getting to bed. I have to be up early tomorrow. Are you two Portkeying back?"
"Yes, we're destined for Astoria's house in London," Draco says as he drapes his arm around my shoulders. "Are you going that way, Father?"
"Not tonight," Lucius drawls vaguely. "Thank you for joining us, Astoria. I do hope you had a pleasant night. I'm sure I'll see you again soon. Perhaps if Draco plucks up the courage to ask you'll come to us for Christmas? Malfoy Manor is a utopia when there's snow on the ground."
"That's such a generous offer," I say at once, looking sideways at Draco.
I'd sort of had it in mind to ask him to come to my family's house for Christmas Day.
Our party breaks up and good nights are said all around. Lucius and Anais share a Portkey back to England but Lucius' final destination remains unclear. As Draco and I Portkey back to my house I find it hard to distinguish between the motion of the Portkey and the spinning in my brain.
Back in England it's black and drizzling. The garden smells of wet grass and ice.
Draco steals a kiss and I fade into his arms, reluctant for the night to end and for him to vanish into it. I sneak my arms beneath his cloak and hold him close.
"Can I come up for a drink?" he asks, his lips brushing against my ear.
"Sure," I reply, pulling back so I can see his face.
In the orange spray of the distant street light a heavy tiredness has descended upon him. He seems subdued by some secret sad thought and I quietly lead him up the threadbare stairs to my apartment. My own head is muddled and blunted from alcohol. I feel like I sail forward, drifting on phantom legs.
The apartment is brilliantly bright, there are lights on everywhere but no one seems to be around. Muffled music pounds like a heartbeat from behind Pace's bedroom door and I figure he's still up. Xenia's room seems silent and dark and I wonder if she's decided to spend the night at Marcus' place as has become her habit.
In the kitchen I collect cups and brew some peppermint tea. Draco slides down at the table and rests his head in his hands. I leave him be for a little while, not sure how to address his sunken mood. I feel slightly out of my body, as if I hang over myself like a ghost. The night's events swirl in my brain like cauldron fumes.
When I clunk the cups down on the table Draco looks up and a cursory smile licks his lips. He looks exhausted in the glare of the gas lamps, heavy lines score beneath his eyes and down turn his mouth adding new geometry to his face.
"You won't end up like him," I say quietly, guessing that his low mood stems from something his dad said upon parting.
"What makes you think that?" Draco asks, his voice has a bitter edge.
He curls his hands around his cup, nursing his drink.
"Because you're better than him," I say at once, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, which to me it is.
His eyes flick to meet mine, steely gray and inquisitive.
"You are," I say earnestly and take his hand in mine. "You're not a bad person, Draco."
He presses my hand to his lips and turns his head to the side so I can't see his eyes. I think I've touched a raw, wounded place inside of him. There's a heaviness in the air and in Draco's shoulders and I realize he's on the edge of crying. I wait watchfully, letting him hold my hand, ready to see him through whatever comes next.
"Can I stay over?" he asks after a long silence. "I don't think I want to go home to that mausoleum tonight."
"Yeah, of course," I say faintly, surprised by his request.
His gratitude is written all over his face in subtle ways. He doesn't speak but he doesn't have to.
"How did your dad lose his eye? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I add hastily, thinking that perhaps that was a bad question to ask when Draco is so vulnerable.
"My mother did it," he answers.
I freeze up like someone's put a Body Bind on me.
"It was a nasty shock for her too," Draco says, interpreting my silence correctly. "She did it with a dagger. It was an accident. It was dark and she didn't realize it was him until it was too late."
He pauses and licks his dry lips and gives me a furtive look.
"She had to protect herself somehow. It was during the war, when the house was overrun with scumbags. By that point neither of them had wands, so… by the time they could've fixed it, it was too late for Father's eye. He was lucky really. She could've killed him if she'd stabbed him harder."
I stare at him for a long time. I can feel my brain firing synapses left right and center but none of those pulses translate into proper thoughts. I don't know if Draco's stillness means he secretly wishes his mother had hit harder.
"Shit, Draco," I mumble at last.
I find myself thinking, does it ever end with this boy? No wonder all his ex-girlfriends have run screaming for the hills. Because of his parents he's got more problems than millipedes have legs. A rolling tiredness comes over me and I feel sorry for him right down to my bones.
When I look up his gray eyes are fixed on my face and I wonder if he's expecting me to ask him to leave or at the very least take one giant emotional step back. It would probably be a smart move to do either of those things but I've never been smart.
"Come on, you can share my bed," I say, getting to my feet. "Unless you have some gentlemanly objection?"
Draco actually cracks a smile in response to this.
"No, there are no qualms from me."
"Good, because I wouldn't have given up my bed for you and slept on the sofa," I admit, smiling a little and leading the way to my bedroom.
Draco turns out the lights as we go.