Unwelcome Interruptions

The bell over the front door jingled, but Draco hardly heard it, so hard was he concentrating on potion-brewing. Every now and then he glanced down at the book on the table, but mostly he stared with deep focus on the boiling cauldron, stirring the potion with a large wooden spoon very carefully and methodically. He'd been working on perfecting this particular brew for the last two weeks, and every time he'd set out to do so he'd failed utterly and miserably. It had been a slow morning, so he'd started another batch, and Augusta had given him a wide berth so far to let him concentrate.

So of course he didn't even notice when the door to the back room opened and Augusta came bustling in with a list in her hand.

"What does a girl like that want these kinds of things for anyway?" the old woman was muttering to herself. Draco ignored her. "Honestly. What's she trying to do, poison an entire village? Doesn't seem likely…"

She moved around, gathering ingredients in a little basket as she went, all the while muttering darkly. "Dittany, boomslang skin, doxy eggs? Antimony? Powdered erumpet horn?"

Draco finally tuned in to what she was saying. He raised his head a fraction. "What's going on?" he asked, allowing her a very quick glance before snapping his attention back to his caludron.

"Some Hogwarts student came in with a list of ingredients she needed. Strange combination of things, if you ask me, not the sort parents usually allow their children to buy, and not the least of reasons being how expensive they are," Augusta said, looking disturbed.

"Maybe her father is a potioneer," Draco suggested.

"Would have thought she'd said 'My father needs these' then."

Draco shrugged. He didn't particularly care one way or another what the girl wanted with these ingredients; he just wanted to brew his potion correctly. Augusta huffed unhappily as she returned to the front of the shop.

"Here you are, dearie," she said sweetly. "Hope your parents gave you enough money for all this; they're quite expensive you know," she added as a fair warning. A harsh laugh answered her, and something in Draco's memory stirred at the sound of it. Focus, he scolded himself, adding a dash of unicorn blood and gently mixing it into the brew.

"They're not for my parents. They wouldn't have the first idea what to do with most of this stuff. They're for me. I get bored easily, and someone in my family has to know how to make a common antidote," the girl replied.

"These are not common antidote ingredients," Augusta pushed.

"Fair enough. I'm a recreational potioneer then."

Draco couldn't help but glance toward the door again. Something about the way the girl spoke reminded him of someone, but he couldn't put his finger on it with his mind so focused on his task at hand. It was like a tiny fly buzzing around his head, a nuisance, but not his biggest concern.

Augusta made polite conversation for the next minute or so, and Draco tuned the babble out once again. He looked at the ingredients list in the book. Ever so gently, he dropped a tiny spoonful of crushed scarab eyes. The potion let up a plume of green smoke and turned a vivid lime. He couldn't contain his grin. Carefully, he adjusted the heat under the cauldron and reached for the powdered moonstone.

"Shit!"

Draco jumped at the shout, the bottle of powder slipping from his hands and landing right in the middle of the potion. BOOM! The whole thing exploded as Draco threw himself to the floor, covering everything with a thick layer of lime green muck. Dark smoke was everywhere, and a horribly offensive smell filled the room. Choking and coughing, he pulled himself back to his feet and groped for his wand in the haze.

"What on earth-? Oh, Draco," Augusta called through the smoke. Draco waved his wand several times, jabbing the air angrily as he first cleaned himself off then worked on clearing the room of its suffocating green smoke. After several seconds he could see Augusta standing horrified in the doorway. He turned to see the entire wall of shelves behind him was covered in green muck, but otherwise unharmed.

"Draco, your head."

Confused, he reached up and felt his forehead. His fingers came away bright red.

"What-?"

"Oh dear Merlin, Malfoy."

Draco's head snapped up, the blood – and accompanying pain – temporarily leaving his mind entirely. The younger Greengrass girl was standing behind Augusta, looking surprised, but infuriatingly amused by the scene before her.

For some reason the sight of her made him want to punch something.

"Draco, sit down, you look ill," Augusta commanded, rushing over and leading him to a stool. He sank onto it obediently and she went right about prodding his head.

"Ow, woman!" he yelped, jerking away.

"Oh, hush, you big baby. You have a piece of cauldron lodged in your forehead."

"So leave it there! That hurts!" he growled as she continued poking around the wound. He leaned away, but that didn't deter her.

"You look completely disgusting, you know that?" Greengrass asked. Draco scowled at her.

"Why are you still here?"

"Draco, don't be rude."

"It looks worse than it is I suppose," she continued, inviting herself into the room and coming over to stand above him. She looked down at his forehead critically. "Head wounds bleed a lot," she added.

"Go away."

"Draco."

"You know this is your fault, don't you?" he added, narrowing his eyes at her. She laughed that annoying laugh of hers.

"No. Do tell me how," she said, crossing her arms and leaning back on the table behind her.

"You're the one who shouted and made me drop the jar I was holding," he accused her angrily.

"Not my fault you scare so easily," she said with a shrug. "You try getting a splinter under your fingernail and not swearing. You should probably do something about that door frame of yours, ma'am," she added to Augusta politely. Augusta ignored her.

"There," she said instead, producing a small shard of metal. Draco stared at it, surprised something so small could cause so much pain and blood. It was barely the size of his little fingernail.

"You should probably clean yourself up, Malfoy," Greengrass suggested. "You look like someone stabbed you."

Augusta 'tsk'ed disapprovingly, but didn't comment. Draco just glared.

"I still don't know why you haven't left yet."

She shrugged. "It's hard to find things that amuse me. You've done a pretty good job, and I'd hate to give it up so soon."

He scowled at her and she smiled sweetly.

"What do you want with those ingredients?" he asked then, changing the subject. She glanced down at the bag in her hand.

"Recreational potion-making," she repeated. "None of your business anyway."

Draco stood up and moved to the small washroom, peering at his face in the mirror. It was indeed a bloody mess. He cleaned it up with a wave of his wand, healing the cut left behind on his forehead with a quick spell. When he returned to the back room, Greengrass was perched on his stool, glancing around at the slime-covered walls with distaste.

"Go away," Draco muttered. She laughed – he gritted his teeth – and hopped up.

"Only because you asked so nicely," she said with a smile. He rolled his eyes, and when he glanced at her again, he was surprised to see her suddenly somber and serious-looking. Would he ever understand her mood swings? Why would I want to? he asked himself.

He managed to follow her line of sight to his bare forearm. The Dark Mark was more noticeable against the stark white of the sleeves he'd pushed up to his elbows. He pulled his sleeves down.

"Go away," he said again, not meeting her eyes. She blinked a few times before nodding and turning and walking away without saying anything else. A moment later the bell above the door jingled, and the door snapped shut behind her.

I wrote this a couple nights ago and was waiting until I'd reread it to post it, just in case Draco's personality tried to slip away again. I'm not sure how I feel about this, but it's necessary to move forward without too much time elapsing between chapters. Also, previous versions tried to give Astoria a quite different personality, but I rather like her snarky, sarcastic, generally belittling-Draco outlook right now, and she's had much less reason to change than he has.

As for the last bit, I just thought it would be nice to shut her up for once. I know her personality has been difficult to grasp because she's mostly an enigma to Draco, who is rather obtuse, and he's the one providing the point of view. Mostly, she's just looking to be treated as an equal, and every time she's encountered Draco (with the exception of the very first time in the carriage in chapter 1), she tries to push him toward seeing her that way, and every time it's failed. Also, she thinks he's an arrogant, spoiled little boy, and their encounters either amuse her or infuriate her, depending on her mood. The point of the last scene was to remind her of his past, which she still doesn't believe he's completely overcome, and that small reminder of just how deeply he was involved in the war was very sobering for her.

I know a lot of you aren't quite sure if you like Astoria or not. That's okay. Draco doesn't like her, so the fact that you guys don't know if you do yet is just telling me that on some slight level, I'm managing to channel Draco adequately. And that makes me happy.

Right, please review! Even if you don't like cats. But I mean c'mon, how could you not? Fluffy little buckets of sarcasm and diabolical evil plotting? What's not to love?

Always,
Megan

P.S. I'm thinking about posting this story from Astoria's point of view as well. Thoughts? (Be aware that even if I get outstanding feedback for this idea, it might not happen. It's currently the inspired idea of a 1 a.m. writing session, and the inspiration/ambition may soon abandon me.)