So, I thought this would be the last chapter, but apparently Astoria and Draco have way more to say than I had ever thought they would.

A note: I might post a story which is directly connected to these scenes. Or, to put it another way -- these are scenes which will be in another story, obliquely mentioned to. So if you read the other story, Astoria will have exactly the same description, personality, actions, etc, but there will be a few AstoriaDraco scenes there than are mentioned here. Again, I'm not sure if I'm going to do that, and if I do it will only be after I finish Wonderland, my other major project.

Hope you enjoy!

Occlumency, Part One
by Shu of the Wind

***

"You know Occlumency."

Draco Malfoy glanced up from the chapter he was supposed to be reading in Charms, stared openly at the stubborn face of Astoria Greengrass, and nearly knocked over the ink bottle holding the roll of parchment open. What in Merlin's name was she doing, talking to him like this? She had no right, just because she'd stumbled on him in the library.

"You know Occlumency." Greengrass pressed, her eyes narrowing. She kept her voice low, so that the rest of the common room – Pansy in particular – could not hear, but that seemed to be exacerbating the situation; all around the room, people were whispering. "Teach me."

"Why should I do that?" Draco hissed, slamming his textbook shut. Just seeing her across the room brought back the memory of the library incident; talking to her brought back the entirety of the nightmare that had caused it. "Just stay away from me. I don't owe you anything."

"See, the way I see it, you do." Greengrass crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "And I'd hate to bring it up."

Clearly, she didn't dare bring it up. The entirety of Slytherin House was straining their ears to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"You –" Draco began, starting to roll up his piece of parchment. Greengrass leaned forward, put her hand on the parchment, and didn't move. The movement had, quite effectively, pinned him to his chair. She was far too close for him to him go anywhere, and smelled vaguely of lavender.

What was the point of noticing that?

He thought, suddenly very angry at himself.

"In front of all of these people." She said, raising one eyebrow as she spoke. Draco gritted his teeth, refusing to look at her any longer, and attempted to pull the piece of parchment out from under her hand; it obstinately refused to move. The constant staring from the entirety of the room was drilling into the back of his head in the most uncomfortable way.

Finally, Draco snarled something that might have been an agreement. Her lip curled a little, and Greengrass straightened; he immediately stuffed his parchment and capped ink bottle back into his bag and stood up, not liking the smug expression on her face.

"Tomorrow at seven-thirty in the library, then." She said, and walked away.

A pure avalanche of fury landed in his stomach as he watched her go. Draco Malfoy muttered cursewords under his breath, stalking into the dormitories to finish his essay in peace. He honestly wanted to kill her.

But the next evening, at seven-thirty, he found himself in the library. After all, he didn't need the news that he'd been caught cursing the Carrows (not in so many words, but the essence was still the same) to get out. Not now. Not ever. Not with the Dark Lord watching his every move.

"Never – do – that – again." He said jerkily, once Greengrass appeared. She slid her bag off her shoulder and put it on the desk, her eyebrows lifting mockingly again.

"Never do what?"

He nearly strangled her.

"So what am I supposed to do for this?" She asked, pulling her wand from her sleeve. "Sit, stand? Dance on one leg?"

Draco looked at her for a long moment, taking in every detail: she'd put her hair up, for once, instead of leaving it down to shield her face, which brought more attention to her face and eyes. Her bangs, however, still framed her eyes. She looked vaguely like the portrait of his mother's mother, which was hung in his mother's study at Malfoy Manor; they had the same sort of determined expression.

"Stand still." He fingered his wand, wondered why exactly he was doing this, but the temptation to make this training as difficult as possible was too overwhelming. "And just try to stop me."

"What?" Greengrass said, but Draco had already raised his wand and said, "Legilimens."

It was rather like traveling through a pupil to join the participants in a play that he didn't understand…he watched as a child recognizable as Daphne Greengrass took off on her new broom, watched by a pair of dark-haired adults while a strawberry-blonde child stared from behind the fountain….Greengrass was nine and jealousy curled in her heart as Daphne clambered onto the train, waving happily as it pulled away from Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters….eleven years old and under the Hat, listening to it whisper in her ear, saying she would go far in Ravenclaw…fourteen and crying as she flew high over Greengrass House, her cheek throbbing with pain….and then he was standing next to Greengrass, looking at himself in the library, sitting in the chair, looking like the shattered remnant of a war, and feeling her pity –

She pushed, violently, with all her strength, and the film of memory disappeared. Draco stumbled back and fell into his chair, holding his wand tightly in one clenched fist; opposite him, Greengrass had done exactly the same thing, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"That…" Draco swallowed. "That was interesting."

Greengrass took several deep breaths, trying to regain control. She was paler than usual. "What did you see?"

"A…few things." Draco shrugged. He felt strangely uncomfortable; he had never invaded someone's memories like that before. It had disturbed him. Was this what Bellatrix delighted in? It was strange, unpleasant. Worst of all, he actually felt pity towards this annoying traitor, and he couldn't afford that. Not ever.

"The Hat, mostly. Greengrass House." He didn't mention the library. He didn't want her know that he knew she felt pity for him, too. It was too humiliating to even think about.

Greengrass took several deep breaths, restoring color to her face. Then she raised her wand once more. "Again. And then I want to try."

He nearly bellowed at her, wanted to scream that there was no way he was teaching her Legilimency as well as Occlumency, that he only had a rudimentary knowledge of it himself, but the look on her face told him that she wouldn't have listened even if he had said something. So Draco pointed his wand at her and spoke the charm once more.

This time, she knew what was coming, and fought it. He saw her again, training with a Beater's bat, practicing her Charms, retreating further and further into her own mind as the world grew darker and darker around them. A hurried conversation with Professor McGonagall, whispering with Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. The view he had of her memories shifted in and out, like a radio out of tune, intermixed with his own memories – this was why he hadn't wanted to teach her, hadn't wanted her to see – his parents talking quietly in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, as he read one of his new schoolbooks; snubbed by Saint Potter on the train; Nagini and Charity Burbage, the coils of the snake undulating as it rushed towards the body on the floor; the dream, Greengrass morphing into the Dark Lord himself –

And then she was the one who broke contact, and she was the one who lunged forward to catch his wrist as he started to fall back into his chair again. Her hand was warm around his wrist; the other one still clutched at her wand. He allowed himself to appreciate the warmth of it for a single moment before tearing his wrist away, stepping back out of reach.

Greengrass stepped back too, staring at him, her wand disappearing back up her sleeve. There was not a single shred of pity in her face now, which he felt absurdly – incomprehensibly – grateful for; there was nothing but pure understanding in her eyes. Her hand spasmed, as though she was about to reach forward and then caught herself; then she turned, picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder again.

"We can continue this tomorrow." She said, without looking him in the eye. "Goodbye, Malfoy."

She had turned suddenly frail, quiet, ashamed. His hatred of Greengrass surged, mixed with something strange he hadn't expected; he suddenly wanted to reach forward, touch her hair. To offer comfort in some way.

But Greengrass had turned and walked away before he could process that impulse, and decide how he would react to it. Draco Malfoy watched her go, strangely unable to look away, and then collected his own things, not in the least anticipating the storm of questions from Pansy Parkinson about who that fifth-year blonde swot was and what he had been doing, and began to concoct a cover-story. Something involving a bad Potions grade for Greengrass might be able to pass.

And so the plot begins to thicken...