Drama is my life. I know that this story gets a little soap-opera dramaticy, but I have to face this one fact: Draco Malfoy is an absolute drama queen. I think it's because he's a spoiled brat. ^.^ Honestly, I love writing his character, but sometimes I just want to whack him with an Arithmancy book.

HEAVY-DUTY DISCLAIMER: I do not own any aspect of the Harry Potter franchise. I am not J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros. I do not have any claim over the characters, their personalities, or actions. I just like making their personalities bounce off each other in these little tales called fanfiction. So please, don't sue me. I can't afford it right now.

MANY THANKS TO:

The reviewers - tat1312, BittersweetSummer, Material Girl, and emLILYEVANS,

The people who faved - Amarette, AshleyCartwright, BittersweetSummer, Material Girl, necklace, and Shot Down In Flames,

And the people who put Antipathy on Alert - allie94, Bitterly-Me, BittersweetSummer, evilwriterofdoom, Fawkes Merryweather, lil nanny, Material Girl, tat1312, and twilightfreak025.

You guys rock my world absolutely and make this story possible. Thank you.

Now, so Draco can be a drama queen...

Agreement
by Shu of the Wind

***

For days after the Quidditch incident, Draco avoided anywhere where he thought he might run into Astoria Greengrass. He withdrew even further into his shell, not wanting to find any proof that what Greengrass had told him was true, not wanting to have the shield he had built up around himself for so long shattered by one stupid, naïve child.

He said nothing about finding Greengrass, lied to the Carrows and Snape, telling them that he had lost his quarry three or four minutes before he returned the Quidditch pitch. He knew the Carrows believed him. Snape had narrowed his eyes, trying to probe past his shields, but Draco kept them up and forced the headmaster to drop the subject.

The weather was changing to suit his mood. Sleet battered the windows of Hogwarts, keeping irritable students inside for every minute of the day. The Carrows sent more people to the dungeons. A few more lower level Death Eater lackeys and Imperiused wizards – the black-robes – showed up around Hogwarts, escorting suspected traitors to classrooms. It was a crackdown that was letting some of the more deeply hidden members of Dumbledore's Army slip through the cracks.

Draco said nothing, simply watching. The graffiti was slowly tapering off. No one wanted to try it under the watchful eye of the black-robes. The screams echoed through the dungeon walls almost every night now, long, loud, never-ending.

Draco did nothing but think. Think, remember, wonder, and, just like before, hate. But this hate wasn't clean, it wasn't clear cut, it didn't make sense. It was filled with confusion and pity and anger and the slightest bit of curiosity as to what would happen if he did listen to her – if he accepted what she'd told him so blithely about the world.

It was clear what she was trying to do. She was trying to manipulate him into helping her, into giving her information for the D.A. There was no other reason that she would care about convincing him her way was the right way. No other reason at all.

He avoided Pansy, avoided Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Crabbe and Goyle were easy; they spent more time with the Carrows than with anyone in the dormitories, and, quite frankly, he was glad to be free of them. They still shadowed him to class, and still backed him up when he ordered a first year about, but other than that, he kept his distance from them, and they kept their distance from him. He didn't need two gorillas around him any longer.

Just how far had Astoria Greengrass managed to encroach on his mind, on his very sanity? Everything had made sense before he'd caught her in common room. Everything. And now he couldn't tell friend from foe, couldn't even make himself hex a blood traitor and someone he hated almost as much as Saint Potter himself. And every time he obeyed the Carrows, now, he had a vision of her face, of those eyes – Can you even pick a side any longer, Malfoy?

Damn you, I can't even figure out if there are sides any longer!

He considered running away, but then realized if he tried, his parents would be the ones to suffer for it. He considered transferring schools, but he doubted Durmstrang – the only school he would allow himself to consider – would accept transfer students this late in the year. There were only a few months left of the term. If he could make it through those months, he was free of Hogwarts – free of her – forever, and then he and his parents could run. The Dark Lord had to move on to another house eventually. Right?

The thought made him want to laugh. There was no humor in it at all.

He slept even worse than before, tortured by dreams he didn't quite understand. All he could really remember was that both Greengrass and the Dark Lord factored heavily in them. He wondered if it was the transformation dream again, and then discounted it. He wasn't that weak.

The other Slytherins, even Pansy, gave him a wide berth. Greengrass seemed to be avoiding him, just as he was avoiding her; the only time he ever noticed her was at meals, and she made sure to sit as far away from him as possible. She sat apart from everyone in general. It was simply what she did. No one noticed anything strange. Sometimes he had to control the desire to walk up to her, grab her by the throat, and shake her until her neck snapped for doing this to him, but his common sense overruled it. The Greengrass family, however low down on the pureblood food chain they were, would not appreciate the murder of their second, albeit uncared for, daughter.

His grades began to slide. It wasn't like it mattered. He was slowly becoming obsessed, and it should have frightened him, but it didn't. There was only the need to understand, the need to triumph over her, the need to show her that she hadn't done a thing to him, every second of every minute of every day.

And Draco didn't care.

What scared him was that even more than that, even more than his hatred and his anger at being manipulated like a damn puppet, there was an overwhelming desire to talk to her. To ask her questions. Why she believed what she did. How dangerous it was. What the hell did she think she was doing.

She wanted me to curse her. Why? Because she felt guilty for betraying her House? Unlikely. The only think he could think of was that she had been testing him, and that fit into his layout of who she was.

Just like before, she spoke to no one; she flew every chance she could; earned good grades and generally passed under the probing of the Carrows, even with her constant O's, because of her reluctance to speak in class or to anyone at all. She wasn't the flashy sort that attracted male attention; so far as he could tell, none of them even thought about her. She barely even exchanged words with her sister. All of it he already knew.

However she managed to get her assignments from the D.A., she was damn good at hiding it. But he barely ever cared about that now.

And all through it, he ground his teeth, staring at her, hating her, avoiding her, wondering about her.

He didn't know what else he could do.

***

When Astoria went up to the pitch that Saturday, her broomstick over her shoulder and a note of written permission from Professor Slughorn in hand, she found that someone had invaded her private morning space.

She had been told that heading back down to the pitch so soon after the air graffiti was a bad idea; that the fact she had nearly been caught should have been enough to keep her from flying. But this was the pitch, away from everything going on inside the castle, away from all of the responsibilities and fear she carried as the Slytherin spy, away from the demands of the Carrows and the soft tears of those beaten down by their rule. The only safe place she knew about.

Besides, the warning about the air graffiti was trash. If she wanted to remain free of suspicion, she had to act like nothing had changed. She'd healed her lip easily, with a simple spell; no one had any reason to suspect her, except the one who had caught her. And she intended to keep it that way.

But the sight of someone else in her private Saturday morning space was a shock. Astoria considered going back inside for a moment, not wanting to share her broom flight with anybody; it was her time to work through all of the fury and hatred and fear inside her, and to just be her, Astoria Greengrass, no strings attached. But when she saw a flash of sunlight glint off of white-blonde hair, she knew exactly who it was, and she was furious.

Astoria mounted her broom and kicked off from the ground. Malfoy didn't move; he simply hovered near the center goalpost, waiting for her to come to him. He looked a wreck; there were heavy plum bags under his eyes, he was thinner than before, his skin tinged with grey, stretched tight across his cheekbones like a skull. She wondered when he'd last eaten anything.

"I didn't mean make yourself grey to prove your point, Malfoy."

The words popped out of her mouth before she could control them. Astoria stared at him, mouth filling with bile. She hated him, everything he stood for; she knew she did. But the sight of him was making her heart twist with pity and pain in her chest.

"What are you doing out here?" She spat, careful to keep ten feet of space between them. Malfoy lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, not taking his eyes from her face.

"Same reason you are, I suppose."

His voice made her jump. It was as rough and scratchy as sandpaper; she wondered if he'd said a word since he'd caught her in the corridor.

"Excuse." She dismissed it. "What are you doing out here?"

He said nothing. Astoria laughed, loud and sharp, like a bark.

"You're such a coward, Malfoy. You know what? This is done." She gestured to him, and then to her. She could feel the bile boiling in her mouth, the anger and the hatred invading the pitch where it had no business being. "You stay away from me. I'll stay away from you. You don't have to teach me Occlumency, you can forget all of that preaching I dropped on you because it's clearly not good for your health." It wasn't meant to be a joke, but a slight smile flickered across his face; Astoria scowled. "We have nothing to do with each other from now on. We simply keep each other's secrets and move on."

Malfoy didn't reply. Instead, he simply stared at her, hollow and dead-looking. Astoria tilted her broom, ready to head to the other side of the pitch.

"You think it's that effing easy?" He rasped, his mouth twisting into the trademark Malfoy sneer for the shortest of moments. "You think I can just forget about this and walk away after what you've managed to do to me? You've ruined me, Greengrass. Do you realize that if He ever catches a hint of what I've been thinking lately because of you, the lives of my family are absolutely worthless? That I'll be dead faster than you could ever imagine? Do you know what you've done?"

His voice was growing louder and louder, like a kettle building steam. Astoria watched him, wondering how long he had been thinking about this – it was as though she'd lanced a wound, somehow, and all the poison was coming flooding out of it. "Everything made sense before you came along! I don't understand anything anymore, what we're doing, why we're doing it, I can't even curse you – I want to, but I can't, and that's because of you. You've infected me, won't let me see straight about anything, forced me to feel guilty! And I've let you into my sodding head!"

He shot forward, catching her broom handle, and pulled her up alongside him. Astoria jumped, angling away from him, but there was nothing she could do. Malfoy glared at her, furious, desperate. "You did this to me. So you have to fix it."

Astoria remained silent, staring at him. Her eyes felt as wide as Fanged Frisbees.

"Fix it!"

"Malfoy." She hesitated. Then she reached down, brushing the back of his hand with her fingertips. Malfoy yanked it away, shock bursting on his face, chest heaving with fury. "I don't think it's all my fault."

"Well, of course you don't." His eyes narrowed. "You're never to blame for anything, are you?"

"All I've done is try to make you see another side of what's going on." Astoria pressed. She swallowed her heart, shoving it back down into her chest again. "I didn't force you to see any of it. I didn't force you to think of it. I didn't force you to follow me, watch me, wonder. I didn't do any of that. That was you, Malfoy. And I think some part of you knows it."

"This is your fault, damn you." Malfoy repeated, but without any heat. "I don't want to ever see you again."

"Fine." Astoria reversed a little, pulling backwards, out of reach. "Then don't. Let the Carrows know who I am, what I've done. They'll torture me and get me out of Hogwarts somehow, lock me away somewhere as the blood traitor worse than the Weasleys. And you'll never see me again, because by then I will probably be dead."

"And that doesn't terrify you."

"Of course it does." Astoria said simply. "I'm bloody terrified that you're going to give me up, because I know that's what you do. Anything to save your own skin, you do it, no questions damn well asked. But if that's what I die for, then fine. The chance that I survive this with my secrets intact is miniscule. I've known that from the start." The words came so easily. She didn't even feel tears prickling at her eyes. "But that hasn't stopped me, Malfoy. Not like it has you."

"Shut up."

"You've never cared a bit for somebody other than yourself. Someone outside your precious family. Have you? Never once thought that you would die to protect someone other than your parents, that you would do anything to prevent them from being hurt. Have you?"

"Shut up!"

Astoria ignored him. "You would abandon the people who were your friends to werewolves and wouldn't even lose sleep over it. But we're different, Malfoy. You keep doing what you're doing because of that fear, that you'll be caught doing anything other than what you've been taught, and that's what keeps you going."

"Will you shut up!" He howled at her, looking angrier than she'd ever seen him. Astoria shook her head, wonderingly.

"But I keep going because even though I'm scared, I know that what I'm doing is right."

Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.

Was that it? Was that what had changed her? Had it been the death of Cedric Diggory, a boy she'd never even spoken to, and Dumbledore's words that had done it? Astoria couldn't remember anymore. She shook her hair back from her face, feeling the light breeze whip at her robes. Her face remained dry.

"We're different people." She repeated. "Because of our paths. The ones we've chosen for ourselves. And there's nothing I can do to change that, Malfoy."

"Why, then?" He gritted his teeth. "Tell me why you started this, damn you. Why?"

"I don't think I started it and I don't think you did, either." Astoria said. "Just coincidence, Malfoy. That's all it was. An accident. I don't think even Salazar Slytherin could make it any more than that."

For some reason, those words seemed to hit him the hardest. Malfoy stared at her, eyes wide as Galleons, face going white around the edges. Astoria sighed, deeply.

"Why did you come out here, Malfoy? Was it because you wanted to ask me this?"

"How are you going to learn Occlumency?" He asked finally, avoiding the question. Astoria blinked a few times, taken by surprise.

"Out of books. We do have a thing called the library in the castle, Malfoy. And it does have something called books inside. At least one of them has to go into detail about Occlumency."

He snorted, the first normal emotion she'd seen from him in days, and in an instant he was bullying, big-headed Malfoy again, vain as a peacock and infuriatingly closed-minded about everything good in the world. "You can't learn Occlumency out of a book."

Her temper flared. "Well, where else can I learn it, you prat? We've already agreed –"

"I don't remember agreeing to any of that tripe you just threw at me, Greengrass."

Astoria rolled her eyes. "Thus avoiding my question. I really don't think that this is the best idea, Malfoy. Have you heard a word I've said?"

He ignored her, staring at her, eyes hard as granite. "If you inform anyone at all that I'm doing this, I'll kill you myself."

Astoria didn't ask any more questions. Somehow, she doubted he would even consider answering any of them.

"And if you run to the Carrows with those memories and tell them who I am, I'll make sure to kill you as I'm being dragged away." She said, equally serious. For once, Malfoy didn't scoff at the idea of a girl possibly being able to hurt him; he simply continued to meet her gaze, and nodded once, as though she'd just confirmed something in his mind.

"I'll see you here next Saturday morning, then." Astoria said, and rolled away, wondering if this was possibly the biggest mistake she would ever be able to make.

Weasley will kill me if she finds out…

Bugger that idea. If this is what kept her mind safe from Snape, then she would do it. And she didn't give a damn what Ginny Weasley would ever say about it.

Well, if anyone has any book that you can learn Occlumency out of, send me the title. I'd like to give it a read. ^.^