Disclaimer: JKR owns all recognizable characters.

Dose of Your Own

By: OurLoveIsForever

Chapter Seventeen: Clear

Hate was something that I had lived with since my childhood. I had been raised to hate mudbloods, to hate those that were different than me, to hate because of lower status. Hate was something that had been very common in my upbringing. That's not to say that I hated everything. In fact, upon arriving at Hogwarts, riding on the Express, where we were not segregated by blood, I had changed my ways somewhat. I didn't hate as easily anymore. It took quite a bit to make me hate someone whole heartedly. Otherwise, I didn't see a reason to put in the effort it took to hate at all. Apathy was a far better alternative.

It didn't take long, a few steps outside of his office in fact, for Mikhail Demidov to earn my hate.

He had a holier-than-thou attitude that could rival that of Malfoy's when he knocked on the Auror head's door. His chin rose so high that I wondered how he could even see down the length of his nose. "Miss Greengrass, are you so sure that outside Malfoy manor is a woman under Imperious?" I nodded, pushing my irritated feeling from my mind. "And you are also certain of the information you received from Lady Zabini?"

"She has a large number of connections. I would not doubt her prowess for information, Demidov." I said, as the Head's door opened. A balding gentleman stood just within, a frustrated expression on his scrunched face. He looked me up and down before setting his eyes on Demidov.

"Impress me, Demidov. Otherwise, I have a few very important matters to attend to." He spoke with a thick Scottish drawl.

"Sir, this is Astoria Greengrass. She's representing the Malfoy estate. They are in need of our help." He said the last bit like the end of a joke.

"No."

I narrowed my eyes and bit my tongue as Demidov attempted to argue, earning that bag of galleons on his belt. "Mr. Stratford, sir, I am aware of the views on those particular Pureblood clans, but there is some very important information that Miss Greengrass has provided. That's not to mention, sir, that she is Gregor Greengrass's daughter." Stratford's eyebrows rose as he looked down at me. I all but glared up at him, my hands going to my hips without thought.

"Your Gregor Greengrass's daughter? I thought her name was Daphne."

It took everything I had to keep from rolling my eyes. "He doesn't like me much, but that's not the point here. I am here to get help for my friends and family."

"It cannot be done. There simply aren't enough resources at this time."

That was it. The gloves were off. I was sick of being pushed around without a choice. I was sick of the run around. It ended now! "There's not enough resources, eh? You think I am daft enough to believe that? You bloody people preach about equality! Equality for who, exactly? Yes, you were discriminated against, I understand that. I can't say that I don't support it. That point doesn't matter. What does matter is the fact that you all are a bunch of hypocrites." I felt my rage growing and growing to the limit where I simply couldn't control my mouth anymore. I was seeing red. "You bloody people and your holier-than-thou attitudes! Do you know what people like Nott and Malfoy have gone through since the war? Do you know what they went through during the war? Do you know that people, regardless of their beliefs, are still human?" I took a breath and stepped back. "Fine, screw you lot then! I will figure out how to save the ones I love without the help of the body that is supposed to be there to support those under it."

I took another step back and found that two hands on my upper arms stopped me from going any farther. I froze, wondering if I had just earned myself a stint in Azkaban or if perhaps I had doomed those within the Malfoy Manor.

"What's the problem here?" The voice behind me questioned as the hands released me. I looked behind me to see a man of near my own age with wild black hair and glasses. Feeling my heart stop, I realized that I was looking at Harry Potter. The Harry- bloody- Potter! "Sir?"

Stratford huffed, shaking his head. "She wants help rescuing the Malfoys from their Manor. If I remember correctly, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini are there as well."

"They're damn good wizards. How did they get into such a spot?" Potter asked, stepping around me. I wondered if he would only serve to aid in dashing all my hopes. It was a possibility. Draco had certainly done plenty to help them think of leaving him to die. He had that effect on a lot of people.

Demidov shrugged. "Got into a bad situation with the escaped prisoners."

Potter's eyebrows shot into his hairline. I never thought I could see someone look so shocked. "Then why aren't we taking them out? We need to get those nutters before they kill someone else."

I cleared my throat. All three men looked to me. "The reason being: 'we once supported the Dark Lord'." Which was a horrible generalization, seeing as though Tracey Davis, Narcissa Malfoy and I were against the Dark Lord, even we had repercussions of our defiance yet we still got black listed by the other populace. "This is where you are mistaken, but I will not bother to correct you. You already have your preconceived notions about us. I will not put forth the effort to make you believe otherwise." I began to turn, determined to find another way. I could call in some favors with the Avery family perhaps even the Higgs and Cattermole clans. They would certainly contribute help should I call upon it. I could have even contacted the O'Malley family as I was supposed to have done from the Manor. As I was formulating Plans B and C, a hand landed on my shoulder. I turned only my head.

"Miss Greengrass, we will help." Potter said with an air of finality.

I looked over his shoulder at Stratford and Demidov discussing something in hushed tones. "I didn't know that you were the Head of this department, Potter." His eyes widened a bit at my biting tone before he smiled, shaking his head.

"Perhaps not, but I have quite a bit of pull." He motioned for me to follow him as we moved down the hallway. I felt a bit of a soaring sensation as we started to descend into a darker set of catacombs. I felt the dank and dark settling around me. It reminded of the dungeons at school. I shivered slightly with the thought. "We're headed to the Auror Training room. That is where everyone is."

"It's after hours." I said slowly as we neared a light at the end of the tunnel. I could have rolled my eyes. Far too cliche! Bloody light at the end of the tunnel!

He shrugged. "There's no such thing as 'after hours' in the Auror department."

I followed him into a brightly lit room. Glancing around, this way and that, I took in my surroundings. The room was circular and very large, clearly cut out of rock. At the ceiling, there was a magicked sky. I wondered why that was. Perhaps to impose a sense of calm? I was unsure. Slowly, I looked to the group of people that stood just around the edge of the room, watching a duel take place in the center. Yellow flashes, purple, orange, and pink; all flying in different directions. I watched in awe as the two wizards dueled, jumping this way and that.

I could've never done something like that, even if my life depended upon it. My strengths were completely different, lying in the art of manipulation and deceit. Well, that, a mean cup of coffee and a outright fabulous robe pinning job. Outright fighting could never do me any good.

"Roberts! Stewart!" Potter called, waving his wand. The sparks that had been flying between the two disappeared, being sucked into the man's wand. The two gentlemen stopped and turned, smiling. They looked exhilarated, windswept from the action of the fake duel.

"Yes, Captain?" One grinned, running a summoned towel over his forehead. "Better be bloody important if your interrup-"

"We have a mission. I need the following Aurors to get prepared to depart at zero hundred hours: Dorcas, Johns, Roberts and Creevey. The rest of you must be ready to come in at any time as reinforcements. We may be taking them down today."

There was a yell of understanding before most of the people within the room left, speaking loudly on various matters. I watched as the four men remained.

"We're going to save the Malfoys."

A grunt of disapproval. "Why are we saving Malfoy's whiny ass?"

I bristled a little in the back of my mind knowing that Draco was, indeed, a 'whiny ass'. Couldn't really argue that one.

Potter grimaced. He seemed to know that the question was coming sooner or later. I almost asked it myself. Why would he help his childhood enemy? Why would he lift a finger to aid Draconis Malfoy? His answer was simple enough, but rang true. "His mother saved me. It's only right that I repay that debt."

Draconis Black Malfoy was going to kill me. Of that much, I was certain. Draco Malfoy was going to rip me apart limb by limb then feed me to whatever magical creature was handy. Why? I had the help of Harry Potter. If there was any sin in the world that would remain unforgivable, it would certainly be this one. As they prepared to leave, I watched from my seat at the edge of the room. The five men were discussing exactly how to go about taking the imperious-ed woman out first. How could I have gotten so lucky? I turned my eyes to stare at the granite floor.

People like me were never lucky and yet somehow I had achieved the impossible. My mind unconsciously went to Draco. What exactly did I plan to do? Malfoy…Draco wasn't the type of man to ride off into the sunset with on a white steed with flowers in my hair. No, he certainly was not Prince Charming. Then again, I wasn't the type of girl to be whisked into that metaphorical sunset either. We were too firmly based in reality for that kind of fairytale rot. I hated that I couldn't stop thinking about him. It was stupid, a weakness and somehow wrong, but I couldn't stop. I kept feeling his hands in my hair...

"Miss Greengrass?"

No, reality was where I rested. Anything that happened from there on in would be nothing like the fairytales we girls imagined as children, sitting up late at night and discussing our various dreams. If Draco had allowed me to leave, he showed that he was just as much of a coward as he always had been, even if I had been adament on leaving. Maybe that was what Nott had been so angry about. "Greengrass!" I jerked my head up. Potter peered down at me through his spectacles. He really was an unremarkable man with that fly away black hair and he was beginning to show some age lines 'round about his mouth. "We're heading out. You should go somewhere safe. An owl will find you when everything is over."

He had to be kidding! I shook my head. "These are my friends. You can't expect me to—"

Potter smiled sadly. "I understand, but you will be a liability. If things go badly, I don't want you in harm's way. It would really be best if you go somewhere safe."

I gave him the fiercest glare that I could manage, but knew I would have to relent.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Potter asked with finality.

My head shook, but I realized that I should warn him. "I would guess that Malfoy will jump into the fray contrary to what you assume he will do. He'll likely try to kill the glamoured woman. As for Nott, he will be the easiest to deal with as far as I can guess. I would look to him for whatever report you have to write. If I had my guess, both Zabini and Davis will be in the kitchen drinking wine or coffee depending on the kind of day they have had."

He nodded a bit strangely and began to move away. I stood, feeling my bones ache in protest. I knew where I was going to go, but it seemed like it was so far away. As Potter's back retreated, I spoke without thinking. "Good luck." The words came out like a prayer. He stopped, looked around, smiled slightly and kept moving.

Twilfit and Tatting's was dark when I arrived, apparating directly into the back break-room. Everything was so still, so silent that I could have heard a pin drop. It was fast approaching one in the morning when I sunk into a squishy blue felt chair, my eyes drooping shut. I felt drained physically and emotionally. When I had to think of safe places, the only place other than Malfoy Manor and Nott's home, that I could think of was the dress shop.

I knew the wards were strong so as to prevent theft and they had been in place for nearly a century. If I arrived silently and quickly, I would be untraceable. I had escaped the Ministry not half an hour after the five-man rescue team left on their mission to save those trapped within the Malfoy Manor grounds, leaving a note with young Miss Unbearable Biggers, the Auror receptionist, as to my whereabouts.

In that time, I had pushed all thoughts from my mind. If I allowed my thoughts to roam free then I would be more and more nervous. Those rampant nerves were something that I couldn't stand. Every thought turned into a waking nightmare. Each time that my eyes closed, for even a second, I saw Nott bleeding and dead. Every other time I could see Mal-Draco running through a barrage of spells and curses before falling to the ground. Narcissa Malfoy, Blaise and Tracey lying near death on the floor of the parlor.

I knew that Amycus Carrow, Crabbe and Jamison were still at large. As long as that remained true, we were still in danger. I was still in danger.

There was not only that.

"Sacrificing the weakest link, perhaps? A very Malfoy ideal.."

I opened my eyes and narrowed them dangerously at the dress robe across from where I sat in the dressing room. Supposedly, the dark purple fabric had nothing to harm me, but I glared at it nonetheless. I needed something to focus my anger at. My father was most likely behind the escapes. It made me sick to even think about. I couldn't say that I knew why he would go to such lengths to spring lunatics from that jail. Then again, I never understood my father and his actions.

Silver and green pairs of eyes flashed in my mind. Trust was overrated a bit perhaps. I trusted both of them still, even though I had been sent out like a cow to the slaughter.

They sent me out, I thought viciously. I could feel Draco's hands in my hair, tugging, pulling.

"Greengrass!"

They had placed my neck under the edge of the guillotine. My hands slid over his chest while he laid me back into the pillows, his smooth hand sliding under the edge of my nightshirt.

"Greengrass!"

They had sacrificed me. He pulled away, staring into my eyes. It seemed as if he was in deep thought, contemplating his courses. A moment had passed before he pressed his lips to mine with a new ferocity. I responded equally.

"Astoria! Damn it, answer me!" I jerked out of my memories and thoughts, looking to the mirror in front of me.

In the dark reflection, I could see a slim form standing in the doorway to the dressing room. From the sound of the voice, that mid-baritone, I knew exactly who it was. Slowly, I turned in his direction. Draco stood only ten feet away. I could see dark spots on his white-button shirt, the same one he wore earlier. His arms hung limply at his sides. I felt panicked, but pushed the emotion down. I drank the image of him in. He was alive, injured, but alive. Just above his right eye was a deep gash, which looked to be still bleeding down the side of his face. While I kept the façade of apathy, my heart rate doubled. I couldn't control my reaction to his presence.

Had I really fallen this far?

"You sent Pot-Head?" Draco said lowly.

I smirked despite myself. He was far too predictable. Truly, I was enjoying his anger. It proved that I wasn't imagining things. "I sent no one. Potter merely took the lead."

He shook his head, his eyes becoming tired. "You dumbass."

"Yes, I can see that you are still trapped." I deadpanned. "How could I fail so royally? Forgive me, Ghost of the Great Prat, Draco Malfoy!" I laced my hands together on my lap.

"You got bloody Potter!"

"I got who I could! Stop being so immature and self-centered!"

"Self-centered?" He nearly shouted, his eyes flashing. "Self-centered? I am not bloory self-centered!"

I shrugged. "Oh, do pardon me. I could have sworn that you were complaining about who I got to help. If you were meaning something completely different, please let me know for I will apologize straight away."

He sighed, frustrated. "What's your problem now?"

"My problem is the fact that you barge in here with no 'thank you' but rather complaints of how I saved your sorry arse. My problem is that I wonder why I was the one sent out in the first place. I have a problem with the fact that I can't—" Stop thinking about you, I wanted to shout, but I stopped myself by looking around the darkened room.

His head shook almost sadly as if he knew what I was about to say. "I told you that I'm not a good man, Astoria." Taking a step forward, he moved into better light. I could see him clearly. There was crimson blood dripping onto his white shirt. He had been in the fight. That much was obvious, but I wondered why he was standing before me instead of receiving medical attention at Saint Mungo's. "I won't lie to you, Astoria." He heaved a rattling breath as I stood, becoming worried at his fatigued state. "I have been with other women. I have a habit of looking out for number one. I hate you for getting Potter, but I hate you more for standing right there..."

I shook my head a bit, not really understanding what he was meaning. Perhaps the blood loss or stress of the evening was getting to him in the head.

He started to walk forward, stumbling. I began to move to catch him, but he held up his hand. "No, we clear this up now."