Astoria stood there in the cold, slightly awkward.
She looked so much like her sister, Daphne, that it almost stopped Pansy's heart. They both had peridot eyes, a mix of summer and snake green. Their skin was pale and had the lightest dusting of freckles across slanted cheekbones and high foreheads. The only difference was that Astoria was even prettier than the devastatingly beautiful Daphne. This startling beauty was not immediately obvious, and it took Pansy a second to work out why.
Astoria's eyes were wide and lips narrowed with what initially looked like seriousness, but in fact more resembled worry. Her blond curls were pulled back into a harsh pony-tail. The only miniscule element of makeup was her eyes edged delicately in a colour of smoke and mist.
She was a girl trying to cover herself in winter, however much the summer of her youth shone through.
Astoria opened her mouth before Pansy cut off whatever she was going to say and enveloped her in a fearsome hug.
For a second Astoria was stiff as steel before her arms softened and wrapped around Pansy. The elder girl released her and stood back.
"I'm so glad you came, Ria. Welcome."
Astoria's lips, petal-pink, thawed into a smile.
"Me too. I was a little worried about what kind of reception I'd receive."
Pansy, never afraid to be blunt, said: "Because Daphne chose the right side of the war in the Battle of Hogwarts? Because she did the right thing, unlike so many of us? This house is filled with the brave and the fainthearted, from both sides. The war made us fools and cowards, and if we can't look past that then no one else will. We love Daphne, and miss her dearly. You'll always be welcome among us. "
Astroria visibly chilled, and Pansy cursed the gin in her blood for making her words more inarticulate and ingenuous than she meant.
"Well, quite." Astoria replied.
"Let's get you a drink," uttered Pansy swiftly, kicking herself for mentioning Astoria's dead sister before she had even crossed the threshold of the house. Pansy was so used to having cathartic, post-war conversations that she completely forgot social etiquette. By Merlin, what idiocy.
"May be I can help with that," drawled Malcolm Baddock, looking less like a louche and more like a limpet as he leant unstably against the wall. He passed Astoria a clear liquid, which Pansy did not blame her for accepting and swiftly downing. Hey, welcome to the party. Let's talk about your dead sister shall we?
Almost immediately as Astoria entered the manor, alarm bells started to ring in Pansy's mind. Malcolm was looking at her in a way a malnourished lion contemplates a plump meal.
Pansy was reasonably sure that Astoria would have more sense than to demean herself to Malcolm Baddock, whose robes look like they had a distressing vomit stain already. However, she was so alone and so young that Pansy was going to ensure that she would not be pestered with males who were beneath her. Or males full stop. The young girl who Draco and she had helped with her Arithmency homework was not going to become prey to adolescent drooling. Not if Pansy had anything to do with it.
Pansy beckoned Astoria to the Living Room, reasonably sure that Malcolm would fall flat on his face if he left the safety and stability of that portion of wall. On the way, she surreptitiously diluted Astoria's second drink and drifted them over to Blaise, whose tastes did not run to nubile young girls.
Blaise was nursing a firewhisky and his head was lolling dreamily to the music. At Pansy's return, he smiled.
"Thank Merlin, your back. I just disentangled myself from the dullest conversation with Roger Wellington. He was telling me all about this satirical piece he's writing for the Prophet about Voldemort's rise. Sounds very witty and very much like he's brown-nosing. Oh, ole Voldey's evil? You don't say!"
Pansy shot him a warning glance. Blaise and she were so fluent in each other that he immediately got the message right around the same time he realized who Astoria Greengrass was. Blaise was less familiar with the younger Slytherins than the prefects had been, especially if they were quiet and female, but Daphne and Astoria's similarity was shocking.
"Hello, darling. You're looking glorious," Blaise kissed her on both cheeks but Astoria just glanced back coldly. "How are you?"
"Well, thank you."
After a pregnant silence, Pansy realised that the conversation wasn't going to blossom from there.
"Yes, Roger was telling me about that piece." She said to make up for Ria's quietness. "He seemed quite ignorant of the fact he was entirely plagiarizing that parody debate we used to have in the common room about the moral responsibility of Glinda the white witch."
"Little harlot. It quite shocks me how flexible and forgetful we've all become. I tried to make a move on him, purely out of politeness and to stop his insipid droning, and the boy had the indecency to be shocked! It's as if he had completely forgotten his bout of experimenting in sixth year."
Astoria looked uncharmed. Glancing round to those swaying to the sounds of the Wireless, she said: "I've never heard any of this music. What is this, Pansy?"
"A bit of Arctic Monkeys, some Lana Del Ray. Muggle music mostly. Draco's been toying with the Wireless. And on that note, do excuse me…"
Pansy mouthed "look after her" to Blaise as he topped up his glass.
Draco was looking at the dancers and had caught Pansy's gaze across the room. His shirt was loosened at the neck and there was a hazy look of relaxation on his face. He quirked an eyebrow at Pansy, an invitation.
She swam through the bodies to him, taking his hand and leading them to the middle of the floor where people were dancing. He always did have a weakness for music. Palms slid to her waist drawing her closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her smile answering his. Perhaps their interests did not truly match, perhaps he would nod off when she talked about dragons and she would yawn when his rants went too old-fashioned. But their dancing was always in tune. They could always read and answer each other's movements effortlessly.
"Reminds me of all those nights dancing in that little club at the basement of Three Broomsticks," Draco whispered to her.
"That place was so grimy. Why did we go there?"
"Because it was my haven from the Gryffindors. Do you know how many people I had to bribe to make sure no one told them it existed?"
"Probably more than you needed to. I can't really imagine that group out drinking and dancing underage, can you?"
Draco smiled. "The picture of Ron Weasley holding a Fey Glowstick and rampaging on a dance floor fills me with disgust and joy. Though I imagine the screams of horror would rather drown out the music."
Pansy did not want to reply to this. A dozen insults leapt to her tongue, making her mouth feel like ash. She didn't want to talk about those people or criticize them. She couldn't imagine they would be wasting their breath on Draco and her.
"Are you happy, Draco?" she asked instead.
"My, your full of a lot of these questions aren't you?"
"Are you?"
"You're looking very thin at the moment. Everyone's been mentioning it." Draco caught the dangerous gleam in her eye and changed tact. "My mood has been…. lighter than I've felt in a long time. Thank you, Pansy."
It was not the kind of answer she was looking for. She wasn't looking for a thank you. She tried to ignore the fact he did not return the question.
In the corner of her eye, she noticed that Markus was making labored conversation with Astoria, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable at his bovine charm.
"Do me a favour – Astoria, Daphne's sister, is here and needs a bit of looking after. Would you mind going to chat to her?"
"Ria Greengrass?" Draco's silver eyes suddenly went wide with fear. "But Daphne fought on the other side – the last person Ria would want to talk to is me."
In his voice was a plea. Don't make me do it. Don't make the guilt surface.
"You know Ria. Merlin, we spent enough time bullying that year group into working. You're probably one of the only faces she knows well here. And you owe it to Daphne. Astoria's not here with an axe to grind. Be kind. It's must be unspeakable to lose a sister. We need to let her know she hasn't lost the Slytherins as well."
Draco nodded, looking sick, eyes drifting to the blond girl in white lace. Pansy took his chin gently in her fingers.
"Just make her feel welcome. Tell a couple of jokes, you charming cad. Only for a little while. I'll make it worth your while once everyone has gone home."
Pansy leant forward, enclosing his bottom lip in a kiss, which she deepened with pleasure. There she was, kissing Draco Malfoy in front of all the Slytherins. Claiming him as her own. Teenage Pansy starting doing backflips inside her brain.
"Fine," Draco said, pouting slightly. "Come save me soon."
Come save me. Just what Charlie had said in his letter. Pansy's stomach tightened. There was someone she wanted to save, and another who actually needed saving. She supposed that made the choice easier.
Blaise appeared next to her. "Turn about the manor, my love? A chance to inspect the estate?"
She gave him a dark eyed glare, following him into the corridor. "You were meant to be looking after Ria. I leave you for five minutes and Markus is trying to paw at her."
"I know, I know, I'm a terrible person. I belong in the fifth circle of hell with the debauchers and those who abandon frankly boring people at parties."
"She's shy!"
"She's bloody hard work. Now tell me how expensive this ghastly statue of Demeter Malfoy is and have another glass of champagne. It will make you feel better."
She was about to come back with a cutting remark before a hulking figure came into sight. It was a new arrival to the party. The silhouette, so unmistakable to both of them, shifted his cloak off and wandered around for somewhere to put it. Blaise and Pansy stopped dead in their tracks. It felt like ice had been poured down her spine.
"Did you know he was coming?" asked Blaise, his words sounding weirdly emotionless as if they were coming from far away.
Fury felt like it thickened her tongue, yet when she answered her voice cut the air with it's force. "No. Never. I would never have allowed him here."
Pansy's thoughts became rapid with anger. "Go to the other room, and make sure no one comes to the dining room. I need to deal with this gatecrasher."
Blaise nodded sternly, departing.
Pansy slipped her wand from her sleeve and strode toward the intruder. Without giving him a chance to speak, only a chance to take in her furious face and raised wand, she uttered "Expelliarmus!" The force of the spell projecting him into the dining room and flinging his wand into a rogue corner.
She followed his crumpled form into the room, slamming the door behind her, heart-thumping with fear as she saw his thuggish body attempt to right itself.
"Goyle, if you dare get up I will use this wand to permanently damage you. You will wish you had never been born, let alone considered coming to this house. Showing your face here. To people you used dark magic on. How dare you." Pansy realized she was spitting as she spoke. The anger made her limbs shake, but her voice stayed steady.
Watery blue eyes in a large face looked at her with reproach. He did not move. "Pansy, Draco invited me." Goyle spoke slowly, in a way that Pansy used to find endearing, like he was taking care choosing his words.
Slowly the door opened behind her, and she turned to face it her wand raised to the intruder's head.
Draco looked at her calmly. "Pansy, is this necessary?"
"You. Invited. This monster."
"Yes. He's my friend. One of the last."
She could not tell if he looked annoyed with her or if he was trying to plead. A movement shifted to the corner of her eye – Goyle, the fool, thought his old master's words would save him. Thought that this was permission to move.
Her wand hand whipped toward him and she cried "Incarcero!" Snakelike ropes spun from the end of her wand and locked around Goyle's wrists, ankles, legs and throat. Goyle remained there, wobbling, one fell movement meaning he would topple.
"I cannot believe you invited him here. He allowed Crabbe to torture students – sometimes Slytherins! Not that that matters who it was. They were all children. You weren't there during the last year. You don't understand the disgusting things those two did or condoned. There were measures I had to take to protect us…" The memory of the Carrow's hands on her was suddenly vivid. She shuddered, her words stopping. She would never share that story with Draco. She wouldn't utter it in front of Goyle, though he knew it already.
"We all condoned things we shouldn't have, Pans," Draco said gently. "Goyle is one of the few who understands what happened that year. Can't we… Can't he be here? Can't he stay with the rest of us? Can't you forgive him like you forgive me?"
Pansy looked at Draco. The unsaid thing was that during Voldemort's rise, Draco had probably been involved in worse things than Goyle. Like Goyle, his sin was due to inactivity, passively in allowing these terrible things to happen. Hypocritically, Pansy found Draco so easy to forgive because those sins were theoretical. She did not see them happen and did not necessarily have proof that they did happen. Thinking like this was less easy now, having met and befriended more of the victims of this war, yet her forgiveness (or purposeful ignorance) existed more for Draco than Goyle..
In fact, it was so hard knowing what pain the Death Eaters had caused Charlie and Luna and their families that some days she wondered if she could bear it. She loved Draco. Yet she was coming to realise that she did not wholly forgive him. She endured him and his cruelty and allowed his terrible past and his imperfect future because of love. Why else had she really sent him to speak to Ria? Because she wanted the reality of what he had done to hit home. She did not agree with his words like she had in the past. She also saw how no amount of challenging on her part would change him. She could only make him hate himself less.
"No. Never. He is a traitor, a torturer, and… I will not let him exist here, Draco."
Goyle looked at them pleadingly, unable to speak with the ropes in his mouth.
"You know as well as me it was Crabbe who was responsib-" began Malfoy.
"I DON'T CARE. I need him out of my sight! No one here wants him."
There was a change in Draco's face that Pansy did not quite understand. She regretted shouting. A wiser person would not have done so. A wiser person would improve their argument, but the passion in Pansy overruled any logic.
"He doesn't have anyone at home. All the Goyles are in Azkaban, and he couldn't get clearance to see them. It's just him. Like it would have been just you or just me if we had stayed at home for Christmas-"
"If you say one more word, Draco, I swear…"
"Half the people here have some form of blood on their hands-"
Something in Pansy broke, like glass shattering. Her wand ignited the fireplace throwing tongues of orange flame so high they scorched the wallpaper. With one hand she grabbed a black urn from the sideboard and cast it into the fire, alchemizing the blaze into a bright, greedy emerald. Using all her weight, she fell into Goyle, tipping his heft into the fire. As the figure fell, she shouted: "GO BACK TO WHEREVER YOU CAME FROM."
Sparks flew out, spewing everywhere. Goyle's body spun nauseatingly before disappearing with a crack into the ether.
The flames settled, returning to a calm, gentle orange. Pansy breathed, feeling unreal, not caring where Goyle had ended up.
"How is it," said Draco quietly, "that it seems you teach me to be kind, and I only teach you to be cruel?"
A click of the door announced his departure.