Reconstructing Draco

Part One

First Contact

"Is she good-looking at least?" Draco asked Blaise. "Because you've set me up with some real trolls in the past." He took a long drink of whisky and stared at his friend.

"She's nice," Blaise replied.

"Which means troll." Draco rolled his eyes and started to back up his chair.

"Wait a minute, Malfoy. She's a nice girl and she's not all that bad to look at."

"Do I know her?" Draco raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Because I know all the Slytherin females we were at Hogwarts with. Older and younger."

Blaise coughed and looked up at Draco uneasily over the top of his glass. "She…she wasn't a Slytherin."

Draco cocked his head to the side. "Explain."

"Her sisters were both in Slytherin."

"And they are…?" Draco was tired of this game. Ever since Voldemort's defeat four years ago, Draco had been a social pariah of sorts. In two years, he'd been set up on blind date after blind date in which eighty percent of the women never contacted him again while the other twenty percent turned around after being introduced.

Some of it, he reckoned, was his own fault. He'd willingly taken the Dark Mark and took the task he was assigned by the Dark Lord. During the battle, he waffled over which side he was on and only committed to the "right side" when his aunt was killed right before his eyes. His father was incapable of maintaining his former lifestyle and lost most of his money afterwards, committing suicide nearly penniless. His mother, once the social darling of the wizarding world, betrayed the Death Eaters by protecting Potter, refused help from the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry, and was accused of being an accessory to torture.

In short, Draco's social standing was not what it used to be.

"Blaise?" Draco asked, desperately wanting an answer. "Who are her sisters?"

"Daphne and Gloria."

"Greengrass? They had another sister?" he sat up a little straighter. The Greengrass girls were both attractive blonds.

"Yeah, Asteria. Two years behind us and in Ravenclaw. She works for the MLE—"

"She works with Potter?" Draco swore, sending his chair onto the floor with a clank and earning him several dirty looks from patrons of the pub.

"Do you mind?" Blaise grated as he pulled Draco into an empty chair. "Have a little decency, Malfoy, or have you forgotten what that is? You really need to get over yourself."

Draco huffed and crossed his arms in front of him. "I don't like him, that's all."

"Don't you realize that we'll all be working for Harry one day?"

"Since when have you called him 'Harry'?"

"I work with him. It makes a working relationship a tad difficult if I antagonize the most powerful wizard in Britain."

Draco snorted. "That's debateable."

"And also beside the point. Teri—Asteria—wanted to meet you, for your information. She approached me." Blaise drank from his tankard. "Seems to think you're interesting."

Draco barked out a laugh. "She must not have spoken to Daph about me much."

Over the course of their years at Hogwarts, Draco often pitted Daphne and Pansy Parkinson against each other. Daphne was the better shag and prettier, but Pansy was the one who adored him and eventually broke his heart.

"So you in?" Blaise looked at his wristwatch. "I need to go. Padma's ovulating."

"Too much information!"

"Sorry."

"Fine. This is the last time, though, Zabini. Friday night, half-seven at the Ox and Pigeon."

Blaise's white teeth appeared as he smiled widely. "She's a great girl. You'll have fun."

Draco watched his friend rise from his chair and walk out the door. In a way, Draco envied the normality of Blaise's life. He married Padma Patil two years before, had a job as an Obliviator, and was obviously trying to start a family.

And what did he have? He had a job as a paper pusher at Gringotts, a mother who was constantly depressed, and a crummy flat in Hackney.

He had nothing to lose. Pride wasn't an option anymore. He'd lost that years ago.

Draco sat on a barstool at the Ox and Pigeon at seven thirty-three, anxiously drumming his fingers on the polished bar.

How dare she be late.

That was perhaps the biggest thing that irked him about people. Promptness was a sign of respect. Even though he'd lost almost everything else, manners remained.

Every time the door of the pub opened with its obnoxious bell announcing someone's arrival, his eyes zipped in that direction. No woman arrived alone with her eyes darting about, looking for someone. He had no recollection of what Asteria looked like but assumed she'd be blond like her sisters, with a tremendous set of tits; that was what he liked best about Daphne.

He finished his ale and knocked on the bar to get the bartender's attention. The man in question turned, caught Draco's eye, and nodded in understanding. Sighing in frustration, Draco decided that he'd leave at eight if she hadn't shown.

"Typical," Draco muttered.

"Lose a bet?" came a soft voice from the stool next to him.

He turned and sneered. "My date's late."

"How do you know?" asked the girl.

"She was supposed to be here eight minutes ago."

"Oooh, tardiness is a turn-off for you?" She arched an eyebrow and smiled.

"It's only polite." He smirked as the bartender placed his drink in front of him. "Thanks."

"No one's polite anymore. I'll take another," she said, raising her glass at the bartender.

Draco looked at the remnants of her drink. "What is that?" He pointed at her drink.

"Flying Monkey. Fruity, yet satisfying. Like me," she said with a chuckle.

He took the opportunity to look more closely at his companion at the bar. She had dark brown, almost black eyes with the thickest lashes he'd ever seen. Her hair was a light brown that would most definitely fade to blonde in the summertime; it was also dreadfully curly, cut in a short style that framed her face rather pleasantly. She was an odd combination of the Mudblood, the Weaslette, and Loony Lovegood.

Something sparkly around her neck caught his attention and he focused on the necklace around her throat. The charm was large, bearing the image of a large, black bird.

"Oh hell," he muttered under his breath. "You're Asteria, aren't you?"

"Nice to meet you, too, Draco."

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"You sat next to me. I was here early. Now who's impolite?" Her eyebrow rose again.

"You could have said something," he pointed out. "That would have been the polite thing to do."

"Touché." She rose her glass to him in a toast-like fashion. "You never took one look at me. Had your eyes glued to the door anticipating a copy of one of my sisters to walk in and steal your breath away." She scratched her chin. "I'm right, aren't I?"

She was, but there was no way in hell that he'd tell her that.

"No."

"Liar. You don't lie very well." She drank from her glass, her eyes peeking over the rim.

"This was nice." He stood. "Tell Blaise not to set me up with anyone anymore. I prefer to find my own dates."

"Hit too close to home, Malfoy? Can't get laid anymore? Too many witches scared off by your past?" She snorted in either laughter or contempt. Either would fit. "Just so you know, I'm not afraid. So what if you're broke and no longer the Pureblood poncy git you were in school," she said with a half smile.

Draco sat back down and fixed his gaze on her. "Look, I'm not a nice guy. I chose the wrong side. I threatened your life and everyone else's when I let in those Death Eaters. I'm a bloody coward. Tell me why you're here because I sure as hell don't know why I am."

"I'm here because you need someone to kick you out of the pity pool you've spent the last few years sitting in," she told him sharply. "I'm here because I don't like mousy men who don't know how to handle women with opinions. I'm here because, for some reason, I think we could get along."

He set his jaw and contemplated her words. For years, his friends had been telling him the same thing. Why did it cut so deep when this virtual stranger told him? She was right about the women, too. He no longer wanted the types that ran around with Pansy, who usually cow-towed to him and only wanted to stroke his ego and his cock. He hated women like his mother, who never opened their mouths or formed a unique thought of their own. Of course, he'd never tell her all that.

"You can stop with your Ravenclaw psychoanalysis. You're all the same, you know that? Thinking you can solve everyone's problems." He shook his head and took another drink. "What? No witty retort?"

Asteria rolled her eyes. "Sorry. Didn't know you were done complaining."

"I was not complaining."

"Right. Like you really didn't tell me that you're unhappy and that you wish your life was different."

Damn, she was good.

"What's with you? Why do you think you can read me so well? Not that you can, of course."

"Yes, I can. What did Blaise tell you about my job?"

Draco hadn't expected that sharp of a segue. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes all the difference. I should go."

"Wait." He placed a hand on her arm. "He didn't tell me much other than you're Daphne and Gloria's sister and you were in Ravenclaw. He started to tell me what you did but I stopped him once he mentioned the MLE."

She sighed heavily. "And, let me guess, you thought of Harry Potter and went off the handle?"

He nodded.

"I work for the MLE as a profiler."

"A profiler?"

"I gather information about a crime and deduce what kind of person committed it so the Aurors or whomever can track them down. I use a little Divination, a little psychology, and some empathic sensing."

"And what is empathic sensing?" He had a feeling he knew but needed to hear it from her.

"I can sense other people's moods, what they feel about certain things. Like right now, you feel betrayed because you think Blaise set a head doctor on you."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

"Told you. But I haven't been using it on you, swear to Dumbledore. Most of it, I just figured out from knowing you and from experience."

"So you're not trying to cure or change me?"

"Draco, I'm not a doctor." She leaned in and placed a hand on his thigh. "I don't try to change behaviour. I observe and formulate hypotheses."

"And do you have one on me?"

"I already told you. And based on your reactions, facial expressions, body language and your eyes, I'd bet a fair amount of Galleons that I'm right." She removed her hand, taking with it the warmth of human contact that he craved.

"Yes," he said softly. "As difficult it is to say, everything you've said about me is true."

Asteria nodded briefly. "I haven't been wrong often. That's why the pay me the big money." Her face brightened with a wry smile.

"How nice for you." Draco cringed at the tone of his voice. Before he could explain, she chuckled.

"Pays the bills. You're not after me for my money, are you?"

Draco nearly spit his beer at her comment. "I'm not after you at all."

"So you don't picture us in bed?" She'd shocked him again. "Most men do."

Her bluntness would never go over well with my mother, he thought. What the hell am I thinking?

Draco shook his head, freeing himself of those ideas.

"Er...hadn't thought about it," he lied.

"That's the first honest thing you've said." She smiled again and looked at her watch. "Actually, I should be going. I've got a ten o'clock Portkey to China."

"China?" He cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "What's in China?"

"Consulting on a case for their magical community." She reached out and touched his hand. "I had a great time meeting you, Draco."

He nodded, suddenly pulled in by her dark eyes and lashes.

"I'll be home on Tuesday. Here's my address. Floo or owl me, okay?" Placing a business card in his shirt pocket, she winked at him and stood, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Draco spun on his stool and watched her leave. He finally noticed that she wore a short blue dress that fell right above her knees. Her hips swayed as she walked, showing off her miraculous arse in the process. He groaned inwardly, trying to tamp down the swell of desire building up inside him.

Tuesday couldn't come soon enough.

Draco sat on his sofa, turning Asteria's card over and over in his hand. Since meeting her, he'd been unable to escape from the charming, yet enigmatic woman. He thought about her while he completed forms at the bank, while he ate lunch with friends, and while he helped his mother in the garden. It was impossible to tell if these thoughts grew from lust or a longing to have something different in his life. He preferred to think it was a combination of both.

The fact that Asteria was different made her all the more intriguing. She was a bit rough around the edges and not as polished as she should have been. But he saw inside her something that was itching to get out, a part of her that wanted to break away from preconceived ideas about her. She was spot on when she said that he'd been looking for someone who resembled Daphne, and Draco was fairly certain that she got that reaction a lot. It was true that while she and her sisters looked a little bit alike in the face, Asteria was not what people would call a raging beauty. Her face was round and soft looking, without the sophisticated cheekbones that Gloria had. Her hair, while the same flaxen colour he associated with the Greengrasses, was more kinky than wavy, which necessitated the shorter length. And it was really too bad that he hadn't noticed her body until she was leaving.

Sighing heavily, he lifted himself up off the sofa. It was Wednesday morning and the clock on his mantel said it was a little after nine in the morning and he had to be to work at half-nine.

"Just get it over with," he told himself and walked to the grate, grabbed some Floo powder, and threw it into the flames. "Sixteen Wintergreen Place!" Green flames erupted in the fireplace and he knelt on the hearth to wait for her to answer.

"Hello?" he called into the empty living space at the other end.

"Keep your pants on. I'm here!" Asteria walked into view wearing a Ravenclaw Quidditch jersey and what looked like nothing else. "Draco! Didn't expect you."

"S-sorry. I can call later," he answered, beginning to back away and disconnect.

"No, you don't have to go away. I meant that I didn't expect you to actually call me. Most men don't." She moved to sit in front of the fire and crossed her legs, unintentionally revealing that she was a natural blond.

Draco's eyes widened and he turned away to regain his composure.

"How...how was China?"

"Boring. The case was a bit of a no-brainer. Don't know why they couldn't figure it out themselves." She yawned and stretched her arms above her head, causing the jersey to ride up and reveal a bit more of her lower body; she appeared not to care. "Being one of five magical profilers in the world does have its advantages. I love travelling."

He looked down, hoping that his burgeoning erection wasn't noticeable on her end.

"Sounds like fun."

"Poring over photos of mutilated bodies? Not exactly what I'd call a barrel of Nifflers," she replied sleepily.

"Did I wake you?"

She nodded. "But I really should have been up an hour ago. Still not used to the time change. I've got a debriefing at the Ministry after lunch." She cocked her head and bit her bottom lip.

If that wasn't an opening, he was a Weasley.

"Would you...would you like to get together for lunch?" he asked hesitantly.

She smiled broadly, revealing her straight, white teeth. "Brilliant. Where do you wanna meet?"

Draco thought for a moment. After the war, he was punished for the things he'd done and the Ministry had imposed restrictions on Apparating and using the Floo. He was required to stay within a five mile radius of Diagon Alley, and Hackney was about as far as he could go. He missed his family's estate in Swindon and wished he could return there. He would love to take her to Stonehenge and show her around the sprawling gardens of his youth. But he had two years left of his sentence and had to make the best of it.

"There's nothing nice around here."

"Can you come here?"

"Where do you live?" He looked around the room for the card that he'd flung to the side.

"Wanstead."

His face fell and he bit his bottom lip. "Well, I can't...it's too far," he admitted.

She nodded, and Draco assumed she was remembering his sentence; it wasn't much of a secret. "Well, how about the Leaky then?" she suggested.

"Yes, that'll be fine." He wasn't happy about it, but he'd do it for her.

"Cool. Around twelve?"

Draco nodded. Great, right in the middle of the lunch rush, he thought. Wonder who I might run into? He was beginning to reconsider.

"If you're not comfortable, we can get take out and eat it on the Muggle side." She looked and sounded sympathetic; he'd forgotten she could read his moods.

"The Muggle side? Really?"

"Come on. We'll have an adventure then. Meet me inside the pub at least?"

"Sounds like a plan." He smiled and felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

"Oh, and just so you know," Asteria said with a mischievous grin, " I never wear knickers to bed. Hope you liked the freebie." With a wink, she closed the connection and Draco was left with a raging erection.

He was late for work.

Draco ran through Diagon Alley, bumping into several people and knocking their packages to the cobblestone street. The goblins were rather put out regarding his tardiness. His lunch break would have been revoked if the Minister for Magic hadn't shown up, giving him a desperately needed reprieve.

The Leaky Cauldron was brimming with people standing and waiting for a table; the barstools were full as well. Asteria wasn't at the bar nor was she around in the crowd. That meant she was sitting at a table with Merlin knew who.

"Excuse me," he muttered, weaving his way through the crowd. He was told several times to bugger off. He easily spotted her at a table and swore when he saw with whom she sat: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Taking a deep breath and vowing to 'play nicely,' he began making his way toward her.

"...always wanted to go to China," Draco heard Potter say.

"Excuse me," Draco said softly. All three of them turned toward him.

Asteria stood and grinned. "You're late. Manners mustn't be required at the bank," she teased before hugging him.

He stiffened at the contact but quickly relaxed in her embrace and closed his eyes, willing Potter and Weasley to just disappear.

"Goblins can be very disagreeable," Draco answered as they pulled apart.

"You're telling me," chimed in Weasley.

Draco's mood turned and he sneered, "Don't recall asking for your opinion on the matter, Weaslebee." All the old animosity came back and he felt cold and angry.

"Draco..."

"Ron..." Potter and Asteria spoke simultaneously.

She leaned closer. "Take a deep breath. Relax," she whispered. "I know you're tense and irritated, but please don't say anything more." She put a hand on his chest, moving between him and the table.

"Okay, but you've got to understand—"

"There's history. I know that. That's where it needs to stay. In the past," she reassured him quietly. "I've got lunch, so let's go." She grabbed the sack off the table.

Draco put a hand on the small of her back and turned her around to head out the door. They remained silent until they were outside the dark pub and in the blinding light of a beautiful London day. He finally exhaled and looked carefully at Asteria. She wore a red cardigan over a tight, white t-shirt that emphasized her round breasts, which was paired with a red tartan skirt, reminding him of a schoolgirl.

"You look nice," he said pleasantly as she led him down the street. "Red's a good colour on you."

"Why thank you," she lilted, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it tightly as she walked with him. "Why do you always wear black? Blue would look great on you."

Draco stopped abruptly and turned to her. "I never really thought about that before. It's actually all I ever have worn. My parents only ever bought me black for as long as I can remember. Interesting." He began walking again as if nothing had transpired, pulling her along, her heels clicking hurriedly alongside him.

"Would you slow down? You try running in heels," she pleaded, causing him to slow his steps.

"Sorry. You brought up an interesting point. I think best on the move."

"I don't want to talk about your wardrobe, Malfoy. I want to eat!" Asteria stopped, pulling him back awkwardly. "Put your arm around my waist."

"What?" he asked in an adolescent voice.

"Just do it. No talking," she ordered with a smile.

He did what he was told, wrapping one arm around her slim waist and pulling her closer than was necessary. Asteria spun them around and they Disapparated, reappearing at the edge of a large park, next to a red telephone box. Draco looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

"Hyde Park."

"I know. I have been here before, you know."

She took his hand again and headed for a large tree, sitting on the grass and patting the ground for him to join her.

Draco glared at the spot. "You want me to sit on the ground? Can I at least conjure a blanket or something?" He glanced around and frowned; too many Muggles.

"Oh yeah, go right ahead. Conjure a blanket in a park full of Muggles," she said sarcastically. "Good thing you're with an MLE officer." She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. "Just sit your pretty arse down."

"This is ridiculous," he muttered as he sat upon the cool grass next to her.

"It's fun. Here, have a pasty." She handed him a steaming hot and crispy pasty wrapped in brown parchment paper.

He bit into it; the meat and vegetable mixture excited his taste buds like nothing else had in a long time.

"Mmm, this is good," he said with his mouth full. "Much better than before." He swallowed. "They get a new cook?"

She raised a hand while she chewed and once she swallowed she explained, "Hannah Abbott bought it. I think she was in your year."

Draco paused, stopping the pasty before it reached his mouth. "Yeah," he said wistfully before taking another bite.

"Did you know she's marrying Neville Longbottom?"

Draco choked, his pasty falling onto the ground. She reached over and whacked him on the back until he recovered.

"Long—Longbottom's getting married?" Draco asked with his eyes wide and throat burning. His jovial mood disappeared. Seemed like everyone whom he considered his enemy was leading the kind of life he wanted for himself. Potter had married the Weasley girl and they were expecting a child at the beginning of the year. Weasley had just married Granger and apparently the hapless Longbottom was well on his way to marital bliss as well. An ache formed in the pit of his stomach, churning deep inside him as he struggled to keep his lunch down. They all had happy lives, were all moving forward in the new lovey-dovey Muggle-hugging world while he was struggling in a job that he loathed and trying to hang onto the last shred of self-respect he had left.

"Draco? Draco?" Asteria leaned in and brushed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it would bother you to hear that," she tried to reassure him.

He steeled himself, drawing on the strength of his past. "It doesn't bother me," he easily lied, knowing she could tell.

She merely nodded. "You didn't get along with Neville."

Draco shook his head.

"I was there. I saw what he did with the sword. Where were you?"

No one had ever asked him that before. "In the Great Hall. Looking at the bodies. My cousin was in there."

"Were you close?" She began stroking his hair, relaxing him.

Draco shook his head. "That was the first time I'd ever seen her."

Asteria frowned. "Then how did you know she was your cousin?"

"I'd heard enough about her while growing up. I also knew her husband and that he had married her," explained Draco, turning his head into her touch.

"I'm sorry." She turned his face toward hers and kissed him softly on the lips.

For a moment, he allowed himself to savour the taste and texture of her lips against his. He broke the contact abruptly.

"Sorry that my unknown cousin died? Sorry that she left a kid without his parents? Sorry that everyone I hated has the life that should have been mine?" Draco stood and jammed his hands into his pockets and began pacing. "I have nothing left and they have everything." He stopped and leaned against a tree, not bothering to stop the tears that fell freely down his cheeks. He heard her approach and felt her stop in front of him.

"Why are you so angry?" She didn't accuse him or wail out in frustration; she sounded curious.

"I don't know." A sob shook him and he found himself wrapped in her arms. For the first time in years, Draco felt the anger start to melt away.