Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Obviously.

"Continuous improvement is better than delayed perfection."

~ Mark Twain

Once upon a time, Draco Malfoy would have relished these moments. Pureblood parties like these had once been the perfect opportunity to flaunt the superiority of class, wealth, and influence he had felt entitled to since he was a child. He had never been terribly curious as to why he was the most favoured and pampered boy in these social gatherings; he only knew what he had been told, which was that his family was vital to the wizarding world because they were the defenders of the traditional ideals of blood purity. In his mind, his father was a hero who was brave enough to fight to protect the sanctity of their world. Times like those had felt glorious – being permanently surrounded by admirers, all of who wanted to win the favor of the Malfoys to enhance their social standing. He had loved the power that had raced through his veins - the power that came from being in complete control of someone's self worth, someone's importance – everything that had seemed to matter. He had never once considered the possibility that in the exact same place where he had been so revered he would one day be so shunned.

His parents stubbornly insisted that it was necessary for them to attend, despite the fact that none of the families wanted them there anymore. They smiled with patronizing politeness that made Draco growl when he was on his own, smirking in the condescending way which he had once foolishly thought only he was capable of. They gossiped amongst themselves – middle aged women in flamboyant dress robes and prideful heirs taking pleasure in discussing the Malfoys' plummet from power and grace. But his parents couldn't forget that only two years ago, they were at the center of pureblood supremacy. They were admired, feared, praised and flattered. They were the essence of every Slytherin ideal. But now they had become dirt at the bottom of everyone's' shoes; they had betrayed both Voldemort and the Ministry at the same time, resulting in everyone believing them to be nothing but weak frauds. They had been reduced to a joke people enjoyed mocking, particularly after the many years of feeling jealous of their fame. Watching them watch him with their pathetic little triumph made Draco want to bash his head against the marble wall he spent hours standing by, usually alone once Goyle found pathetic excuse to escape him after twenty minutes. Draco had stopped trying to stop him after a while.

He was forced to stand upright with feigned arrogance in uncomfortable dress robes and pretend his dignity wasn't being smeared into the ground. No girls wanted to dance with a disgrace like him, which was a complete shift from when all the female Slytherins had been attempting to capture his interests with their limited womanly wiles. Most had failed to meet his expectations for beauty and elegance, and at the time he had never considered the possibility that his standards had been ridiculously high. He had always received the best, and why should the woman hanging on his arm be anything different? Pansy, while having distinct pug like qualities, exceeded the essential quality of complimenting and petting his ego. She also had the loudest, and therefore most enjoyable, reactions and groveling when he toyed with her. Draco wondered if he would continue to treat her the same way if he was in the same position as he had been in a couple years ago. He felt a hint of shame when he realized that it was very likely that he would.

God, he needed a drink. A full night of gulping down multiple bottles of strong firewhiskey to drown away his thoughts. Maybe he would hook up with Pansy again; the girl's brain had always been slower than everyone else's, so she was still lost in the obsession of being the great Draco Malfoy's girlfriend from a couple years ago. That's the reason Draco gave at least – he never entertained the thought that she had truly come to love him. So far, he found a reason to be conveniently absent every time she dropped by his Manor. There wasn't really much purpose in having a girlfriend if nobody was jealous of the girl that was. And Pansy's utter lack of attractive appeal was surpassing the desire to hear her love struck compliments. It just wasn't worth it anymore.

Draco shifted on his feet uncomfortably, feeling a sudden sympathy for the house elves permanently positioned around the room, holding glasses of firewhiskey and butterbeer in silence for the entire night. Dear Merlin… I'm sympathizing with stupid, empty headed, ugly house elves. This was probably the most severe blow to his ego – he was supposed to be too important to even consider that those pathetic creatures deserved a second thought.

On this particular evening, after an agonizing day of ministry authorized searches through the Malfoy Manor, Draco was more irritated and frustrated than usual. He desperately wanted to hit something, or hurt someone. Anything to escape the mindless tittering and drunken laughter surrounding him. Anything to relive himself of the guilt and anger pounding against his skull. He pushed himself off the wall and began walking absolutely no where with feigned purpose and a long stride, not noticing who was in front of him until crashed into someone.

"Oh!" The red liquid from the glass in her hands splashed upon his shoes. "I'm so sorry!" The girl apologized as she stumbled back. Draco barely looked at her. All he was thinking of was relieving his annoyance, and was almost thankful to this girl for being such an easy target.

"Watch where you're going!" He snapped. "These shoes are worth more than your entire body!"

"Of course." She nodded courteously. "I'm so sorry. It was all my fault." Draco glared sharply, grasping for something offensive to say, relishing the momentary power that filled his veins from degrading someone else.

"If I were you," He sniffed with contempt, "I'd refill that glass and pour it over your ugly dress. Anything's better than that atrocity. One would think you found it in the garbage among mud -" Draco coughed slightly, as if the word held a bitter edge, " – bloods and muggles." Draco didn't notice that the peacock colored robes were the envy of all the other girls in the room.

The girl bent her head and turned away, not responding.

"And next time, I'll expect you to buy me some new shoes. But judging from the state of that dress, you'll have to sell your own house to do it." He whirled around and continued forward without any destination, not feeling much relieved.

"Feel better now?" She called after him. Her powerful voice rang over the distance, not matching the portrait of a shy girl Draco had painted in his mind. He froze, before turning around very slowly. What greeted his eyes was a tall woman with an undaunted gaze, who wouldn't look away no matter how long he glared. Her lack of response over his sneer frustrated him in ways he couldn't describe.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He snarled. She tilted her head.

"After thinking you hurt someone? Do you feel better? More powerful? Was it enough to fix all the pathetic problems in your life?" She snorted sardonically.

"Pathetic? How dare you?" Draco bristled, shoving away the hints of remorse that threatened to seep through his skin. He remembered the Dark Lord's cold laughter… the nights of laying in fear at the thought of his entire family's lives resting upon his shoulders… the memories of Bellatrix and Fenrir Greyback torturing innocent people just steps away from him. Who the fuck was she to decide how important his problems were? "I don't know who you think you are – "

"Astoria Greengrass." She straightened her shoulders as she said it, her cheeks burning with a prideful glow. Draco's jaw dropped despite of himself.

"Ast – wait, Daphne Greengrass's mousy little sister?" Draco had to blink a couple times to make sure his sleep deprived brain wasn't making it up.

"If that's how you remember me, then I suppose." Astoria crossed her arms, assuming a slightly haughty expression.

Astoria Greengrass had never been particularly liked nor disliked. No one ever attempted to bully her, mainly because they were frightened of her sister's talent in transfiguration. Daphne had never hesitated in using her skill to punish those who dared cross her path, and by extension her sister's (something which Pansy learned in their fourth year; an event which resulted in Draco having to withstand her incessant whining for days). Astoria was simply another face among many; unmemorable in a way which was neither good nor bad. While she was occasionally noted for her sharp brain and studious nature, which had resulted in her eventually choosing to study healing, she was so unassuming that it had rarely caught anyone's attention.

"What the… what are you…?"

"What am I? I'm a little annoyed that you would be willing to hurt me just because you thought I was an easy target." Draco forced himself to roll his eyes, irritation creeping up his shoulders. This woman in front of him was yet another example of how he was being surpassed by all the people who had once been so decidedly inferior to him.

"As if I care." He was already turning around to leave.

"I don't hate you." She blurted out. For some reason, that made Draco stop. "What I mean to say is… that any reason I have to dislike you is from the last five minutes of talking with you. And maybe the fact that you were a very self centered fourteen-year-old. But that's – that's not enough to build any emotion that… can't change." Astoria bit her lip, looking slightly confused at her own words.

"So?" Draco's feet felt stuck to the ground.

"So… you don't have to think my opinion about you was already made up. I… I didn't already think you were a bad person." He raised his chin.

"What does that have to do about anything?" His voice felt stiff, even to himself. Astoria leaned over and squeezed his shoulder.

"I think you know." In a couple more seconds, she would be gone.

"Maybe I'm just a bad person." He spat the words out, shocked that there was a twinge of regret within them.

"Do you want to be?" Astoria raised her eyebrows. Draco opened his mouth to respond with a bitter retort, but he couldn't force the words out of his mouth. What does it matter what I want to be if I'm too weak to be it?

"Then let's start again." Astoria extended her hand, but Draco didn't take it. She shrugged casually, but Draco could have sworn her warm gray eyes were sparkling.

"Better than insulting my dress." She smirked. "Which, I'll have you know, is worth more than your entire body Mr. Malfoy."

It was odd that when you noticed someone once, you began seeing them everywhere you went. Draco Malfoy was shocked at how much a girl who was absolutely invisible to him only a couple weeks ago was now consuming his entire life.

She was there at all of the parties, but she never sat among one group of people. She sometimes sat with her mother among the old pureblood women, however she became unable to sit still when they became invested in their favorite topics of discussion – marrying off their young daughters, the disappointment they felt that Voldemort's extreme tactics had resulted in the failure of their ideologically noble cause, and fabrics for their custom designed robes. Sometimes she'd pass a remark that would cause a couple to flinch and her mother to blush and glare furiously. For some reason it pleased him whenever she did that. As if he was living some odd internal fantasy through her.

She never fit in with the other younger wizards and witches either – Theodore Nott or Blaise Zabini or all the other girls who were friends with/had been insulted by Pansy (they usually fell in both categories). Even the one or two girls Draco had seen Astoria with in the Slytherin common room years ago were not often found with her. Whenever they were having discussions, Draco noticed that Astoria's eyes would glaze over and she'd begin to examine the curtains or the house elves or the patterns of the chandeliers.

She sometimes lingered by the food table, and Draco noticed she had a penchant for the pumpkin pasties.

She often played with the children, and was one of the few people to do so. Most pure bloods refused to look back upon childhood by associating with kids in any way once they passed the age of thirteen and were officially presented to the pureblood world. But Astoria had a peculiar talent of making them giggle and laugh. She even told stories in the funny voices and exaggerated actions that children loved. Most of them he was sure she made up, because even he was occasionally interested in what twist she would end them with. There was something about her animated gestures and bright eyes that captured attention, which made Draco question for the millionth time how she had managed to be so invisible for so long.

When she wasn't occupied with entertaining the children, she usually slid out of the circles quietly when no one was paying much attention. More than once, Draco saw her duck inside an empty room or through a velvet curtain unto a balcony. While Draco once considered it, he could never convince himself to follow her.

Draco almost dared to hope that she was just as confused and lost as he was. But he knew that wasn't the case, because while she was choosing to drift away from the things she seemed to struggle with identifying, he knew he would choose to be back with all those same people if they would give him the chance.

He even began hearing about her everywhere – it felt as if every conversation revolved around Astoria Greengrass. Apparently, she was studying to be Healer at St. Mungo's – a fact that was a great embarrassment to her parents and a great affront to those who recounted the tale, mainly because it involved touching all sorts of blood purities and was greatly detracting from her matrimonial prospects. Pure-blooded women weren't supposed to work, even though intelligence was an excellent token to enhance one's desirability; they had other duties that needed attending – primarily entertaining in the drawing room, giving orders to house elves in the kitchen, and taking orders in the bedroom.

Draco didn't know how he felt about that. The concept was so foreign – that a pure-blooded woman had much purpose other than to simper as she clung to the arm of her beau and gush over him as Pansy once had. At one time it might have disgusted him to hear of a pure-blooded woman demeaning herself by saving the lives of mudbloods who left the world much better off if they were dead. He was sure it still repulsed his parents. His ideal woman used to be the one who possessed the simple grace of his devoted mother; whose primary objective was to satisfy the wants he considered needs. But he wasn't sure how he felt anymore, and Astoria's determination to have a job only added in making her more of a peculiar oddity that provided a nice distraction to contemplate of as he hung back in the shadows. A better subject that the house elves.

But he also learned that Theodore Nott was interested in her, that she was becoming more and more of a disgrace due to the amount of time she was suspected of spending in Muggle London, was very close to her sister who she called Daffy, had a love of potions –

"I don't know why people are worried about you being a spy." Draco would never admit how hard he flinched. He whirled around and was greeted by the sight of a smirking Astoria leaning against the wall.

Draco never truly understood how infuriating his smirking was until he met Astoria Greengrass. He tried to form a response.

"Huh?" Draco used to pride himself on his eloquence of speech. So much for that.

"Because usually," Astoria dragged the words from her lips with a deliberate leisurely quality, "Being a spy requires a little more effort to be placed in hiding your attempts at stalking your target. So it is usually done with a little more stealth than staring at someone blankly from across the room. Astoria took a step forward. "You, Draco Malfoy, are a terrible spy." Draco cleared his through, already feeling his pride rising through it, shaping itself into misshapen insults.

"I couldn't help it." He sneered, "You always look so atrocious that I can't help but notice the abominable train wrecks that you presume to be stylish. I assume you hope it allows you to resemble your muggle loving brethren – I am aware that you all enjoy making such pitiful fools of yourself." Astoria seemed faintly amused.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't see what my attire had to do with you almost crying when Mr. Hippogriff died in the story I told Lucille." Draco's cheeks colored; he wouldn't admit it, but it had depressed him very much when the Hippogriff gave up his life to save the dragon that had bullied him since they were kids. It seemed thoroughly unfair that such an undeserving bully had survived at the expense of the irritatingly noble hippogriff. Draco also found it annoying how it was impossible to dislike such heroic characters – they were always proving that they were eternally better than everyone else.

"I thought," Draco pronounced each word with distinct clarity, "It was a ridiculous story. I was pained at the thought that the little girls would actually believe the garbage that sounded like it was written by a Hufflepuff." Astoria's brow creased and she seemed a little more defensive.

"Really? Which parts failed to meet your impossibly high standards?"

"Other than the fact that no living creature would be stupid enough to die for an bully with nothing worth being arrogant about," Draco remarked dryly, "I found it ridiculously unrealistic." Astoria crossed her arms.

"Well that's certainly a problem," Astoria smacked her forehead dramatically, "Stories for five year old children should obviously be as accurately depressing as reality. Their main purpose is obviously not to make people feel… oh I don't know… happy!" Draco ignored the jabs.

"The hippogriff died for nothing." Draco insisted. Astoria became more curious at this sentence; she cocked her head and examined him.

"I never considered saving someone's life as nothing."

"You stated that the dragon continued the work of the hippogriff and made sure everyone in the kingdom knew the dangers of bullying and discrimination. That hopeless idealism is detrimental when taught to young children."

"Yes." Astoria nodded with mock seriousness, "They might actually consider becoming good people. Merlin forbid – the pureblood society wouldn't be able to handle such rebellion."

"The dragon," Draco clenched his teeth, "Would have have been just as selfish after he'd been saved by the hippogriff. He would have lived out his days in the same way as before – nothing good came from the hippogriff sacrificing his brave soul for another hopeless case." Draco's voice became edged with bitterness.

Astoria stepped a little closer. "I don't think the hippogriff had a goal or a plan when he saved the dragon. He was just doing what he would have done for anyone."

"I know!" Draco snapped, "He was just being honorable, and selfless, and noble… but he didn't realize that it was just stupid and pointless – just like him."

"But," Astoria interjected, "You don't think it would have affected him – to be saved by the one person he tormented? Who he hated? Who he may even have felt a little bit of… jealousy towards?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Of course it affected him! But I doubt he would've done anything about it. He's too pathetic. Too weak." Astoria shrugged.

"Well it's a possibility." Astoria seemed casual as she fingered her sleeve. "What's wrong with hoping for the best outcome?"

"It's just not true." Draco huffed. "It's pointless to want what's impossible." Astoria eyed him carefully before smiling slowly.

"Well that's the thing Mr. Malfoy – I don't think it's impossible. In fact – I think they main problem is when people like you and I think it's impossible. People aren't generally much better than what you expect them to be."

Draco wasn't sure how to respond, especially since her eyes seemed to be laughing at her own private joke, so he decided to simply sniff disdainfully. They stood together for a few awkward seconds.

"Well!" Astoria's voice was upbeat and cheery, "This was fun. We should do this thing again – where you insult my children's stories, my attire… just about everything… and I can pretend I actually care!"

Draco stared at his wall. He was beginning to almost enjoy staring at the swirling patterns.

"And for Merlin's sake, if you want to insult my clothes that badly, wash that pathetic gel out of your hair! You sound like a hypocrite." With that, Astoria patted his cheek and skipped away.

That should have offended him much more than it actually did.

He hadn't been stalking her this time, and the fact that he had to clarify this to himself was a little depressing. But it was true; it wasn't considered stalking if the event being watched was large enough and loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the room.

That being said – it probably shouldn't have fascinated him as much as it did.

Like most unpleasant occurrences in pureblood parties, it began with an insult that was thinly veiled as a compliment. The source in this case was Theodore Nott's mother, who was currently dealing with the unpleasant occurrence of her son fancying a girl she had already deemed as unsuitable.

"'I've always envied you your girls Blair!" Mrs. Nott cooed, unaware that her lipstick had smeared when she sipped her tea, giving her a very comical, clownish appearance. "Always such soft – spoken, elegant young ladies throughout their childhood. They were a true credit to their education and upbringing." Mrs. Greengrass made a show of blushing and attempting to appear modest by attributing their superiority to their pure-blooded heritage. Astoria simply nodded her thanks; it was important to note that Daphne chose not to attend this particular party due to the fact that she was at home with a "cold". Draco was pretty sure that she was actually snogging Blaise Zabini under a tree somewhere, but his suspicions were irrelevant.

"Of course," Mrs. Nott's tone soured, "It is difficult to maintain such a strong control over their lives as they grow older. It becomes more difficult to hide their inner desire to… rebel against the natural order of things. Of course, this is no fault to the ones who worked to tirelessly in failing to convert them." Mrs. Greengrass's face froze into a frosty smile as Mrs. Nott patted the other woman's hand. At this point, most of the other ladies were focused intently upon the delightfully juicy conflict that was arising. Astoria tightened her grip on the handle of the teacup.

"I'm not entirely sure what you mean Genevieve?" Mrs. Greengrass simpered sweetly.

"Oh," Mrs. Nott took an extra couple tantalizing seconds to readjust her position and take a prolonged sip of tea. "I only mean to say that while Daphne is indeed charming and beautiful – though to an almost self absorbed degree some might say – Astoria has made some rather… unprecedented decisions in terms of her life. I mean, to be working with so much dirty blood in that horrid place… to think of the mudbloods she's touched… frankly, I am worried she may have acquired a disease at this point. Such conditions are hardly a place for a future pureblood wife – how on earth is she supposed to be trusted to produce magical heirs after being tainted with so many muggle… diseases? I only meant to say that I thoroughly understand and congratulate your effort over the years of proper pureblood education, despite the current… state of affairs." Ms. Nott ignored Astoria's ferocious glare, feeling pleased with the amount of nods of agreement she was receiving. Many of the other guests, including many of the sneering men, were drawn into the hearing range of the "discussion". Draco didn't know why an anger started to fill his blood; Astoria's decisions were unquestionably unprecedented in a negative way, but his feeling of repulse wasn't directed against her.

"Actually – " Astoria began heatedly, but was interrupted by her mother.

"Oh of course – I completely understand your concerns!" Astoria's mother tittered while waving her manicured hand. "But let me assure you that Astoria doesn't plan on continuing for much longer!" She gave a sugary sweet laugh, as if her daughter's life choices were a trivial joke to her. "She only began because she felt it necessary to ensure that the magic of wizards and witches were being preserved after this horrid incident." Her mother's voice dropped when referring to the war. "She has specifically chosen to remain far away from any mudbloods and muggles. All her actions have been to aid the plight of purebloods like us. She's noble like that!"

"Mother, you know that – " Astoria's face was red with anger.

"In fact!" Astoria's mother once again giggled over absolutely nothing, "Astoria was just telling me last night that she wished for me to announce that she was holding a ball in a couple months to celebrate her 20th birthday, where she will choose a beau among many potential suitors! She will have already left her occupation by then, after her work with injured purebloods has reached a point of unequivocal success!"

"I," Astoria growled, "Most certainly will not do anything of that – "

But her words were smothered by a collection of exclamations, and any future attempts at talking were overwhelmed by discussions of decorations and lace.

Only Draco seemed to care when she threw herself up and stomped into the darkness of an empty room. Draco, cursing himself a million times, decided to follow her.

The only light in the room was the delicate sheets of moonlight sliding through the slanted window, reflecting against the many mirrors and shiny objects. The rich red carpets and dragon skin furniture went unnoticed in the darkness. Astoria was seated upon a couch beside the window, staring angrily into the night sky. She didn't seem to notice when Draco stood awkwardly near her, but she shocked him with a sudden outburst just as he decided to slide out of the room while he still could.

"Can you believe it – after everything, everything that's happened, they're content with just sitting around – talking about what someone they don't like wore to a ball or their latest half decent attempt at flying on a broom or the money they just inherited!" Astoria glared furiously at a mirror, as if her own reflection was to blame for this. "It just kills me, kills me, how fake everything is! As if people didn't just die, as if we didn't just fight a war, as if everything we wanted is still worth wanting…What – what is the fucking point of… pretending!" Astoria buried he face in her hands. She was shaking as she continued. "Hasn't everything that's happened… proved that pretending isn't worth it?"

Draco wasn't sure with how to deal with this. Pretending seemed easy. Pretending seemed like the safest option – pretending meant waiting, and Malfoy's had infinite patience when it came to waiting for the opportune moment. But he did suppose that waiting could mean… hiding. He cleared his throat.

"It's easier." After pausing for a moment, he realized he should probably say something more if he truly wanted to ease her conscious. "It's… they've spent their whole lives believing this stuff. Their whole lives fighting to… make it a reality." Draco closed his eyes, imagining the hero his father had been. In other people's eyes – and his own. How earth-shattering it must have been to lose that… self-worth. "They don't want to have…wasted their lives." Astoria laughed humorlessly.

"And they think talking about lace will fill their life with meaning? They hurt people – we hurt people! It's not our place to feel sorry for ourselves, we're too guilty – it's our place to fix it!"

"It was always for the greater good." Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. He was struck by a sudden desire to not have to deal with all this. He was regretting his decision to follow her into the room. "Isn't that what Dumbledore always told people to fight for – the greater good?

"Don't!" Astoria's eyes flashed. "Don't taint his message of equality and sacrifice with such hatred and bigotry!"

"Well that's what they thought!" Draco felt a defensiveness fill him – he wanted to be told, just once, that he did something right. He didn't want the truth. He wanted a beautiful lie, but Astoria wasn't about to give him that. She stamped her foot and pulled herself up. Her gray eyes were raging with thundering storm clouds as she glared at him.

"No – they didn't think, they never did! They listened and they followed, and I listened and I followed – and thinking – was never a part of it!" Astoria began pacing restlessly, raking her hands through her hair, smacked her forehead as if she wanted to remember something. Or forget.

"It – " Draco struggled to form a reply, and he began to wonder why he was trying to.

"We," She growled, "Should be doing what we can to make up for it! To make it right! We should be apologizing, thinking, teaching – doing! I'm tired of pretending it didn't happen, tired of pretending our entire reason for existing wasn't hateful discrimination! I'm tired of talking about marriage as if me resigning myself to a life of unhappiness will actually help someone! We're horrid, all of us, and – "

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?" Draco erupted out of his silent, brooding shell so suddenly that Astoria was shocked. "But guess what! We FAILED – I FAILED! I was supposed to kill Dumbledore, or he would kill my family! But I failed! I failed at being a Death eater, I failed at being a fighter against him, I failed at being a son for my family, I failed at being a pureblood, and I never could be anything but that! I know I FAILED, and I know there's no point in trying to fix it, because I will fail at doing that too!" Draco's breathing had become ragged and Astoria was staring at him with shock painted over her face. Draco stiffened before nodding his head curtly.

"I hope you have a good evening Miss Greengrass." With that, he spun on his heel and all proudly strode out of the room.

Astoria found him sitting upon the ground of the balcony, for once un caring of the dirt that was probably gathering on his pristine dress robes. He paid no heed when she slid down beside him. The cold air clung to her bare arms and she clenched her teeth to repress a shiver.

"Hi." Draco didn't respond. Astoria was struck by all of the possibilities of what could be said in that moment. It felt important – critical in a way. As if any future conversation they had would be built upon this. Single. Moment. Astoria almost laughed at the insanity of it all.

"You know what I think is the worst decision you ever made?" Astoria asked calmly. Draco squeezed his eyes shut.

"That hair gel." Draco's eyes snapped open.

"It is truly atrocious." Astoria felt her confidence grow. "Your hair looks as hard as twigs and I am tempted to snap a piece off."

Draco swallowed. "Father thought it looked proper." His voice cracked.

"Well, I have heard that Malfoys enjoy shoving sticks in the oddest of places." Draco was a little too shocked to be properly affronted. "Besides," Astoria added after some contemplation, "Only Harvey Specter can make hair gel look attractive."

Draco turned his neck slowly and stared. "Who?" Astoria covered her mouth to suppress a giggle.

"He's a character from a muggle TV show." Draco opened his mouth, then let it hang. There were so many things he could do. He could turn away in disgust, announce Astoria's interest in muggle items to the others (even if they probably wouldn't believe him), or he could insult her. These were all actions he was well acquainted with performing.

"What's… what's a Tee…Vee?" His answer shocked himself.

Now it was Astoria who stared. "Pureblood ignorance." She shook her head, astounded. "You know – I think if they knew how incredible all these things they created are, they would never be able to call them stupid and inferior!"

Draco didn't react.

"A TV is like a box of moving pictures. They show stories with people moving and talking."

"But…" Draco's brow crinkled. "That's…magic… they're stealing magic!" Draco sat up, suddenly angry. Astoria snorted before leaning over and gently pushing him back down by the shoulders.

"No… they have a million different pathways based on electricity, radio waves… I think magnets have something to do with it… maybe?"

Draco leaned away, suddenly scared. Astoria suddenly grinned widely with excitement.

"Draco Malfoy, we have a lot to discuss."

XXX

Astoria had no idea why she was so drawn to him. They had just fought a war a couple years ago – a war of mindless hatred and blind bigotry; a war that was spearheaded by the simultaneous subservience and arrogant superiority that the Malfoys had represented. They had been everything that Astoria now wanted nothing to do with.

And in many ways, they still were. She had a feeling that if they had a choice, they would much rather be ignorant in the spotlight rather than enlightened from where they currently were.

And they probably weren't trying very hard to be enlightened.

She had to constantly remind herself that Draco Malfoy wasn't hiding a prince charming or kind hearted beneath all his dry jokes and sullen brooding. He was a boy who'd been a child for too long and had suddenly been forced to be a man too early. She didn't want to justify his bullying as not knowing any better, but somewhere in the speculations of how he had felt and what he felt know and who he wanted to be arose a fierce desire, and burning desire, to know more.

Maybe it was the stories. When she first noticed that Draco Malfoy was staring at her, whenever she was having a conversation with someone or was by the food table, she felt a little annoyed and uncomfortable. Who was he to stare at her as if he was entitled to the view? She didn't belong to him, and he had no right to tread upon her personal comfort and feelings of security with his intense grey eyes.

But she felt differently when she began telling her stories to the little children. He always edged closer to their circle, and the curiosity and amazement on the children's faces were mirrored by his. Astoria began to wonder how he felt about the tales she made up on the spot and why he was interested in them. She wanted what he found in them that resembled what he felt or thought.

Because Astoria had a rule of thumb she always tried to remember: People that were interested in other people's stories were usually hiding a couple of their own.

And so Astoria decided to start the mission to officially force her way into Draco's life.

"I don't even know why I continue to waste my time in your company."

"And what better things do you have to do Mr. Malfoy?" Astoria kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs on the couch. They were once again in an empty room with the sounds of the party on the periphery. Astoria had forcibly forced him off the wall and dragged him into the room as if they were about to have a secret snog. "Are you missing the scintillating conversations of your wall?"

"I'll have you know that I enjoyed the freedom of not having to deal with the other fools in the room." Draco almost convinced himself.

"But then again," Astoria ignored him, "The ability to form basic, coherent sentences haven't really been a requirement in your choice of friends. I wouldn't be surprised if you simply mistook the wall as that gargantuan toad that looks permanently lost."

"Goyle."

"Yes. That."

"He's shy." Draco attempted. "It's not fair for you to insult him."

"Draco, are you seriously telling people off for being insulting?" Draco was taken aback by her use of his name.

"He has a great deal of…" Draco struggled for words, "Qualities, once you get to know him better." He had no idea why he felt a need to defend his relationship (he was hesitant to call it a friendship, even after all these years) with Goyle. It just seemed to be all that he had left from the past.

"Well if getting to know him is required to see them, I have no idea how you were able to. I bet you didn't even know his first name until you were fourteen."

"We spent a lot of time together!" Draco growled.

"It seemed a lot more like you performing monologues for an audience who only half understood it. But sure, why not? What are his wonderful… qualities?"

"He's loyal." Draco insisted. Astoria snorted.

"Is lacking a brain really considered loyalty, or just the inability to look farther than two feet to find something better to be loyal to?"

"He was very funny when he wanted to be."

"I also find it amusing when a fifteen-year-old boy purposefully hits a bludger at his own team mate because he forgot that green is his house colour."

"That was only once!" Draco blushed. "And it was only because he was up until three the night before helping a first year with… homework." Astoria raised an eyebrow.

"More likely that the first year was helping him with homework. And I'm pretty sure it was just helping the first year shove their head in a toilet. Wasn't it that Eric kid that cheeked you in front of the common room?"

"I hated that kid." Draco glared.

"He literally had more brains than your two friends had body weight. And that's saying a lot. He was pretty brilliant." Draco stiffened.

"Crabbe… wasn't exactly like Goyle."

"How?" Astoria didn't notice Draco's seriousness, "He didn't know what a crab was, even if it was his last name? Cause that's reaching insane heights of stupidity."

"He argued with me sometimes." Astoria's eyebrows shot up. Draco continued before he lost his nerve. "He didn't always like doing… what I asked. Sometimes. He'd glare at me, or mutter, or groan whenever I asked him to do something. He didn't have any problem with beating people up – he really enjoyed it. But just being ordered around… I think he was always secretly waiting for a chance to do the same. And I guess he sort of got it… briefly before he… died. Once… once he told me to 'to get off my arse and start doing the things I was handing to my slaves'. I usually just threatened him with hurting his family or… shaming them. What my father would do… what his father would think if he chose to abandon the great position he had with the Malfoy. You know – I never really understood that threats could seriously be terrifying. They were always… not real enough to mean anything to me when I made them." Draco licked his dry lips. "I never thought of how much I wanted to think they actually liked doing what I told them. As if they were made to do what I wanted. It was the closest thing to friendship I had."

Astoria swallowed.

"I think… no one really knows what friendship is until they experience it. You can't want something you don't know exists."

They paused for a couple moments to analyze the patterns of the couch.

"And Pansy? Any hidden insights on your seemingly… superficial relationship?"

Draco groaned. "When it comes to anything with her, what you see is what you get. Unfortunately."

"He said that?"

"Yeah, he did. Prat didn't know what was about to hit him."

"What hex did you use?"

"Hex?" Astoria flipped her hair back with a self-satisfied smile. "I didn't bother taking out my wand. I punched him in the nose."

"Really?" Draco chuckled. "And that was enough to break it?"

"Please… it took less than thirty seconds to fix it. But if you had heard that sexist pig, you would have thought he was on death's doorstep." Draco attempted to repress the memory of doing the exact same thing when Buckbeak had slashed at his arm.

"I heard Hermione Granger did the same to you." Astoria smirked slyly, crossing her arms. Draco scratched his nose.

"Well, she actually slapped me. But I don't doubt she would have broken my nose if she had given a punch." Draco was shocked he admitted that.

"Bet you deserved it." Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Draco had ordered people around. Insulted people. Boasted to people. But he had never, in his entire life, exchanged small talk with someone. Mainly because small talk involved two people, and Crabbe and Goyle had never bothered replying to most of what he had said to them. But this had already seemed to grow beyond small talk.

"You were never like this." The words accidentally slipped from his mouth. Like he expected, Astoria's eyebrows scrunched together as she snapped away defensively.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing! Just… you… you were quiet. Not really… strong… or funny. Like now."

"And you were an arse." Astoria snapped. "What's your point?"

"Well I just – "

"Scratch that. You're still an arse."

"Why are you getting defensive?" Draco growled.

"I don't know." She began glaring at the air in front of her. "I just don't like people talking about which version of me they like better." She scratched her neck.

"You have to admit you've changed in some way?"

Astoria shrugged, still seeming tense.

"I'm just curious." Draco coughed.

Astoria tilted her head. Draco couldn't help admiring the way the candlelight slid down the strands of her hair, illuminating it.

"I just… I've always had thoughts you know. I just…" She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. "After the war… I didn't… I realized I had never believed any of that stuff about muggles… I just never listened to myself. I didn't trust that I could be… right. But I trust myself now. And I'm tired of hiding myself. Because what good did it do? Sitting quiet? Nodding my head? I'm tired of all this guilt – guilt I could have avoided by just being myself! I wish I stayed to fight. I really do. I could have saved somebody! But I ran away instead." She paused, before plunging forward with determination. "I never want to run again." She asserted, jutting out her chin.

Draco looked away. Astoria reached forward and gently touched her hand to his pale cheek. A shiver scuttled down his spine.

"And you?" Draco couldn't meet her eyes. She leaned forward, her eyes remaining fixed upon his face.

"I believed it." He muttered. "But I never really did need an excuse to think I was better than someone else. And if my father, my mother, or anyone else asked me right now, I'd say that I still do."

Astoria nodded, her face blank.

"You don't believe me?" He demanded, more aggressively than necessary. He roughly shoved away her hands.

"I do." She whispered softly. Draco stared at her.

"But…?"

"But what?"

"Why aren't you disgusted?" Draco felt exasperated with this woman's inability to understand the obvious.

"I am – but no more than I am with myself." Astoria shrugged. "It's very difficult to blame someone for doing the same things you did. You get it?"

"You think I'm weak." Draco informed her, aggression entering his body language once again. Astoria contemplated the statement.

"That's debatable."

"Why!?" He snarled.

"Because you were strong enough to change from what you were then to what you are now."

"From a scared little boy to a scared little man?" Draco began spitting the words out.

"From a person who couldn't think for himself to a person who does."

"No I can't." Draco sneered. "You're just deluding yourself."

"Yes, you can. You just don't act on it. But don't you see? You've grown! And if you can grow from what you were then to what you are now, tomorrow you can become someone even better." Draco wouldn't look into her hopeful eyes, because he couldn't bear to imagine the disappointment he was sure would one day fill them.

"No I can't." Draco pushed himself off the couch, trudging away with a sullen expression, reminding himself over and over again that her belief was misplaced. But somewhere in all the denial, her question slipped through his thoughts. And it wouldn't leave.

What's the point of being alive?

Astoria never really comforted him when he told stories of being a prat. An arsehole. But she wouldn't let him say he would always be a prat. Always be an arsehole.

"They're staring at us." Draco growled under his breath. Astoria shook her head with amusement as she dug through her purse, searching for her money pouch. They were standing in front of Flourish and Botts in Diagon Alley. Sheets of frost shone over the streets and windows. Draco's words held a grain of truth – several witches and wizards cast them surprised glances, occasionally whispering amongst themselves. But as usual, the boy was exaggerating the situation in his head, considering most people were more concerned about their shopping than the love interests of childish pureblood. Not that Draco or Astoria actually considered their odd friendship as resembling anything remotely like love.

"If I recall correctly, you enjoy being the center of attention."

"It seems as if your recollections are lacking the memory of a war we recently fought." Draco huffed, eyeing the specks of mud on his polished dragon skin shoes with petty disdain. Astoria suddenly cursed aloud, stomping her foot.

"You know that ladies aren't supposed to swear." Yet it amused Draco whenever she did. "My mother would be scandalized."

"Your mother gets scandalized whenever someone wears the same clothes to dinner that they wore for tea two hours earlier." Astoria continued to glare at her purse as if it had offended her.

"What is it?" Draco tried to peek into it, but Astoria pulled it out of his sight.

"Nothing important. I just left my money pouch at home. Daffy took it out of my purse to borrow a couple galleons, and I forgot to put it back." It had begun to snow a little, and the beads of a couple melted snowflakes were glittering upon Astoria's lush brown hair.

"Well that hardly matters. I'll buy your things of course. I was planning to anyway." Draco nodded as if the matter was already settled. Astoria's head snapped up and her grey eyes flashed dangerously. "I. Can pay. For myself." She pronounced each syllable with succinct clarity.

"That'll be a little difficult," Draco spoke through clenched teeth, "Considering you left all of your money at home."

"Then I'll just make a stop at Gringotts. You don't need to wait for me if you have things to do. Go on ahead." Astoria whirled on her feet and began walking in the opposite direction to the bank.

"It's a waste of time Astoria!" He called after her. He also cursed and stomped hurriedly after her. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back in a way that filled Astoria with a sudden rush of anger.

"Don't touch me or pull me as if you own me." She practically spat. Draco let go of her, but they continued to glare at each other fiercely, and attracted many more stares as they did so.

"I don't need your help Draco. Or your money." The idea of borrowing Draco's money bothered her very much, even though she knew he would never make the connection as to why. But she had already spent so much of her life under the expectation that she would one day be nothing more than an overdressed doll belonging to some man who would make her run his home as repayment for him earning and paying for her "necessary frivolities". She held great pride in earning her own money, in a job at St Mungo's that she had studied for years to achieve. Her money was her independence, and she valued nothing more than her independence. But Draco never considered this when he threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Well if that's the problem, then you don't need to worry! I already know you don't need me, not in any way, and you don't have to throw all sense out of the window trying to prove it! Pay it back if you have to, but I was just trying to be chivalrous." A red tinge appeared in Draco's Astoria felt the anger seep out of her.

"…I…" Astoria swallowed, "We can split the money." Draco shrugged coolly.

Astoria examined the study critically. It mostly empty except for emerald green curtains surrounding the window, an expensive mahogany table with a potted plant, and a plush velvet chair. She could count the number of objects on her right hand – the closest it got to personal was a framed photo of Draco and his mother, and even that was likely to be the result of Narcissa's persistent pestering. If it weren't for that, Astoria would have had no idea that this study belonged to Draco Malfoy as opposed to anyone else.

"Well." She said while crossing her arms. "This is a bit of a disappointment." Draco closed the door behind them softly before gazing at the room with nonchalance.

"What were you expecting?"

"Oh, I don't know. Skulls with eyes that glow red. Or mirrors that tell you horrendous stories of your future misery when you look into them. I was even willing to settle with a couple haunted dolls. The standard stuff really." Draco gave one of his signature dry chuckles.

"Noted. I'll take your opinion into consideration when I plan an illegal trip to Knockturn Alley. I expect you to find a way to evade the restrictions the ministry has placed upon my collection of dark objects." Astoria threw her head back and laughed.

"You have to admit Draco – it's a little boring. There's only one photo – which doesn't include your father or your friends." What friends? Draco was about to ask. "There isn't even a Slytherin crest anywhere. Even the rest of the house is a little dull if you ask me." Draco recoiled away abruptly.

"Excuse me? Dull? Dull? I'm sorry, was the Peruvian vase in the dining room embedded with sapphires and diamonds - that cost thousands of galleons, you know - not big enough for you? Or was the candlestick that was a gift from the French Minister of magic to my great great grandfather as thanks for purifying his cabinet – "

"it's not about the wealth Draco! It doesn't show much except that you're a lot of self-absorbed, pretentious show offs – which, by the way, is spot on." Draco gasped. "It doesn't say anything about who you are! Your interests or your hobbies. Your passions, or even the people you love!" Astoria ran her finger over the single silver photo frame.

"When I buy my own home," Astoria sighed, "It will be nothing like this tragedy."

"Well," Draco muttered with a miffed expression, "It's a good thing this isn't your home."

"Yes." Astoria nodded, still lost in her land of fantasies, "When I have my own house, I'll have it filled with my children's drawings – or just that of my little nieces and nephews, since I'll probably never have kids – and pictures of my travels to hospitals around the world and – "

"You wish to travel?" Draco's voice became softer and curious. Astoria nodded eagerly while clapping her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She seemed so tiny and optimistic, and Draco suddenly wished he could do something. Something that would amaze her, something that would fill her curious eyes with wonder, something that would impress her – a hopeless fantasy really.

"It's always been a dream of mine!" She blushed and began playing with her fingers. "A little silly, I know, but I always felt that going to new places and meeting new people – helping them… it would make me feel… important. Valued. And happy – definitely happy."

"That's not silly." Draco's voice was rough with shrouded emotion. Astoria suddenly looked up eagerly.

"– what are your hobbies?" Draco opened his mouth, then closed it. He was suddenly struck by how empty his life had always been.

"I don't have any. Except insulting Potter and Weasel – Weasley. I used to spend half my time making plans on how to get them in trouble or expelled. I talked a lot to my… friends… about it. It was mostly Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy actually." Draco shook his head bitterly. "But I can hardly do that now, considering I owe them my life – and my freedom." Astoria's hand drifted over his arm.

'What about Quidditch?" Astoria suggested.

"Oh I never – " Draco suddenly froze. He looked over his shoulder, paranoid that his father would somehow hear. When he spoke again, it was in a much quieter whisper. "I never really… enjoyed it."

"You never liked flying?" Astoria couldn't help but blurt out in shock.

"Flying was alright. I actually enjoyed it before I started playing for the school team. But I never really cared much for Quidditch. I pretended so much, I think I convinced myself. But when I was a kid, it was the only thing my father and I really did together. And I… I didn't want to disappoint him." Astoria tightened her grip on his arm. "I think you can see that after everything that's happened… it's lost any sort of appeal it might have once possessed."

Astoria was quiet for some time. "Well..." She paused, "That settles it."

"What?"

"Our plans for the next few months." Draco was uneasy.

"Which are?"

"Draco Malfoy, we're going to find you a hobby." Astoria gave him a determined nod.

It was a goal that Astoria became surprisingly dedicated to. To Draco's initial dislike, Astoria became set on teaching him muggle hobbies, in the hopes of killing two birds with one stone. He refused point blank to kick the odd colored "football" around and and simply took a step to the side when she served him a "tennis ball", and accidently threw the gold club in the air while attempting to hit the golf ball. However, he did become very competitive during their beach volleyball game – he had an excellent serve. Regardless of the activity, he enjoyed staring at Astoria's tight fitting sports bra from the corner of his eye very much.

While he'd shunned Herbology in school as being "an empty-headed subject only fools like Longbottom could enjoy", he found gardening almost… soothing. He decided he wanted to create his own mini garden on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Astoria helped him buy him the plants and flowers he liked. Pansies were definitely not one of them, but he did like orchids and daisies, and he liked growing vegetables. Once he invited Astoria excitedly to serve her a dish made solely of tomatoes, corn, and strawberries that he had grown and cooked (and burned).

He enjoyed baking gingersnap cookies with her too, especially when they started a "flour fight" that eventually involved running and throwing flour all over the previously spotless rooms of Malfoy Manor. Draco realized later that night that if someone had told him at age fourteen that he would enjoy baking cookies like an old woman or little girl, he would have had Crabbe and Goyle put them in the hospital wing.

While he hated most muggle machinery, he had lots of fun canoeing. Even if his lack of coordination with paddling resulted in him and Astoria revolving on the spot for twenty minutes.

He thought flying kites was pointless and most board games did indeed "bore" him. But he found chess fascinating. He was almost tempted to write the names of death eaters on the dark chess pieces, and the names of the Order on the white ones. He spent a whole hour debating in his mind over whether or not Harry would be the queen or the king.

He screamed when he accidentally dropped a bowling ball on his foot. He proceeded to call the game stupid and refused to play it. The same occurred when he got a paper cut from attempting to do origami.

He knew how to ballroom dance from a young age, considering that it was a proper skill that all purebloods were supposed to learn. But Astoria took him salsa dancing, in which he proceeded to step upon her toes more times than he would like to remember. But he liked spinning her. And shaking his hips felt interesting.

They also tried making stories together. Draco just ended up listening to hers, with wide eyes and a mouth hanging open. Astoria never got over the innocence and childish excitement he had on his face during those moments; he would eagerly beg her for another, just a small one, every time they saw each other. Which was becoming most of the time Astoria wasn't at St. Mungo's working (Draco thought she worked too much, but she always ignored him).

They ate a lot of food. Sushi made him want to gag, and he had the spice tolerance of a baby, but aside from that he really liked tacos and Indian butter chicken. Astoria had the honor of wiping off ketchup from Draco's nose as he devoured a hot dog.

Astoria once took him to St. Mungo's. When she came back after a couple of hours after her shift, he was leaning against a doorway, staring at the comatose face of an old blond man. She didn't bring him back there again.

Draco tried to pretend that he had read the muggle books Astoria gave him. That act did not fool her for very long – he had no idea who the main character was of To Kill a Mockingbird, his "new favorite book".

He liked building things with wood, hammers and nails the most. There was something about the effort that it took to do stuff with his hands instead of just flicking his wand that made everything… worthwhile. As if there was a point to what he did. He built a birdhouse for Astoria, and they even painted it together.

Draco Malfoy eventually realized that it wasn't any of the actual activities that made all those moments special, even though he did find things he enjoyed doing. It was laughing at Astoria's jokes, insulting her clothing, competing with her over something absolutely inconsequential. It was listening to her tell children's stories or weird facts about muggles that he sometimes pretended to be repulsed by. It was having a snowball fight and drinking hot chocolate with her after wards, talking about all the things he once thought he would never want to say.

So for the first time in his life, he knew he had a hobby.

A friend.

Some nights, he lay in bed wondering how Astoria Greengrass had convinced him to spill his heart to her. Sometimes, he was grateful for it. Because it was at those times that Draco remembered he had a heart.

"That." He growled, despite having a pale and shivering face, "Was the worst experience of my entire life."

"Yeah mine too." Astoria joked, "I don't know how my ears survived your incessant wailing."

"You almost killed me!" Astoria rolled her eyes.

"Draco, we were literally below the speeding limit the entire time."

"I'll have you know, that if my father ever hears about this – "

"Ohhhh..." Astoria started giggling wildly, breaking Draco off mid sentence.

"What?"

"Nothing." She seemed to be struggling to contain her laughter. Draco eyed her suspiciously.

"You obviously find something about my near death experience very amusing." He sniffed.

"Asides from the fact that you were in more danger of death when Goyle sat on you in your fourth year? You were just about to threaten to tattle on me. Which would have been fine, minus the fact that you're like what? Twenty two?" Draco started to pout, which only served to prove Astoria's point.

"I don't… they're not… it's not tattling if it's warranted! You took me on a joy ride in your muggle death compartment!"

"It's a car, and it's not mine, it's rented. Little babies go around in them. Are you really saying that little babies are braver than you are?"

"No!" Draco snapped, seeming uncomfortable nonetheless. He eyed the cars streaking past him on the road (which was only about two feet away) warily, "It's just silly." Astoria snorted.

"Everything you can't do is silly or stupid. Like right now – I bet you ten galleons that you'll be so confused and scared by the muggle cellphone, that you'll call it stupid and walk out of the electronics store without even understanding it."

"I'll take that bet." Draco's cheeks glowed red with this affront to his pride. "And I'll win. There is no possible way I won't understand something the brainless muggles created."

Draco smacked the screen with his finger, flinching slightly every time it made another icon or picture popped up. His eyes widened as the salesmen explained all the features, including talking ("You mean you'll be in France, and I'll still hear you?"), texting ("You mean you can see the words I wrote?"), the music ("Where is it? I can hear it! Where is it Astoria?") and the touch screen ("I'm not doing anything! I just touched it!"). He was stunned when Astoria clicked a picture of them together ("You mean it's still there? On this tiny thing?"). Draco was gobsmacked when Astoria explained the concept of the internet to him ("Everything? Everything? Are you sure it's everything Tori? I think you're confused!").

Draco still seemed to be in a daze as they walked out of the store (leaving many confused and slightly scared muggle customers and salesmen).

"How?" Was he all he asked over and over again, constantly rubbing his face and staring out into the sky as if something else he'd never seen before was about to pop out of the horizon, changing everything he felt about it.

All in all, Astoria felt it was definitely worth forking over ten galleons.

"Astoria, this is preposterous."

She ignored him. She threw off her cloak and kicked off her green shoes. Beneath it, she was wearing muggle capris (which would have made both their fathers do more than cringe) and a t-shirt. The sky was morose and pale, and a chilly wind poured down their shoulders.

Draco had been under the impression they would be having a simple picnic. Why was Astoria so completely against everything simple?

"Astoria!" Draco growled. He stood off to the side in his shiny black robes, attempting to appear tall and dignified. This was difficult when the wind was blowing the sand off the shore of the lake and into his eyes. "I don't understand why you insist upon doing something so pig-headed."

"That's what I think every time I see that hair." She wrinkled her nose. "I swear, if I ever have a son, I won't let him within 10 meters of any hair gel."

Something stirred inside Draco's chest. He imagined a faceless man standing with Astoria at an alter. He felt an odd, indescribable sort of anger against a person he'd never met, but he attempted to shrug it away.

"You'll freeze."

"We'll freeze." Astoria corrected him happily.

"What?" Draco's head snapped up. "Uh… no… I don't think so."

"Well, as usual, you're wrong."

"Why exactly do you want to freeze to death?" Draco was already counting down the seconds until he would apparate away to safety. Astoria grabbed his hand.

"Because it's fun to do the unexpected! To do something crazy! To feel free in your own stupid choices!" She giggled.

"No. It's not." Astoria tilted her head.

"Well, how's decorum working out for you so far?"

"I'm still alive." Draco's tone was clipped.

"Are you though? Are you really?"

"Astoria, what happened to you?" Draco suddenly felt breathless.

"I told you. I realized that listening to everyone around me resulted in nothing but the guilt of a bloody war on my chest. Now, I'm doing and saying the things I want." With that, she dropped his hand, ran over the wooden dock and threw herself into the water, sending up a a splash of cold water.

Draco waited for her to come up. But she didn't.

"Astoria…" Draco called. A minute passed. Draco knew it was a trick, but he was slightly scared that this stubborn woman would hold her breath until she was unconscious, just to coax him into the water.

Draco threw his expensive black cloak unto the sand, along with his wand. He took a deep breath before running and plunging into the water. Before he knew it, he was drenched from a large wave. He rose to the surface, sputtering and spitting out icy water as Astoria guffawed beside him (in a very unrefined manner). Draco, knowing he was inviting something he didn't want, began splashing her repeatedly. This only made Astoria laugh harder.

"Astoria, this isn't fun!" Draco's teeth chattered. Astoria paddled towards him with her arms. Draco flinched when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her drenched hair was plastered to her shining face.

"That doesn't make it better." Draco mumbled. But even as he said it, his heart fluttered in a way which was worth a hundred swims in the lake. In an uncharacteristic move, he raised his arm and pushed the soaking wet hair out of her face. But Astoria's eyes had flown open, along with her mouth. After a couple seconds, Draco realized which of his arms she was goggling at.

Draco quickly yanked his arm away and tried to pull his wet sleeve down. Astoria gently wrapped her hands around it, stopping him. She trailed her fingers over the grotesque snake… the jeering skull and the sickly green and the horribly final black that seemed to be forever mocking him.

Draco wanted to scream at her not to. Not to be near him, not to talk to him, not to touch him. He wanted to scream that she was touching a monster. And he wasn't talking about the snake.

"What were you doing with that Malfoy boy last night?" Daphne ambushed her one night after her evening shower.

"Get your mind out of the gutter Daffy." Astoria smirked. "What would father say – he thinks you're a perfect lady." Daphne blinked, before the realization hit her.

"Tori!" Daphne tried to smack her, but Astoria leapt out of the way, giggling. Daphne rolled her eyes.

"Even our darling parents aren't deluded enough to believe I'm anything close to… a lady." Daphne wrinkled her nose with disgust, "And I meant at the party. And the dinner before that. You're always off somewhere with that Malfoy boy."

"His name's Draco." She smiled as she rubbed the towel to her damp hair. Daphne narrowed her eyes.

"Draco?" She spat the word out as if it tasted sour. Astoria started twisting her hair in odd ways in front of the mirror. She placed it against her face to make a "moustache".

"People are starting to wonder." Daphne began tapping her foot impatiently.

"Well once they start, it's impossible for them to stop. Hardly anything we can do." Astoria shrugged.

"You know, there isn't a more unpopular family in all of England. The purebloods can't stand them for their betrayal, and everyone else doesn't trust them for what they did in the first place. Either way, you'll never find a more untrustworthy lot." Astoria began humming a Celestina Warbeck song.

"Tori!" Daphne grabbed the towel from the bed, and then proceeded to smack her sister with it. Astoria grabbed a pillow and returned the favour. Soon they were leaping on Astoria's bed, throwing pillows at each other. They slipped and fell down on their backs onto the sheets, giggling like schoolgirls on their way to Hogwarts. Soon their laughter lapsed into a warm silence filled with heavy breaths.

"He'd hurt you." Daphne said suddenly.

"Draco wouldn't dare touch me." Astoria rolled her eyes. "And I'm offended you think I can't protect myself."

"I was talking about your heart." Daphne rolled over unto her stomach and grabbed one of her sister's hands. "He… does he even know what it's like to love someone? He was in my year at Hogwarts. He was horrid – we all admired him, because he was a Malfoy and we were supposed to at the time. But even for a Slytherin, he was malicious and bitter and jealous of anyone that got more attention than him…"

Astoria smiled. "Daffy, I don't think there's anything I can say which could change your mind about him. So you're just going to have to trust me." Daphne examined her younger sister curiously. But behind her uncertainty lurked a flash of pride.

"What happened to the days when I used to protect you?" Astoria rolled unto her own stomach before pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"I grew up." She said simply. "Or I'm trying to."

"Hello Draco." The word was laced with venomous contempt.

Daphne Greengrass was wearing tight fitting, blood red dress robes with a plunging neckline and a sharp slit that revealed her milky white thigh. While the sight was enough to send all the pureblood boys into lustful and erotic fantasies (and the pureblood mothers into a scandalized rant over the depraved morals of this new generation of women), there was nothing seductive in her manner. It seemed to succeed in its purpose of intimidating Draco and scaring him shitless. Draco nodded curtly, wishing with every fibre of his being that Astoria, or anyone else, would walk through the door into the room which he was sure would soon be stained with blood matching the offender's attire. But he supposed it was an action that most would support.

"Miss Greengrass." Daphne snorted derisively. "Daphne." Draco amended, realizing that seven years of studying in the same year and house at Hogwarts warranted a first name basis relationship.

"I don't like you." There was not a trace of hesitation in Daphne's tone.

"Join the club." Draco growled. This action elicited a rolling of Daphne's eyes, the action being dramatized with the sharp eyeliner highlighting the scathing anger in her eyes.

"Please." Sarcasm dripped from Daphne's tone. "You've been a conceited asshole for the last nine years of your life, and now you expect us all to feel sorry for you – just because you're being treated how you've always treated everyone else?"

"I don't expect anything!"

Draco had rarely had much of a reason to consort with Daphne in Hogwarts days. He had, of course, initiated a countless number of snide attacks upon her, mainly because Pansy didn't like her at all. Probably because she felt threatened by Daphne's superiority in… everything. And Daphne never really bothered pretending that Pansy was anything more than an irritating gossip.

"Now if you want to sit around feeling sorry for your self, that's your business – don't think I actually give a shit." Draco opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when Daphne's long, elegant finger snapped up into the air. "But when you start intruding upon my sister's life – my sister! I expected a lot from you, Malfoy, but for you to trick one of the most good hearted purebloods you'll ever find – "

"I think you aren't giving your sister enough credit. If you're foolish enough to believe that your sister is weak willed enough to be influenced by a man, then perhaps you're the one who's more in danger of being deluded."

"I don't doubt my sister's capable of standing up for herself – but she's trusting, and she's one of the few people who would actually consider whatever sob story you made up. I don't care what she thinks about you, or what crap you fed her to convince her you've changed! You're selfish – like you've always been – and being a pureblooded bigot has nothing to do with it! You don't care how much it'll hurt Astoria – how much it'll affect her job and happiness to be connected with someone as detestable as you!" Draco could almost see the steam pouring from Daphne's nostrils and ears.

"Well you don't have to worry about that!" Draco's eyes flashed, and a vein in his forehead was beginning to bulge after this attack on his dignity (despite the internal whisperings that agreed with everything she was saying). "Because I have no intentions of pursuing Astoria romantically." Daphne threw her head back at cackled.

"Oh, of course not – I already knew that! I suppose you'll just use her like yesterday's old handkerchief - then toss her away when you're bored! That's what you did with Parkinson, didn't you? You never cared about the hearts you broke – the people you stepped on to get your way!" Daphne started jabbing her extremely pointed finger at her chest. It hurt.

"You're right."

"Duh." Daphne rolled her eyes again.

"I don't deserve her friendship."

"Did you seriously ever think you did?"

"But I can't stop her if she wants to talk to me."

"Well, Draco Malfoy, you better find a way to. Other wise…" Daphne pulled her finger across her throat to mime slitting it.

"Daffy?" Blaise Zabini's beautiful face appeared as he walked into the room, immediately distrustful when he saw Draco. He slinked to her side, sliding an arm around her waist protectively. As if either of the Greengrass sisters need protecting…

Daphne smirked before turning and draping her arms seductively around Zabini's neck, pressing her lips slowly and deliberately against his. Draco turned away quickly, disconcerted by the striking resemblance of Daphne's delightfully curvy figure with her sister's. His mind drifted to a hopelessly forbidden picture which involved Astoria's teasing laugh as he pushed her against a wall, pressing himself against her body, sliding his tongue over her soft lips as she moaned…

Daphne suddenly pulled away from a very disconcerted Zabini. Before Draco could register that she had pulled her wand from Melrin knows where, he was hanging upside from the ceiling. Daphne then proceeded to magically charm his black robes into pink with red hearts. When Astoria found him twenty five minutes later, Draco was still cursing Daphne Greengrass in the most undignified way possible.

Daphne and Draco never did warm up to each other.

"There you are! For Merlin's sake, I've been looking all over for you!"

Draco, in his custom designed robes, was crouched upon the marble floor behind the bookcase. His head was bent away from her. She leaned against the bookcase, blathering on.

"You left me to deal with Theodore Nott's mother all by myself. You know she's pissed about her son having these… weird feelings for me. She keeps blabbing on about how he's God's gift to humanity. If no girl is good enough for him, like she says, why's she so desperate to marry him off to any other girl that's got two legs and at least one arm? As if I would ever – Draco?"

She crouched down next to him and forced his chin up. She was shocked to see tears pouring down his face. They looked so foreign on someone so decidedly against displaying any emotion except disdain.

"He's going to Azkaban." Draco began babbling. "I know we're lucky that Harry managed to save my mother and I and he did all that he could, even when he didn't have to and even Ronald Weasley looked annoyed about it, but that's not a shock, and my father's done enough to deserve it and I know…"

Astoria gathered him up in her arms and let him choke words through his tears. She shooed little Lucille away when the girl came skipping in, not caring when she told every pureblood mother with a son who Astoria Greengrass was "madly in love with and going to marry".

At least she wouldn't have to worry about Theodore Nott anymore.

"I don't even know why I'm so scared of him."

Astoria just squeezed him tighter. Shadows hanging from the warm light and the smell of old books surrounded them.

"I was just never right. Never good enough." Astoria began running her fingers through his oily hair. "And he was… he was so damn perfect. A hero – my hero. And look at me – I couldn't save him, and I couldn't fight him either."

"Maybe I should be happy he'll be gone." Draco rasped. "I'll finally be free."

Astoria pulled away. "I don't think any of us can ever truly be free." Vulnerability shone in Draco Malfoy's wide grey eyes.

"Tori… I want to be." She nodded her head.

"So do I." Draco buried his face into Astoria's warm neck, feeling guilty over the tantalizing shivers that were trailing down his spine.

"What kind of man buys a girl tulips? Of all the flowers he could choose from! If he's trying to woo you, he couldn't do a worse job."

Astoria didn't respond.

"They were probably the cheapest. He didn't want to spend the extra money on you. A little pathetic really."

Astoria scratched her neck.

"Not that it matters to me, but it's hard to watch a man make such a fool out of himself." Draco nodded with an air of pretentious superiority that both amused and annoyed Astoria.

"Draco, if you're so jealous about a man giving me flowers, just buy me some yourself." Draco straightened up into a stiff stance of irritation.

"I fail to see what jealousy has to do with this."

Astoria rolled her eyes.

"What are these?"

"…"

"Draco?"

"You know what they are!" He snapped. Nice going Malfoy, I'm sure she thinks that's very romantic. Not that romantic was what he was going for.

"… You walked into a flower shop?" Astoria was struck with a sudden fantasy of a shop filled with fresh sunlight becoming dark and gloomy the moment Draco Malfoy walked in. She could almost hear the crash of thunder amid all the panic-stricken faces. Draco pretended not to hear.

Daphne was not pleased to see five new roses in the vase by Astoria's bedside the next morning (the others tossed away and forgotten).

It's common knowledge that "beggars are not to be choosers". However, this lesson is often lost upon elegant socialites who have spent the greater part of several decades in the spotlight while being surrounded by only the most expensive and prized possessions. It's therefore natural for them to have difficulty at entertaining the thought of their precious sons associating with women who were anything less than perfect, pureblood ladies.

Astoria had always assumed the most stressful aspect of being Draco Malfoy's friend would be the opinions of people that didn't matter to either of them. However, the past hour of tea with his mother, probably one of the few people Draco still cared for, seemed to be contradicting those previous assumptions.

In hindsight, Astoria realized that Narcissa's obsession with perfection might have been just as detrimental to Draco's life as his father's conditional love. She was beginning to understand why Draco wanted the best of everything – Narcissa had made sure that was what he knew he deserved.

Narcissa coughed softly as she examined Astoria with pursed lips, an action that seemed to emanate a comic elegance that drew a giggle Astoria was having difficulty repressing. Narcissa's back was raised upright with a pride, an action that didn't seem to have much purpose except in appearing exceedingly uncomfortable. Astoria suddenly became self – conscious over the slight slouch in her shoulders. She had grown in a family in which her parents' sole goal was preparing her for a pureblooded female's role of social callings and insulting people in a way which made her look attractively sophisticated. And it was for that reason that Astoria, and even before that Daphne, had rejected it completely.

Narcissa sniffed. Even that simple action seemed to be executed with practised precision.

"Draco tells me you work at St. Mungo's?" Narcissa remarked. Astoria felt a slight passive aggression tone simmering under the politeness. As if the statement was more of a challenge than a remark. But a good deal of the feeling was likely the result of being ridiculed and teased for it by her pureblooded parents and airheaded. She never heard the statement without some distaste.

"Yes I do." Astoria tried to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. She really did.

"Do you plan to continue with it into the future?" Narcissa's sharp gray seemed to bore holes into Astoria, who had already grown tired of the secret conversation they seemed to be having. She had, over the years, grown to appreciate bluntness.

"Yes. I do. I will always do it, and I will always place it above the nonexistent responsibility to find a man who would expect to give up what I care for and love." Anger had unconsciously (sort of) slipped into her words.

Narcissa took another delicate sip of her tea, feeling disappointed, yet feeling a slight sense of admiration. Because don't we all admire as we reject the things we never had? The older woman reverted back to original goal.

"I know recent events have begun a rumour that the Malfoys are willing to settle for a standard below that of the excellency which was once unquestionably required in our possessions and associations."

Astoria truly did not know for sure if she was considered an association or a possession. That worried her.

"But it is essential for you to understand that while we may not be in the same… effortlessly favorable position as before… Malfoys never have, and never will settle."

"With all dues respect," Astoria swallowed, "settling might have been a good way to avoid a lot of the shit you've been dealing with."

Narcissa's eyes bugged out comically; Astoria was interested in how they seemed to be on the verge of popping out.

"I mean," Astoria continued despite knowing that it wouldn't help her win any brownie points with her friend's mother, "If you'd just taken a step off your pedestal and stopped thinking that you deserved so much better than everyone else, you wouldn't have had to be knocked off of it by… reality." Narcissa looked as if she had tasted something sour.

"The Malfoys have always possessed the most desired qualities and gifts of society. We have inherited and enhanced our power and social standing with every generation – it is in all means, our birthright. And you are not the first woman to hope that she can use her womanly wiles to seduce and ensnare my son for his money or prestige."

Astoria stared at the woman in disbelief. What prestige?

"My son requires very much in a wife. He requires her primary attention, her obedience, her loyalty. He requires a woman who will hold him above all others – including herself. It requires… an essential sacrifice." Narcissa looked morose and almost vexed for a second, but her face became impassive again so quickly that Astoria was sure she'd imagined it.

I'm guessing this isn't a two-way street. And this topic is getting a little dangerous.

"Mrs. Malfoy – Draco and I are nothing more than just friends." Astoria asserted. Mrs. Malfoy looked mildly irritated.

"I know what youth of your age mean by friends, and I find it completely unacceptable for my son. He deserves much more as the Malfoy heir."

Okay, yuck. But when she truly considered it, the implications of the words weren't… entirely unappealing. It should have been, but it wasn't. But she felt annoyed about hearing what Draco deserved.

"Um… no Mrs. Malfoy, we are honestly just friends. There are no… benefits. I mean there are! Just… not the ones you're thinking of…"

"Miss Greengrass," Astoria was amazed at how Narcissa managed to look displeased without even creasing her forehead. "Do you honestly mean to tell me you have no interest or designs upon my son? In any relation exceeding that of… friendship?"

Well yes, that's what I just said. Astoria opened her mouth while running her finger along the rim, but she suddenly couldn't force the words from her mouth. Draco Malfoy, for all his brooding looks and "dangerous" persona that had been romanticized to death in popular culture, was just not the type of man you fell in love with. He could have been the man who took you to expensive restaurants, he could have been the man to buy you fancy presents in exchange for you being his trophy wife. He was definitely a man you married, a man you kissed, a man you slept with. A man you fought with, even cheated on.

He was all those things, but he wasn't the kind of man you loved. But while watching him, laughing with him, talking with him… sometimes Astoria truly felt that he could be. She truly could one day… feel that way.

Maybe she already did.

With what though? What she wanted him to be, what he wanted himself to be, or who he really was? What did that even mean? How could she detach all of those people, as if they weren't tangled in each other? When Astoria spoke again, she felt as if she was listening to a voice that was saying something far away.

"I should… I should probably be getting back home. My mother starts to worry. Thank you so much for the tea Mrs. Malfoy. And don't worry. We'll never be anything… more than what we are now."

Probably.

Lanterns hung above them, charmed to a glow a myriad of mesmerizing colors, throwing a twirling kaleidoscope of patterns upon the ground. Astoria stood below, admiring her handiwork. Draco stood behind her, shuffling awkwardly in his expensive clothes. After being friends for more than a year, Astoria had learned that he did that more often than he didn't.

Only this time, it felt a little more warranted. It was Christmas Eve, and Astoria was spending the evening at a muggle homeless shelter. She spent a lot of her spare time there, to the point where all the muggle homeless children knew her name and were always excited to see what treats and stories she'd bring them whenever she dropped by. She had spent the last few days singlehandedly decorating the shelter and buying presents for anyone younger than she was. It had all culminated to this day, in which she had prepared many stories, food and activities to help bring them some holiday cheer.

For some stupid reason, she thought it would be a good idea to bring Draco. She had convinced herself that seeing underprivileged children who had not already formed biases against him would warm his heart.

She was therefore slightly disappointed when he backed away into tree when one of the six-year-old boys ran out eagerly to give her a present.

The tiny, underfed boy blushed slightly as he gazed up at her warm gray eyes.

"I… I made this for you." He mumbled. Draco was confused as to what it was – it was made out of a couple sticks and berries tied together with old string. "It's a dog." He added.

Astoria kneeled down, displaying no aversion to placing her knees upon the muddy snow. She rested a hand upon the tiny child's shoulder, smiling wider than she had when her father had bought her an extremely expensive bracelet for her birthday.

"Oh Jeremy… this is so beautiful! I adore it – I love it!" Astoria continued on about how she would hang it up in her room, what a great idea using berries as paint was, and what a talented boy he had become. Draco was left to wonder at how Astoria could pretend she liked the gift that much, until he realized, with some surprise, that she wasn't pretending. Her eyes were shining with genuine happiness and she was staring at the boy with… love. It wasn't that Draco was experiencing any negative feelings in that moment; he was just… confused. He'd never considered gaining even a small source of happiness from… useless stuff like sticks.

"Draco loves it too! Don't you Draco?" Draco was snapped out of his reverie. The boy cast a distrustful look upon the aloof Malfoy.

"Er… yes. It's… lovely." The boy cracked a gap toothed, if slightly shy, smile.

"Draco has a present for you too – don't you Draco?" The boy's eyes widened.

Draco just stood there.

"Draco…" Astoria tilted her head, "They're muggles… they don't know you." There was a harder edge to her expectant gaze, probably because she believed he had no excuse to escape the kindness she was determined to wring out of his heart. Draco cleared his throat and pulled out his hefty money pouch from his coat pocket. Despite being filled with almost fifty galleons, a sight which would have managed to shock most average earning wizards and witches, he a retracted only a couple silver sickles. While Astoria's eyes widened with indignation, the little boy's already large eyes snapped open when Draco awkwardly placed them in his palms. He felt slightly guilty when he noticed the cuts lining the tiny child's calluses, even though it had seemed like all that was necessary when he decided to give it.

"Thank you so much!" His high pitched voice sent a fresh round of regret in Draco. The little boy ran inside the shelter, calling for his parents (who were probably as unkempt and dirty as the boy was, Draco couldn't help but think).

Astoria was unimpressed. "That was very generous." She muttered as she brushed the dirt off her knees. She began rummaging through her bag for something as she brushed past Draco coldly. He struggled to defend himself.

"It was enough for him! And besides – I don't know what he's going to do with it!" Astoria threw a withering gaze in his direction.

"Probably make more use of it than you would have done at your age. Considering he often goes to sleep hungry at the same age when you were throwing tantrums for receiving only the second most expensive broom for your birthday." She was angrier than Draco had originally anticipated. He attempted to assume a reasonable tone.

"It isn't much use handing him money – he's going to have to eventually learn how to make his way through the world. We can't create expectations in his mind that can never be fulfilled. He needs a strong understanding of reality." Astoria gasped before whirling around. Her gray eyes were blazing brighter than Draco had ever seen them.

"Did you have this epiphany," Astoria spit, "While you were eating French cuisine, cooked by an abused house elf, upon your thousand galleon dinner plates? All while your mother discussed which silk gown she should buy from the money she inherited from being a trophy wife without a day's work in her life!"

"Don't insult my mother!" Draco growled.

"Are you worried that if you start treating people somewhat more decently than if they're the dirt beneath your shoe that you'll be swarmed by expectations as a 'do-gooder'? Sometimes Draco Malfoy, I wonder why I bother thinking you're any better than what you made yourself out to be. You made the choices you wanted with your life, and it's not like you ever try to make up for them!" Astoria's hair had come out of her ponytail and was casting dark shadows upon her face.

"Well maybe you need to wake up from this dream in which you created a Draco Malfoy that's a prince charming, riding off into the sunset, saving little children and being the Harry Potter to your Ginny Weasley!" Draco was yelling by this time now too.

"I don't want you to be Prince Charming!" Astoria's shrieking was beginning to draw the attention of the people inside the shelter. "I want you to be a decent human being instead of sulking baby, but that's obviously too much to ask!" Astoria suddenly grabbed her bag, fished out a card and threw it at him. It fluttered uselessly as it fell to his feet.

"Merry Christmas." She spat before stomping up the steps and throwing herself through the doors of the shelter.

Draco bent down and picked up the Christmas card. On the front cover was a picture of them together in Muggle London. Astoria had quickly snapped what she called a "selfie" when Draco was staring with amazement at a telephone booth. He had a small smile that seemed foreign on his face, but Astoria was laughing wildly with her arm around his shoulder.

The inside didn't contain a long letter with an tirade of emotions or confessions. It contained just a couple lines, surrounded by a couple more pictures of them together.

To my most unexpected but most best friend,

We may be doing our growing up ten years too late, but we're doing it. And while I didn't expect it to be with you, I'm very glad that it is. Merry Christmas Draco!

With love,

Astoria

P.S. Wash that ridiculous gel out of your hair, at least for Christmas!

So basically, Draco had screwed up.

Again.

"Draco – Draco, wait!" Astoria bent over for a second to indulge her need to breath heavily, before continuing after him. "Will – will you – will you just tell me where we're going?"

Draco turned back with a wild look in his eyes. "It's just a little bit further!" He called out in an uncharacteristically eager tone which made Astoria shake her head with confusion.

Astoria had initially refused when he asked her to meet him on the Malfoy grounds. She had been shocked when he had appeared out on her doorstep, demanded to see her, and practically forced her to apparate there with him.

When they had apparated in front of the gates, he had promptly told her to follow him and had run off. Astoria, despite her better judgement, felt obliged to follow.

Draco suddenly stopped, and Astoria found herself tripping over her own feet to avoid slamming into him.

"Draco, honestly!" Draco had turned around and covered her eyes with his hands. He gently guided her forward.

"I'm sorry Tori, I really am… but I know that just saying it isn't enough for you, and it shouldn't be… it wasn't… I should not have…" Draco couldn't find the words to voice what he wanted to say. He just simply dropped his hands away when they reached the place where he'd set everything up.

Astoria was confused for the first few moments. Before her lay a wooden fence (about two feet high) that was in the shape of a square with four different compartments. Within it were more than twenty baby animals, none of which were magic. They included puppies, kittens, bunnies, and guinea pigs, each occupying a different corner of the pen.

"Why… is there a pen full of animals…?"

"Not just any animals." Draco said proudly, "Muggle animals."

"Yes," She chuckled uncertainly, "I realized. Why…?" Draco pursed his lips as he examined them.

"As late Christmas presents… for the children at the shelter." Astoria stared in shock. Her head swung back and forth between the animals and Draco.

"Where… where did you get them?" She felt slightly light headed.

"I went." He expressed carefully, "To muggle London." Astoria's jaw dropped.

"By… by yourself?" Draco assumed another haughty look.

"I'm not making a habit out of it! Only once. The shop was rather nice actually. Very warm."

Astoria stared.

"Very nice after nearly getting hit by those death machines!"

Astoria continued to stare.

"I don't…" Draco ran his hand through his hair, "I don't know how to do much of this. I never really have. But you do, and I know you're more than capable enough for the both of us… so maybe… if you show me how, I can help make it happen. I have plenty of money, and you seem to have a better idea of what to do with it… I don't… I'm not going to be giving up my custom designed robes and my mother won't settle for selling off any of her expensive, antique vases, or any of her dress robes, but I can set some money aside for whatever it is that you want – "

Astoria stepped forward and silenced him by wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his chest, ignoring how he'd stiffened before relaxing into her embrace. She decided not to tell him that food might have been a better option, something practical, something that wouldn't be difficult for six-year-old homeless children to manage. But in that moment, she didn't care for anything but his rigid embrace and pale arms; they were horribly uncertain and Astoria felt more at home than she would ever be able to describe. Because uncertain and confused just described them.

The realization was so casual that it almost seemed like a passing fancy for fajitas. For some weird reason, in between the children's stories and flour fights and secret smiles only she got the chance to see upon his face, she had fallen for Draco Malfoy.

He'd been a bully, and was still an arrogant toerag sometimes, but he could be so much more, and that's why Astoria needed him.

He was the only person Astoria wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

They stood shivering on the balcony. She furiously rubbed her bare arms while he stared out into the black clouds. The night sky seemed as if it was smudged with ash, shrouding the stars in shadows of smoke. The railing was sparkling with frost, and wisps of light rose from the silken snowflakes. Inside the mansion, superficial laughter overwhelmed the rooms.

"This is the part where a gentleman would hand me his cloak." She muttered, shooting him an amused glance. "Or at least give me one of the expensive gloves he's wearing."

"I'm not a gentleman." Irritation crept into his voice.

"Clearly. A gentleman wouldn't bring his date outside into the cold just to escape his family."

Draco's eyes flew open.

"Astoria…" He whirled around, his façade of elegant calm dropping into a momentary flash of panic. "When I asked you to come out I… I didn't…" He took a hurried breath, swallowing with some difficulty. "I… I only see you as a friend." He forced the words from his throat as if they scorched it. He pursed his lips, tearing his eyes away from hers.

"Oh. Well I don't." Astoria shrugged casually, biting her lip to prevent her teeth from clattering against each other. Draco brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his forehead, which was creased with lines of stress and uncertainty. Astoria stepped forward, tilting her head teasingly in a way that was entirely hers. Draco's breath became lodged in his throat. Her long eyelashes caught the light between them, and her eyes were shimmering rainbows sliding through rainclouds. He found himself longing for the warm embrace of her glowing arms, the soft sweetness of her tantalizing lips. Her cinnamon aroma surrounded him. She raised her hand and softly trailed her fingers down his cheek, which he was certain was much too dry. She pulled herself up so her mouth was tickling his ear, her breath making him tremble.

"And I think…" Astoria's voice danced through his ears, shivering down to his heart, which he was sure was pounding loud enough for her to hear. "That neither do you…"

Gusts of wind swirled around them, but when his cracked lips touched hers, he felt as if he was holding all the warmth in the world.

And the world could stuff it, because when Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy decided that they wanted something, there was no stopping them from getting it, no matter how much time that would take.

Especially when what they wanted was each other.

Please review and tell me what you think! If you really enjoyed it, it would be a great encouragement and message to me as a writer if you tell me that! I'd love to know how you feel about my interpretations of Astoria Greengrass and whether or not you think Draco Malfoy is realistically portrayed. I see potential in him to become a better person with someone like Astoria by his side, but I hate how often people romanticize him and give him what JK Rowling referred to as a nonexistent "heart of gold".

For those of you that have read it, some scenes are edited from my other story, Seven Years of Unexpected. I just wasn't done with writing about the Malfoys, so this is what the product of my thoughts ended up being. There is a lot more stuff swimming in my head, but those are stories for another time.

Have fun reading!