Court This Disaster

Author\'s Note: I have not spelled Asteria\'s name wrong. While it was spelled "Astoria" in Time Magazine, JKR spelled it "Asteria" on the Weasley Family Tree. Since I think it\'s more likely she\'d be named after a Greek goddess than a Muggle hotel, I go with the "Asteria" spelling.

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Asteria was hypnotized by the smoke rings as they floated towards the ceiling, slowly fading as they made their ascent. Focusing on them allowed her to ignore the dull throb between her legs that was part frustration and part pain. The need for release was already subsiding and she had given up on the idea that she could grab that toy hidden in her top drawer and hide in the bathroom without Malfoy noticing.



Shifting slightly in bed as she pressed her thighs together, the frustration came back anew. Honestly, it might have been better if Malfoy had been a lousy lay.



Grabbing her wand from her nightstand, she summoned the dressing gown she\'d bought last summer while visiting her uncle and his family in Muggle London. Her aunt had told her the blue matched her eyes.



Once dressed, she did a couple quick Cleaning Charms on the sheets and told a befuddled Malfoy, “I\'m hungry. You?”



"Er... yeah," he said, blinking in confusion. He swung his legs over the bed and picked his trousers off the floor. Not for the first time, she was struck by how his shoulders looked too broad for his thin frame. If he were her patient, she\'d tell him he needed to gain a stone. When Malfoy stood to pull on his trousers, Asteria averted her eyes. It was silly - just fifteen minutes ago she\'d had her legs wrapped around his waist, each thrust leaving her writhing and panting underneath him - and now she was too shy to look at him.



"What do you have?"



"Enough for a couple of sandwiches,” she said, careful to look straight ahead as she walked out of the room. “Hope you like ale. It\'s either that or tea without milk. Or sugar.”



Or without the tea apparently, as she looked inside her empty tea tin. “Make that just ale.”



Between work and the wedding, Asteria had had no time for shopping and had the nearly-bare cold cupboard to show for it. Inside were four bottles of Ogden\'s Best Ale, an opened bag of Salt and Vinegar crisps, some sliced corned beef she had picked up at a Muggle deli, enough rye bread for one sandwich, and two full jars: one of pickles and the other of mustard.



“Ale\'s fine.” Malfoy strolled into the kitchen barefoot, hands in his pockets and his shirt haphazardly buttoned. Asteria held her breath as he came to stand behind her, his breath tickling her neck as he looked over her shoulder. The comment - the touch – she\'d been expecting never came. Without a word he wandered into the sitting room to look at one of the bookcases. She winced as she thought of the pictures she had up there. One in particular marked her awkward early adolescence before she learned how to do her hair, groom her eyebrows, and before she\'d had her teeth fixed. It was her and her aunt at Asteria\'s last ballet recital. She had loved dancing but with her fuller hips and breasts she was told she was getting “too heavy” to be a dancer and she felt awkward next to the other girls – graceful and slender like ballerinas should be in their tights and leotards. It was like being a Hippogriff in a room full of swans. Her mother would later console her by telling her she\'d grow out of it and advising her never to get too thin or else she would look “horsey.”



“Potions Club, Glee Club, Gobstones Club.” Asteria turned to see Malfoy examining the photos on one of her bookcases as she had expected. Perhaps sensing her attention, he looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “What an active social life you must have led.”



“There\'s more to life than Quidditch,” she said, placing the sandwiches, chips, and ale on the table.



“Luckily for you.” Malfoy came to a stop at the table. With a frown, he picked up one of the crisps. “Is this Muggle food?”



Having Squib and wizarding relatives all over the world, Asteria sometimes forgot how insular the British wizarding world could be. This was especially true among the former members of the upper-echelons of wizarding society. Much of Muggle culture that had permeated wizarding societies abroad – food, music, dress – was utterly foreign to many British wizards. “They\'re very popular with American wizards.”



Snorting, Malfoy muttered something under his breath. She didn\'t catch all of it but she did make out the words, “not proper wizards.” He did try a crisp, however, giving a little “hmph” sound that Asteria chose to interpret as reluctant enjoyment.



“What do you do at St. Mungo\'s?” Malfoy asked in-between bites of his sandwich. Her confusion must have been obvious because he jerked a thumb back in the direction the bookcases, clarifying, “There\'s a picture of you in your robes.”



That picture being the day she began at St. Mungo\'s, standing along with the others from her class, all of them in their myrtle green Trainee Healer robes. “I work in the Janus Thickney Ward or I will,” she amended with a small grin. “I don\'t officially begin my rotation until Monday.”



To her surprise, Malfoy looked rather interested. “You\'ve been up there? Is it true what they say about the patient with the dog\'s head and that the rest are just you know,” to elaborate his point, Malfoy made a grotesque face – head lolling to the side, hands dangling limply in front of him and tongue hanging out.



“Are you having some sort of seizure?” Asteria asked coldly, raising an eyebrow at him. She wondered if he was trying to get a rise out of her or if being so obnoxious was second-nature to him.



He scowled. “It\'s a joke. What crawled up your arse and died?”



“Forgive me, I forgot how funny the Cruciatus Curse could be.”



For a brief moment, Malfoy looked wounded by this. Then he caught himself and schooled his features into haughty indifference. An awkward silence settled over the pair as they picked at their food and drank their ale. Belatedly, Asteria realized Malfoy might have taken her comment as a remark on his past.



While they had never been anything more than acquaintances, she doubted very much that he had enjoyed his time in You-Know-Who\'s ranks. She remembered seeing him around the Slytherin common room and the moody silence that marked their few shared Prefect rounds. Malfoy didn\'t strike her then as someone who was comfortable with what he was being asked to do. That was proven when he was stripped of his Head Boy badge after Easter hols for his inability to “help” the Carrows during detentions and falling out of favor with You-Know-Who. Crabbe then became Head Boy and Malfoy seemed to try his best to fade into the background.



Asteria\'s gaze slid down to his left arm resting on the table. The shirt cuffs were open and she could still see the bandage that covered most of his forearm. She had noticed earlier but – being more engrossed in other things – hadn\'t understood its significance.



That reminded her of something else. Earlier she had found with her hands and her mouth a faded scar that extended from his torso to his neck. It might be more than one, it was hard to tell, as it was very visible on his neck then disappeared on his chest. Pointing to her own neck, she asked, “What happened?”



His face darkened. “Potter happened.”



“Potter...” An old memory came to mind of her fourth year and rumors about a fight between Malfoy and Potter. “Pansy was telling the truth?”



“As hard as it may be to believe about Perfect Potter, yes, she was.”



She rolled her eyes. Her disbelief had nothing do with Potter and everything to do with Pansy and Malfoy. In her first year, when Pansy had told everyone how Malfoy\'s arm was nearly torn off by a Hippogriff, Asteria learned that the pair were prone to wild exaggeration – to put it mildly. Three years later, when she claimed that Potter had nearly gutted Malfoy, Asteria ignored it as more of their antics.



Looking at the silvery-white scar that began under his left ear only to disappear above his sternum, she knew the only thing that could leave scars like that would be a Dark Curse.



“Take a picture, it\'ll last longer,” Malfoy drawled.



“Are you done?” she asked, rising from her seat and indicating to his nearly empty plate. Not waiting for him to answer, Asteria grabbed it along with her own and made her way to the sink.



Since there were only two, she didn\'t bother with the charm, instead washing them the Muggle way. Wondering what should happen next and if it was time to shove him in the Floo saying she had work in the morning, Asteria glanced up and caught sight of Draco\'s reflection in the window over the sink. He had one hand draped over the back of the chair where he sat, his white-blond hair still ruffled from bed and an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her. Malfoy was too thin and pointy to be handsome but she still found herself lingering over the curve of his lips and those hooded gray eyes. It wasn\'t an entirely unpleasant picture.



“Tonight was your first time, yeah?”



Her gripped tightened on the plate she was drying. Foolish as it was, she had hoped he wouldn\'t figure it out. Other than a few breathless groans about how “tight” she was, Malfoy hadn\'t said anything. As pointless as it was to deny it now, she still didn\'t want to tell him he was right.



“Don\'t be upset, Greengrass. It\'s always an honor to be someone\'s first. And you know, you weren\'t half bad so there\'s--”



“Oh, fuck off, Malfoy,” Asteria snapped, setting the plate down harder than she intended. He chuckled at this, coming over to where she was standing, his hands resting on her waist.



Those same hands slowly slid up her torso till Malfoy was cupping her breasts, thumbs slowly circling the peaks through the silk of her dressing gown. Even while hating the effect he had on her, she arched in his grasp, brushing against him. Pressing hard against her, Malfoy\'s mouth was on her neck, teeth scraping just below her ear before he whispered, “So, interested in another go?”



Judging from the lopsided grin he wore, he already knew the answer.



Pulling open the top of her dressing gown, Malfoy pushed up her breasts as they kissed, pinching the hardened nipples till she whimpered. Remembering how good it had felt when it had been his tongue and teeth teasing her, Asteria wriggled free from his grasp to turn to face him. Momentarily surprised, Malfoy recovered quickly, cupping her arse as they kissed. They took a few short steps like that, stopping when the table hit the back of her legs. He nudged her onto the table and hoping it was sturdy enough, Asteria sat down.



That simple movement was enough to make her loosened dressing gown fall open, leaving Asteria completely exposed in her brightly-lit kitchen. Instinctively, she attempted to close her legs but that was impossible with Malfoy standing in between them, so she instead tried covering herself with dressing gown.



“Don\'t.” He grabbed her wrist, trailing his fingers slowly down her inner thigh in a way that made her squirm. Face aflame and dropping her gaze, Asteria spread her legs as Malfoy stroked her clit with maddeningly light touches that left her wanting more. Soon she found herself splayed on the table, Malfoy\'s mouth covering one breast while his fingers pumped in and out of her. Sucking and biting her neck, he asked in a low voice, “Do you want me to fuck you?”



She would have thought that the way her hips were thrusting, trying to meet his movements would be answer enough but she gave a small nod.



“I\'m sorry, I couldn\'t hear that.”



“You\'re an arse.”



Laughing softly at this, his ministrations didn\'t stop but his fingers now moved at an agonizingly slow pace, lazily stroking in and out.



“Malfoy,” she whined, not caring how wanton she must seem as tried to move her hips faster in hopes he\'d comply.



“You didn\'t answer my question,” he chided.



“Yes, all right, yes.”



“Yes...?” he prompted, his fingers no longer moving in and out of her, instead slowly rubbing on her spot while his thumb applied pressure to her clit.



Certain she was going to go mad if he kept it up, she looked him right in the eye. “Fuck me.”



Malfoy responded by kissing her roughly, biting her lower lip before running his tongue over it. She heard the sound of him undoing his flies. Eager for him to feel his skin against hers again, she unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and onto the floor.



“Lie back,” he muttered before grabbing her hips tightly and pulling her legs onto his shoulders. The first time he had entered her slowly, with shallow strokes that had made her toes curl and want more. Now, Malfoy pushed inside in one smooth move, barely waiting before he started thrusting into her faster and faster. Like their first time, the pain she felt soon gave way to need. As much as she could, Asteria tried to match his movements, hips grinding against his as he fucked her.



It still wasn\'t enough.



“Touch yourself.” She blinked in surprise at the demand, her own embarrassment over doing such a thing in front of him warring with her excitement. “Do it, you know you want to.” Gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, he bit his lower lip in concentration as he slowed his movements, drawing out each thrust. “And I want to watch.”



She did. Lying back against the table, Asteria cupped her breasts, sliding her thumbs over her nipples, pinching them like he had. Malfoy fucked her harder in response and she was certain that if she had the patience, she could come just from this.



But she didn\'t have that kind of patience and her right hand snaked its way between her thighs. She rubbed her clit, moaning louder and louder as her orgasm built within her till it overtook her. Malfoy growled, hips snapping at an unsteady pace as he pounded into her until soon he came with a cry.



Hunched over her as he tried to catch his breath, Malfoy rested his head on her shoulder. He looked every bit as exhausted as she felt, and if she thought either of them capable of it without splinching, Asteria would have suggested Apparating to her bedroom. Struck by an odd sense of tenderness as she looked at Malfoy, she smoothed his damp hair back, hand cupping his face. Malfoy opened his eyes and she leaned into kiss him, a slower and softer kiss than any of the others that had preceded it.



“You can stay the night, if you want,” she said shyly when they broke apart. “It\'s late.”



Malfoy snorted. “I should bloody well think so.”