Court This Disaster

"I saw you leave with Draco Malfoy," Daphne said once the waiter was out of earshot. They were meeting for lunch at the Silver Chalice so her sister could discuss her wedding plans.

Taking a sip of her water, Asteria remained composed. Meeting her sister's gaze, she reminded herself that it was she and not Daphne who was the Legilimens. "The Floos were all crowded and I had a little too much to drink to attempt Apparating, so he offered me a flight home."

"How chivalrous," Daphne responded dryly, clearly not believing a word.

Schooling her features into a look of utter innocence, she nodded. Her family tended to think she was too naive for her own good, a useful if maddening assumption. "I thought so, yes. When did Pansy say she was meeting us here?"

"Her Portkey was for a quarter to.” Daphne glanced at the delicate gold watch on her wrist, a birthday gift from Ernie. “She should be here any minute. Mum saw you leave, you know."

“Did she see who with?” As soon as the question left her lips, Asteria realized how silly it was. If her mother had seen her leave the reception with Draco Malfoy, she would have heard from her by now. Possibly by Howler.

“Of course not. You'd never hear the end of it if she had. She did see that you had left with a man and spent the rest of the night asking me if I had any idea who it could be,” her sister said casually, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder. Asteria was tempted to tell her everything. She wanted to tell someone and while Daphne disliked Malfoy, she wouldn't be angry or disappointed. Slightly nauseated and wondering if a Confundus Charm was involved, perhaps, but it wasn't as if she'd be disowned.

Before she could do any of that, however, Daphne spoke again. “Mum kept asking Auntie Chava if that Muggle cousin of hers – the one who's about your age and unattached – will be visiting any time soon.”

“I'm not dating some random Muggle!” Asteria blurted a little too loudly. Daphne's brown eyes went wide and she blinked in surprise.

“I don't even know this person and Muggle-Wizard relationships rarely work out anyway.” Asteria grumbled, pushing back the dark curl that had come loose from her bun. “I reckon it's all that lying you have to do.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Asteria scowled at her. “Remind me again of all the Muggles you've dated.”

Daphne merely laughed. “Don't be so defensive, Azzy. Besides, Auntie Chava's cousin is a Muggle soldier and won't be visiting England any time soon, so you're safe. However, the Zellers' youngest boy just entered his final year at Hogwarts so don't be surprised if Mum starts inviting him for tea next June.”

“Don't even joke about that.” Hélène Greengrass had believed that one of her daughters would be able to convince her husband to convert just like she had for her husband. Things hadn't quite worked out that way. Kallisto had no intention on raising her children in any faith and Daphne was actually converting rather than Ernie. So now all their mother's plans rested on Asteria.

“With Kalli and I squared away, Mum can focus all her energy on making sure there's a canopy in store for you.”

“I don't know why you need to convert, it's not like there's a shortage of Presbyterians,” she muttered, frowning as she realized how much she sounded like her mum.

“Oh, please. You were always the most observant. It's only natural she would focus on you.”

Asteria's frowned deepened. “Kalli might change her mind when she's ready to have children.”

“You're joking, right?” Daphne said incredulously. “Have you forgotten the arguments the two of you would get into when she would tell you that ghosts weren't proof that there was an afterlife, just examples of magic we didn't understand yet?”

She had. That argument had happened when Kallisto was fifteen and Asteria was eleven. Afterwards, out of a mixture of spite and genuine concern, she had told their rabbi what her sister had said and he had called Kallisto and their parents in for a talk. Two weeks had passed before her sister would speak to her again.

“She's here!” Smiling brightly, Daphne stood. “Pansy!”

Asteria turned just in time to see Pansy enter the restaurant, a white hat covering her dark bob and wearing a pale pink dress. Raising one gloved hand, Pansy waved. “Queenie!”

The two women embraced, giggling and talking over each other. Asteria was reminded of their Hogwarts years when she was stuck tagging along with Daphne (for as long as her sister would allow) until she made friends of her own. Back then she had envied the friendship her sister and Pansy had shared and had resented Pansy for being closer to her sister than she was.

“Oh and hullo to you too, Asteria,” Pansy said, turning to embrace her loosely and kiss her cheek like she had Daphne's. Once they were done exchanging pleasantries, the three sat and a conspiratorial smirk came across Pansy's face. “You'll never guess who I saw on a date with Eloise Midgen.”

“Blaise Zabini?” Asteria asked, having passed by the couple earlier on her way to the restaurant.

Pansy looked at her, then pouted at Daphne when she realized the other woman wasn't as surprised as she was. “You knew about this? And you didn't tell me?”

“Blaise has been sniffing around any and all female members of Dumbledore's Army since he returned from Italy. First he tried the Patil twins and they both turned him down,” she began, glancing to Asteria for confirmation, “then he had his sights set on Hannah Abbott but she was seeing someone so he took up with Su Li and they actually dated for a while but then broke up and for a week now it's been Eloise. I think he hopes he can marry someone who was on the winning side.”

Pansy crinkled her nose. “But Eloise Midgen...”

“Her acne has really cleared up since Hogwarts. And she's finally started dressing better,” Daphne offered with a small shrug.

“Well, when he finally gets his vision checked, if he's willing to lower his standards to someone who only fought in the last battle, he's free to give me a call.”

“Oh, darling,” Daphne cooed sympathetically, her face falling at Pansy's quip. Asteria stared at the two in confusion. “Does that mean it's over?”

Attempting a brave smile, Pansy nodded. “I moved out at the beginning of the week and signed the papers last night.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“It's for the best. Alex has been absolutely miserable to live with since he lost the money he had tied up in the Muggle markets. Apparently the Muggles are off having a war in Central Asia and the economy only began to recover after he took his money out of their markets.” She waved her hand as if shooing away a fly, her glove riding up slightly to show the blackened skin underneath. “He tried several times to explain to me what was happening but I couldn't make sense of it.”

“So what happens now? Are you going to stay in the States or come back here?” Daphne asked, a hopeful note in her voice.

“I'm never coming back to stay. England is the past for me and besides, I don't think Skeeter would appreciate the competition. No, I'm staying in the States but not in Connecticut. New York City is nice but I couldn't live there, there are Muggles everywhere,” she gave a small shudder.

“Maybe I'll head out West, try California. With winter on the way, it would be nice to be somewhere that's always warm and sunny. Anyway, enough about me. How are the two of you?” She raised an eyebrow and grinned playfully at Asteria. “Dare I ask how we came by this knowledge of Blaise Zabini's personal life?”

“My sister prefers moonlit flights with Draco Malfoy to Blaise's dubious charms.”

Not wanting to talk about what had happened, Asteria rolled her eyes and lied, “He was just giving me a flight home, that's all.”

“Out of the goodness of his heart?” Pansy asked, clearly not believing this anymore than Daphne had.

In a teasing voice, her sister replied before Asteria could. “What, they doesn't sound exactly like the boy we knew?”

“Maybe the war has changed him for the better.”

Daphne snorted at this. “I'll believe that when Crups fly.”

Wishing the waiter would come by so they could get off this topic already, Asteria raised her water glass to her mouth.

“But really, Azzy, I hope you didn't do anything stupid like sleep with him.”

Asteria choked on her water, coughing and setting her glass down so she could grab the napkin off her lap.

“I think that's 'no',” Pansy said dryly.

“I hope so. Could you imagine sleeping with that tosser? He probably calls out his own name during sex.”

Daphne and Pansy shared a laugh over this and Asteria was grateful that her recent coughing fit exempted her from joining in. Her face went pink as she remembered the things Malfoy did say, the completely filthy things he would whisper hot against her neck as he slid between her legs.

Misinterpreting her blush, Pansy took pity on her. “I think we've insulted your sister's honor.”

“She'll survive.”

Mercifully, before the conversation could go any further, the waiter finally came back to their table. “Ready to order?”

***

After devoting nearly an hour to discussing flowers and the merits of scalloped potatoes versus roasted, Asteria understood why her sister had chosen Pansy as her maid-of-honor. Some time during the discussion of what differentiated navy blue from midnight blue and which would go best with the Macmillan tartan, Asteria had been ready to walk out of the restaurant. She'd spent a year listening to Kallisto go on about the same mind-numbingly dull details and now she would spend several months listening to Daphne do the same.

Slipping back into the emerald green robes that identified her as second-year Trainee, she tightened her bun as she hurried back towards the Janus Thickey Ward. Checking her reflection in the mirror, Asteria realized she had yet to thank Nurse Tonks for that suggestion. When she had started on Monday, she'd worn her long black hair pulled away from her face but loose. This had proven to be a mistake as Frank Longbottom became very agitated when he saw her. After a lot of confusion it was the nurse who had figured out what the trouble was.

Pulling out her wand, Asteria was about to unlock the doors to the ward when they opened. Nurse Tonks bustled out, her dark hair mostly covered by the white cap she wore and a large bottle of Skele-Gro in her hand.

“Healer Leach is looking for you,” she said by way of greeting as she returned her wand to the pocket of her white apron.

Merlin's beard, she had nearly forgotten. Today, they were going over spell damage that resulted in long-term mental problems. “Thank you.”

Pushing the door open, Asteria nearly ran into Gilderoy Lockhart. Standing near the door he wore his usual uniform of paisley pajamas, lilac dressing gown, and a dazzling if vacant smile. “Well, hello again! Back so soon?”

Lockhart's memory was a strange thing. Some weeks were very kind to him and he could remember the faces, if not names, of all the nurses and Healers as well as bits and pieces of his past. Then there were weeks where he didn't seem to remember what had happened a few hours ago.

"Yes, I am back from lunch," Asteria answered, laying a hand on his shoulder so she could guide him back inside. "What were you up to? Not trying to sneak out, were you?"

From what she had heard, Lockhart's attempts to escape were a regular occurrence. Once he got as far as the third floor before one of the nurses spotted him.

"I wasn't going to leave!" he said quickly. "I just wanted to have a look around. Gets a bit dull here, you see."

"I know." As one of the more active patients on the ward, Lockhart usually spent his time wandering aimlessly, signing autographs that would go to no one, and looking to the staff for company.

"Is Healer Leach around?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him back towards his bed. "She might have more books for you to read."

They had tried giving him his own books to read in the hopes that it would jog his memory but while amazed that he had once claimed to be so accomplished, he showed no memory of his past.

"No, she had to go see another patient." His face fell into a frown and he leaned in, whispering to her, "Healer McFinley is there now and you know how I feel about him."

“Is he?” She hadn't known who would be leading today's discussion but if McFinley was here, then it had to be him. Not a wizard known for his patience or bedside manner, if it weren't for talent he likely wouldn't have a job. In her two years at St. Mungo's, Asteria couldn't think of a single Healer, Medi-wizard, or nurse that McFinley hadn't insulted.

“Well, he's likely here to talk about memory loss,” she said as they entered the ward. “I don't think there will be much yelling today.”

“Princess!” McFinley called out to her, Healers Patil and Deverill on either side of him. Standing between them like that only made their differences in appearance more obvious. Patil and Deverill looked how proper Healers should; she in her harlequin green robes that were buttoned up to her throat, her dark hair pulled into a french twist, and the only sign of ornamentation being the delicate gold hoop earrings she wore and him with close-cropped white beard, horn-rimmed glasses and gray robes under the neatly-pressed lime green Healer robes he wore. McFinley, in contrast, wore slightly rumpled lime green robes that were opened to show the Kenmare Kestrels t-shirt underneath. His curly brown-and-gray hair looked a bit wilder than usual which meant he'd probably been grabbing it while yelling at some poor Trainee Healer until they ran away, pissing themselves in fear and – as usual – he was sporting a five o'clock shadow despite it only being five after one.

Asteria sighed and Lockhart scurried away, eager to put some distance between them. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

“I was escorting a patient --”

Making a great show of being annoyed, he groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Did I ask?”

“No but I just thought--”

“Princess? No one cares.”

Times like these, it galled her to remember how she once thought his behavior roguishly charming.

“Now, since you're finally here we can begin our foray into the soul-crushing topic of the long-term mental effects from spell damage.”

“I'll leave you to it, then,” Deverill murmured as he left the room.

“Good riddance. All right. For today's topic we will be focusing on Mr. Lockhart, who is currently attempting to slip out of the ward by hiding by the doors -” both Padma and Asteria turned to find that Lockhart was indeed huddled in a corner by the door, waiting for them to open it - “and who is here due to an Memory Charm that backfired. I would take that as a prime example of divine retribution if I were to believe in such dragonshit. However, the next four patients prove why thinking there is any grand design is pointless and also are part of the reason I like to drink in the morning. First up is Heidi Macavoy,” he said, pointing to a young woman who was just a year younger than Asteria, huddled on her bed, back to them, “who at fourteen was chained-up at school and tortured repeatedly with the Cruciatus because her father was a Hit Wizard who refused to play along with the Death Eaters.”

Moving aside, McFinley pointed to a man with a ponytail standing stock-still by the window, arms raised over his head. “Then there is Reginald Williams, a former Auror who, thanks to a combination of spells including but not limited to the Imperius Curse, thinks he is a tree, and finally -” McFinley gestured towards Alice and Frank Longbottom, sitting side by side and staring straight ahead - “we have the Longbottoms, who were tortured for so long they now suffer from a permanent case of CLBNH – Candles Lit, But Nobody's Home.”

“Now, if you can hold off your questions until later when Healer Patil can hold your hand --”

Asteria ignored this, instead gesturing towards the dog-headed woman who was currently trying to bunch up her bedding so she could sleep on it. “What about Agnes Sullivan? Surely her condition must have some complications that we need to discuss.”

“While I'm certain it does, Princess, unless you know how to speak dog, we won't be able to cover them just yet. Anything else?”

Knowing that prolonging McFinley's stay would only lead to him being in a towering temper, she shook her head. One thing she had quickly learned about the wizard was that he hated any problem he couldn't solve and this ward was full of them.

“Fantastic. Let's get started, shall we?”

***

“Macavoy is the one who's seen the most recovery from what I've heard. When they first brought her here, she wouldn't even let people near her and had to be fed and washed,” Padma told her later, after McFinley had left. “Leach says they'd learned a lot about how to treat her from the Longbottoms but after a certain point she hit a plateau and they haven't seen any improvements in her since.”

“That's what I thought.” Asteria pursed her lips, wondering how to phrase the next question. Padma was a half-blood but she didn't know how much the other witch knew of Muggle medicine. There was also, as much as she hated to admit it, the little problem of her own competitive nature. She was determined to do great things here and very early on at her tenure at St. Mungo's, she quickly identified Padma as both a potential mentor and rival. “This might sound outlandish, but how familiar are you with psychiatry?”

“The Muggle study into thoughts and emotions?” She gave Asteria an appraising look. “I get the general idea though my knowledge doesn't go much deeper than that.”

“I don't know much myself, to be honest. But my uncle – he's a Squib – was telling me about it and how Muggles use it to treat people who've gone through traumatic events. I'm not sure how they do it or how it would work with those who won't talk,” she admitted reluctantly, “but I think it's worth a try.”

Padma nodded her head. Gesturing about the room where everyone but Lockhart and Macavoy were laying on their beds despite it only being late afternoon, she said, “Anything has to be better than this.”

“Gilderoy!” Healer Leach bustled into the room, nearly walking into Lockhart as she did. Shooting a cross look at Padma and Asteria, the older witch began fretting over her favorite patient. “You poor lamb, you must be bored out of your mind with no one to talk to. Why don't we work on a puzzle? Would you like that?”

Lockhart barely had the chance to nod before she answered her own question. “Of course you would.”

Padma rolled her eyes.

“By the way, Healer Greengrass, you have a patient waiting for you downstairs in Casualty.” There was a disapproving note in Leach's voice, though for the life of her, Asteria couldn't figure out why. “Said he saw you over the weekend.”

“I didn't see anyone...” her voice trailed off as she realized who it could be. Both Padma and Leach gave her an odd look. “Nevermind. I'll go see to them now.”

“He's waiting in room 1 C,” Leach called after her.

Hurrying towards the lift, Asteria checked her reflection on the mirrored surface inside. She bit her lower lip; if it wasn't him she'd feel ridiculous. But who else could it be? She hadn't seen any patients over the weekend, instead spending Friday doing research and Saturday at the wedding.

Malfoy had left early Sunday morning. She had awoken to the sound of him moving around her bedroom as he got dressed and pretended to be asleep, hoping to avoid an awkward good-bye. However, Malfoy had seen right through this, kissing her on the forehead as he whispered, “See you around, Greengrass,” and smirking when she opened her eyes.

Stepping out as soon as the doors of the lift opened, she gave a nod to the receptionist at the desk and stopped outside the room to gather her wits. Again, she thought if it wasn't Malfoy in there she would feel awfully foolish.

And more disappointed than she cared to admit.

Asteria entered the room to find Malfoy lounging on the table, hands behind his head as he looked about the room. He turned his head and gave a cocky grin when he saw her.

“Malfoy, what are you doing here?”

“I was in the area,” he said casually, sitting up but not moving from the table. “Thought I would pop in and see if you fancy a game of Healer.”

She scoffed, assuming he was joking. “I have work to do.”

“Later then. We can meet up at your place,” Malfoy said, shrugging off his obvious disappointment.

“You really came over to see if we could get together later to...” her voice trailed off. This was easier when she'd had a few.

“Fuck? Yes.” He rested his hands on her hips. Even under the layers of clothing she wore, Asteria felt her skin grown warm from the touch. “I know we had a bit of a bumpy start there, Greengrass, but by that third time, I really think we were getting into the swing of things.”

That last time had been slow and lazy as they lay in bed together, her back against his chest and his hand slipping between her thighs as he slid inside her again. Asteria had spent all of Sunday and much of Monday replaying that and the other two times while wondering if he would call.

Taking his hands in hers, she gently pushed them off and took a step back. “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

He blinked, his open, joking demeanor evaporating. “Right.” Pushing off the table, he brushed past her as he walked out of the room, his jaw set and a hard look in his eyes. “My apologies for bothering you.”

She closed her eyes, memories of that night flooding her mind.

“Malfoy--” Asteria turned to find the room empty. She hurried out after him, walking quickly and trying to sound calm and professional as she called after his retreating back, “Mr. Malfoy! A moment please.”

“Yes, Healer Greengrass?” he asked coolly.

With a nervous look around, she murmured, “I'll be home tonight by seven.”

Remaining silent, Malfoy's only response was to arch his brow. Just when she wondered if she had made a mistake, he said, “Seven it is. See you then.”

She nodded, turning to leave when he said in a louder voice, “Oh, and Healer Greengrass, thanks so much for the personal attention on such short notice.” He smirked. “I appreciate it.”