The Beauty of Grey: The Bitterness Inside

Chapter 3 – Head Spinning

“And I don’t know why
I can’t keep my eyes off of you”
- ‘You and Me’ - Lifehouse


Draco walked into his room at the manor, and slammed the door behind him. He gritted his teeth so that he would not scream. ‘Sophie,’ he said as calmly as he could muster and then there was a loud crack and a small house elf stood in front of him. She was wearing a purple dishcloth that was dirty and frayed.

‘Yes, Master Draco?’ she said. She did not quiver at the sight of him like the rest did. Sophie was Draco’s house elf. She was the one that changed his diapers when he was a baby, his mother never did that. She knew him since he was born and Draco had a secret soft spot for her. He was never mean to her unless he was in front of his parents, and even then he tried to be as civilized as possible.

‘Could you please bring me a pain-reliever potion and maybe one to help me sleep?’ he said, he was sure that there was pleading in his voice.

‘Of course, Master Draco,’ and with another crack she was gone.

Draco fell down on his huge bed and the midnight blue duvet puffed out around him. He hid his face in his hands and tried to hold back the tears. He could hear the clinking of knives and forks in the silence of his room. He got up and walked to his record player, and started to play the vinyl record that was in. The room was quickly filled with a soothing sound of music.

It was not long before Sophie was back with the potions in hand. She gave them to Draco and walked into his bathroom. ‘Master Draco should take a hot bath,’ she said.

Draco heard the water running into the tub.

When Sophie came out of the bathroom, she walked over to him and patted his hand with her small one. ‘Master Draco?’ she said softly. ‘You must not be sad.’

Draco smiled at her. ‘Thank you, Sophie,’ he said. ‘You’re good to me.’

‘Have a good evening, Master Draco,’ she said, before bowing and then disappearing again.

Draco took off all his clothes and dumped it all into the laundry basket. Then he walked into the bathroom, and the room was filled with steam and the smell of jasmine. He sank slowly into the warm water, and felt his body relax. Draco washed up, and then stayed there until the water turned cold. He got out dried himself off with a fluffy towel waiting for him by the side of the bathtub, rubbed his hair as dry as he could, and climbed into his warm bed without bothering with pyjamas. He downed the two potions, and waited to fall asleep. Luckily it came quickly.



He glanced back at the manor from outside the gate. It was four days before Christmas, he had only been home for five days and it was killing him. He threw the house and everyone in it a dirty look and then side-Apparated with a loud pop with Sophie, resenting that he could only pass the Apparation Test next year.
He opened his eyes and was a little comforted by the loads of people, witches and wizards, walking around in the little crowded cobblestone street that was Diagon Alley. Loads of families and couples were walking together, their hands full of bags filled with Christmas shopping. Everyone was laughing and seemed happy. Draco felt like he was missing out.

‘Thank you, Sophie,’ he said down to her.

‘Yes, Master Draco,’ and then she clicked her fingers and was gone.

He went shopping, picking up gifts for everyone, not even looking at the price tags. He tried really hard to keep the previous night’s events out of his mind, but it was difficult.

There had been another Death Eater dinner graciously hosted by his mother. Draco already detested them, he did not need more of a reason to question everything these people stood for, but he got a few. Draco sat next to his mother at the large table, trying to make himself as small as possible so that no one would notice him. There was plenty of good mead and Firewhisky and good food. Normally in cases such as this, Draco would eat quickly, skip desert and take off as soon as possible. But this very night, the raucous laughter and drunken behaviour started sooner than he would have liked, and it reminded him painfully of a similar evening exactly three years ago. Trying very hard to keep that particular memory at bay, he tried to shovel the roast beef into his mouth as fast and delicately as he could.

‘Lucius! You said everything went well with the attack?’ Macnair roared across the table.
‘Yes, of course. The Dark Lord would have my life, and yours for that matter, if it did not,’ Lucius said in his greasy voice.

‘Right you are, Malfoy,’ Macnair said.

‘You have all relevant information?’ another man asked from the other side of the table.

‘We do,’ Lucius drawled, sounding proud of himself. ‘We know what the Dark Lord covets is hidden in the Department of Mysteries. Unfortunately for us there is a pesky member of Dumbledore’s Order keeping guard at all times,’ he flipped his long blond hair over his shoulder. ‘But we have come up with a brilliant plan to thwart their efforts – and the plan succeeded.’

‘What?’

‘How?’

‘Tell us?’

There was a sudden noise around the table, that was silent as the grave a second ago as everyone asked Lucius to tell them the evil plan.

Draco perked his ears, but showed no interest. He kept eating his dinner.

‘Well now, I cannot go and reveal the Dark Lord’s plan. We already know that there is a spy in our ranks. But I will tell you this; it seems like Arthur Weasley, the old fool, was the one on duty for the Order on that particular night.’ Lucius did not say anything else, but smiled at his fellow Death Eaters as they all had a hungry look in their eyes.

‘It’s about time that blood traitor got what he deserved,’ a woman with short cropped hair said.
‘Yes, and soon little Draco here, will join us, and then he can help us to get the lousy red heads gone for good,’ a particularly drunk Roubastov slurred.

‘I would be proud to have him as a son in law in a few short years,’ Douglas Parkinson said, puffing out his chest.

There was a rushing in Draco’s ears, and he clenched his teeth. As soon as he could he excused himself and ran upstairs.

Chills ran through Draco body as he remembered. Arthur Weasley had probably been killed. That was why Potter and the Weasleys left early for the Christmas break. What disturbed Draco most was that they were sitting there around the table, six days before Christmas, being merry around the dinner table, drinking and laughing at the prospect of murdering other people because they did not believe the same thing that they did.

He also knew that he could never speak of it to anyone. Except that he wouldn’t anyway – the consequences would be too great, there was a spell that prevented you from speaking about certain things without someone knowing about it. Draco knew that if he were to betray Voldemort, he would pay with his life, and lose everyone he loved.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the bad memories and the bad feeling creeping over him. He could not save the world, he could not feel responsible for every life in this war. He could simply wait and see how it plays out. Maybe Potter will be kind and stop all of this before it gets much worse.

When Draco had bought everything he needed, he headed towards the bookstore in Diagon Alley. It was filled with people, and Mr. Blott was running from one customer to the next to give them advice and help them find what they were looking for. Mr. Blott was a rather tall man with dark thinning hair, he had glasses on his nose and he had big hands. Draco noticed his hands the first time he came here to buy books with his mother. He held the books with those large hands, carefully handling them, paging through them and in some cases stroking the spines. He had a friendly smile, but he always seemed a little confused, but there was a definite intelligence shining from his dark eyes that came from years of experience with life and books.

Draco walked slowly and took in the bookstore again. There were shelves of books of all shapes and sizes, written about anything and everything. The posters on the walls that showed the releases of new and anticipated books, and some old posters that showed the releases of classics a long time ago.

He saw Astoria after a few minutes of browsing the aisles. She was on the second floor, stacking books with the help of an ancient house elf. She was wearing jeans and a red top, Muggle clothes, which looked funny to Draco, because he very seldom saw her clothes like that mostly he remember seeing her in school uniform and the memorable Yule Ball dress.

Most noticeably about her appearance was not her flushed cheeks, or the way she looked in a pair of washed out jeans, which was pleasing to Draco, but that she had cut her long hair off. It was no longer swaying around her waist, but was cut short around her face, maybe about two to three inches in length. It looked so different. She seemed younger in the sense that it made her look a little mischievous. And it made her look older and more mature at the same time.

Draco stood and watched her for a while without saying anything. He looked at how softly and kindly she spoke to the house elf and the way she moved while picking up books or placing them down. He stole a look at a flash of skin that appeared between her jeans and her top every time she raised her arms to place a book on a high shelf. He also appreciated the view of white skin on the back of her neck that he had never seen before.

‘We’ll take a break in a minute, Tobey. Are you still okay?’ she asked the house elf while she was rummaging through boxes, looking for books.

‘Yes, Miss, I’m okay. We can go longer if you want,’ he said in a shaky voice. He must really be old.
‘No, I’m tired too. You can go, I just want to finish this one,’ she said.

‘I’ll stay, Miss, what if...’ the house elf protested.

‘Tobey! Go, and take a break, for Merlin’s sake,’ she said still kindly.

‘Yes, Miss,’ and this time he got up and shuffled towards the stairs, walking slowly and with difficulty.

‘Morning, Master,’ he said to Draco as he walked by him. ‘Is there something that Tobey can help you with?’ and then he bowed lowly, and Draco was scared he might not be able to get up straight again.

‘Oh, no, thank you,’ Draco said, surprised by the good language and courtesy shown by the house elf. They have no obligation to serve anyone that they’re not in service to. Draco guessed that it was part of working in a bookstore.

The house elf bowed a second time, and then proceeded to the edge of the steps that he eyed warily and then he just snapped his fingers and was gone with a pop.

The conversation had caught the attention of Astoria, who was standing with her legs on each side of a rather large box, wiping her brow. She was smiling at him.

‘You came?’ she said sounding surprised.

‘Well, I was invited,’ Draco said, smiling back and walking towards her. ‘Kind of...?’

‘How are you?’ she asked, stepping to the side, and dusting her clothes off.

‘I’m doing well, and how are you?’ he asked.

‘Busy, but fine,’ she said. ‘You’re just in time. I could use a break. It sucks that we’re not allowed to use magic outside of school. I’d be done already,’ she was giving the boxes on the floor a dirty look.

‘Well then,’ Draco said, feeling like he was floating, ‘let’s go. To the ice cream parlour?’ he asked, waiting for her to lead the way down the steps.
‘Yes,’ she said.

Draco followed her as she bounced down the crooked steps. Her short hair bobbed. She seemed to be full of energy.

‘Mr. Blott?’ she called. ‘I’m taking my break,’ she called after receiving a muffled response.

They walked outside into the sunshine that was shining on the cold road. She turned her face upwards, and smiled into the sun as it shone on her face. She walked onwards, through the many people and picked a table at Florean Fortisque’s Ice Cream Parlour that was in the outside terrace, but not directly in the flow of people.

She sat down on the blue chair, and folded her arms on the table top. Draco sat down opposite her and smiled at her enthusiasm.

‘Your hair,’ he said. ‘It looks different. I like it.’

Her hand came up and she touched it. ‘Thanks.’

‘Why did you cut it?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. I went to just get it trimmed a little, and walked out with it all cut off. I guess I just wanted to look a little different,’ she said, running her fingers through it again.

‘It suits you,’ he said.

She just broadened her smile. ‘So, how was your holiday thus far?’ she asked, gritting her teeth a little.
He gave a forced smile. ‘Just great.’

‘That bad, huh?’ she said knowingly, avoiding eye contact.

Draco blushed. ‘Yes,’ he said simply, picking up a straw wrapper that was lying on the table to keep his hands busy.

‘Well, I’ve actually finished all of my homework. So, I have more time to work here at the shop. I feel sorry for Tobey, I enjoy helping him. He can’t do it all alone,’ she said conversationally, paging through the small menu.

‘How old is that house elf?’ Draco asked, glad that she did not ask out about his holiday.

‘Sheesh,’ she looked up at the umbrella that was above them, squinting into the bright light. ‘Well, he’s been with the bookstore since it started up. He’s probably about thirty.’

‘Wow,’ Draco replied. ‘Well, my homework is also finished, so no more excuses for me to go hide in the study, hence, I am out of the house,’ Draco said not entirely sure why he felt comfortable enough to tell her all of this. No one else knew any of it.

Right then there was a witch with bubble gum in her mouth that came to take their order.

‘Three scoops of caramel ice cream, with caramel sauce, please,’ Astoria ordered.

‘Three scoops of, um,’ Draco hadn’t decided. He looked at Astoria for help.

‘Their death by chocolate is very nice. And the coffee cream is delicious,’ she helped him out.

‘The chocolate then, please,’ Draco said to the girl.

Astoria smiled at him, but as soon as Draco would look at her, she would only look for a second more and then look away. He wondered what it was with her and eye contact.

‘I’m um,’ Draco tried to carry on with their conversation. ‘I’m even done with the History of Magic essay about the Goblin Rebellion.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Me too. Can we not talk about Goblins?’ she said with a pained look on her face.
‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Well, unfortunately for me, but I guess fortunately for the rest of the world, someone has discovered the memoirs of a Goblin that was in the Rebellion. Now they’ve compiled a book with all his memoirs and I had to pack about a gazillion of them out over yesterday and this morning. His name was Torg the Toerag.’

‘Oh,’ Draco laughed. ‘How dare he have memoirs?’

She laughed too. ‘Hey, he died, along with everyone else involved in the Goblin Wars. Why all the upheaval now?’ she sighed.

‘History is important,’ Draco shrugged, thinking of all the shelves upon shelves of history books in Manor’s Library, most importantly the books about the Malfoy family.

‘Pffft. History is nothing but an agreed upon lie,’ she said, taking her fringe out of her eyes with one finger.

Draco raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Someone had to write the books that has got the history. People are funny things. They will never write the whole truth, but only the truth that they saw, or a truth that benefitted them. I doubt very much whether any of the history we know happened exactly like it is taught,’ she explained in a calm voice.
‘I guess,’ Draco said, thinking about that for the first time.

‘But it is important. And interesting, you’re right,’ she said, taking her hands off of the table and placing them on her lap so that Draco couldn’t see them anymore. ‘What did you get?’ she asked then after a few beats, pointing at the bags full of Christmas shopping he had next to him.

‘Lots of Christmas presents. I still have to pick up a few books when we’re finished,’ he said, sitting back in his chair as he noticed the same girl with the bubblegum walking closer, holding two huge glasses flowing over with ice cream.

She placed it in front of them. ‘Thanks,’ Astoria smiled at her.

As soon as she was gone, they quickly swapped the ice creams, so that they had what they had ordered. Astoria took the spoon and took a big bite of the ice cream, closing her eyes, and savouring the flavour. Draco actually blushed when he saw her because of all the images that flicked briefly through his mind.
He quickly picked up his own spoon and started on the ice cream. It was really good.

‘How many people do you have to buy for? That looks enough for the whole of Hogwarts,’ she said, after swallowing the second bite of ice cream.

‘Lots. Family, and family friends and whatever,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘It’s not something I put a lot of effort into. As long as it’s expensive they don’t give a damn.’

She nodded, ‘Oh.’

Draco flinched a little. He only thought about what to buy his mother, and Blaise, they were the only two that noticed the care he took in selecting something special. The rest never did. He thought that Crabbe and Goyle would appreciate it if they were intelligent enough to know, but they weren’t.

‘I only have my dad, Daphne and Kim to buy for, so at least that isn’t as many,’ she said looking a little relieved.

‘And your mother?’ he asked, swallowing more ice cream and licking his lips.

She was quiet for a few seconds. ‘Um, no,’ and then she sighed, ‘she died,’ she added quietly.

Draco dropped his spoon to the floor with a loud clatter. What?

‘What?’

‘My mother is dead,’ she said again.

‘When?’ How could he not know about this? He knew everything, or he thought he did.

‘I was three,’ she seemed alarmed that he was so surprised. ‘Are you okay?’

Draco tried to compose himself as well as he could. ‘Yes, I just didn’t know, is all,’ he said finally.

She frowned, and then started looking around for the waitress, and motioned to her to bring another spoon.
She waitress brought the spoon and Draco thanked her, and continued with his ice cream.

There was an awkward silence that hung around them. Draco felt like kicking himself. He was known for his ability to hide emotions, now he wrecked an afternoon that was going extremely well by being as silly as a Hufflepuff.

‘I’m sorry,’ he almost whispered.

‘It’s okay,’ she said just as softly.

By that time she was eating the last of her ice cream, scraping the bottom of the glass with her spoon. ‘This was delicious,’ she said, licking her lips.

Draco was not half way, if it had not been charmed to never melt, it would have been a puddle of brown at the bottom of his glass. He took an extra large spoonful, trying to finish his.

‘Would you like something else?’ the waitress that had snuck up behind Draco asked.

‘A strong cherry tea, please,’ she said.

‘Tea, please,’ Draco said, looking over his shoulder as the waitress left.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ she suddenly said.

‘Sure,’ he answered.

‘Are the Prefect meetings really that long?’ she said, tilting her head to the side.

He snorted. ‘Why?’

‘I just want to know,’ she said.

‘Well, yes, they can get quite lengthy. Especially with Granger there, she’s got something to say about everything,’ he said gesticulating with his spoon.

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘Why?’ he asked again, being a little more serious this time.

‘We were all wondering whether Padma, the Ravenclaw Prefect, was sneaking out for that long to do something else,’ she finished suggestively.

He smiled at her. ‘Padma? No, probably not. She’s also a little bit of a goody-goody, isn’t she?’ he asked.

‘Well, yes. But she’s been blushing a lot lately, daydreaming often. We just have a hunch. No concrete proof or anything,’ she said.

‘I’ll let you know if I see anything suspicious,’ he told her, winking at her.

She flushed a little. ‘Thank you, that would be helpful.’

They sipped their warm beverages with gratitude. The weather was turning a little foul and there was a cold breeze blowing through Diagon Alley.

Draco looked up at the sky and winced.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, also looking up at the sky.

‘I should probably go home,’ he said.

‘You don’t have to. It’s still early,’ she said.

‘Yeah, I guess. But the weather is going to get worse,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘You’re welcome to hang out in the bookstore as long as you want,’ she said, looking at him with pity.

Draco hated pity. He hated it. But from her, it wasn’t so bad, in fact, it was rather nice. ‘Thanks,’ he smiled at her.

When their bill came, she grabbed it quickly, and started digging in her pockets.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, looking at her in surprise.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, counting the amount of Sickles she had on her.

‘I’ll pay,’ he said, already having his expensive wallet at the ready.

She rolled her eyes at him again. ‘I invited you, then I pay,’ she said. She gave the money to the waitress and got up.

Draco put his wallet away again. That was a first.

‘Well, thank you for the ice cream then,’ he said.

They walked back across the street. She was rubbing her hands together to get them warm. They entered the bookstore with a clinging of the bell above the door.

‘I’m just going to look around for everything that I still need,’ Draco said to her.

‘Okay, I’m going to finish those boxes,’ she said and walked to the stairs.

Draco grabbed a huge basket, and started filling it with books. He selected each one carefully. Books were presents for his mother and for Blaise and also for his father. He chose something different for each of them.

He really did not feel like going home, so he took his time. He went over the conversation he had with Astoria a few times. She seemed a lot more relaxed today than he had seen her in the past. He could easily imagine the two of them spending the day together holding hands, stealing a kiss every now and then. There was a strange pain in his stomach at the thought that it would never happen. If he was lucky enough that she chose him, they would never be able to make it public. Not only would she be in extreme danger, but he would be punished as well.

When he was finally done, he went to pay at the register, as Mr. Blott helped him. He rung up all the books and Draco paid.

‘Thank you, sir,’ he said, politely.

‘Pleasure, son,’ he replied kindly.

‘Is it okay if I leave the books here? I just want to go talk to Astoria again,’ he explained.

‘Yes, I’ll keep it for you until you’re ready,’ he said as he took the big bag and placed it behind the counter for Draco.

Draco then turned and walked as slowly as he could towards the stairs. He ran his fingers along the spines of some books, and took every step slowly upward.

‘Can I help with anything?’ he asked and Astoria and Tobey looked up in surprise.

‘Yeah, sure, you could start with this box,’ she said, pointing to the one next to the one she was busy with.
‘What do I do, just unpack them all?’

‘Yeah, pretty much. Just tell Tobey when you start with a new book so that he can mark it off on his list,’ she explained, standing on the tips of her toes to reach a high shelf.

Draco saw that she was not going to make it. He saw that she was just too short. He quickly stood behind her, and placed his hand over hers, and successfully pushed the books onto the shelves.

She was flushed again. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.

‘Yeah, maybe I’ll finish this box and you start with the next one,’ he laughed at her.

‘Okay, that might be wise,’ she blushed as she cut the new box open with a rather large knife.

Draco’s hand tingled where he touched hers. He shivered. That was officially the closest he has ever been to her. He grinned stupidly to himself.

They packed books and more books. Astoria and Draco were panting, and even Tobey was wheezing where he sat with his list. They only spoke when they were telling Tobey what to do with the list. Astoria’s cheeks were red, she must have been very warm. When she took a hold of the bottom of her purple top to pull it off, Draco had to bite his tongue. He looked while trying to not obviously stare. Underneath she had on a black, tight fitting t-shirt. Draco nearly fainted. But it was rather hot and stuffy up here. Draco took his jacket off, too and they unpacked five more boxes between the two of them.

When it was finished Astoria said, ‘Thank Merlin and all the gods,’ and then promptly bobbed down the steps and came back with a pitcher of water and three glasses.

They all drank greedily.

When Draco saw that it was turning dark outside, his heart sank. He could linger no longer.

‘Thank you for the help, Draco,’ she said to him. ‘It went a lot quicker with some help.’

‘No problem,’ Draco said. ‘It was good exercise if nothing else.’

She laughed and drank the glass of water she was holding in one go.

Draco watched as her throat worked to swallow it all. He had to get a grip on himself.

‘Tobey,’ she almost gasped when she was done. ‘I’ll be ready to go in a minute,’ she said to the house elf.

‘That’s fine, Miss,’ then he bowed again. ‘I’ll just wait here,’ Tobey wheezed and sat down right there on his bottom, and fell backwards on the stone floor, with his arms outstretched. Draco smiled.

‘You alright, Tobey?’ Draco asked.

The house nodded mutely.

Astoria picked up her top and pulled it over her head again. ‘You know,’ she said, slightly muffled by the top. ‘You could make a good labourer. If you ever want a holiday job, I’m sure Mr. Blott’ll hire you.’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, Malfoys do not labour,’ he said.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, you are good at it regardless.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, pushing his chest out a little.

He looked out the window again and he let his shoulders fall a little.

‘You don’t have to go yet, if you don’t want to,’ she said. ‘I mean, I’m not chasing you away. You could even come and have dinner at my house.’

She said it so casually, as if she was asking an old friend to dinner. He didn’t know what to make of it yet. He was tempted, he really was.

‘No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,’ he said, buttoning up his cloak over his jacket.

‘I wouldn’t have invited you if you were going to intrude,’ she said. ‘But you really don’t have to. I just thought...’ and then she shrugged and headed down the steps.

‘What are you having for dinner then?’ he asked her, knowing he was now digging his own grave.

‘Um, I’m making vegetable lasagne,’ she said. She was taking down her scarf that hung next to the door.

‘You?’ he asked.

‘Yeah me. What do you mean?’ she asked him frowning.

‘Nothing,’ not even sure himself what he meant.

He wanted to, he really did. But what would his father say... And then he thought, well, screw my father.
‘I’d love to join you,’ he said, holding the door open for her.

‘Okay then,’ she said to him and then, ‘Bye, Mr. Blott, I’ll see you tomorrow morning,’ she said as she saw him walk past.

‘Goodbye, my girl, have a wonderful evening!’ Mr. Blott said kindly, smiling.

‘You too,’ she beamed back at him.

Then she walked towards Tobey. ‘You ready?’ she asked him.

‘Yes, Miss,’ he said as he got up.

He took a hold of her right hand, and then she held out her left hand towards Draco. Draco looked at her hand for what felt like a long time, and then he tentatively slid his hand into hers and held on tight. Tobey Apparated them to a small and narrow street that was already dark and deserted.
‘Thanks, Tobey! And goodnight,’ she said.

He bowed. ‘Of course, Miss. Good evening, Miss, Master.’

‘Goodnight, Tobey,’ Draco said and then Tobey vanished with a click of his fingers.

Astoria led him up the short pathway to a very normal looking house, where she got a key from her pocket and unlocked the front door. She pushed open the door, and the smell of food, good food, hit him first. The house was decorated in rich colours, and the furniture didn’t seem to match. A Crup came running towards Astoria and jumped up against her legs.

‘Hello, boy,’ she said, as she crouched beside the Crup and rubbed him behind the ears. ‘This is Bertie,’ she said.

Draco smiled at the enthusiastic little Jack Russell-look-alike. ‘Why Bertie?’ he asked, thinking that it was a funny name.

‘My dad asked me and Daphne what we should name him when we were little, and well, we named him after Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans,’ she shrugged.

Draco smiled. He never had any other pet than his owl. Animals weren’t allowed in the manor.

‘Let’s get the food,’ she said, as she walked to the kitchen.

Draco followed her. In contrast to the lounge, the kitchen was all in white, and was rather neat and orderly. She washed her hands at the sink and then she opened the oven, and with big gloves on her hands, she removed a dish with piping hot lasagne covered in cheese. It looked good.

‘This particular recipe takes a long time. I had a timer spell put it on the oven to cook it while I was at work,’ she said as she placed it on a wooden board, pulling the gloves off her hands.

‘It smells delicious. What vegetables are in it?’ he asked, knowing that he detested most vegetables.

‘It’s mostly mushrooms,’ she said. ‘I meant vegetable as in no meat,’ she explained.

‘Where’s your family?’ he asked, realising only now that running into Daphne would be disastrous.
‘Daphne is at a friend’s house, and my father is working in Argentina,’ she said simply.

‘You’re home alone?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said, smiling. ‘I like it like that. Daphne and I do not get along very well, so I have some peace.’

Draco smiled. She ran around getting plates and cutlery ready. She seemed to be doing well, so he stood out of her way, and watched. He watched as she danced around the kitchen with ease only someone who knew exactly where everything was could. He watched as she closed cupboards and drawers with a push of her hip.

She heaped two generous portions of the creamy lasagne on two plates, and then placed them on the kitchen table, not setting the table. She gave Draco a knife and a fork in his hand. Draco was used to dinner being a formal sit-down affair with fancy wine glasses.

‘Do you want something to drink?’ she asked him.

‘What have you got?’ he enquired, not sure as to what would be appropriate.

‘We’ve got soda, pumpkin juice and butterbeer,’ she said, ticking them off on her fingers.

Draco frowned. ‘What are you having?’

‘I’m feeling like a butterbeer, since it’s so cold,’ she said, already in the fridge taking out a bottle.

‘Yeah, I’ll have one too,’ he said still a little unsure.

She took another bottle and handed it to Draco. Then she placed her knife and fork on her plate and held that in one hand with her butterbeer in the other, and she led the way into the living room again, where she found herself a seat. She curled one leg underneath herself and then sat on it.

‘Hope it’s nice,’ she said, before she took a bite of the food with her fork.

Draco sat down too, and started to eat as well, trying not to show that he have never before eaten anything that has not been set formally on a table by a house elf before.

And there they sat. On the couch, eating messy lasagne, which was absolutely delicious, talking about their day and homework and laughing. Draco found that his insecurities did not last very long. Soon he relaxed and found that this relaxed way of having a meal was quite nice. There was no bothering with elbows on the table or something like that. It was a nice way to end the day.

When they were finished a good hour later and they had seconds, Astoria took all the plates and bottles to the kitchen. Then she came back and suddenly Draco felt alone with her, with the exception of Bertie lying curled up at Astoria’s feet, with the protection of the plates of food gone.

‘You are truly a gifted cook,’ Draco said, rubbing his belly and stretching his feet out in front of him, trying to make himself a little more comfortable. ‘That was the best lasagne I have ever had. And that is saying something,’ he said, smiling at her.

She flushed, that flush that made Draco’s stomach roll over. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

They were sitting on the same couch, but there was enough space between them that another person could have easily sat there. Draco sighed. He knew that he was using her as a place to hide out from reality, from his father and all the things that came with it. But here, with her, he forgot about it all. With her he breathed easy. He wished that he could turn to face her right now, look into her eyes and tell her that she was the fantasy that kept him sane. He wanted to lean over to her, place his hand on her knee and then kiss her lips gently. He would have been happy if he could just hold her hand.

But he knew he couldn’t. She would be frightened, he knew she would be. She would feel unsure. He needed to make her trust him first. And he did not know if he could be trusted.

So instead, he simply stole glances at her face. He simply loved the way her skin seemed so completely flawless in firelight. Draco had a question burning in him for the afternoon, and he did not know if it would be wise to ask, but he had to know. He’d try to be careful about it.

‘Astoria?’ he asked, his voice very soft.

She just turned her head to look at him.

‘Can I ask you a personal question?’ he asked, whispering.

Her eyes widened a little and she looked back at her hands that were fidgeting in her lap. ‘You can ask,’ she said, stating without saying it that she would decide whether she was going to answer only after she heard the question.

‘How did your mother... die?’ he said rather ineloquently.

She sighed. ‘Why?’ she asked.

‘I never knew that your mother was... I guess I’m just curious,’ he finished, wanting to comfort her when a pained expression came over her face.

She brought her hand up to her face and she touched her bottom lip lightly, almost as if she was trying to keep it from trembling. ‘It was long ago,’ she said at first and then after taking a breath she continued. ‘It was right before my third birthday, and my mother and I were walking around, here in Diagon Alley. I remember very little, but I do remember that I was eating a red Popsicle and that she was wearing her brown boots.’ There was hint of a smile at the memory. ‘It was the day that Death Eaters had the attack in Diagon Alley, the day so many people were killed.’

Draco stopped breathing and felt like someone had punched him in the gut. His father had been part of the attack all those many years ago.

‘I woke up in St. Mungo’s two days later. My mother had been killed by an unknown Death Eater,’ she shrugged, indicating the end to her story.

‘Why were you in the hospital then?’ he asked, having found his breath.

‘I was hit by a spell,’ she said swallowing. ‘They think it must have been an unknown Dark Spell. I was fine for a few days and even went home and then suddenly the scar on my back, where the spell had hit, started hurting again. Still happens now,’ she said.

‘The scar?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, but it’s not that bad. I have a potion that stops the pain almost instantly,’ she explained and then she looked at him with a slight smile.

Draco was relieved that he saw no tears in her eyes. He was even more relieved that she did not look at him like it was his fault. He had a feeling that most people knew that he was a Death Eater’s son. He badly wanted to know what was going through her head.

‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘I mean that you are okay,’ he added quickly realising she might misunderstand him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he added again, both for her loss and for bringing it up again.

‘It’s okay,’ she replied again.

They fell silent, both of them lost in thoughts and memories.

After a few moments Draco got up slowly. ‘I had better go home,’ he said awkwardly.

‘Okay,’ she said and also got up.

‘Thank you for dinner,’ he said taking his cloak off the rack and putting it on. ‘And thank you for letting me hide out,’ he said.

‘No problem,’ she said, still seeming a little shaken to Draco. ‘Anytime,’ she added after a few beats.

‘Well, then,’ he stepped out the door. ‘Enjoy the rest of your holiday,’ he added, truly at a loss for words.
‘You too,’ she said and closed the door softly.

Draco heard her locking the door. Draco also heard the sob that escaped her as soon as she did.


Draco knocked on the door of his father’s study. It was three days after his visit and it was one day before Christmas. It was eleven o’clock at night.

‘Come in,’ came the oily voice of Lucius Malfoy.

Draco opened the door and pushed it open. He hesitated for a moment before entering. The room was lit only by a lamp on the desk and the crackling fire behind his father’s wingback chair.

‘Ah, Draco, what can I do for you, son?’ he said, putting his quill down.

‘Good evening, Father,’ Draco said, as he walked closer and sat himself down in the chair opposite his father.
Draco did not know how to bring up the subject. He did not want his father to worry about it or start fishing out about where Draco had heard of it. So he decided to go with a little lie.

‘I have been reading a little, and I found a book at school that told about the incident in Diagon Alley that happened about twelve years ago...’ Draco trailed off, hoping his father would elaborate without further prompting.

‘Thirteen years ago,’ his father corrected him and folded his hands and waited for Draco to continue.

Draco grimaced, but tried to hide his discomfort. ‘Weren’t you a part of that attack?’ he asked deciding to just get to the point quickly.

‘Why do you ask, Draco?’ his father said tilting his head to the side. He hated the way his father said his name.

‘I was wondering whether you were there, is all?’ Draco said, because he did not have a reason that he could tell his father about.

‘Yes, I was present,’ he said and then took a breath. Draco’s heart sank. ‘But I was supervising, I simply accompanied them to ensure that it went smoothly. Why were you wondering about that?’

Draco felt better and worse at the same time. ‘Father, it was just a Death Eater event that I thought I heard you speak of before. I just wanted to confirm whether you were there and whether you just heard about it from other Death Eaters.’

His father, thankfully, seemed pleased enough with his reason. ‘Yes,’ Lucius rubbed his hands together. ‘It was a rather unnecessary attack, I must say, but it did lift the spirits of some Death Eaters after the Dark Lord’s fall. It was just something to show we were still active,’ he said actually appearing thoughtful.

‘So it was just a random attack? No planning or going for a specific group or anything like that?’ Draco dared to go further.

‘Yes, pretty random,’ he explained it to Draco calmly.

Draco felt a little sick. ‘Thank you, Father.’ Draco made to get up.

‘Draco?’ his father said and Draco stayed put.

‘Yes, Father?’

‘How are you? Is everything going alright at school?’ Draco was a little surprised by the interest.

‘I’m doing fine and school is good too,’ Draco said simply.

‘Good,’ he said seemingly pleased. ‘And Quidditch? I heard Potter beat you again,’ he said.

Draco sighed. ‘Yes, he did. But it was really close.’

‘You’ll get him next time, son. I know you will,’ he said winking discreetly at his only son.

Draco’s jaw nearly dropped. He smiled at his father briefly and then nodded.

‘Well, good night,’ his father said, suddenly picking up his quill again. Draco was clearly dismissed.

‘Good night, Father,’ Draco said and he got up and left the study quietly closing the door behind him.

He was a little confused at his father interest and the emotion and an almost kindness that came from the man. Draco knew that his father loved him. He knew it. But his father rarely showed him and never told him. Even that small show of feelings was rare and Draco could tell that it made his father uncomfortable. But Draco appreciated it nonetheless.

On the other hand Draco was horrified about the new development. Astoria’s mother, her mother for Merlin’s sake, was murdered for no reason whatsoever. Draco was appalled. He vowed to never tell her that, even if he was given the chance. Draco would never have the heart to look her in the eye while he told her that she grew up without a mother because some Death Eaters simply wanted to show that they could still do it, even when Voldemort was gone. Shivers ran through his body.

He felt a little guilty that he was relieved that at least his father had not done it. At least his father had not murdered the mother of the girl he was absolutely crazy about.

Draco crawled into bed and put all the lights out so that it was completely dark in his room. He thought of the sadness in Astoria’s eyes when she was telling him. The sound of her starting to cry on the other side of that door had haunted Draco every second since he had left her there.

He was such an insensitive prat sometimes. Why couldn’t he just have kept his curiosity at bay and save her the pain of having to relive it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered into the silence.

As Draco closed his eyes, he saw pages of books that he had gone through trying to get as much information about the incident as he could without having to ask his father about it. In the end the book just did not have all the information. It had dates and some of the victims and shops that had been damaged and stuff like that. And then it hit Draco. The date had been 23 December. Today was the twenty-fourth. Yesterday had been the thirteen year anniversary of the attack.



There was never any news of Arthur Weasley’s attack in any paper, which Draco thought was odd, but he did get news that Mr. Weasley didn’t die, he was badly injured by Nagini, Voldemort’s large personal snake and was recovering.

Draco was happy to hear that he was going to be okay.

The Death Eaters were talking about it in their drunken stupor at the Malfoy New Year’s party. Speaking of it like it was just an animal that had gotten hurt. Although, Draco thought, they wouldn’t even pay attention to an injured or killed animal at all.

He had gotten into bed early and watched fireworks from his bedroom window and only thought of Astoria and he hoped that she was doing alright.