Less than a week later, she found herself primping her hair and slipping on a dress again. Usually, all the girls transfigured their outfits from party to party, switching a few bits and bobs to look unique each time. Astoria didn't bother. Nor did she bother to ask Daphne to do her hair or makeup. So what if her bun was askew and her face not perfection -- no one would be looking at her.
She walked down stairs, her family standing impatiently at the front door. "What took you so long? You obviously didn't --" her mother stopped herself, clamped her eyes shut, and opened the door.
She said nothing as she walked out.
Back to the Malfoy Manor they went, for the New Year's party. The same coldness, the same polite chatter, the same odious people.
She settled herself again by the dessert table, feeling deja vu from the Christmas party -- watching her family titter and flit about their hosts.
"I don't believe I've had the proper chance to introduce myself." She turned toward the voice behind her.
There, stood a boy only a bit taller than she, with dark, gelled curls, bright eyes, and a handsome face. She stared at him, completely disinterested.
"Avery. Lawrence, Avery." He was all suave and charm, and it made Astoria want to walk in the opposite direction.
"Astoria," she said, nodding her head faintly.
"What a lovely name," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it. She had to stop herself from jerking backwards.
She made a faint, "Hm," sound.
"How is it that we've never met?"
She angled herself more toward the table now, picking up a Pepper Imp, and said, "Um, I dunno."
"What a shame it is." His perfect face and perfect hair and perfect name was making the Pepper Imp taste sour.
"I'm engaged," she blurted out, holding her left hand up to his face (a new ring placed there by her mother earlier). Huh, perhaps the ring did have its uses.
Pushing her hand down lightly, he said, "Oh, I'm not worried about that."
Her lips parted, eyes narrowed, and she pushed the Pepper Imp into his hand. She said, her tone distant and disbelieving, "I'd better go."
She walked away from him without giving a second glance back. Two minutes in and she was already throwing in the towel.
She scanned the room and her eyes fell upon Draco, who was standing with Pansy, talking to an older couple seated at the far left of the room.
She hated her brain for having the thought.
Waiting, waiting for him to walk away, or for some sort of diversion, or --
Uh-oh, Lawrence was making his way back over to her. Now or never.
She made her way across the vast ballroom, as Pansy and Draco parted politely from the older couple.
She watched intently as she got closer. The two whispering, him holding his hand out, and -- yes! No way it could be this easy, she thought, as he walked briskly away from Pansy, who looked most agitated about his departure.
Draco slipped into another doorway, into the long hallway that wrapped around the exterior ballroom.
Astoria slipped through it, too, at a brisk clip behind him.
She turned the corner, and muttered, "Draco," as she approached him.
He turned back, confusion and panic and stress written all across his face.
"What're you doing --"
"Could you help me get out of here again, quick, becau --"
"What, no, why should I --"
But he stopped at the distant echoing of Lawrence's voice. "Astoria?" he called. He seemed to be a great deal down the hallway from them, and luckily, they were concealed behind a corner, ducking off to another passage.
Her eyes pleaded with him at the sound, and he looked back to her.
"Please," she said, Lawrence's steps becoming ever more clear.
Draco pursed his lips, clamping his eye shut and massaging his brow. Another (now far less) distant Astoria was called.
"Fine," Draco huffed.
She nodded her head, and he pulled her in the opposite direction.
After they were a good deal away from the ballroom, rushing down steps and corridors, all forebodingly lit with dim sconces, he said, in a most vexed tone, "Why couldn't you just do this yourself?"
"Because this house is a maze, and I felt weird absently wandering someone else's house. Plus, if I'm with you, the likelihood of me getting in trouble is at least diminished slightly."
"Why on earth would you think that?"
"Where are we going?" she said, disregarding his comment after they'd taken a far longer route than last time. "Back to the gardens, right?"
"No."
"Why?"
"My parents knew I was there."
"But they didn't go looking for you so --"
"Yeah, but they knew. They found me not three minutes after the party ended"
"So where are we --"
"My room."
"NO --"
"Why?"
"I'm not --"
"What?"
"Well, I -- no --"
"Why?"
She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, indignant. "I'm not going into a boy's room," she whispered furiously.
He groaned. "Are you serious? Come on just --"
"Just drop me off somewhere else and you can lock yourself in your room till your heart's content. Which, by the way, your room is a horribly conspicuous hiding spot and I don't think --"
"I'm not letting you wander the house alone."
"Wha -- not five seconds ago you asked why I wasn't doing this myself --"
"That was before I led you to where I actually live."
"You live in the whole house --"
"Oh yes, because I definitely sleep in the ballroom."
"Well," she huffed, her tone agitated, "what, do you think I'm going to steal something?"
He said nothing.
"Okay, fine. Do you have a basement or something? Leave me there, and --"
"There's a cellar."
"Lovely, so --"
"And I already said I'm not leaving you alone in here."
"I swear I'm not going to take anything --"
"I'm not worried about you stealing something -- honestly. . . ."
"Then why --"
All his patience was completely evaporated as he huffed, "Voldemort still works out some of his plans here and I don't need you snooping around."
She looked at him indignantly. "I wouldn't snoop --"
"Would you just go," he said, motioning his hand toward the old door he'd opened. She stared at it, for in her tirade she'd completely failed to notice they'd gotten here already.
She looked at him, her lips pursed for a moment. "You're seriously going to follow --"
"Yes."
"Well," she sighed, listing her head to the side, "fine." She stepped into the doorway and half turned. In a completely even tone she asked, "Do you have any games?"
He stared at her, his eyes narrowed, mouth open, for an exorbitant amount of time. "What?" He said in perplexity.
"Gobstones or Exploding Snap or something -- when we were little, Daphne used to smuggle in some in case we got really bored at these things to pass the time --"
"Oh my God," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Fine." He huffed most dramatically. "I'll go get -- games," he mocked, rolling his eyes, exceedingly irritated, "And just -- go down there, and don't touch anything," he said tersely, shaking his head and stalking off, his fists clenched.
She stared after him, biting the inside of her cheek. Is he always this cranky? Her request was supposed to make the evening more tolerable -- but then again, she was talking to a Death Eater -- something she somehow kept forgetting about him. Maybe it was only because he was so young, too young to be as cruel and twisted and bitter as the other cretins swirling about in the ballroom overhead. Give it time though, she thought to herself, at this rate, he'll be exactly like them in no time.
She looked down the concrete steps to the dungeons, and, after a hesitation, begrudgingly descended them.
She was glad, however, that she was alone for a moment. For, her legs were lead and feathers simultaneously from all the hurried walking. Though the Malfoy Manor was exceedingly large, no one else would have been fatigued from the excretion. No one else but her. Just another symptom of her curse.
She exhaled, trying to catch her breath, closing her eyes. The room was very dark, but when her eyes adjusted, she could make out a lantern not a few paces away from the stairs. Seizing it, she muttered "Incindio," the candle inside set aflame for her to better see her dank surroundings.
And though the floor was dirty and her dress white, she sat cross legged, awaiting his arrival, too tired to care about the dust and mildew no doubt marring her skirt.
The heavy pattering of footsteps behind her. Turning to face him, Draco stood, his head was listed to the side as he looked at her, and exasperated sort of expression on his face. He held both his hands up, in one, a pouch of Gostones, in the other, a deck of Exploding Snap cards.
She pointed to the cards, and he sat down across from her, shaking his head.
Shuffling the cards, he said, "Not a fan of Avery, then?"
She had almost completely forgotten about the annoying boy, the whole reason for her escape, then said, shaking her head, "Who would be?"
He shrugged, and set the deck of cards face down. They both took out their wands, the cards shuffling out across the floor between them, tapping their wands on the identical pictures.
"I told him I was engaged," she said, not taking her focused gaze off the cards, "and he said, "Oh, I'm not worried about that". " She rolled her eyes and shook her head at the thought.
"I see there's a ring back on your finger," he said, his gaze flickering to her left hand for half a second before he was fixated again on the game.
"Yeah. . ." she muttered.
"He got you another one?" he said, half amused, half indifferent. She didn't comment on the use of 'he" as if there were in fact a real fiancé.
She set her wand down for a second, and his eyes looking up at her again, she tugged on the ring. It didn't budge at all. "My mother hexed this one so I can't take it off."
The cards waited indignantly as they returned their attention back to the game. After a moment, he said, "I just don't understand why you thought you'd get away with it."
She said nothing for a moment. "I never thought I would."
He exhaled, seemingly stoic, thoughtful now. Trying to conceal his piqued interest, he said, "But didn't it only make things worse?"
She sighed and shrugged. "Well, yeah, now I can't take it off at all --"
"I mean between you and your family, and his family."
She bit her lip, not sure how she wanted to play this. He still hadn't realized the engagement behind the ring was merely artifice. She decided vagueness would be her ally; to tread lightly. Perhaps this was a sign that her outburst, her almost coming clean the other night was a mistake, and this was her chance to correct that mistake. Keep her secret safe guarded. Like she was supposed to.
"In a way," she said, her voice trailing.
"So they know for a fact that you don't want this?" She was confused as to where his sudden interest in her life was coming from.
"Well --"
He interrupted, and though his voice was still low and even, there was a hint of desperation in his words. "And they won't give you more time?"
She kept her gaze firmly on the cards, her mouth grasping for words. "Does it matter?" she said with new resolve. "It's just a ring -- it's just an empty vow. That's all marriage really is anyway," she murmured. And though the words didn't exactly apply to her, she agreed with them. She doubted any of the couples up there truly loved each other. Just habit. Just for show. There was no love in this world. Not anymore.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath. He was severely put out, even more so than usual.
Both of them were quiet for a long moment, and her mind wandered back upstairs, back to all those loveless marriages. Somewhere up there, Daphne was probably chatting, laughing, and dancing with Theodore Nott. Her courtship having officially begun. Preparing for a life of being bound to him. An empty vow.
"You really are rubbish at this game," he said.
With that, she made three matches in one swift movement of her wand. "What were you saying?"
He rolled his eyes and she grinned at her accumulation of matched cards, stacking themselves beside her.
"So where is he?" Draco said after a while.
"Where's who?"
"You're fiancé."
"Oh -- um, Bulgaria."
He nodded absently. She'd hoped the lie wasn't an obvious one. After a long while, she said, "Why do you hate these things so much? The parties, I mean."
"I could ask you the same."
"Well, I'm not -- you're a, well, Malfoy. I just don't see why you wouldn't like all the --"
"Being a Malfoy isn't as easy as you think," he snapped back.
"Never said it was," she said quietly.
His face softened a bit, perhaps guilty for his attitude. She didn't much care whether he had an attitude, or if he was the friendliest person in the world. She didn't care much if it were him or Albus Dumbledore seated before her -- she was just relieved that she at least wasn't up there with her family -- who, were still cross with her (she wasn't too thrilled with them either) -- or with that Avery kid.
"I should've eaten that Pepper Imp," she mumbled to herself.
"Huh?"
"I was about to eat a Pepper Imp but I stuffed it in Lawrence's hand. . . ."
"Pepper Imps are gross anyways. . . ."
She stared at him incredulously, the game cards shuffling away from her in her absence of concentration.
"You're losing, you know --"
"You don't like Pepper Imps?"
He looked up at her, a wary smirk on his lips, and shook his head.
"Are you mental?"
"They make you smoke at the ears. That's not an enjoyable excursion."
"But -- they're the most delicious thing to ever grace this planet. And, hey, the smoking ears bit is cool."
"No, it's weird and uncomfortable."
"Well then what do you prefer?"
He sighed and shrugged. "Chocolate frogs?"
"Oh, so smoke is appalling but amphibious, sentient chocolate is good?" she teased.
He rolled his eyes. "It's not the chocolate -- it's the card that's cool -- you get to keep something even after you've eaten the chocolate."
She looked at him for a moment. "Not as cool as the flavor explosion -- literally, I might add -- that can only be found in Pepper Imps."
He shook his head, smirking.
After a while, in which the game reset (Draco won), Astoria said, "How much trouble do you think we'd get in if they found us?" The words were a mix of genuine worry and absent conversation.
"Oh, they'd kill us."
"Literally or figuratively?"
"Both."
"Ah, well consider my worry completely diminished then."
After a while, they started talking again -- actually talking. About nothing important whatsoever, and, most of the conversations were the two challenging each other, Wizard's chess is better than Gobstones, Silver is better than green. A few they agreed on, however, Butterbeer over tea anyday, Dragons are far cooler than unicorns.
Between each short spurt of conversation there was silence, the only sound being the flipping and tapping of cards (so far, Draco won three rounds, Astoria, two). It was a nice distraction from all the talk of engagement, or, the ever present expectations and standards they would have been expected to meet if they were still upstairs at the Party.
At 12:14, Draco glanced at his watch. "Happy New Year," he said, placing it back in his pocket.
"Happy New Year." She smiled, then quickly widened her eyes. "I've got to get back up there -- my mother's probably having kittens. . . ."
He nodded, the deck of cards restacking themselves as the two got up and headed for the cellar stairs.
We must be close to the ballroom, Astoria thought as they walked. He was in the lead, of course, being the only one knowing where he was going.
He rounded a corner and -- "There you are!"
Astoria stopped dead, backing farther into the hallway. Though she couldn't see her, thanks to the shelter provided by the wall's corner, she recognized the voice as Pansy Parkinson's.
"Is this a new trope? Just disappearing every day?"
He sighed, and said, "I told you earlier, I wasn't feeling well --"
"Hm, just like on Christmas too. Funny how you seem fine as soon as the party's over."
He said nothing, as she went on, "I don't know what's been wrong with you lately, but you'd better figure it out soon. You're father's furious -- and I can't say I blame him."
With that, Astoria could hear the furious clicking of her heels receding back up the hallway.
She peeked her head from around the corner, checking the coast was clear. Draco was running a hand through his hair, his eyes clamped shut. She cleared her throat. "C'mon, before he gets even more cross. . . ." She gingerly put a hand on his arm in a small attempt of comforting. For, Astoria couldn't -- and didn't want to -- imagine getting scolded by Lucius Malfoy.
He nodded, and continued walking down the hallway. Neither said anything until they reached the light of the ballroom, spilling out into the dim hallway. She peered through and saw the room emptied a great deal since before, the Greengrasses standing near a corner, whispering and looking most cross.
"Okay, I'd better smooth that over." She turned to him, and said, "Thanks for, well, you know. . . ."
He nodded.
"Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year," He said absently as she made her way to her family.
When they saw her, they were all positively glowering at her. "What is wrong with you," her mother hissed, gripping her left wrist and pulling her toward the ballroom's main doors, out, down, and into the foyer (the only route Astoria actually knew of this house).
She said nothing as her family huffed around her, all most vexed and bothered.