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blufirre · 4 years

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In the Fields We Lie

So this is something that I’ve been working on for a month now and I hardly ever finish bigger projects like this simply due to lack of motivation lol. But here it is!! I’m proud that I made myself go through with this even if it’s not the best out there, I just like telling stories :) Also @cherryyharryy I’m tagging you here to let you know that I finally put it up! Amber I appreciate you for looking forward to reading this! I thank you and Sarah, @harryforvogue , for giving me your support!!

Chapter One: (I don’t know if or what I should name this chapter so if you have suggestions please let me know!)

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They say that in the midst of darkness and a time where nothing prospers, the mind wonders and wanders. This is the time where inspiration strikes and masterpieces are made. There is, more than anything else we have, is time. And what we do in that allotted space is up to us to choose. What shall we occupy ourselves with? Where do our minds wander off to? Do we take this time to care for ourselves if that’s an option? We, for a fact, daydream that this newfound reality is something more peaceful than what it is, that before this all happened that we had taken every opportunity to do the things that we had desired. Do we read the books we’ve acquired but never got around to reading if we have access to them? Should we seek out loved ones and write them to see how they’re coping? What we make of this situation is our choice, but ultimately we need to distract ourselves from the horridness that’s outside.

Every life is valuable but only a select few see the importance of this. The common folk are the first to panic and cause chaos. They tend to be more conservative and harsh towards anyone they do not know. Unwilling to lend a hand to fellow citizens in need. Now, this does not apply to all of the population, there are some good hearted people out there, those are the ones who will survive. The ones who are selfless instead of selfish are the ones you can trust, and you’ll know that they’ll save your ass. These are often the people that will give you half of anything they got because they understand how unkind and riotous the world can be.

In this time of uncertainty, of course, you have no choice but to try and keep yourself safe. Whether it be working to put food on the table or simply staying inside when you can. Now for some unfortunate souls, this really isn’t an option they get to choose, it was made for them; others offered up their life for the land they lived on. Being picked out of this sea of men, all having to be a certain height, weight, age, and they have to be healthy. If you meet the criteria, you’re already signed up and packing your bags. You don’t know when you’ll be going, to ruin your fresh young adulthood, but it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be ripped away from it. The game of time is a bastard to all who have to endure it. Especially so to a twenty year old man who didn’t see this coming.

—

This story dates back to May 1914 when Harry Styles was a young innocent soul. He was only worried about getting to work on time and pleasing the cute girl next door. Even though his life was simple he enjoyed it very much so.

Before the war Harry had had a busy childhood. He wasn’t fully allowed to go out with his friends due to the fact he had to help his father with the upkeep of their family farm. Most of his free time was spent tending to the cows and helping his mother cook meals. His mother often fought for him so he could enjoy his youth, which led his father to start arguments saying that Harry needed to do his part for the household. More times than not he would do what his father expected of him because he couldn’t stand to see his mom upset at some of the things that came out of his dad's mouth.

As he got older he learned that the quicker he did his duties, the faster he could get ready and have fun. He doesn’t like to admit it either, but the faster he worked, the less time he had to spend with his father. Alongside everything he was also balancing his academics, and once he reached the age of sixteen he had gained other responsibilities. His mother got pregnant with his younger sister and his father had gotten severely ill. It wasn’t easy for Harry to give up his life at such a young age, but he loved his family and would do anything for them, even if that meant losing time on his clock.

For six weeks his father was bedridden with pneumonia and couldn’t bring himself to even lift his head off his pillow. Harry did everything he could, fed his father, gave him sponge baths, took up the work of two on the farm, while also watching over his mother when she had days where she couldn’t get up herself. During this stressful time, was a time to reflect on how much Harry appreciated what his dad did around the house. And being appreciative of the ways he grew up, some of them anyways. Going out there and doing your job right and doing it early so that you don’t have to worry about it not being done later. Having this discipline is what keeps him together while he takes care of everyone and it’ll help him take care of himself and others in a few short years.

He doesn’t like to think about his past, but he’s almost forced to when he spots a familiar face that looks like his own in the local grocer. Seeing him happens every couple months, it’s bound to because Harry hasn’t moved far from home, when he wishes he could afford to so he doesn’t have to deal with the man that’s on the other side of the store. Always stays out of sight, not necessarily in fear that his father will lash out on him for leaving. The lecturing he could deal with. Asking him why the hell he couldn’t stay and be there, especially for his mother. Harry can’t bear to see the possible disappointment and worn look that he may give him. His poor mother! He hasn't heard from her since the day Minnie passed. Can’t remember the sound of her voice if his life depended on it. Hasn’t received letters despite the fact that he gave them his address, and nobody visited either. At this point it’s obvious to him that his parents might not want to speak to him again. He can understand where they’re coming from, their eldest abandoning them to live a life he wasn’t certain of, no idea where he was taking himself.

He’s so lost in his thoughts about everything he went through just two years ago that he’d zoned out in the middle of the grocer. He didn’t even feel the tap on his shoulder from the man behind him saying his name, “Harry?” As quick as hearing the word come out of his father's mouth, he snapped out of his trance and froze, not knowing what to do he just stayed where he was. It was quiet and weak but he heard it, “H-Harry, just know that we miss you, son. Devastated without you.”

It took every ounce of strength that man had to spill his thoughts in a public place, even if it was brief. Harry knew that because his father wasn’t the type to let anyone know how he was feeling. Even when Minnie died, he didn’t shed a tear. He did, however, started to drink more than usual, got angry more often. That’s what sticks out the most when thinking about his father, how that emotion resembled him in Harry’s mind. Sometimes he wonders what his childhood and his relationship with the man who raised him would’ve looked like had there been proper emotional projection. Perhaps the man was suffering his own battles that the world didn’t know about.

When he turned around he was faced with empty space, no trace of his father. With tears building up in his eyes Harry frantically looks around the small store and through the very few isles it did have, nothing. He had forgotten what he went there for to begin with, but leaving he was determined to find him. For an old man he had walked fast, fast enough that Harry couldn’t see him anywhere down both ends of the road. So he was left standing in the brisk air, thinking to himself that he should’ve said something, anything. If he wasn’t too damn scared to turn around maybe he’d be on his way to his old home talking with his father. All the if’s and the could-have-been’s chase each other in circles in his mind. Time was uncertain and he knew that, fucking knew that the time he had at home was uncertain and the military was unapologetic, taking no requests.

All train of thought was lost, facial expression was droopy and vacant. Eventually finding his way back to his apartment which was a few blocks over, not even remembering how he had gotten himself home, not able to feel himself shift his weight going up the stairs and moving his hands to unlock his door. Making his way toward his small spring mattress which killed his back, letting himself fall onto it and just staring at the ceiling blankly. Eventually he came to his senses, thinking clearly about what he had to do with the time he had left.

So for now, he had gotten himself ready for the evening, lounging around his home in his briefs. Making himself a cup of coffee because for whatever reason it eases him into a more relaxed state before bed. Looking out his window in the kitchen at the sunset that showcased itself before his eyes. How wonderful he thought it was. Always admiring the universe's work to bless him with such beauty. The dark pinks and purples and blues soothes him, reminding him that whatever he was feeling would come to pass. The colors of twilight gives him hope for a better tomorrow.

—

Today is Saturday and there is no reason to get up so early in the morning but Harry is up by dawn, his circadian rhythm is inevitably set like this due to working on his father's farm. He hasn’t found anything to delay his awakening at such specific hours, though he might know something, or rather, someone who could keep him from rising. There’s been a woman in the building he’s had his eyes on. She just moved in about a year ago, and once he’d laid eyes on her there was no changing his mind; she was beauty and every bit of her embodied the word. No one’s caught Harry’s fancy since.

As much as he would’ve liked to see her today, there were more important matters he had to settle. Making his way to his old home was further by foot, about an hour's worth of walking, but once Harry had reached the front porch the Sun was almost at its highest point. Around lunchtime was when they’d always sit out in the grass and bask in the warmth, of course in the months when the Earth provided such heat. Always ate whatever mother made for lunch, then everybody would be so full they’d have a nap. Every Saturday afternoon, like clockwork, a time where everything was still and peaceful. Something Harry was grateful for, to have those tender moments with his parents.

Just as he was about to knock on the door he once knew to be his own, opened as if the universe was telling him he had no right asking permission to enter the place he was born. His father was standing before him, with a surprised but hopeful look washed over his features. “Hello, Father. I, uh, I wanted to apologize for the way I kept my back towards you yesterday. Please forgive me for being too coward to face you…” Harry could barely look him in the eye because he was ashamed, not much so for the events that transpired the day earlier, but for leaving his parents with nothing years ago.

“Let's sit and talk Harry, Mum’s made lunch. Help me bring everything to the lawn.” His father nods in the direction of the kitchen which is almost immediately to the left as you enter the house. He’d never thought his heart could race any faster than it is at this moment. The nerves taking over him as they did when he heard his father’s voice for the first time since he was eighteen. Walking cautiously for he didn’t want to startle his mother, but only to be met with an empty kitchen with the food still steaming on the stove.

“She’s not been partaking in tradition for quite some time, recently she’s been getting out of bed to make meals but barely eats herself.” A look of devastation looms over the man's face as he puts mashed potatoes, chicken, and carrots on both of their plates. Harry can’t bring himself to speak just yet, but he gives his father a shy look as if asking permission to grab the picnic blanket from the wardrobe in the hallway outside of the kitchen. He’s met with a nod and swiftly makes his way and once he’s closing the door he follows his father out to the front lawn under their massive pine tree.

—

Silence. Absolutely quiet while the pair ate, not even a glimpse was shared until both meals were finished. “You know, these little dates of ours were the ones I cherished the most while you were growing up.” Another pause while he looked up at the sky with bliss in his eyes and a smile grew on his face while looking at his son, but as quickly those emotions came, they went. Replaced with sorrow. “I was a prick most days, telling you what to do, how to do it, and when I expected it to be done. Stripping you away from your youth. Making you do the work of a man on a farm far bigger than the two of us could handle.”

“Dad, you couldn’t have possibly tended to all the cattle by yourself—”

“That might be so, Harry, and I knew what I was getting myself into to provide for my family. If I would’ve known that this — this war was going to happen I would’ve done anything in my power to let you be young. And now there’s a chance that your name will be drawn out of a hat that the government threw you in, it’s devastating.

To know that I spent your youth being the kind of father I was, so harsh on you, not letting myself show you all the love I could have. Sickens me.” He sniffles and a tear runs down his face, voice shaking, “All of the times I yelled at you for missing small things like not fixing the cattle’s meals right or not waking up early enough, even yelled at you for simply falling asleep in the middle of the day when most of your chores were finished…”

Surely this wasn’t the same man Harry knew before he left. As always he was lost for words, just looking at this slightly older version of his father. His own eyes watering at the words he wouldn’t have guessed would come from his mouth. There was always an unspoken bond between the two, they both were stubborn but knew there was always love. But hearing it, shit, hearing his innermost thoughts gave Harry an overwhelming feeling of warmth.

“Dad, I-I, you were exactly how you were supposed to be with me, it wasn’t pleasant all the time and I don’t think it’s like that with any family, but you raised me the best you knew how. Your roughness has taught me to be a hardworking and determined man, so don’t think for a second that how you brought me up was less than.”

“But let me tell you son, as plain as day and as plain as the nose on your face, you are the best god damned thing I could ever make and bring into this world. You are what I wish I could be and everything I never was able to become. You are a light that brightens the darkest of nights. And...” He pauses, making sure that he’s looking Harry in the eyes like his life depended on it, “and I don’t want to see the war dim that. I have no idea what’s going to happen to you out there…”

When the Sun started to make its way to the west, that’s when Harry had to cut things short with his father. He helped bring in the blankets and plates into the house. He felt obligated to wash all of the dishes and put the food away properly and didn’t let his old man touch a single thing. Disappointed though, he couldn’t see his mother, but he also doubted himself, what if she didn’t want to see him? Was that why she hadn’t come out of her room? Even though his father did tell him she kept to herself in her own little world. Did she know he was here? Or would it be too hard for her to see him and that’s why he couldn’t force himself to face her?

Harry hugged and kissed his father before he left. He told Harry that it meant more than words could describe that he came and spent time with him, and that they should make it tradition again. To keep this up as long as time permitted it. He’d love that, very much so. Yeah, that would be perfect.

They’d had a surprisingly wonderful conversation, talking in general made both of them happy but it’s difficult to tell who enjoyed it more. After the talk of what the possibility of going to war looked like, they switched the conversation to how well they were doing in life. Harry mentioned that he was working as a tailor and how he liked his apartment building but left out the fact that he was talking to a woman that lived a few doors down. While his father talked about how it’s almost been quite the same after two years. Talked about how his parents have to start preparing to save their rations since there’s such a shortage of provisions, and how they don’t make enough money to afford everything that they need, so they’ve kept, mainly his father, what they could spare to keep this Saturday tradition alive. During the week their meals have been small, mostly consisting of potatoes, soup, and homemade bread.

Harry made a mental note to help them out any way he could, he’ll go shopping soon to make sure that his parents were well cared for. Now, now that he knew that he wasn’t in hot water with at least one of them, he would make sure that he visited every week.

—

By the time Harry reached his home the Sun was just beginning to set, though it was still a bit chilly to stay outside he watched as the light slowly faded on his side of the Earth. Wishing he could be in two places at once to simultaneously watch this miraculous planet set and rise on the horizon. To see that would be gorgeous, breathtaking. And while he was basking in the fading brightness, he couldn’t help but feeling like he was being watched. He knew who it was and it was the warmth he felt from her and not the disappearing Sun that wasn’t radiating any sort of heat anymore.

There was no reason to look up at her window, he knew that he’d see her. And there was definitely no reason to knock at her door this late at night because she’s stubborn and wouldn’t answer it even if he was on his knees begging her to see him. She made him wait and it’s been that way since she moved in, though they weren’t exclusive, Harry would wait an unholy amount of time for her. No matter how long.

As he was closing his door, tired from the walk home and eyes heavy, he heard the all too familiar creek of a door from a few feet away. Suddenly he was wide awake and peering out to his left to be greeted by a smiling face peeking out from her apartment. “Styles, always taking in the glory the universe provides for us.”

Wow, she, wow. His last name on her tongue was what brought him to life. How could she be everything he ever needed even though he hasn’t felt anything like this for someone? Was he too head over heels for a woman he barely knew? Yes.

And her smile was brighter than anything he’d ever seen, not even the Sun could beat her. He didn’t even realize that he was staring longer than he should’ve, causing her to laugh, “Good to see you happier. Passed you yesterday in the stairwell and gave me no attention. You looked distant, glad to see the life in your eyes.” That was it. That was all she gave him, retreating before he could muster up anything to say.

He went to sleep with the biggest grin on his face and wished it had stayed longer.

#my originals #blufirre #blufirre original #Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #ITFWL

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wordsaremything · 7 years

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Drastoria Drabble

Just a little thing I wrote up about Draco and Astoria. Just because I wanted to and I’m obsessed with Draco Malfoy.

2490 words.

The Slytherin table bustled around him as Draco studied the Potter Stinks badge in his hand. He couldn’t help but think that this was one of his better ideas. Alright, maybe it wasn’t completely his idea. Theodore Nott helped quite a bit to make them look as perfect as Draco wanted them but that didn’t stop him from taking local credit from all his fellow Slytherins.

And he should take credit for it all. It was his idea after all.

Before he was ready, Pansy Parkinson parked herself right beside him. She was sporting one of the badges and her signature grin. “These have really been a hit, Draco,” she said, tapping the green badge and sending it back to the yellow Support Cedric Diggory, “Even with Hufflepuffs! But mostly the Gryffindors hate them.”

Draco lifted his eyes towards the Gryffindor table. They did look rather… ruffled. He smirked. “Well, that was the intention,” he replied

“I’ve got everyone to wear one!” Pansy continued, and looked around her at her gaggle of girl friends. They all puffed out their chests and flicked their hair so Draco could see their badges clearly. It was like watching himself win.

Draco gave them all a devilish grin. “Well done, ladies. This ought to knock those lions down a few pegs,” he said and swelled just a bit more at the girls’ giggles in answer. And maybe bloody Potter and his friends will stop walking around like royalty. Suddenly, Daphne Greengrass piped up.

“Tori!”

Draco looked up and watched a small brunette stop in her tracks. He recognized the girl as Daphne’s younger sister, but he couldn’t place the face with a name past whatever Daphne just called her.

The blonde continued. “Where’s your badge?” she asked expectantly.

The younger one turned around, slowly, to face the rest of them. She wasn’t wearing one of their badges. He checked. Then he waited until she answered.

“I’m not wearing it,” the girl replied, squaring her shoulders.

Pansy scoffed. “Of course you’ll wear it–”

“No,” she cut off sharply, “Sorry, Daph.” And then she turned and walked swiftly from the Great Hall.

Draco grimaced. Merlin, what an attitude. “What’s her problem?” he asked, turning his head towards Daphne.

Her cheeks were flushed. “Sorry, my kid sister… she’s too much like our father, spends all her time with her nose in a book. She couldn’t care any less for the real world,” she said and promptly tapped her badge so it was green again.

Potter Stinks.

“Remind me of her name,” Draco continued as he pinned his back to his robe.

“Astoria...”

Draco hummed quietly in recognition but didn’t think too much further about it. He wondered what else he could do to spoil Potter’s second big break.

“What are you doing?”

Draco jumped and smacked his head on the bannister. He cursed quietly and pressed his hand over the smarting spot before looking up. A familiar brunette was standing there, one thin eyebrow raised in question.

“I was scoping out the entrance to the seventh floor,” Draco replied, rising to his feet. He climbed up one step for good measure. “Now you’ve done in my plan.”

Astoria Greengrass looked to become even more confused, her eyebrows drawing in and the corners of her mouth dipping down. “You do know how ridiculous that sounds, don’t you? Is this all for Umbridge?”

Draco scoffed and brushed by her. However, before he could reach the landing, the staircase started to move. He grabbed the banister for support without even needing to think about it. When he looked back up at Astoria, she looked a little more smug. It was an odd expression on her, considering she didn’t do much emoting to begin with.

“What do you know about it?” he demanded of her.

“Hardly anything other than the fact that she’s using you for spies.”

“It’s for extra credit!”

She crossed her arms. “Sounds like favoritism to me. Notice you’re all Slytherins?” Draco didn’t reply. “And I know you’ve been taking unnecessary points away from the other Houses as well. Gryffindor’s nearly in the negatives.”

He ground his teeth and looked away. He consciously knew it was all about favoritism and stamping out Umbridge’s opposition, and he really enjoyed making the Gryffindors suffer. But for some reason, when she pointed it all out so daintily, it made him feel a little… well, guilty. Just a bit.

“What do you care, anyway?” Draco demanded harshly, “Our House will win, no more annoying Gryffindors… This is better. Things are getting better and you… just go back to your bloody books!”

Astoria didn’t reply or change expression, rather just climbed down the stairs past him on her way. Oh, she was infuriating. Did she just… not have a soul? She didn’t even blush at his curse word. There was something wrong with her, honestly.

There was something wrong with him.

Shaking, vomiting, dizziness, the works. Mother said he was ill. Mother said he should come home. No, she didn’t understand. Home was too far away, and it wasn’t really home anyway. Not anymore.

He used to be able to think of Hogwarts as home. Soon, that would be taken away too. And that would be entirely his own fault. His decision. His assignment.

The enchanted mirror he had sitting before him was not as pretty as he would have liked, but it would do the job well enough. Dumbledore loved all his strange little trinkets… no doubt if he got this from a student admirer he would put it up in his office. Then, at least Draco would know when he was and wasn’t there. As long as he had his own looking glass on his person, he could spy quite easily. It was perfect.

A flash of movement in the mirror caught his eye. It was late, past curfew. Everyone should already be in bed. He turned, and in the dim light of the common room, he spotted a girl. A few torches lit up at the fresh movement, and it revealed to be Astoria. She looked drawn, sad. But not nearly as much as Draco did.

“What do you want?” he demanded sharply.

She didn't answer right away. She took a few steps closer to where he stood against the wall of the common room. He shrunk away as if trying to blend in with the pale wall. Astoria stopped and he looked away. He was Draco Malfoy. Malfoys don't cringe from anything, especially girls.

Another wave of nausea swept over him and he grabbed the nearby table for balance. The mirror rattled. Astoria paused, and when Draco looked up again she was in the light. The moon was filtering in the windows, casting a greenish and shaky light through the moving water of the Black Lake. Even then, she looked surer than he did.

“Are you okay?”

Draco stared at her. She was the only person to ever ask how he was feeling. Everyone else only asked how his assignment was coming along.

“Yes.”

“You're lying.”

It wasn’t an accusation, simply a statement of something they both knew to be true, but it still made Draco’s blood boil. How dare she accuse him of being a liar. How dare she be able to see right through him.

“Mind your own damn business for once, Greengrass,” he snarled at her, although it was more at his own shoes. He couldn’t look up; he couldn’t look at her concerned expression, nor could he bare to lift his head in case his vision started to swim again.

Astoria’s feet took a few steps closer. “Draco, please. At least… let me get you some water,” she said, barely above a whisper. He wouldn’t have been able to hear her if the fire had been going.

“No.”

She took another persistent step forward. “Draco, please, I can help–”

“I don’t need your help!” Draco shouted at her. The force of the yell shook his frail body, which in turn shook the table he had been working on, which caused the mirror to fall and shatter. That was the catalyst to send Draco Malfoy back down, down into a black hole shaped so much like the tattoo on his left arm. And he fell.

Astoria was there before he could really connect with the stone floor of the dungeons. It didn’t occur to either of them in that moment to just wave a wand and fix the glass. Instead, dry sobs wracked Draco’s body. He had long since spent all his tears.

“Astoria, I’ve m-made a terrible mis-mistake–”

She put one hand on the back of his head, and the other on his back. “I know.”

“I can’t do this… I have to… he’ll kill me, he’ll kill us all, my mother–”

She gulped. She didn’t have to ask who. “I know,” she repeated. It wasn’t a secret that Draco had been chosen.

“I killed people, Astoria. Innocent people are dead. Because of me.”

He forgot the last shred of his pride and let his forehead fall against Astoria’s shoulder. And he sat there, on the floor of the common room he had spent six years of his life in, and allowed Astoria Greengrass to hold him. The broken looking glass remained untouched beside them.

Draco had a mission. He was tired of feeling sorry for himself, and his family, and allowing those who were under him to walk all over them. If either the dark or the light triumphed in this war, there was no doubt the Malfoys would all lose their lives. The Dark Lord had stripped them of all their former splendor. And the Order… Draco knew Potter would never see him as an equal.

From the looks of Hogwarts, it didn’t look like his old school enemy was very close to victory. Draco had apparated into the dungeons, in search of the Slytherins, as that was their normal lair. But when he arrived, the east wing of the castle was crumbling above them. The dungeons were chaos. Draco supposed he only needed Crabbe and Goyle for this– they had been bumbling idiots for their entire school career, but at least they were stupid enough to go along with Draco’s stupid plan.

“You’re actually going to do it this time?” Crabbe asked him as they made haste towards the seventh floor, “Kill him? Deliver him to the Dark Lord? Not chicken out?”

Draco ground his teeth. At this point, the Malfoys’ last chance was if Draco helped turn Harry Potter over to Voldemort. He had to try one last time. “Crabbe. Shut your gob.”

“This is serious, Malfoy–” Crabbe stopped immediately. Draco had pulled his wand –his mother’s wand, actually, Draco still couldn’t believe she was in this hell without one– and pressed it against Crabbe’s jugular. He had purposefully done it with his left hand, so his sleeve edged down to reveal the top of the Dark Mark. Old school friends or not, Draco was the Death Eater here.

“Do as I say,” he said through his teeth and turned his gaze to Goyle, “Got anything to add?” Goyle shook his head quickly. “Good. Let’s go.”

So the three of them continued. When Draco rounded a corner on a back staircase, he froze. At the top of the same was a brunette with a bow in her hair and her wand grasped tightly in her right hand. Astoria Greengrass.

They just sort of stared at each other. Astoria had been at school the entire time the Death Eaters were in charge. Draco had not. It had been a long time since they had seen each other.

“Go,” Draco told Crabbe and Goyle, and they kept going up the steps. They pushed past Astoria as if she weren’t even there. He studied her. Tatty Slytherin uniform, wand, and a gash on her cheek. “Are you fighting?”

She nodded, her expression set.

“For Potter’s side?”

“I’m not about to go down without a fight.”

“You don’t have to fight! You would be safe if Potter was murdered at your feet!”

“That’s why I have to fight!” she cried, “I would be able to live on, but what about the Hufflepuff girl who sat next to me in Potions? Or the muggleborn boy who helped me with my Arithmancy homework?”

Draco sighed and took a few steps up, lessening the space between them. “Astoria, don’t be ridiculous.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “What are you doing here then?” Then her eyes dropped inevitably to his left arm. Under her gaze, he felt self conscious about it. On reflex he covered the Dark Mark with his right hand.

“Astoria–”

“You can make the right decision here, Draco,” Astoria said, stepping down and further lessening the space between them, “You can say no. Finally. You don’t deserve this.”

Draco shook his head. “You don’t understand. My family–”

“Does not rely solely on you. My father was asked to be a Death Eater, you know, he told me. He said he couldn’t do it, he had to keep his family out of the war. They backed off because of his blood, because his name is Hyperion Greengrass. You joined for the same reason. ” She sighed., “But maybe I don’t understand.”

Astoria made to keep going down the staircase past him, but he grabbed her arm. She stopped. They were on the same step. She was taller than he remembered. He reached up and touched the cut on her cheek. “It’s not safe,” he told her.

“No,” she said. She gently laid her hand on his forearm. “But I’m used to that.”

He let her go. She ran passed him, closer and closer to the fray of the battle. Now that she was gone, Draco found himself able to focus again. Maybe he could actually do something this time. Try to forget about Astoria.

It didn’t work. His plan went dismally. Draco Malfoy owed his life to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. And Crabbe’s death as well.

A day later Draco sat with his parents among the aftermath of the battle. Narcissa and Lucius were both silent, but his mother hadn’t let go of his hand for he didn’t know how long. Draco stared at the table before him. It was charred and marked. He saw Astoria in the castle again, once. She stood with a small group of Slytherins who had chosen to fight in the battle, and the cut on her face was closed up. Pink and shiny, which means she was freshly healed. And she smiled. She didn’t smile at him. Draco knew she didn’t see him. She probably knew he would end up in Azkaban for all he did.

Then she did turn, and he met her eyes. Astoria took a moment to take in the scene around him. Then, she did smile at him.

#drastoria #harry potter drabble #draco x astoria

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