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in
we3sisters
Series of ficlets: Invisible By Day, (5/?), Draco/Astoria
Title: Invisible By Day (5/?)
Pairings: Draco/Astoria, Lucius/Narcissa, assorted Greengrasses
Rating: PG13
Summary: Through hardship to the stars. The months and years post-Aftermath.
October 2000
“Horrid,” Pansy Parkinson said, “Ghastly, I say! Look at her dress; no Parisienne would be caught dead in such a rag.” She sipped at her champagne, looking cheery as she observed Daphne and her new husband making the rounds.
Daphne had dumped her ten-month-old son on Mrs Greengrass at some point, but there was a spot of spit-up on the front of her wedding gown that she had missed with her cleaning charms. She hadn’t noticed, though, fluttering excitedly from guest to guest, the hapless Theo trailing after her.
Draco clinked his glass against Pansy’s, grinning. This wedding was hardly the stuff of fairytales, but at least the champagne was good. “France suits you then?”
“Oh, yes. Who’d want to live in London if one could be in Paris?” She sucked artfully on a cigarette, which made her face appear fashionably gaunt. Pansy was starved to perfection, dressed in designer robes, and merrier than Draco had seen her in...ever, probably. “I’ve moved to be closer to the office. My editor simply can’t do without me, I’m there day and night, ready to write when the muses come to visit. My parents are thinking of relocating to be closer, otherwise they’ll never be able to see me. There will be so many soirées over the next few weeks, I would need a time turner to attend them all. And soon there will be the winter fashion shows...”
She prattled on while Draco let his gaze travel across the room to find Astoria. She was standing with her mother, entertaining Daphne’s baby while she made conversation with some great-aunt whose name Draco had forgotten immediately after being introduced. He didn’t really care to meet anyone, although people were certainly interested in him; the whispering swelled in his wake wherever he went, which was why he was content, for now, sitting at the bar, even if it meant having to listen to Pansy go on and on.
A sharp elbow jabbed him in the ribs, and he turned his attention back to Pansy to hear her say, “Stop staring, she doesn’t even look that nice.”
Draco disagreed: Astoria looked very nice even in the ridiculous pink bridesmaids robes that her sister had forced on her. “Oh, shut it, Parkinson.”
“She looks nicer than Daphne, I’ll admit,” Pansy continued on with relish. “The bloom is off that rose. She’s gotten fat. Hahaha!”
Daphne flounced past, firmly looking ahead even as Pansy cackled loudly enough to turn heads.
“I asked what was new with you; you weren’t listening,” Pansy said now, sticking out her lower lip in a ridiculous pout.
“What’s new? I run a broom making company.” The more he learned about brooms, the less he seemed to know, but he was still the boss, and Firebolt had actually turned a modest profit in the past fiscal year. Draco didn’t even care that his father had rolled his eyes and shrugged at the numbers. Well, he cared a little bit, but he enjoyed the whole arrangement too much to change it up yet.
“Yes, I’ve heard. Firebolt; Merlin, you boys never grow up, do you,” Pansy scoffed. “I also heard Astoria moved in with you.”
Draco looked around at her and saw her mouth quivering slightly before she sucked on her cigarette again. “Yes,” he said simply.
She sniffed like she’d smelled something bad other than her terrible tobacco. “Well then, go on, do what you have to do. Nothing makes the lustre dull faster than excessive familiarity.”
He glanced back at his girlfriend, and at the same moment, Astoria looked over. Their eyes met; she smiled at him, which made the old ladies around her titter, and Draco felt his stomach clench and suddenly just knew. “I’m going to marry her someday,” he said in French; not everyone needed to hear him, but he felt a need to put the sentiment into words.
Pansy sucked in a sharp breath and almost choked on cigarette smoke. “Is this a test? My French is good, thank you very much. Now, don’t say such ridiculous things.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“You don’t know that.” Pansy’s voice screeched even when she tried to speak quietly. “You’re crazy. If she’s smart, she’ll run. And they say she’s smart. Shall I tell her you said that so we can see?”
Draco laughed with sudden, sheer euphoria. “You’re not going to tell her, old girl.” No; Pansy would rather bite off her own tongue than concede that much to anyone. “Your accent is atrocious, by the way.”
Pansy spat out something so vulgar that he actually gasped, then laughed harder. “Oh, fuck off,” she groused when he kept cackling at her.
“Paris has done wonders for you, Pants,” he sniggered. “Don’t ever come back.”
Something in Pansy’s face softened at the old, much hated nickname. “You know, I don’t think I will. I always thought we’d go to Paris together someday. But I don’t need you. I’m fine. I am.”
He nodded. “Looks like it.”
Pansy slid off the barstool and wrapped herself in a glittering shawl that gave her the appearance of a Christmas tree hung with tinsel. She kissed both his cheeks. “You’re terrible. I don’t know why I put up with you. Do come to lunch if you ever have business in Paris.”
His mother joined him shortly after Pansy had swept off. “The Parkinson girl looks chipper, and she’s learned how to dress herself. Wonders never cease.”
“She’s in fine form, not too unhinged,” Draco shrugged, grabbing a bottle from behind the bar to an indignant look from the bartender to fill his mother’s glass.
Narcissa looked over the small crowd like a queen observing her fiefdom, nodding and smiling at people. “There’s the Abbotts, Astoria’s grandparents.” She subtly pointed them out to Draco. “Poor Daphne, that dress is not at all becoming. I wonder, should I tell her that those diamonds Theodore gave her are glass?”
Draco laughed. “Save it for another day, Mum.”
“You’re in a good mood.” She tossed back the glass of champagne and held out the flute for more. “Have you learned to enjoy fancy parties? Not that this is what I’d call fancy.” She let her gaze travel over the room from under half-closed lids. “But I suppose it is the best Eleanor and Eustace could do. Well. Nothing is quite as grand as it used to be, but it’s not quite so shabby that a little champagne wouldn’t help.”
“Enjoying your freedom, Mother?” If Lucius was there, he’d be giving her the evil eye and transfiguring her champagne into water.
She drained the glass again. “You know, I am.”
Draco smirked. “Do you think they’re getting on? Dad and Ally, all alone?”
“Of course they are, what could possibly happen?” Narcissa said, but she set her glass down on the bar and pushed it at the server to take away.
“Oh, nothing. He’ll probably read her the Malleus Maleficarum as a bedtime story and otherwise leave her to the house elves.” Draco was entirely aware he was being evil, but he couldn’t resist. His mother wasn’t supposed to have too much fun.
“Well, perhaps I should go and check. I can always come back.” She glowered at Draco even as she leaned in to kiss him. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
He laughed. “Good night, Mum.”
Pairings: Draco/Astoria, Lucius/Narcissa, assorted Greengrasses
Rating: PG13
Summary: Through hardship to the stars. The months and years post-Aftermath.
October 2000
“Horrid,” Pansy Parkinson said, “Ghastly, I say! Look at her dress; no Parisienne would be caught dead in such a rag.” She sipped at her champagne, looking cheery as she observed Daphne and her new husband making the rounds.
Daphne had dumped her ten-month-old son on Mrs Greengrass at some point, but there was a spot of spit-up on the front of her wedding gown that she had missed with her cleaning charms. She hadn’t noticed, though, fluttering excitedly from guest to guest, the hapless Theo trailing after her.
Draco clinked his glass against Pansy’s, grinning. This wedding was hardly the stuff of fairytales, but at least the champagne was good. “France suits you then?”
“Oh, yes. Who’d want to live in London if one could be in Paris?” She sucked artfully on a cigarette, which made her face appear fashionably gaunt. Pansy was starved to perfection, dressed in designer robes, and merrier than Draco had seen her in...ever, probably. “I’ve moved to be closer to the office. My editor simply can’t do without me, I’m there day and night, ready to write when the muses come to visit. My parents are thinking of relocating to be closer, otherwise they’ll never be able to see me. There will be so many soirées over the next few weeks, I would need a time turner to attend them all. And soon there will be the winter fashion shows...”
She prattled on while Draco let his gaze travel across the room to find Astoria. She was standing with her mother, entertaining Daphne’s baby while she made conversation with some great-aunt whose name Draco had forgotten immediately after being introduced. He didn’t really care to meet anyone, although people were certainly interested in him; the whispering swelled in his wake wherever he went, which was why he was content, for now, sitting at the bar, even if it meant having to listen to Pansy go on and on.
A sharp elbow jabbed him in the ribs, and he turned his attention back to Pansy to hear her say, “Stop staring, she doesn’t even look that nice.”
Draco disagreed: Astoria looked very nice even in the ridiculous pink bridesmaids robes that her sister had forced on her. “Oh, shut it, Parkinson.”
“She looks nicer than Daphne, I’ll admit,” Pansy continued on with relish. “The bloom is off that rose. She’s gotten fat. Hahaha!”
Daphne flounced past, firmly looking ahead even as Pansy cackled loudly enough to turn heads.
“I asked what was new with you; you weren’t listening,” Pansy said now, sticking out her lower lip in a ridiculous pout.
“What’s new? I run a broom making company.” The more he learned about brooms, the less he seemed to know, but he was still the boss, and Firebolt had actually turned a modest profit in the past fiscal year. Draco didn’t even care that his father had rolled his eyes and shrugged at the numbers. Well, he cared a little bit, but he enjoyed the whole arrangement too much to change it up yet.
“Yes, I’ve heard. Firebolt; Merlin, you boys never grow up, do you,” Pansy scoffed. “I also heard Astoria moved in with you.”
Draco looked around at her and saw her mouth quivering slightly before she sucked on her cigarette again. “Yes,” he said simply.
She sniffed like she’d smelled something bad other than her terrible tobacco. “Well then, go on, do what you have to do. Nothing makes the lustre dull faster than excessive familiarity.”
He glanced back at his girlfriend, and at the same moment, Astoria looked over. Their eyes met; she smiled at him, which made the old ladies around her titter, and Draco felt his stomach clench and suddenly just knew. “I’m going to marry her someday,” he said in French; not everyone needed to hear him, but he felt a need to put the sentiment into words.
Pansy sucked in a sharp breath and almost choked on cigarette smoke. “Is this a test? My French is good, thank you very much. Now, don’t say such ridiculous things.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“You don’t know that.” Pansy’s voice screeched even when she tried to speak quietly. “You’re crazy. If she’s smart, she’ll run. And they say she’s smart. Shall I tell her you said that so we can see?”
Draco laughed with sudden, sheer euphoria. “You’re not going to tell her, old girl.” No; Pansy would rather bite off her own tongue than concede that much to anyone. “Your accent is atrocious, by the way.”
Pansy spat out something so vulgar that he actually gasped, then laughed harder. “Oh, fuck off,” she groused when he kept cackling at her.
“Paris has done wonders for you, Pants,” he sniggered. “Don’t ever come back.”
Something in Pansy’s face softened at the old, much hated nickname. “You know, I don’t think I will. I always thought we’d go to Paris together someday. But I don’t need you. I’m fine. I am.”
He nodded. “Looks like it.”
Pansy slid off the barstool and wrapped herself in a glittering shawl that gave her the appearance of a Christmas tree hung with tinsel. She kissed both his cheeks. “You’re terrible. I don’t know why I put up with you. Do come to lunch if you ever have business in Paris.”
His mother joined him shortly after Pansy had swept off. “The Parkinson girl looks chipper, and she’s learned how to dress herself. Wonders never cease.”
“She’s in fine form, not too unhinged,” Draco shrugged, grabbing a bottle from behind the bar to an indignant look from the bartender to fill his mother’s glass.
Narcissa looked over the small crowd like a queen observing her fiefdom, nodding and smiling at people. “There’s the Abbotts, Astoria’s grandparents.” She subtly pointed them out to Draco. “Poor Daphne, that dress is not at all becoming. I wonder, should I tell her that those diamonds Theodore gave her are glass?”
Draco laughed. “Save it for another day, Mum.”
“You’re in a good mood.” She tossed back the glass of champagne and held out the flute for more. “Have you learned to enjoy fancy parties? Not that this is what I’d call fancy.” She let her gaze travel over the room from under half-closed lids. “But I suppose it is the best Eleanor and Eustace could do. Well. Nothing is quite as grand as it used to be, but it’s not quite so shabby that a little champagne wouldn’t help.”
“Enjoying your freedom, Mother?” If Lucius was there, he’d be giving her the evil eye and transfiguring her champagne into water.
She drained the glass again. “You know, I am.”
Draco smirked. “Do you think they’re getting on? Dad and Ally, all alone?”
“Of course they are, what could possibly happen?” Narcissa said, but she set her glass down on the bar and pushed it at the server to take away.
“Oh, nothing. He’ll probably read her the Malleus Maleficarum as a bedtime story and otherwise leave her to the house elves.” Draco was entirely aware he was being evil, but he couldn’t resist. His mother wasn’t supposed to have too much fun.
“Well, perhaps I should go and check. I can always come back.” She glowered at Draco even as she leaned in to kiss him. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
He laughed. “Good night, Mum.”