680Author's Note: Well, I should really be focusing on finishing writing "The Reign of Kellyn Wood" and beginning its epilogue (tentatively titled "Platforms"), but this popped into my head and I can't get it out. So really, I have no choice but to write it. This is my first Draco/Astoria fanfic. I wanted to write something that shows some of their interactions in school and how they eventually fell in love and got married. At least I would like to think there is love in their relationship. Astoria Greengrass is quite the wild card in the HP fanfic world, considering we know almost nothing about it. This is my take on her. Why these characters, you ask, considering that they are not exactly likeable? Let's all face it: these Slytherins are not exactly nice people and they are certainly not like the endearing characters in "The Reign of Kellyn Wood." But they are really interesting and they change so much in the face of the war. I don't want people to like them, I just want to present them as how they were. I am trying to stick to cannon as much as possible, but I have expanded the characters of the Slytherins to give them more depth. A bully isn't just a bully. The grass is always greener on the other side. And things look different from the other side. And that story is worth telling. I hope you all enjoy this and leave a review letting me know what you think. A full summary is below. Thanks everyone!
-Off Dreaming
Full Summary:
Upon entering his seventh year, Draco Malfoy was pretty much oblivious to the existence of the younger Greengrass sister, a scrawny, unremarkable fifth year by the name of Astoria. Then again, it was always the quiet ones you had to worry about.
Astoria Greengrass just wanted to get her older sister Daphne and her through the school year unharmed. Then bloody Zabini had to rope her into his, Nott's, and Malfoy's little scheme. Any Slytherin knows that when an opportunity is offered, you take it. She just did not expect it to be like this.
Told from alternating perspectives beginning in the year the Carrows taught at Hogwarts and ending a few years after the war, I present a tale of snarky comebacks, unloveable characters, and powerful prejudices. However, someone has to tell the story of the other side.
ON THE OTHER SIDE
Chapter 1: The Greengrass Debacle
He knew her—by name and by face, but if you had asked Draco Malfoy about Astoria Greengrass, he probably would have looked surprised, mildly peeved, and then dryly inquired if the younger Greengrass was being problematic. He would have then added, since she was only a fifth year and the only time he had seen her was curled up in the common room with her nose in a book, that he was unacquainted with her, but she appeared as harmless as a fly and just as invisible as one too, and therefore there was no need to continue the conversation since there was little to say about her.
Which was rather true. But then again, by his seventh year he was realizing that he was not a very good judge of character. This suspicion was confirmed as he glanced around the cabin on the Hogwarts Express.
Pansy Parkinson was sitting next to him and carefully not revealing that his touch made it difficult for her to hate him. And she did her best to hate him, considering they were sort of "together" the past two years and he hadn't written to her all summer. But frankly, he was a little more concerned about keeping his family alive, his ass relatively unscathed, and ignoring the screams in the dungeon of the Malfoy manor to bother scrawling about the flowering begonias in the garden and other trite nonsense. He had liked her once upon a time: her sharp features were pretty and the way that she could scathingly raise an eyebrow in derision was most admirable. She had a Pureblood grace about her and she was delightfully original in her insults, which actually made him smile. In the time they spent together, he knew her quite well: he knew that she liked unicorns and the whimsical desire to see one was the only reason why she took Care of Magical Creatures for so long, and he knew that she hated her mother for treating her like a breakable doll all her life when she was fairly indestructible.
So, he did like her, but she was needy, grabby, and showy and he could not handle that anymore, not after his disastrous sixth year and being locked up in his own manor all summer. Also, he hated the way she always agreed with him; it grew unattractively dull. Rather than simply telling her his grievances, he decided to ignore her. It was a rather bitch move, but he was Draco Fucking Malfoy and he felt it was undignified to explain to a girl—especially one as dramatic as Pansy—why she was unsuitable for him. But then again, he knew that she already realized she was not going to get much out of him, considering that had been the theme of their relationship.
What had taken him a long time to understand about Pansy was that she lacked self-confidence and because of that, attached herself to people in power. In Slytherin terms, this was actually considered a smart idea as it usually assured self-preservation, but the catch was that she struggled to keep up with them. Also, he knew that she was terribly spiteful and too much in love with him (whatever that meant) to let him get away with treating her so poorly. She probably had something up her sleeve for him that year.
However, the person who more worried him was Theodore Nott, the quiet son of a Death Eater who was the only one of the 7th year Slytherin males to not take the Dark Mark. He was solitary and quiet; Draco never quite liked him, offended and slightly intimidated by the fact that Nott was probably smarter than him. Draco knew that he had been raised by his Death Eater father and could see the thestrals by the time he was in fifth year; it was wildly speculated for a few weeks what horror he had seen until while finishing up his essay on thestrals, he casually mentioned that he sat with his mother on her deathbed and then inquired if anyone knew what was for dinner that night. Despite his solidarity, everyone respected him and knew that he had an arsenal of dirt on everyone that prevented them from crossing him. Nonetheless, Draco regarded him as an equal. If he needed an honest opinion, he would ask Nott; or even better, if he needed a hard-to-come-by book, he would always go to Nott, considering the young man was practically a cache of rare and dark material. As Blaise Zabini would say, the man knew his shit.
But that was the way of Blaise Zabini: dangerously understating everything. He was as dangerous as Slytherins came because he felt a certain disregard rules and had a superiority complex that put Draco's former ego to shame. He had taken the Mark that summer simply because he was tired of being under-appreciated, unvalued, and not taken seriously. With dramatics like that, Draco was more convinced that he and Parkinson should just shack up sometime and call it a day. Yet, Blaise was probably his closest friend because he was a talker. He was a smooth talker, an incessant talker, a dangerous talker… he could be crass, juvenile, clever, and even occasionally wax philosophy if drunk enough. However, he could be very aloof to anyone he did not consider of remote equality to him—this constituted as very few people. Also, he was extraordinarily vain and considered himself Hogwarts' resident Sex God. But, he did not bother thinking too far ahead when he took the Mark and had only just realized that he could not go philandering around with the sign of the Death Eaters burned onto his arm. He seemed to be avoiding girls and this only made him more mysterious. It was like the man could do no wrong in the female population's eyes.
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, however, were a different story. Neither were easy on the eye in any shape or form and it was quite obvious that only their blood got them Sorted into Slytherin. They were just about as stupid as they came, but Draco knew better than to underestimate them. Crabbe had talked back to him during the Vanishing Cabinet fiasco and it was then, after six years of "friendship" that Crabbe was perhaps not quite as dumb as a troll and maybe, he wanted power and prestige for his family just as Draco desired this for his. Despite the fact that he was more of a follower than a friend, Draco did know him rather well. He was always surprised by his soft voice and he had a Crup—a wizard-bred dog that resembles a Jack Russel Terrier except for the fact that it has a forked tail—that he was particularly fond of and kept a photo of the creature at his bedside.
Goyle was perhaps more stupid and less interesting than Crabbe. Fortunately for Draco, he was far more subservient than Crabbe; unfortunately, he was far more cowardly. However, sometimes felt a bit of pity for Goyle because… well, he was almost so stupid it was a bit sad with the way he would say "Diss-Lusion Charms" instead of "Disillusionment Charms." It was not his fault that his parents were too proud to hire a special tutor for the dull boy.
Draco always had control over them, or at least leverage, and now with the Malfoy reputation on the line, suddenly the two dumbasses were becoming increasingly useful to the Dark Lord. They had an affinity to the Cruciatus Curse that positively sickened and intrigued Draco. Their beliefs in pureblood supremacy—the natural order of things—were also extremely strong. There was not a doubt in their head that would render any of the Dark Lord's ideals prove contrary. Then again, there was hardly a thought in their head most of the time.
Millicent Bullstrode was the Crabbe and Goyle of the 7th year Slytherin girls, except with perhaps a little more brain power. Now, she was really a pity and Draco sometimes wondered why she did not just throw herself off the Astronomy Tower. After all, her roommates were Pansy Parkinson, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass—all three (especially Greengrass) were nice to look at and all three were clever in their own way. Millicent—or Millie, as the girls called her when they felt like being nice—was neither pretty nor astonishingly cunning. She served her purpose, though, and gave the girls a little bit of brawn. In her fifth year, she had a crush on Draco because they often worked shifts in the Inquisitorial Squad together. Draco was positively mortified by it and Pansy seemed to find it hilarious for about a week before coolly giving Millie directions to the Astronomy Tower and saying that the probability of her surviving a fall from there was about equal to the chances of Draco ever returning feelings for her and if she felt like testing her theory, she would not put up a fuss. Draco never had problems with her after that.
Tracey Davis was probably the most truly Slytherin of the girls—she almost had to be, considering that she was only a half-blood. This was greatly frowned upon until it turned out that she was astonishingly cunning and intelligent. She constantly rivaled Nott and Draco for top marks in their House and she was exceptionally ambitious, determined to work in the Department of Mysteries. If Nott had a friend, it was probably in her; they were constantly studying together, even if they rarely spoke to each other otherwise. She was apparently very good at chess and Pansy often cited her as the mastermind behind some of the Slytherin girls' usual tricks on the Gryffindor. The odd thing was that she was never the face of the crimes and that made her even more cunning; Draco reluctantly admired that about her.
On the other hand, Draco admired Daphne Greengrass' ass and tits. Both were pleasingly big and there was not a mistake a man could find in her figure. Her blonde hair fell down in soft, angelic curls; she had a pert chin, skin like porcelain, and the trademark Greengrass celery green eyes. Her curves were perfectly admirable, even if her cunning left something to be desired. She was notorious for not being able to keep her mouth or legs shut. There was a softness about her—and it was not just her boobs or ass—something that made her a little vulnerable and a little too easily swayed. She was actually nice, though, unlike the rest of the Slytherins. It was what set her apart from them: she was kind, optimistic, and she actually believed in true, passionate, altruistic love. Pansy often called her delusional, but was her best friend all the same.
And apparently, Daphne had a younger sister named Astoria. But he really only found this remotely interesting much later. In fact, it was that day on the Hogwarts Express that he finally saw an ounce of Astoria's capabilities. Little did he know, she would irrevocably change everything.
Astoria Greengrass made her way though the Hogwarts Express, trying to find a cabin. She was not exactly sure where to sit and could not find her fellow Slytherins, who were excellent at hiding away from the Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws. She smoothed her green tie and continued to walk, her straight brown hair neatly pinned back and celery green eyes scanning for an open nook or cabin. She saw a burst of red and immediately recognized it as Weaselette. Longbottom was with her, along with a few other meddlesome Gryffindors. However, three members of their crowd were notably missing: Scarhead Potter, Weaselbee, and Mudblood Granger. Weaselette looked forlorn—rumor had it that she and Pottyhead were involved last year. (Cue vomit.)
"What are you looking at, Snake?" the Weaselette asked when she looked up to see Astoria's uncomfortable gaze. Astoria resented the impersonal nickname and ignored the question to propose one of her own.
"Where's Potter?"
"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Weaselette snarled.
"Ginny, don't—" Longbottom began to assuage her, already quite familiar with Weaselette's infamous temper. Her Bat-Bogey Hex was particularly potent (Malfoy apparently knew from experience) and Astoria would not have minded asking for tips if the Weaselette was not a) a Weasley blood-traitor, b) down-right annoying, or c) a Gryffindor. The Weaselette continued to give her unsolicited rant. Astoria sighed in aggravation.
"Wouldn't everyone like to know where the hell Potter is? And Granger and Weasley too? Wouldn't everyone like to know where they are?" she cried out, growing redder by the minute. It was an astounding phenomenon.
"Potter isn't here," Longbottom resolutely said, standing up decidedly and putting a comforting hand on Weaselette's shoulder. "None of them are here." Astoria eyed them carefully, trying to figure out if they were lying. The Gryffindors, however, seemed to be telling the truth. (To a Snake? Shocking…)
"What more do you want?" the Weaselette protested, her chin stubbornly jutted out.
"You look lost," Astoria simply commented. She said it without compassion or sympathy, but also without a sneer or derision. It was neutral and cold, an unbiased observation. Something flashed across Weaselette's face as she examined Astoria.
"And you look the same." Weaselette could be spiteful, but she was brutally honest. Astoria fixed her usual expression on her face—cool, bored, impassive, and unapproachable—and was about to turn and away when she saw that the Gryffindors' jaws had fallen open. Astoria wrinkled her freckle-dusted nose and turned around to see the perpetrator of personal hygiene.
It was Amycus Carrow. She should have known—the man was about as afraid of soap as Professor Snape was of shampoo. At least Professor Snape was exceptionally brighter, despite his feigned disinterest.
"Why are you talking to these miscreants?" Astoria had to hold back her sneering inquiry how Amycus had mastered such a big-boy word. The man's blood was not even close to being as pure as hers and she always gathered from parties that the Carrows were only marginally more intelligent than the Crabbes and Goyles.
"Simply laughing in passing," Astoria replied while checking her nails, keeping her eyes low. No need for him to know who she was…
Amycus found this to be an acceptable answer and gave a nod before asking the same question she had asked just a minute before.
"Where's Potter?" All the Gryffindors stood up, chins high.
"He's not here," was their proud, strong reply. Astoria slipped out of the cabin, determined to get as far away from them and the male Carrow as possible.
It was awhile before she found an empty seat in an empty corner. She opened her book—well, it was actually her sister's N.E.W.T level Charms book that had a plethora of information on Memory Charms—only to realize that she would have to relinquish her oasis on the Hogwarts Express. For, inside the book, was a letter to Daphne from her mum, who had mistakenly put the letter in there hoping that Daphne would find it. Of course, that would require Daphne actually opening the book, which was an improbability. Astoria sighed, shut the book, and stood up to find her sister to deliver the letter. It was meant to be read on the train, obviously.
Their cabin was open, which surprised Astoria, thinking how they were usually a secretive bunch: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bullstrode, Tracey Davis, and her own sister, Daphne Greengrass. They were as shady as they came and she never liked that her sister clung to the power-hungry buffoons. Daphne was not made to survive living alongside such callous, conniving people. Astoria was the black sheep of the family who was on the brink of being Sorted into Ravenclaw; only the Sorting Hat knew what would have been Daphne's second choice if she was not of pure blood. Daphne was certainly no Slytherin in the ways of cunning or ambition, but Astoria loved her. Family loyalty was the only sort of Slytherin loyalty; it was a matter of blood, like all things. The only reason why Daphne clung to them was out of self-preservation; her younger sister could not protect her all the time and if Daphne was not with the rest of the 7th year Slytherins, she was against them.
It was rather brazen of them to keep the door open. Just because their families were of Pureblood (with the exception of Davis) and their parents were loyal servants to the Dark Lord did not mean that their necks were well-protected. It was far too bold to leave the door open. Either Zabini got careless or they had a plan… or they were saving face and talking about the weather.
"It's bloody cold," Pansy murmured. No one seemed to care.
"Oy, you," Zabini called out to Astoria, who kept her eyes down. "Here's a Galleon, go get the lady something warm from the food cart." Astoria caught the coin with a sneer and the words slipped out before she could stop them. How dare Zabini speak to her as if she was a nobody?
"Careful Zabini," she said lowly, turning the coin over in her hand. "Gryffindors value chivalry. Wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea, would we?" She kept her eyes low and could hear her sister suck in her breath. Damn her big mouth…
"Excuse me?" Zabini asked, truly shocked. They were all staring at her now. All the self-preservation warnings went out the window and suddenly, she was fucked. With nothing left to lose, she continued.
"I believe the minimum requirement for fetching food is two legs and at least a half a brain, and seeing how you most likely meet both requirements, you can go get the food yourself," the mystery girl dryly retorted, flipping the coin back to Zabini.
Draco had tuned out of their conversation, disinterested in what they had to say. There were too many people to really talk about what needed to be said, too many pawns on his chess board. Or maybe it was Nott's chess board. Or maybe they were all equally fucked. That was probably it.
Fifth year had been the height of Draco Malfoy's reign. He was handsome, rich, Pureblood, smart, arrogant, blah blah blah… the description of his excellence was infinite. He was a paragon of perfection, a figure of flawlessness, a picture of precision. He was Draco Fucking Malfoy and he was wonderful, Potter was but a mere nuisance, and the Dark Lord was benevolent toward the Malfoy family. At the end of his fifth year, the shit hit the chandelier when his father botched the Ministry Job and the world as he knew it took a sharp downward spiral.
That summer, his dear Auntie Bellatrix gleefully cackled as the Dark Mark took shape on his arm. During sixth year, he became only a shadow of his former self: he was withdrawn, quiet, disinterested in Quidditch and his studies, he did not take advantage of his Prefect duties, he reluctantly ignored Potter, and Snape's meddling annoyed the hell out of him.
The man did save his ass in the end.
That school year, he followed in his father's footsteps and failed to do the Dark Lord's bidding. He cried in front of Moaning Myrtle, stupid Potter marred him, he repaired a Vanishing Cabinet, he let Fenrir Greyback and a group of Death Eaters into the castle, and he choked when trying to kill Dumbledore. The old coot died anyway by Severus Snape's wand and he suddenly found himself a prisoner in his own house.
And in another year, things had changed again. Now he was a seventh year and had endured a summer of mockery and servitude. The Death Eaters had set up base in his house, they openly ridiculed his family, the Dark Lord had taken his father's wand, and he had watched several people be killed and had been forced to torture others. The whole affair sickened him; school was a bit of a relief because he would not be subjected to watch his family continue to lose their superior reputation.
There was no swagger in his step, no drive to bully, no energy to smirk and joke; there was nothing to suggest he was the fifth year who held all the power of Hogwarts in his hands. Once a ruler of Hogwarts, now the Dark Lord's personal, pathetic puppet. What a coward he had become.
That summer, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken the Mark. Draco thought it was only a matter of time before Nott was coerced into following, but he seemed to stand strong on his own. Nott came with his Death Eater father to the Malfoy Manor one day that summer and the two young men were able to take a turn around the garden, watching the albino peacock sorrowfully circle the grounds. They did not talk about much, both fearing that their words would be overheard and misinterpreted. At last, Nott did say something of meaning. Well, cryptic meaning. But 'cryptic' was about as simple as Nott was.
"I was reading a most provocative book in the past week," he began. Only Nott would use the word 'provocative' to mean 'causing interesting thoughts' rather than the sexual connotation of the word. Nott was too busy to read books of that sort. "In said book, the protagonist was indoctrinated by a most perplexing psychological profile that was considered a hazy gray in his black and white society. Instead of being loyal to a cause or to a person, he was loyal to himself. He was dedicated to his own existence and only occasionally those that aided in his survival. Quite a radical notion, wouldn't you say?" he murmured inquisitively.
"Radical indeed," Draco hissed, frightened that someone would overhear.
"But it's just a silly little book," Nott said, seizing Draco's left arm to pick a piece of lint on the sleeve. As he did so, Nott met Draco's gaze. "Just a silly, introspective book."
That was all that Draco needed convincing that Nott had an idea about how to get them through the year without being killed by their Master. Well, Nott had no master, but he was smart enough to know that he was still subject to His control.
And now, there was a mysterious girl who had just told off Zabini and all pretenses of control had been thrown out the window. He had not really noticed her entrance, but as soon as she responded to Zabini by name and accused him of acting like a Gryffindor, his interest had peaked. He saw the green tie. Slytherin, one of their own. How fitting. Yet she had life and vigor—such qualities in a Slytherin were beginning to become a novel concept. She was actually funny too, the way she subtly implied that it was unknown whether Zabini had a half a brain or not.
"Do you know who I am?" Blaise snorted, rising up. She did not seem intimidated by his stature and looked straight ahead rather dully.
"Obviously, since I addressed you by name, Zabini," she responded with impatience.
"And who the hell do you think you are?"
At last, it clicked. Finally, the girl looked up and Draco saw her celery green eyes. He recognized those eyes and it made sense. She was in his House, he had seen her speaking to Daphne, and he knew she had a name—an important one at that, considering it was his job to know names as a Prefect.
"Astoria Greengrass, fifth year Slytherin," Draco responded disinterestedly. The girl was plain, with exception of her eyes. She was thin, slight, had a few freckles marring her complexion, and lacked all feminine curves. Certainly nothing to admire or think twice about.
"You have a sister?" Zabini cried out and Astoria secretively rolled her eyes. Daphne seemed absolutely mortified.
"Tori, what is it?" Daphne asked quietly, her tone gentle but clearly wanting Astoria to leave. Astoria opened her mouth until a barking voice was heard outside the cabinet. The towering figure loomed behind Astoria, whose posture cringed in revulsion.
Astoria had escaped unnoticed, but was still stuck in the entranceway of the cabin.
"Greengrass, where are your parents?" bellowed Alecto Carrow, a woman so foul and frightening that her reputation as a female Death Eater only seconded Bellatrix Lestrange. Daphne paled and stammered.
"They are abroad, ma'am," she finally managed to stutter. Astoria cringed even further, knowing that her sister could not handle having so much pressure on her.
"Abroad?" Alecto asked patronizingly. "And why would they be abroad at such a… needful time?" Daphne looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment
"They… uh," Daphne stuttered, "they were unaware that they were so greatly needed?" she offered.
"Dearest, pretty girl," Alecto crooned with an affectionate tone. Daphne lit up at the compliment, only to find that Alecto looked sadistic rather than kind. "That is a lie. Now tell me again," the woman fiddled with her wand, causing Astoria to begin formulating a plan, "where are your parents?"
"Abroad, as she said," Astoria interrupted, turning around to face the woman but not reaching her gaze. "They were unable to further tolerate such foul blood surrounding them and felt that going abroad would best help the cause. They are more suited to being around those of their own kind," Astoria logically rambled. "Others, like yourself Ms. Carrow, are more acclimated and suited toward being in close proximity such abominations to our society, which is why the Dark Lord placed you at Hogwarts, where you will best serve the cause."
It came out like diplomatic guile, but perhaps Malfoy or Nott caught the low blow to the Carrows mediocre blood and were forced to rub their lips to hide a smirk. Astoria hadn't seen Malfoy smirk in awhile, but that was hardly the point. The point was that her cover was blown. She had been determined to keep her head down and her sister out of this whole business, but in her instincts to protect her family, it had fallen apart.
"Who are you?" Alecto Carrow hissed. "You are not Greengrass and therefore have no right to answer for her." Alecto shoved her wand under Astoria's chin, forcing her to look up so that Alecto could see her face. "Oh, but you are Greengrass," Alecto murmured with cruel amusement. "You have your father's precious eyes, the trademark of the Greengrass clan." Her tone of surprise quickly shifted to a barking order. "Name and year, girl."
"Astoria Greengrass, fifth year," Astoria replied, now meeting Alecto Carrow's gaze with a challenging air.
"Do write to your parents and tell them to come home or they will find themselves without two reasons to return," she threatened as she played with her wand. Astoria's anger burned and it was only her sister's hand yanking her arm that prevented her from saying anything further. The entire cabinet was dead silent.
"And who are the Carrows to tell the Greengrasses what to do?" she asked to no one in particular.
"Tori…" her sister began, but Astoria cut her off.
"Yours," she said, handing her sister the letter. "It was in your book."
And with that, the younger Greengrass girl turned around and left with a N.E.W.T. level Charms book in hand, leaving the entire cabin completely stunned and shocked.
"Well, she's a liability," Pansy murmured. Draco looked across the cabin to meet Nott's gaze. He seemed to have a different opinion.
"It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for," he murmured introspectively. Everyone shrugged and went back to their conversation, but Nott looked up to catch Draco's gaze. His eyes said, "She could be of use to us," and Draco silently agreed, knowing that this was only the beginning of what he would later call 'The Greengrass Debacle.'