Next July we collide with Mars. ***
“We’re THROUGH!” Astoria screeched at her husband. She picked up the basket of newly pressed robes and hurled them at him. Then, fearing that wasn’t nearly strong enough to vent her anger, she picked up his shoes and started to throw them, aiming at his head. Still not satisfied, she Summoned a crystal vase (an ugly wedding present from her even uglier Great-Aunt Urania) and with a swish of her wand crashed it into his balls.
Draco doubled up. “What the fuck was that for?” he gasped, his eyes not just watering but nearly exploding with pain.
“You deserve it, you bastard. Now get out of my house and skulk back to your manor.”
“What the hell have I done?”
“You exist, Malfoy,” she spat. “That’s top of the list as far as I’m concerned. Followed by your leching after that bloody tart at our party last week “”
“That was a misunderstanding,” he protested. “Pansy had lost her way and I was directing her to the cloakroom so she could find her coat.”
“Your inability to take anything I do or say seriously!” she continued, ignoring his explanation.
“All I said was that opening your own hat shop was a bloody stupid idea because you can’t even thread a needle!”
Her eyes flashed furiously. “And finally, your incredibly small DICK!” she finished, and then with a final hex, which he dodged, Astoria Euterpe Malfoy, nee Greengrass, ended her marriage of three months to Draco Abraxas Malfoy.
One year later
“Calliope, where are you?” Honoria Greengrass called as she began to rearrange the flowers in the planter. There was nothing wrong with the flowers, but Honoria was a fusser and needed to keep her mind occupied. She was sure something was going to go wrong, but she’d be damned if mislaying her youngest daughter was going to be the cause of the malady.
The door opened behind her and, glancing hopefully over her shoulder, she sighed inwardly when she saw who it was.
“Astoria, darling,” she cooed, injecting enthusiasm into her voice. “Shouldn’t you be having a lie-in? You’ve got to look your best for tomorrow.”
“Couldn’t sleep!” Astoria snapped. “And stop fussing with those flowers, Mother. You’ll make them droop.”
“I just want everything to be perfect,” Honoria said through gritted teeth. “For your day, darling. Now, where is that girl?”
“Who?” Astoria asked, although she was fairly sure her mother could only be referring to her youngest sister.
“Calliope,” Honoria sighed. “She’s supposed to be helping with the placement settings, but she’s disappeared.”
Astoria looked around the room. Under the top table, she could see one small shoe peeking out. Smirking, she tip-toed over and pulled off the tablecloth to reveal a deliciously pretty girl with a face covered in chocolate.
“DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!” Honoria shrieked. She grabbed Calliope by the least chocolaty hand, and walked her out of the room. “Don’t come back in here until you’re properly clean. Astoria will help you.”
“Must I?”
“Astoria, my darling, we have a whole host of guests turning up for your wedding. The day will go like clockwork, if it kills me, so I do not have time to spend worrying about your sister.”
“Wow, Mother,” Astoria replied as she walked to the door. “Anyone would think you were the bride.”
She found Calliope, not in the bathroom, but at the top of the house, with a very suspicious look on her face. Astoria had learnt long ago that her sister’s ability to lie was second only to her own, so she wouldn’t get the truth out of her. She did, however, take in the sight of a feather softly falling to the ground and deduced that Calliope had sent an owl to someone.
“I need to make sure you’re spruced up, Cal,” she said. “We’ve got those horrible journalists coming over to cover the wedding, and we can’t have them thinking we’re a bunch of slobs.”
“Why not?” Calliope asked nonchalantly. “Might do them good if they saw the real Greengrasses.”
“You could be right,” Astoria replied a touch wearily. “But after all that bad publicity over my divorce, and then Daph’s latest exploit, I think we need to play it safe. Just one big happy “ if eccentric “ family. Roger thinks it will be good for his career “ and I agree.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have divorced Draco,” Calliope suggested slyly.
Astoria scowled. Calliope’s continued championing of her ex-husband irked her. If only her sister could accept that now she’d met the wonderful Roger she was finally happy, then conversations in the Greengrass household would be far less fraught.
“Divorcing Draco was the best move I ever made, Cal. Roger is perfect for me. Handsome, intelligent and now he’s going places. He shows more ambition that Draco ever did, and more importantly ... Roger loves me.”
“Draco loves you,” Calliope muttered.
“Draco loved me,” Astoria replied waspishly. “Past tense. And he loved me so much he couldn’t stop shagging Pansy Parkinson on the side.” She clasped her hand over her mouth, annoyed at the outrush of emotions threatening to pour down on them both. She smiled at her sister. “One day you’ll understand that love isn’t everything, Cal.”
Calliope looked as if she wanted to argue some more, but instead she must have thought better of it, for she merely nodded and held her hand out to her sister. “When’s Daphne turning up?” she asked.
“After her third cocktail, I should think.”
“Would you look at this gaff, Thomas!” said the snappily dressed witch by Dean Thomas’ side.
Dean looked up from his camera and took in the sight of Greengrass Mansion. “Merlin’s bollocks, it’s bigger than St. Mungo’s.”
“Give or take a few wards, you could be right,” mused Lisa Turpin. She pulled out her quill, stuck it behind her ear, and pushed her glasses back on her nose. Then, drawing herself up to her full height (five foot ten) she stared at Dean. “Do I look suitably intimidating?”
“Uh ...” he glanced at her, barely taking in the red hair tied scraped up in a high bun, and the severe navy robes. “Yeah, sure, Lisa. Wow, who the hell is that?”
Lisa rolled her eyes at him and followed his gaze. Flying towards them, sitting side-saddle on a broomstick, were two girls. They landed perfectly on the grass, then the older of the pair, pulled out her wand.
For a moment, Lisa thought she was going to be hexed, but instead the gate swung open and she found herself being greeted “ most charmingly “ by the bride-to-be.
“I am delighted to meet you,” Astoria trilled. “I am Astoria Ma- uh Greengrass, and this is my beautiful little sister, Calliope Erato Greengrass. She will show you where you may put your things, Miss ... uh ... I’m sorry, what is your name?”
“Turpin,” Lisa replied witheringly. “We were at school together, Astoria. We both went to Charms club.”
“How delightful!” Astoria replied, tucking her arm into Dean’s. “Well run along with Calliope, Miss Turpin. I shall look after your boyfriend.”
“Partner,” corrected Dean. “I’m the photographer, Miss Greengrass. Lisa and I aren’t an item.”
Astoria’s face fell. “Oh how sad,” she declared, sounding not at all unhappy. “Poor Miss Turpin will think you don’t care at all, Dean.”
“Poor Miss Turpin couldn’t give a rat’s arse,” muttered Lisa as she followed Calliope into the house, not waiting for Dean.
“And this is the conservatory,” Astoria said, as she slowly guided Dean through the house. “Roger proposed to me on that chaise-longue. He went down on one knee, of course. Would you care for a picture?”
“Uh ... sure,” Dean replied, and obligingly took a snap.
“With me in it, silly,” she chided, and dropping his arm, she reclined on the seat, revealing a long expanse of thigh.
“That was quite a flying display you gave us, Miss Greengrass. Did you fly at Hogwarts?”
Astoria frowned. “The Slytherin team discouraged girls from taking part. Shame, because I could fly rings around most of them, including my bloody ex.”
Dean took another photo, trying to ignore the way her eyes were staring straight at his lens with a mixture of amusement and sarcasm. He coughed. “I should really go and find Lisa now. She is the journalist and probably has some other ideas for the photographs.” His voice trailed off. Astoria was no longer taking in a word, but had sat up sharply, pulling her robe over her legs, a furious expression on her face.
“MALFOY!” she shouted. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
Dean turned around and came face to face with the suave and smirking form of Draco.
“Delivering your sister,” Draco drawled. “Unsurprisingly, I found her inside a bar ...” He stopped speaking when he saw Dean. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced.”
“It’s Dean Thomas, you arse. I was in your year at school!”
“Ah, Thomas, well haven’t you ... er ... done well for yourself,” Draco replied, looking him up and down. “Tori, my love. You have outdone yourself. Cheating on your husband before you marry him. Quite remarkable!”
“Get lost, Malfoy,” she said coldly. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Au contraire,” he replied, speaking very clearly. “Your mother has said she’d be delighted if I came to the wedding. Shows we’ve put all this nonsense behind us, don’t you agree, Sean?”
“Dean!” exclaimed Dean. “Not Sean.”
“Yes, sorry,” Draco said, trying to sound sincere. “I get you mixed up with that Welsh friend of yours. Always amused me that your names were so similar.”
“He’s Seamus,” Dean protested hotly. “And he’s Irish.”
“Who is?”
“Sean ... I mean Seamus,” Dean stuttered. “He’s Irish.”
“So who’s the Welsh one?” Draco asked. “Can’t be Longbottom.” He waved his hand in the air, the gesture dismissive of Dean, and then inclined his head towards Astoria. “I’ve just seen Davies, Tori. He’s wondering where you are. Apparently you’re supposed to be having a walk together before the party tonight.”
“Merlin’s Pants, I forgot!” exclaimed Astoria. Racing from the conservatory, she glanced back, her face still diffused with rage. “I want you gone, Malfoy. You’re not going to upset my wedding.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he yelled back. “You won’t know I’m here, Tori. I’ll be yar. ”
Dean saw Astoria falter at his words and lifted his camera. For a brief second he saw a very different expression flit onto her face. He pressed the shutter, and then leapt away from Draco’s restraining hand.
“I’m an invited guest, Malfoy,” he growled. “With full access to the house and grounds, which is more than can be said for you.”
“Don’t push your luck, Thomas,” Draco snarled as he stomped out of the room.
“What is this party they’re having?” Lisa asked as she walked out of her room.
Dean was standing in the hallway, camera in hand, wearing very smart, but uncomfortable hired dress robes. “Some kind of pre-wedding party. An excuse for everyone to get very, very drunk,” he replied, tugging at his collar.
“I’d better keep my quill at hand then,” Lisa remarked, and ducked back in her room. “If there’s drink involved, then there’s bound to be some bad behaviour. Hey, is it true that Malfoy turned up with the dipso sister? That’s quite a story in itself.”
Dean nodded. “Not sure they’re together exactly. He said he brought her here, and then Mrs G said he could stay.”
“She’s an odd one,” Lisa murmured. “The black sheep of the family if ever there was one. Or rather the white sheep.”
“Huh?”
Lisa gave him a knowing smile. “Daphne Greengrass, the Slytherin who never took part in the Carrows’ detention sessions. Don’t you remember ...” She stopped. “Sorry, I forgot, you weren’t there, were you.”
“Nope, I was on the run,” he replied, hoping it sounded better than ‘in hiding.’
“Well, Daphne, we were told, was useless at the Cruciatus curse, so dear Alecto never asked her to attend. But ...” she lowered her voice. “... I caught Daphne sneaking out of the dungeon late one night. It would have been about a month before the battle.”
“So?”
“So she was meeting someone. A Ravenclaw because she was very near our Tower.”
“Any idea who?” Dean asked. He stifled a yawn because in truth he wasn’t that interested in old gossip.
“Oh, yes,” she said and winked slyly, “Anthony used to sneak out a bit too, and he was remarkably reticent about where he was going.”
“Anthony Goldstein,” breathed Dean. “Yeah, I can see why that would be awkward.”
“A wizard with Muggle-born parents. You betcha that’s awkward,” Lisa replied. “Especially in a family like this.”
“The Greengrasses weren’t Death Eater’s, though,” Dean said fairly.
“They never found any evidence,” Lisa replied and started walking down the hallway, gesturing to the paintings on the walls. “But look at this place, Dean. It reeks of money, and money can buy your way out of Azkaban. Just look at Malfoy.”
Astoria surveyed her pre-wedding party from the doorway. Roger, she could see, was talking amicably with Great Aunt Urania. He really is wonderful, she thought, and so handsome. Stifling the thought that perhaps her heart should leap when she looked at him, Astoria turned her attention to the figure sitting at the window seat.
“Daphne,” she said, sliding onto the seat next to her and leaning forward top kiss her on the cheek. “You made it, and you’re looking ... er ... well.”
Daphne stared glassy-eyed at her sister; Astoria tried not to flinch. Far from looking well, Daphne looked appalling, with lank, lifeless hair, hanging to her chin, and red-rimmed eyes. “I look like crap,” she said vehemently. “But Mother insisted I attend. I think she wants to keep an eye on me. Make sure I don’t drink too many of these.” She waved her empty cocktail glass at a nearby house-elf who immediately trotted up to replenish her glass.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough,” Astoria reproved.
“I’m still conscious, Tori,” Daphne replied bitterly. “And just what does it have to do with you?”
“You’re my sister,” Astoria hissed. “And over there are a journalist and a photographer from The Prophet, so don’t you dare embarrass me.”
“Ah, sisterly love,” Draco interrupted from behind. In his hands, he held two goblets of punch. Handing one to Astoria and necking the other, he continued, “These are ghastly! What’s in this?”
“Nothing alcoholic,” Astoria replied. “Roger and I don’t think alcohol is the best way to enjoy ourselves.”
“Well,” replied Draco, arching one eyebrow, “I expect you have fun in other ways.”
“Yes,” she replied, staring him straight in the eyes. “Roger is a man in every sense of the word.”
For a second she thought she saw Draco flinch, but she must have imagined it, because he started to yawn. “Well, I’m not staying sober tonight, haven’t you got any Firewhisky?”
“Probably in Father’s study,” Daphne informed him. “I’d join you, Draco, but “” she looked at him blearily, “-- your company always makes me sick.”
“Definite upside to divorcing you, Tori, was losing this in-law,” Draco snarled.
“Then why did you bring her here, Malfoy?” Astoria snapped.
Before Draco could reply, a noise from the middle of the room diverted their attention. Calliope had appeared wearing flouncy pink frills and a scowl on her face. She was holding her father’s hands as he danced her around the room.
“Oh Merlin, I remember him doing that with me,” Astoria muttered. “So embarrassing. Draco, make yourself useful and save her before she starts using underage magic. That would not look good in The Prophet.”
To her surprise, Draco nodded and strode towards the dancing couple. Bowing politely to Heston Greengrass, he took Calliope’s hand and pulled her away. Now beaming, Calliope twirled in front of him, delighted to be the centre of attention.
“Careful, Tori,” Daphne whispered. “Anyone would think you were jealous.”
“Nonsense,” Astoria huffed. “I have Roger and his dancing is sublime!”
“What’s the plan, boss?” Dean asked. Technically Lisa wasn’t his boss because Dean was freelance, but she had far more experience than him and he knew it was her article that would sell papers.
Lisa was watching the room with narrowed eyes, her eyes flickering from person-to-person. “I want to talk to the beautiful bride. Why don’t you try Malfoy?”
“Er, no,” Dean retorted. “There is no way I can spend any time alone with him without hexing his balls off.”
“Well, chat up the lovely Astoria, then,” Lisa said coldly. “You certainly don’t seem to hate her guts.”
“She’s not going to say anything with Mr Dull by her side,” Dean muttered as he watched Astoria float up to Roger and take him by the arm.
“But Mr Dull doesn’t look as if he wants to dance, and the soon-to-be Mrs Dull’s feet are tapping,” Lisa whispered. “Ask her to dance, Dean, whilst I find Draco.”
Taking a deep breath, Dean strode towards Astoria and Roger. He bowed and smiled politely. “Mr Davies, may I have a dance with your fiancée?”
“You may,” Roger replied, letting go of Astoria’s hand. “Go on, darling. I’m not going to begrudge you some fun.”
Rolling her eyes, Astoria bit back the response that she was perfectly capable of making her own mind up. She did want to dance, and Dean looked like fun.
“Tell me, Dean,” she said, after five minutes of him twirling her around the dance floor, “why do you work for The Prophet?”
“I don’t,” he replied, and explained he was freelance. “I work for The Prophet if I’m strapped for cash, that’s all.”
“I hope they’re paying you well for your soul,” she murmured in his ear.
“I just take photographs, Miss Greengrass,” he said.”They don’t ask for my soul. Big society wedding like this, you must be doing well out of it. What are you charging The Prophet?”
“Charging?” Abruptly, Astoria stopped dancing. “This is all Roger’s idea. What has your boss told you?”
He shrugged and let go of her, acutely aware that the other dancers were watching them. “Nothing, I’m just supposed to keep my ears open for anything you might let slip and take some shots.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I can be conveniently deaf. I can’t say the same about my colleague, though.”
Astoria pulled a face. “I remember. She always had the juiciest gossip at school.”
“You said you didn’t remember us,” Dean said, dumbfounded.
Astoria smiled, and then, in a move that surprised him, she took his arm and started dancing again. “Just living up to your expectations, Dean.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, come on,” she said, teasing him, “you think we’re all perfect snobs living the high life in ivory towers, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “Are you telling me you’re not?”
She laughed slightly sadly. “Living the high life only means you have further to fall.”
“Your sister,” he murmured, “why does she drink?”
“You’ll have to ask her that,” Astoria said bleakly. “It’s not my story to tell.”
They carried on dancing for a while, Dean gathering her in his arms and trying to remember the steps he’d been taught in his fourth year so he could appear as effortless as Malfoy who had taken the floor with Lisa.
“Oh joy!” Astoria drawled. “My ex is strutting his stuff. This is too ridiculous for words. So very not yar.”
Dean shook his head, puzzled. “What is yar, Miss Greengrass? That’s the second time I’ve heard that word.”
“Ah, there’s a question,” she replied. The music stopped, and she started to walk away, but then paused and gestured for Dean to follow her. “Follow me, Mr Thomas, and I’ll show you exactly what ‘yar’ means.”
He followed her, nervous yet also intrigued with Ms Greengrass. With her thick blonde hair hanging like a satin curtain to her waist, she looked like the princesses from his sisters’ fairy tale books. “Where are we going?” he asked as she led him through the French windows and across the lawn.
“It’s a beautiful evening, Dean,” she mocked. “Don’t you fancy a walk under the moon? It’s supposed to be romantic.”
“I’m not your groom,” Dean replied. “And he’ll probably object to you taking a walk with me.”
“Roger is being very dull tonight,” she said, pouting. “He doesn’t want to dance because he’s saving himself for tomorrow. And he hasn’t had a drink in case he behaves inappropriately.” She sighed. “I haven’t had a drink, either. I can hardly lecture Daphne and then drink in front of her.”
Dean grinned at her and, with a swish of his wand, Summoned a bottle of wine. “I have some wine here, Miss Greengrass. Would you like some? I don’t have any glasses, I’m afraid.”
She laughed, tossing her hair back and lifting her face to the sky as she span herself around her arms outstretched. “Mr Thomas,” she breathed, “you’re a fabulous man.”
Taking his hand, she pulled him down a side path and towards a wooden hut. To Dean’s surprise, she lifted her wand and opened the door then walked over the threshold.
“It’s full of brooms,” he said in astonishment. “Why are you showing me this?”
“It’s the Greengrass fortune,” Astoria declared. “Way, way back, some old relic invented developed a method for steering brooms. Before Great “Great Granddaddy Thaddeas, brooms had a tendency to swerve depending on whether the flyer was right or left-handed. Thaddeas’ invention ... our whole fortune is ... yar, Dean. It means, easy to handle, agile and quick in flight.” She ran one hand over the closest broom murmuring, “This one doesn’t feel right.”
“You said Malfoy wasn’t yar,” he remarked.
She glowered at him, so he opened the bottle and handed it to her. “Draco Malfoy has never been easy to handle.”
“Is Davies?”
She took a long swig from the bottle before handing it back. “Roger is anything I want him to be, Mr Thomas.”
“You can’t keep your eyes off her, Draco,” Lisa muttered. “It’s very unflattering that your attention is elsewhere.”
“I don’t trust that arse, Thomas, that’s all,” Draco said firmly. “I caught him taking a photo earlier.”
Lisa burst out laughing. “He’s a photographer. What do you expect?” Her eyes widened. “Was it something untoward? Did Dean catch you up to no good with the drunken Daphne? I heard you were a couple.”
“You heard wrong,” Draco replied, chips of ice in his voice. “I was asked to find Daphne and bring her home. I have no other interest in her than that.” He stopped dancing and started to walk towards the table, but Lisa tugged on his arm.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “My journalistic gob runs away with me at times. I won’t ask any more questions.”
Draco raised his eyebrows, obviously not believing her. “Why are you here, Turpin? I can’t imagine the Greengrasses need the money.”
“The Prophet pays my wages,” she replied drily. “I go where I’m sent, Malfoy.”
“So why have the Greengrasses let you in?”he wondered, more to himself than to her.
Lisa’s eyes drifted towards Daphne, now downing another drink. “Roger Davies is a family friend of our proprietor. I think he wants us here. Once he’s married Astoria, his career is set for the dizzy heights “ even if the Daphne tries her hardest to let the side down.”
“You’re always trying to get the dirt on her,” Draco protested. “Can’t you leave her alone?”
“She can’t get much grubbier, Malfoy,” Lisa remarked. “She’s falling out of Muggle night clubs most weekends. The family must be so proud!”
“The family understand,” he replied smoothly. “That’s why they want her here, so she can get help.”
“And why do they want you here, Draco?”
Draco smirked. “Astoria may have divorced me, Miss Turpin, but the rest of the Greengrasses adore me.”
“This wine is lovely, Mr Thomas,” Astoria slurred as she picked up the bottle. “But I think it’s all gone. What happened?”
Dean leant back on the shed wall, and smiled lazily at her. “I think, Miss Greengrass, that we drank it all.”
“Oh,” she said and pouted, “It’s not very courteous to tell a lady she’s had too much to drink. I thought all you Frygrin ... Giffren ... uh ... whatever you are, were supposed to be chivalrous.”
“That’s the general idea,” Dean said. “Doesn’t get us very far, though. Unless your name’s ‘Harry Potter’, witches don’t want to know.” He winked at her. “But just for you, I shall Summon another bottle.”
“I’m so flattered,” Astoria replied. “You’re a lovely man, Dean Thomas. Why didn’t I notice you at school?”
“Different houses, different times,” Dean sighed, holding his hand up to catch the approaching bottle of wine. “And I wasn’t there for my seventh year.”
“Why not? Oh...” Her eyes went round. “You’re a Muggle-born.”
Dean stared at her, wondering what she was going to do now. Astoria Greengrass was a beautiful woman, but she was also a pure-blood with a Death Eater for an ex-husband. “Is that a problem?” he asked neutrally.
“N-not at all,” she stuttered. Then she sat up straight. “You’re judging me again, aren’t you?”
“No,” he retorted. “You’re the one who mentioned my blood status.”
“Only because you told me you weren’t at Hogwarts,” she protested, running her fingers through her hair. “Merlin, Dean, not every pure-blood was a Death Eater, you know. Some of us kept our thoughts to ourselves. My sister...” She stopped abruptly, and snatched the bottle from his hand.
“Your sister, what?” Dean asked.
“Not saying.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered. He reached across and with his thumb smoothed a tress of hair away from her face. “Is it to do with Goldstein?”
“You know about him then, the bastard!” An icy cold expression stung her face.
“A bit,” Dean admitted. “Lisa mentioned it. Said she saw Daphne hanging around Ravenclaw Tower.” He drank some more wine. “Does she drink because he dumped her?” He sounded faintly mocking, as if a broken heart wasn’t reason enough to turn to alcohol.
Astoria shook her head. “Daphne drinks because she didn’t stay behind to fight.” She handed the bottle back to Dean, before continuing. “She had to get me out of Hogwarts, Dean. She’d promised our parents that whatever happened, she’d take care of me. So we got back here ... and then ...”
“And then what ...”
“My parents persuaded her not to return. She wanted to fight, but they nagged and nagged at her. She stayed and Anthony could never quite forgive her for not coming back.” Despite the warm night, she clutched her arms around her chest and started to shiver. “She can hardly bear being in the same room as any of us ... except, perhaps, darling Calliope.” Astoria edged away from Dean and stretched out her arms. “So now you know our not-so-sordid secret about our not-so-perfect life, Dean, you can tell your friend to do her worst. I, meanwhile, need to get back to Draco.”
“Draco?”
“Roger!” she exclaimed. “Roger, I mean Roger, of course I do.”
Dean swallowed some wine and placed the bottle carefully on the ground. “Why are you marrying Davies? He’s such a dick.”
“Because he’s different from Draco!” she said angrily and pushed herself away from him. “Draco wanted this malleable wife. This girl who’d be content to sit at home doing embroidery and popping babies out year after year. He wanted me to be yar ... and I wasn’t!”
“No,” said a voice, “that’s not what I wanted at all.”
Dean looked up, then hurriedly got to his feet. Emerging from the gloom, was Malfoy walking with Lisa. Behind them, bearing down on Dean and Astoria with a furious look on his face, was Roger.
“ASTORIA!” he shouted, all trace of charm and affability gone. “What is the meaning of this? Are you canoodling with this man?”
“Canoodling!” Astoria started laughing. She stood up, wobbling on her heels as she did so. “What century do you think this is, Roger? I am simply having a lovely chat with Dean. If I was canoodling, I’d be doing this.”
She stepped towards Dean and very slowly, with utter deliberation, kissed him firmly on the mouth.
Taken completely by surprise, Dean reacted instinctively and kissed her back. It wasn’t every day a beautiful woman snogged his brains out, and right at the moment he didn’t care if Davies ripped his head off. Then, just as his arms slid around her waist, Astoria stopped. Giving Dean one last kiss, she pushed him gently away, and turned around to face Roger.
“I’m sorry, Roger. I’d be a dreadful wife for you. I know it’s hideously bad form, but I’m going to have to call the wedding off.”
“B-B-But Astoria. You don’t mean that,” Roger stammered. “What about the Minister? This will look appalling.”
“If that’s the only thing you’re worried about, my darling, then fret no more,” Astoria said sighing. “I shall owl the Minister right now, and send back the hideous tea service his secretary picked out.”
“I’m pure-blood too, you know,” Roger declared, turning his wrath on Draco who was watching from the sidelines. “I’m every bit as good as you, Malfoy.”
“No, Roger,” Astoria sighed, “you’re far, far better than Draco. That is the problem.” She stepped closer and touched him gently on the arm. “I should never have said yes to you.”
“We would have the most perfect life together, Astoria,” Roger whispered.
“I know that, my dear,” she said and then sighed deeply. “I think that’s what worries me. Perfect is so damnably dull!”
Hearing the steel in her voice, Roger straightened up and shook off her arm. “What are you going to do, now?” he asked. “Marry him?”
“Who, Dean?” Astoria laughed. “I don’t think so. He looks absolutely horrified by the thought.” She pecked Roger on the cheek. “Goodbye, Roger. Have a lovely life.”
He turned on his heel and strode away, not giving any of them a backward glance. Astoria smiled. If Roger had truly loved her, he would have argued back. She glanced across at Lisa. “You have your story now, Miss Turpin. There’s no need for you to write anything about my sister, is there?”
Lisa stared at her, then at Dean who smiled apologetically, but shook his head. “A non-wedding is a far bigger story than I could have hoped,” she murmured, “although I have a feeling my photographer is unavailable.”
“Hold on,” Draco interrupted. “Who said there wasn’t going to be a wedding?”
Astoria rolled her eyes. “You can see why I divorced him, can’t you? Absolutely no interest in what’s going on around him. I’m surprised the poor dear can get out of bed, he’s so self obs-”
Draco stopped her with his lips. Holding her close, he ran his hands through her glorious hair, his lips teasing hers apart as he kissed her passionately. After a while, they broke apart.
“Oh my,” Astoria sighed.
“You were saying,” Draco murmured, “something about me being utterly self-obsessed. Well, that’s true enough. It’s one thing we have in common.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to say this once, and in front of these witnesses, but I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry that you thought I was screwing Pansy “ I’m not and haven’t since school. And I’m sorry I laughed at your plan for a hat shop. The last thing ... uh ... well there’s not much I can do about that, except to say that you never complained at the time.”
“Draco, where is this taking us?” Astoria moaned in despair.
“Marry me, Astoria,” he declared. “Marry me, again. Tomorrow in front of everyone. This time, we’ll make it work. If you want a bloody hat shop, then I’ll buy you one and you can work your fingers to shreds all day and all night if that makes you happy.”
She began to laugh. “I don’t want a hat shop. You were right, damn you, I can’t sew a thing. But I want to do something other than playing the piano and popping out babies.”
“Like what?” Draco asked, sounding hopeful.
She smiled and gestured to the shed. “How about broomstick design? With my genes and your knowledge, we could be a great team.”
“Astoria Greengrass Brooms,” pondered Draco. “It has a ring to it.”
Astoria squeezed his hand. “Astoria Malfoy’s Brooms to the Stars, sounds far, far better,” she replied and then, clutching his hand, she started to walk back to the house. “One thing, Draco. Who invited you here today?”
He grinned at her. “Calliope. She told me where to find Daphne and suggested I bring her along.”
“Did you enjoy your kiss with Astoria?” Lisa asked Dean in a quiet voice.
“It was rather like being kissed on stage,” Dean mused as he watched Astoria and Draco meander slowly back to the house. “All performance and no substance.”
“I expect she’s saving the substance for her wedding night,” Lisa said.
“Or the pre-wedding party,” Dean replied, with a laugh. “Do you think we’re still invited, now that Roger-the-dodger has gone?”
“I doubt it,” sighed Lisa.
“Ah well, they’ve not asked us to leave yet,” Dean said, and lowered himself to the ground. “And there’s a bottle of wine here somewhere. Will you join me, Lisa?”
She smiled at him, feeling a connection starting to form between them, based not on work, but warmth. “That sounds marvellous.” She sank down next to him. “Do you think they’ll last longer than a few months this time?”
Dean shrugged. “Who knows? Do you think Daphne will recover?”
“She might with the right nudge,” Lisa replied.
“And what would that be?” Dean asked curiously. “You sound as if you have a plan.”
“I have Goldstein’s address,” she said, and started to smile. “When he found out I was covering the wedding, he asked me to hand it on to her. I believe he wants to talk.”
“Lisa Turpin, you’re quite an old romantic at heart.”
She leant forwards and with one hand touched her fingers to his cheek, slowly tracing the planes of his face and down to his neck. “I like happy endings, Dean. Doesn’t everyone?”