Porcelain Perfection
written by Skye Nightingale (3rd Yr)
Draco and Astoria, aged 12 and 14, were destined to be one of the happiest and most prosperous couples in the Wizarding World, just as soon as Voldemort conquered all. According to nobody sensible, that is. My name is Astoria Greengrass, I'm not your average 15 year old witch. My perfectly planned out life (as done by my mother) has collapsed along with Voldemort's body. I'm now engaged to the son of a criminal in Azkaban, soon to take a name tarnished by the blood on Lucius Malfoy's hands. I'm officially screwed.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
4
Reads
471
It's Ironic, Isn't It?
Chapter 4
"I can't believe she's in St. Mungo's," I sigh, throwing my hands up dramatically in a rather well done imitation of Daphne, if I do say so myself.
"She collapsed," Daphne says, looking horrified.
"She drank seven glasses of champagne!" I cry. "Who wouldn't?"
"Me," Draco mutters from the door. I don't think he ever talks. He just mutters.
"Congratulations," I snap. "You can hold your liquor better than a bloody 58-year-old woman!"
"Who you are descended from," he retorts.
"You, of all people!" I raise my voice. "You, who are on probation, with an imprisoned Death Eater of a father!"
He flinches slightly, but I can't stop now.
"It's ironic, isn't it, Draco? We are currently standing in a hospital wing named after a man convicted of murder and torture."
Draco's perfect pale face flushes and he stands straight, towering over me.
"Don't say another word, Greengrass."
"Or what?" I taunt, slipping away from him. "Will you tell your precious father on me, Malfoy? You're a sensitive little ferret, aren't you?"
And that does it. He's shaking, fists clenched. Infuriating him is strangely exhilarating for me. In one move, Draco reaches out, pulls me back to him, and brings his palm down on my cheek. It's a slap, and a stinging one, but he can't hurt me like this. I'm used to this...daily. I stare him right in the eyes, set my jaw, and smirk in my very best imitation of him.
Still breathing hard, he turns on his heel and storms out of the hospital room. Unlike Daphne's, his footsteps are heavy and loud and it scares me. Not the physical force, but the anger. Who knows what he'd do to me? But he's a coward. I know that he can't kill, or even seriously harm me, no matter how far I push him.
"Astoria!" Daphne yells, and I sigh.
"Astoria Elaine Greengrass!" she shouts, marching over to me. "Just what do you think you were doing?"
Not in the mood to deal with one of her little tantrums, I run, following Draco out of the room.
"She collapsed," Daphne says, looking horrified.
"She drank seven glasses of champagne!" I cry. "Who wouldn't?"
"Me," Draco mutters from the door. I don't think he ever talks. He just mutters.
"Congratulations," I snap. "You can hold your liquor better than a bloody 58-year-old woman!"
"Who you are descended from," he retorts.
"You, of all people!" I raise my voice. "You, who are on probation, with an imprisoned Death Eater of a father!"
He flinches slightly, but I can't stop now.
"It's ironic, isn't it, Draco? We are currently standing in a hospital wing named after a man convicted of murder and torture."
Draco's perfect pale face flushes and he stands straight, towering over me.
"Don't say another word, Greengrass."
"Or what?" I taunt, slipping away from him. "Will you tell your precious father on me, Malfoy? You're a sensitive little ferret, aren't you?"
And that does it. He's shaking, fists clenched. Infuriating him is strangely exhilarating for me. In one move, Draco reaches out, pulls me back to him, and brings his palm down on my cheek. It's a slap, and a stinging one, but he can't hurt me like this. I'm used to this...daily. I stare him right in the eyes, set my jaw, and smirk in my very best imitation of him.
Still breathing hard, he turns on his heel and storms out of the hospital room. Unlike Daphne's, his footsteps are heavy and loud and it scares me. Not the physical force, but the anger. Who knows what he'd do to me? But he's a coward. I know that he can't kill, or even seriously harm me, no matter how far I push him.
"Astoria!" Daphne yells, and I sigh.
"Astoria Elaine Greengrass!" she shouts, marching over to me. "Just what do you think you were doing?"
Not in the mood to deal with one of her little tantrums, I run, following Draco out of the room.
