![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FIC: Never the Straight and Narrow (Draco/Astoria, Draco/Pansy, PG13)
Title: Never the Straight and Narrow
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Astoria, Draco/Pansy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: The problem with Slytherins was that they never did anything in a straightforward manner.
Additional Notes: Muchos gracias to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ccharlotte for the beta. Written for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_unfaithful's Fabulous No-Pressure Laissez-Faire Challenge. Prompt: "Why didn't you just ask her to marry you instead?"
The problem with Slytherins was that they never did anything in a straightforward manner. If they wanted to win a Quidditch game, they had to take out the other team's Seeker. To win the House Cup they made sure the other Houses were docked points for things they never did. If they loved someone, they married someone else, just to keep marriage from souring the relationship.
And if they found out their husband was cheating on them with his ex-girlfriend, they didn't just have to confront him about it. They had to buy contraband polyjuice, steal something of the ex-girlfriend's, impersonate her, seduce their husband, and then confront him about it.
"I don't believe it!" Astoria hissed, now that she was Astoria again, instead of that harpy Pansy (and by the way, did her darling Blaise know about this?). She hit Draco's arm repeatedly, fiercely, her cheeks bright red with anger. "Of all--" THWAP! "--the bloody--" THWAP! "--whores--" THWAP! "--to fuck--" THWAP! "--behind--" THWAP! "--my back!"
"Astoria!" Draco growled, putting up his arms to shield himself. "Stop it!"
"I hate you!" Astoria shrieked, fumbling for her wand and aiming it point-blank at Draco, who had time to duck and roll away as she started shooting off curse after hex after curse. When that failed, Draco found himself ducking away from flying vases, portraits, even a grandfather clock. "You--"
And then there were no more hexes or flying furniture. Draco, who'd started to cower behind what he'd appraised to be a fairly sturdy wardrobe, gathered enough nerve to see what had happened. Astoria's wand had fallen to the floor and rolled off a safe distance away, and his wife-- his wife had curled into a small ball, knees drawn up, hugged close to her chest, bare shoulders shaking with badly muffled sobs.
"Astoria?" Draco's voice was hesitant now, a little uncertain. He'd never seen his wife cry. He moved closer, kneeling beside her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't lash out at him, he braved a bolder move and drew her into his arms.
"If-- if you love her--" Astoria started, sobbing into his chest. "Then-- then be with her."
"I don't love her!" Draco denied hotly. And it was true, he realized. Pansy was-- she knew Draco best, knew what made him tick and what buttons of his to push-- but at best, they were friends who enjoyed each other's company, with clothes or without. Even if Pansy's parents eventually approved of a Malfoy, in a relationship they would suffocate each other, and they nearly had, too.
"Then why?" came Astoria's question, in that defeated sort of tone that Draco had never heard from his willful wife, and in that moment he knew he'd broken her heart.
"I wasn't-- I wasn't thinking." And that was true as well, wasn't it? Draco had assumed far too many things-- that because it didn't mean the same thing it didn't matter, that they would never get caught, that Astoria would learn to handle it if they did.
"Was it because you could have me? Because her family wouldn't associate with yours after-- oh, how stupid could I have been? Did you even-- did you even really want to marry me at all?" Astoria asked, looking up at him with eyes big and watery and pitiful.
"Yes, of course! I love you!" Draco said quickly, surer now more than ever, bending down to kiss his wife. "I'm sorry."
***
"I don't understand. Did it not go well?"
Astoria folded her hands primly in her lap, and smiled beatifically. "Oh, it did, thanks for asking."
"So what do you need another five bottles for?"
"You don't get to ask the questions, Theodore," she reminded him. "All you have to do is nod and tell me how much I owe you. After all, I'm fairly certain you don't want the missus to hear anything that would only aggravate her already delicate situation. I heard you were expecting twins?"
The look that Theodore gave her was anything but friendly. "Do you need anything else, Mrs Malfoy?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Oh, no, thanks, I still have-- wait, actually, I think I do. You don't happen to have any of Gregory Goyle in stock, do you?"
"I can't say I've ever had him requested, no. I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's fine. I'm sure I'll manage." Astoria beamed. Nobody associated with Gregory Goyle these days; the poor man was locked up in what she'd heard from ghastly rumors was a dingy, second-floor apartment in Knockturn Alley, helping out the shopkeeper below. Poor, dear Greg. A visit from an old friend of his would cheer him up, she was sure. And if she was correct, she'd always thought he harbored a bit of a crush on Pansy. He'd appreciate that, and Astoria was never above a little generosity every now and then. "So how much?"
"That'll be 150 galleons. Should I put this on your credit?"
"No thanks." She pulled out her purse, and from it, drew out a large bundle of gold coins. There was another, smaller bag inside, but Ms Skeeter never asked for much, and she could never pretend that Astoria did not provide her with her bread and butter. "I'll be paying cash."
Theodore took her money, disappearing for a moment before he came back with the bottles for her. "Have a good day."
"Oh, I will. You too, Theodore," she murmured. "Do tell Blaise I say hello."
The problem with Slytherins, and this Astoria Greengrass now knew firsthand, was that they never did anything in a straightforward way. If they wanted to conduct business, they were coy about their intentions. If they wanted to ask friends for favors, they resorted to blackmail. If they wanted to be asked for forgiveness, they resorted to manipulation.
And it wasn't enough that they simply picked certain battles to win, and rested on their laurels then. They had to resort to all-out war, and then claim both vengeance and victory.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Astoria, Draco/Pansy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: The problem with Slytherins was that they never did anything in a straightforward manner.
Additional Notes: Muchos gracias to
ccharlotte for the beta. Written for the hp_unfaithful's Fabulous No-Pressure Laissez-Faire Challenge. Prompt: "Why didn't you just ask her to marry you instead?"The problem with Slytherins was that they never did anything in a straightforward manner. If they wanted to win a Quidditch game, they had to take out the other team's Seeker. To win the House Cup they made sure the other Houses were docked points for things they never did. If they loved someone, they married someone else, just to keep marriage from souring the relationship.
And if they found out their husband was cheating on them with his ex-girlfriend, they didn't just have to confront him about it. They had to buy contraband polyjuice, steal something of the ex-girlfriend's, impersonate her, seduce their husband, and then confront him about it.
"I don't believe it!" Astoria hissed, now that she was Astoria again, instead of that harpy Pansy (and by the way, did her darling Blaise know about this?). She hit Draco's arm repeatedly, fiercely, her cheeks bright red with anger. "Of all--" THWAP! "--the bloody--" THWAP! "--whores--" THWAP! "--to fuck--" THWAP! "--behind--" THWAP! "--my back!"
"Astoria!" Draco growled, putting up his arms to shield himself. "Stop it!"
"I hate you!" Astoria shrieked, fumbling for her wand and aiming it point-blank at Draco, who had time to duck and roll away as she started shooting off curse after hex after curse. When that failed, Draco found himself ducking away from flying vases, portraits, even a grandfather clock. "You--"
And then there were no more hexes or flying furniture. Draco, who'd started to cower behind what he'd appraised to be a fairly sturdy wardrobe, gathered enough nerve to see what had happened. Astoria's wand had fallen to the floor and rolled off a safe distance away, and his wife-- his wife had curled into a small ball, knees drawn up, hugged close to her chest, bare shoulders shaking with badly muffled sobs.
"Astoria?" Draco's voice was hesitant now, a little uncertain. He'd never seen his wife cry. He moved closer, kneeling beside her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't lash out at him, he braved a bolder move and drew her into his arms.
"If-- if you love her--" Astoria started, sobbing into his chest. "Then-- then be with her."
"I don't love her!" Draco denied hotly. And it was true, he realized. Pansy was-- she knew Draco best, knew what made him tick and what buttons of his to push-- but at best, they were friends who enjoyed each other's company, with clothes or without. Even if Pansy's parents eventually approved of a Malfoy, in a relationship they would suffocate each other, and they nearly had, too.
"Then why?" came Astoria's question, in that defeated sort of tone that Draco had never heard from his willful wife, and in that moment he knew he'd broken her heart.
"I wasn't-- I wasn't thinking." And that was true as well, wasn't it? Draco had assumed far too many things-- that because it didn't mean the same thing it didn't matter, that they would never get caught, that Astoria would learn to handle it if they did.
"Was it because you could have me? Because her family wouldn't associate with yours after-- oh, how stupid could I have been? Did you even-- did you even really want to marry me at all?" Astoria asked, looking up at him with eyes big and watery and pitiful.
"Yes, of course! I love you!" Draco said quickly, surer now more than ever, bending down to kiss his wife. "I'm sorry."
"I don't understand. Did it not go well?"
Astoria folded her hands primly in her lap, and smiled beatifically. "Oh, it did, thanks for asking."
"So what do you need another five bottles for?"
"You don't get to ask the questions, Theodore," she reminded him. "All you have to do is nod and tell me how much I owe you. After all, I'm fairly certain you don't want the missus to hear anything that would only aggravate her already delicate situation. I heard you were expecting twins?"
The look that Theodore gave her was anything but friendly. "Do you need anything else, Mrs Malfoy?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Oh, no, thanks, I still have-- wait, actually, I think I do. You don't happen to have any of Gregory Goyle in stock, do you?"
"I can't say I've ever had him requested, no. I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's fine. I'm sure I'll manage." Astoria beamed. Nobody associated with Gregory Goyle these days; the poor man was locked up in what she'd heard from ghastly rumors was a dingy, second-floor apartment in Knockturn Alley, helping out the shopkeeper below. Poor, dear Greg. A visit from an old friend of his would cheer him up, she was sure. And if she was correct, she'd always thought he harbored a bit of a crush on Pansy. He'd appreciate that, and Astoria was never above a little generosity every now and then. "So how much?"
"That'll be 150 galleons. Should I put this on your credit?"
"No thanks." She pulled out her purse, and from it, drew out a large bundle of gold coins. There was another, smaller bag inside, but Ms Skeeter never asked for much, and she could never pretend that Astoria did not provide her with her bread and butter. "I'll be paying cash."
Theodore took her money, disappearing for a moment before he came back with the bottles for her. "Have a good day."
"Oh, I will. You too, Theodore," she murmured. "Do tell Blaise I say hello."
The problem with Slytherins, and this Astoria Greengrass now knew firsthand, was that they never did anything in a straightforward way. If they wanted to conduct business, they were coy about their intentions. If they wanted to ask friends for favors, they resorted to blackmail. If they wanted to be asked for forgiveness, they resorted to manipulation.
And it wasn't enough that they simply picked certain battles to win, and rested on their laurels then. They had to resort to all-out war, and then claim both vengeance and victory.