Cursed Love || A Scorbus Story

Sixteen: In Which Reminders are Prevalent

There had never been a time that Draco had stopped thinking about Astoria ever since his fourth year. There was nothing that could stop him, not even the looming threat of the Dark Lord when he was sixteen and seventeen could have stopped him.

Fourth year had been hard on Draco, trying to maintain his marks, dealing with his father writing to him, speaking of how his Dark Mark had been growing darker, burning more and more with each passing day. Draco had gotten so stressed at one point that he had begun skipping classes. It was one day in the farthest corner of the library that he sat that Draco first saw her.

He had known that Astoria Greengrass was in his house, a year below himself, but everyone considered them Blood Traitors. Draco did too, for some time. Smiling, Astoria Greengrass waved at him slightly, no doubt recognizing him from his time spent in the common room. He sneered back. "Blood Traitor," he whispered under his breath.

As the weeks passed on, Pansy Parkinson, now long dead, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe had since stopped speaking to him for some time. Now, Draco sat alone in the common room until well past midnight, long after everyone else had gone to sleep. Draco, now gaunt and growing hollow, sat in an armchair by the ever-dying fire, not moving an inch.

"Hello."

Draco turned, coming face to face with a pretty girl with chestnut hair. He often heard people whispering about her in the corridors in between classes, about how smart she was, about how she was the kindest Slytherin around, most of all, her beauty. Draco would be called the biggest of liars if he mentioned that the youngest Greengrass girl was anything less than perfection.

He sneered at her.

"I'm Astoria," she said softly. Draco was glad the fire was dying and that she, hopefully, couldn't see the blush that was rising up his neck. Her voice was like honey, cool and sweet. He could almost taste it. "And you're Draco. Malfoy. You're really easy to spot in a crowd with that hair of yours. Is it naturally like that?"

"Yes," he found himself answering. What was she, some sort of siren? A Veela, perhaps? No, her hair wasn't the right colour, her eyes brown and not blue. She had a singular freckle by her bottom lip. He wanted to kiss it.

Astoria Greengrass smiled. Her teeth were white, perfect. "Well, that's quite amazing. How late are you going to be staying out here."

"Until I feel like going up to my dormitory," he replied curtly, glaring at the third year girl. "Mind your business, Blood Traitor, soon enough you'll be where you belong." Standing, he made to leave, but, for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to walk up the stairs. The lake behind the windows was alight with the moon, high above them. Draco wondered if Astoria Greengrass was a fan of the moon.

"And where might that be?" questioned Astoria, noticing his hesitation.

Clenching his hand on the railing, Draco heard every word his father ever said to him all at once. "In a filthy little cage at the Dark Lord's mercy."

Astoria laughed. She laughed. "Oh, I know your father is the biggest supporter of You-Know-Who, but you don't have to act all tough. Besides, Harry Potter is---"

"Harry Potter is a poor man's solution." Draco swallowed, taking a breath. "He won't last long against a wizard as powerful as the Dark Lord."

With that, he walked as quickly as possible to his dorm, climbing under his covers. What was that? An unprovoked jarring of the Dark Lord? With some third year girl?

Turning onto his side, Draco closed his eyes, though the only thing he could think about was her.

As the year went on, Astoria kept finding him at odd hours in the night alone, usually wearing colourful jumpers and fuzzy pants. She gave him warm smiles as he allowed her to sit beside him, though not close enough to touch him by accident.