Malediction: the love and life of Astoria Malfoy

Chapter Ten

I never considered myself overly shy, but then again, I never realized how quiet I was used to being until people started talking to me (people with a last name other than Greengrass).

Suddenly, Andersons, Malfoys, and Parkinsons were all engaging in conversations with me (the latter far less pleasant than the two former).

On the topic of Pansy Parkinson, she made sure to let everyone know about the previous night's events in excruciating detail.

"It was dreadful, really," she said between snorts, "Butterbeer all over her." She must've recited the story at least three dozen times, in the common room, classrooms, at lunch, breakfast; I even heard her chuckling about it in the girl's lavatory.

Two years ago, this would have terrified me, but at this point, I'm not sure it even mattered.

Bring your worst Pansy Parkinson.

However, that night at dinner, her loathing took on a new form. Deeper than a petty rivalry (I suppose you would call it a rivalry, however, I'm not sure if we were particularly 'rivals'. After all, she had much more status and popularity than I did, and I wouldn't flatter myself by saying I was a threat to her. . . well, not at least until that night's dinner, of course), no, her hatred now had roots, firm and steady, ever growing, taking over more and more ground. All because Draco sat down next to me at dinner.

I must say, I myself was a little surprised. Why? I'm not exactly sure. I suppose the shock of someone opting to be in my general vicinity after six years of forced pairings and partnerships (bar my sister) was a little startling.

Despite my brief jolt, everything seemed completely casual. He sat, reached for some bread, smiled in my general direction, and ate. There, perfectly normal.

Until I looked up a millimeter and caught a glimpse of Pansy's frenzied stare from a little ways down the table.

If I was startled before, it was nothing compared to now. Her nose was somehow inflamed to twice it's size, nostrils flared in rage. I could practically feel the anger boiling off her (now reddened) skin. Her arms were crossed in front of her, pinned to the table, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were somehow a shade lighter than white.

Blaise was sitting across from her. When he saw her state, his head jerked back with confusion, maybe a bit of fear too. "What's wrong with you?" he said, anything but delicately.

She merely narrowed her eyes at him, and returned her terrifying glare toward Draco and I.

She needed to relax. It wasn't like I was marrying him. We weren't even dating, or anywhere close to dating. We were hardly even friends yet. Was Pansy like this with every female who entered within a five feet radius of him? Narcissa Malfoy better watch out then apparently, Professor McGonagall too.

I glanced at Draco to see if the alarming death glare was disturbing him as well. But no. He sat perfectly calm, looking contently down at a rather large pile of chicken on his plate.

I rested my chin on my knuckles, angling my face away from the monstrosity a few feet away from me, burning holes in my side with her eyes.

She cleared her throat. I remained turned away.

"So, Draco," she purred. Even though I was determined not to look, I could tell by the way her voice smoothed that she was now leaning across the table, probably attempting the most flirtatious look possible.

"I overheard a bunch of girls talking" -- she now was leaning so far over the table she was visible in my peripheral vision -- "they're all planning on going to The Three Broomsticks the weekend after Halloween. Everyone is going, so I figured. . . ." She was smirking, preparing her next words with a perfect pause in between, her hands on her neck, just below her jawline, really laying the whole doe-eyed facade on thick.
I slipped my hand over the side of my face, leaning on it, one brow raised, my tongue on the side of my mouth resting on my teeth, attempting to show her my judgement in an obnoxiously obvious way.

"I heard about that too. . ." he said, still not looking up from his plate. Then he did something I wasn't anticipating. He cocked his head in my direction, looking up at me. "You want to go, Astoria?" He said it so casually, I had to replay the words in my mind to ensure I'd heard what he said correctly. Both Pansy and I froze.

Did he not just realize Pansy was about to ask him? Not me? I felt like I should clarify that for him, but he was so calm and relaxed, it seemed he had understood what she was getting at perfectly, but decided to disregard it.

There was a whole fork full of corn in my mouth, so I had to swallow it down quickly. "Um, sure," I said, my voice thick and uneven from the speed in which I downed a ridiculously large amount of food.

He smiled a simple smile, quick and easy, and once again returned to his food.

I was dumbfounded, but apparently not as much as Pansy.

She was leaned over to the side, her hair hanging, mouth parted open, and eyebrows furrowed. She seemed to be malfunctioning, unable to process what had just happened.

She stuttered out a few words, all civil on the surface, but exploding with wild determination and fury on the inside.

"Draco. . . ." she said, with a nervous laugh mincing the word.

"Hmm?" he said, looking at her with complete ease. I bit back a laugh.

She blinked a few times, narrowed her eyes, and returned to her plate, unable to say anything.

Draco looked at me again, biting his lower lip, holding in a laugh. His eyes were bright with amusement. I mirrored the expression, but the shadow of a giggle escaped my throat.

Pansy's eyes flickered to me, and was that, was that a growl I heard from her? I looked down at my plate again, and moved the food around gingerly with my fork.

* * *

I told Holly about the incident, keeping her fully posted on my never-ending saga with Pansy Parkinson. She whooped and cheered like we were watching a Quidditch tournament.

"I love it when Pansy-Pigface gets what she deserves!" She'd said.

But when I wasn't talking about my escapades with Pansy, Holly carried most of the conversation. I nodded and reacted, but was unsure where to go from there, usually being saved by class ending. She was the type that hated silence, but I wasn't sure how I felt about it. That's why talking with Draco was easier.

After the Pansy-fiasco dinner, he sat down next to me in the common room. Neither of us said anything, we both sat there trained on our textbooks. It was a nice silence.