Fuck

Astoria Greengrass was a healer born into a family of high recognition, and that was apparently all that mattered to his parents. a good family to bring into the Malfoy family. In a way it disgusted him. But some part of him knew it would happen eventually. Either astir, Daphne and pansy. He was happy it wasn’t the latter two at least, but still. Having his entire life mapped out for him was excruciatingly boring. already disappointing his parents by becoming a professor instead of working for the family he’d figured the betrothal deny would’ve been too far of a stretch—even for himself.

He knew her from school, but barely, she was two years younger. And pretty, yes, and smart, yes, but he’d never so much as said more than a handful of words to her. In passing nonetheless.

Besides, it wasn’t her eyes on constant display in his head as he lay wide awake in his bedroom. It was another’s. Since the exact moment Lena Periwinkle fell into his world he has been tormented by her beauty and stature.

He decided if he couldn’t sleep he should work instead.

His side project was crafting wolfsbane potion to give to in-need werewolves, like Remus Lupin and others he knew of. Anything to keep busy. Anything to help.

His broom in hand he passed by the history of magic classroom, just for kicks. To appease his wandering mind.

To his utter shock and total interest, she sat up at the desk in a room flooded by candlelight. Books scattered the massive desk. Not one, but three chalkboards behind her filled with words and lesson plans. He knocked softly on the doorframe before entering.

“It’s that time already?” She said, sounding fully alarmed.

He chuckled and proceeded further into the room against his better judgment. “No, no, I couldn’t sleep and wolfsbane won’t brew itself.”

Lena sighed hopelessly, “and lesson plans won’t write themselves, someone should’ve warned me.”

“Starting to understand why everyone hates it now?”

“It’s not that I hate the subject, I just hate the work, the curriculum, the requirements. It’s all so black and white and history is well, the complete fucking opposite.”

His eyes widened, nearly falling out of his skull, then he roared with laughter. Hearing the woman speak in such a vulgar way was… well, attractive. Knowing how she held herself and what she did for a living, he’d never expected that language from her.

“What’s so funny?” She probed.

“I just… you’re so… different. It’s good. It’s a change.”

“Because I cuss? Or because I’m the first living history professor in a hundred years?”

“Both I guess?”

“I just—“ she began, leaning back in her chair to reveal a pair of silk pajamas below her professor robes. “No wonder half the class is falling asleep, it’s boring. It’s boring me and I’m actively in love with it. I don’t get how anyone paid attention to this crap. When I was younger my teacher was the best. A witch from the Salem trial. It was interesting. At least with Binns he lived and died for this class, literally.”

“You are interesting. The talk of the town. The kids love you more than they love me and I’ve been here for three years.”

“That doesn’t say much.” She said with a playful smile. “Do you want a drink?”

He wanted to stop himself. To stop what was growing in his heart and groin. But he didn’t. “Can a fish swim?”

—

They sat there with their perspective glasses of firewhiskey, in a peaceful late-night silence. It was sort of mesmerizing how blissful he felt in that. How a near complete stranger made him feel more comfortable in a span of a month than anyone else.

“It's hard, because when I was a kid I was so obsessed with the history of this culture, of our world. How the Monks in Tibet used phoenix ash to prolong their lives or—or how witches were put on trial for centuries! It’s all so fucking—“ she stopped herself short, running her hands through her hair exhaustedly, “I don’t know how to just make it interesting like it was for me.”

“But that’s not our job, is it?”

“It is! I believe that’s the whole fucking point—“ she stopped herself, sitting bolt upright, “it just dawned on me, it’s been months of working with and I don’t even know your name--“

“—Draco,” he blurted, the firewhiskey loosening his tongue. Embarrassment staining his cheeks.

“Well, Draco,” she continued on, the way she said his name sent waves of pure euphoria down his spine. “What do you think the whole point of this is?”

He let out a breath of air he’d been holding in, scratching his head in an archaic sort of way. “Well, it's shit. You get these kids with short attention spans who know nothing unless their Minister in fucking training, and on top of it all you’ve got to fit it all in in a timely manor. Sucks all the fun and creativity and love from the art.”

“So really there’s no point and I’ve picked the wrong profession?”

“Is there ever a point to any profession?” He said laughing, she laughed, too. “Enough about work, we’re off the clock, right? Tell me something good. Something gritty, like why do you know Dumbledore, and why in the hell do you call him Albus?”

Her laughing subsided, “my grandfather’s a magizoologist. He’s friends with all the old-heads, Scamander, Doge, Wolfe—“

“—Wolfe?”

“A wandmaker. Even older than Dumbledore, I think.”

“Wait, who is your grandfather?”

“Leonard Phoenix.”

“Leonard fucking Phoenix?”

“Yes, yes, he’s my grandfather.”

“And Periwinkle comes from?”

“My father’s side. My grandmother was a potioneer and very independent, keeping her family name as all other women from her line had too.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not Petra periwinkle, right?” She screwed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, Draco shot out of his chair, excitement running through his body. “You’ve got to be fucking insane. Why on earth are you here?”

“Same as you, Malfoy.” She said with a playful grin. Lena knew damn well that he, too, came from a long line of great names. They shared a bit of common ground in being great-great-grandchildren of great great people. “Why don’t you tell me about your lineage then—“

“—ah,ah,ah, I asked you how you know Dumbledore, you’ve barely even come full circle to answering that. What’d you guys do, like spend fucking holiday’s together?”

Lena’s face flushed intensely, “well when you put it like that, yes, actually. He’d come down to the cottage every Fourth of July. he loves fireworks. Now your turn.”

“There’s not much there.” he started before going on, surprised he’d even thought of sharing this, “just. Long line of sad sacks with vendetta’s to better people, good people.”

“Like Abraxas?”

“Actually, he was a good one. My favorite. And my aunt.” He chuckled to himself, leaning forward, letting his mind and mouth run free, “Andromeda was estranged, kicked out of the family, disowned, ridiculed, and for love. She was the kindest woman though, I met her two times. Once on my sixth birthday, and the last time I met her here. My grandfather on the other hand, he was a shit show. Everyone thought him to be a true death eater, but… it was complicated…”

“Didn’t he—“

“He warned him, I believe, gave him an out, a way to live. He was my best friend, still is.”

“That’s actually depressing, Draco.” She said with a gentle chuckle and smile. Trying her hardest to lighten the mood. “You know, for the record, I believe you, too.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve read some journals, talked to people, Abraxas was many things, but not that it seemed.”

“How do know all this shit? and again, why in Merlin’s fucking name are you a teacher?”

“I guess,” she said as if she tossed the idea around in her mind, “I love it. It excites me.”

He could think of a few exciting things, too, but he figured that was the firewhiskey clouding his judgment. “Gods, you’re a trip. Well then, what brings you here and not Ilvermorny.”

“Life, I suppose.” She shrugged, finishing off her firewhiskey with a look of despair, “and history. Lots and lots of history.”

He clicked his tongue and finished off his own firewhiskey, “we’ve all got baggage.”

“And what’s yours?”

“I asked first.” He said, quivering his eyebrow.

“I was married,” she blurted out laughing hysterically, “before, you know, I went to Brazil. I got caught up in a young fucked love affair, got talked into marriage at twenty, then it all became suffocating. So, I left. Went to Brazil for a while, and now… I’m here. In the fucking UK.”

“You say fuck a lot.” Cursing himself for saying that of all things possible, instead of maybe ‘sorry to hear about that’ or ‘maybe that was a good decision’ or literally anything else.

“You can take a girl out of Chicago, but you can’t take Chicago out of the girl.”

“So,” he hesitated, then went for it in hopes to redeem some sense of credibility, “if you don’t mind my crudeness, what was it like?”

“The marriage or the bullshit afterwards?”

“Both.”

“Well, the marriage lasted for a whopping six months, the bullshit after was… well, bullshit.” She laughed again, “he was sweet sometimes, and vile the next. Once the ring was on we lost ourselves, everything was turned upside down in the worst way possible and I was stuck in the past. I just wish I’d listened to my intuition, you know, wish I’d trusted myself. One day I was sitting in our kitchen after a big fight and I thought to myself, why am I here? What purpose does this serve other than a good name, a good family, a good legacy, a shitty partner. A shitty life. We met at Ilvermorny, but he was a banker, I was a history nut, we never would’ve worked out. Besides, he was fucking half his clients.”

Draco sucked in air in a bid to dim the shitstorm she’d unloaded on him. “I… I am… wow—“

“—I’m sorry for that. I-I shouldn’t’ve… it’s late and I am clearly delirious right now—“

“—no, no,” Draco sputtered, “I… I honestly understand every bit of that. The feelings of living up to a standard you don’t quite want to live up to. Becoming a teacher even, it's a change of life. A break off the old path—“

“A road less traveled. I’m fully aware.”

“Our families think they know what’s best for us, but in reality nobody fucking knows. You’ve gotta do what you want or else what’s the point?”

“So what is it you’ve been roped into?”

“An arrangement to put it simply.”

“Let me get this straight,” she said, a interested look on her face, leaning forward, “I tell you everything about my life and you tell me—“

“I’m betrothed to a woman I never even proposed to.” He exclaimed. Her eyes widened and he knew it was then and there that he was done for, “I know her from school. Our families are old blood, old money, it’s more of an alliance, a financial union. our fathers met for tea one day, came back and declared it the next. No choice, no question, no hesitation. Just signed our lives away. That was a month or so ago. The wedding’s in the spring, though, I don’t even know why because everything is already bloody planned out! Down to our deaths.”

She blinked and opened her mouth a few times, then decided to pour another glass for the both of them, “a toast to our sorrows, friend.”

He smiled flatly and raised his glass, too. Trying not to react to the ‘friend’ bit.

“So do you—“ she began, hesitating, “are you at least attracted to her?”

“I mean, she’s pretty, and I’m sure she’s capable enough, but I have no clue if we can even hold a conversation let alone a marriage.”

“That’s why I’ve sworn them off.”

“Marriages?”

“relationships.”

“You don’t think you’re just saying that because of your past do you?”

“Not just because of my failures, but my parents… My father was absent for most of my life. Actually all of it.” She said with a sad chuckle. “He didn’t want anything to do with me or my mother, picked up his bags and ran off to wherever the hell he is now.”

“And your grandfather?”

“Stepped in to help. Guilty for his son's sins probably. He’s a good man. Better than his son, that’s for sure.”

“Well, he could’ve been absent and in your life.”

“And an asshole.”

“And an asshole.”

“Fuck them. Fuck them all.”

“Cheers to that, friend.” Draco said with a deviously sad grin.