Chapter Text
Chapter 6
“I must admit, I was beginning to believe you would never accept my offer.” Regal and posed, Narcissa Malfoy sits at a Victorian set of patio furniture, the Manor gardens sprawling out behind her. Still being early autumn the sun's warm rays have not yet abandoned them. She probably assumed he’d be more comfortable outside given the circumstances of his first and only other visit to the manor- he appreciated the gesture.
“Sorry Mrs. Malfoy, it’s been a very busy couple of years.” Harry explains, pulling out a chair for Ginny before taking his own seat. In their usual Sunday robes they feel woefully underdressed, not because Narcissa’s dress is fancy, but overtly very expensive. Flicking her wand, Narcissa pours the tea, a fine china set moving to serve itself.
“Yes, of course, it is difficult to find the time with a young one,” said Narcissa, directing with a nod, a house elf wearing a satin pillowcase to offer Ginny sugar cubes from a matching porcelain sugar bowl. Holding her own cup to the elf who diligently placed two cubes into the cup without a splash, Narcissa watches James from the corner of her eye as he stands on his seat, his shoes leaving muddy footprints on the cushions; she doesn’t say anything.
Ginny slides her hands under James armpits, moving him onto her lap, his shoes leave spots of dirt on the skirt of Ginny’s robes.
“Honestly, if I knew how much work it would be I would have waited to start,” Ginny laughs, breaking up a biscuit into quarters for James. “Of course mum wasn’t going to let that happen, she’s crazy for grandchildren.”
“What about you? Are Draco and Astoria planning on having kids soon?” Harry asks. He hides a wince as Ginny kicks him under the table.
“Oh no,” Narcissa replies with a strained smile. “I’ve learned not to expect much from my daughter in law.”
“Why? Does she not want kids?” Harry continues trying to sound innocent, clearly this is a sore spot.
“Well I couldn’t work and take care of this one,” Ginny interjected quickly, shooting a stern look Harry's way. “I’m sure WWN keeps her busy- she’s going to be interviewing Harry soon actually.”
“Yes, she told me about your little interview she’s got planned,” Narcissa replies scathingly, taking a sip from her tea cup. “I don’t understand it, a silly hobby is one thing but… ah well,” setting her tea down she brushes a non existent crease from the skirt of her robes.
So this is an argument that she’s had before.
“I am interested to meet her,” Harry continues, hoping Narcissa will elaborate. “She went to Hogwarts but I don’t remember her.”
“Speaks for itself doesn’t it,” Narcissa smirks. “She’s pretty enough.”
“Well, this tea is wonderful,” said Ginny, taking her own slurping sip “what brand is it?”
“Brand?” Narcissa quirks her eyebrow, placing her cup on the saucer with a click.
“Do you have the box?” Ginny winces, regretting her question.
“Perhaps Mopsy can tell you where it is imported from.”
Harry takes a long sip from his cup.
“And how old is-“
“James,” Ginny supplied.
“He’ll be two in a couple months,” said Harry ruffling James' hair. “Molly and his uncles are already talking about him being sorted into Gryffindor. I can’t imagine him going to Hogwarts, it seems so far away.”
“It’ll happen in no time at all,” said Narcissa, with a soft smile.
“Well I’m looking forward to it, get some peace and quiet in my life,” said Ginny as James, standing on his mothers knee left muddy footprints on her robes.
“How about Draco,” Harry asks, ignoring Ginny’s side-eye. “What was he like at Hogwarts?”
Narcissa’s head tilts nearly imperceptibly. “You went to school together, you know what he was like.”
James is whining beside Harry, wanting his mother to let him go.
“How foolish of me, a table is no place for an active child. Ginevera why don’t you explore the gardens with James,” ringing a small silver bell the house elf from earlier appears with a crack. “Mopsy, show my guests to the hedge maze- ensure they don’t get lost.”
“Of course mistress,” Mopsy squeaks as she lowers herself into a low curtsey. Waiting for Ginny to rise from her seat, she folds her napkin with a snap of her fingers before leading the pair to the gardens. Ginny holds James hand as he toddles after the house elf.
“When your wife tells you you’re being rude it’s best to heed her advice.” Confused by her comment, Narcissa kicks her leg against the table leg- right of course she noticed. “Draco always complained you liked to stick your nose where it didn’t belong.”
“Anything else he used to say that comes to mind?”
Narcissa licks her lips, adjusting her china just so.
“I suppose I should have been at least a little suspicious, you finally accepted my invitation after all of these years.” Narcissa pauses in her ministrations to assess him. “This might be simplest if you just ask what it is you want to know, I don’t see the need for pleasantries.”
Leaning back into her chair she crosses her arms, guarded.
“Uh right,” Harry stutters, wondering how bold he can be, he isn’t exactly sure what one is meant to call in a life debt.
“Well, uh you're right that I came here for something, but what I really need is for you to keep what we discuss between us.” Harry pauses, biting his lip “I would owe you, or uh, we would be even.”
Narcissa nods for him to carry on, the weight of the nod showing she understands what he’s getting at and can agree.
“So, how did Draco feel about Hogwarts?”
“He was excited to go, I imagine every child wants to spend time away from home,” said Nacissa. “But eventually it lost its charm.”
Meeting Harry’s gaze Narcissa gives a short chuckle. “I’m surprised you feel so fondly,” said Narcissa, “with everything that's happened there.”
“What were his issues with Hogwarts?”
Narcissa gives a deep sigh, “oh, that the teachers were all terrible, that the curriculum was a joke, that every year introduced a new mortal threat, that the students were all stupid,” Narcissa pauses to take a sip of her tea. “I believe he was just bored. I can believe that the curriculum wasn’t particularly challenging.”
“Outside of sport there wasn’t much going on,” Narcissa continued. “It wasn’t always that way, there used to be music, drama, and all sorts of electives when I was a student.”
Harry already knew all of these things, Malfoy had never exactly been shy about sharing his opinion. He could spend the entire afternoon this way or, having Narcissa’s secrecy, he could be more direct.
“When Draco came back from second year, was he… angry?”
Narcissa’s brows furrowed.
“Perhaps.” she shrugs, Narcissa doesn’t meet Harry’s gaze. “We didn’t have him home for the holidays, I figured he might still be holding a grudge, that he would get over it.”
“Would he get over it?” Harry pushed.
Pressing her nails against her lips Narcissa stops herself just short of biting them. “It just became how he was, kids change it’s called growing up.”
“Is that what you really think, he just grew up?”
“Why should I think it was anything else,” Narcissa said defensively. She continued to worry her nails. “He would tell me.”
Maybe she had believed it then, but she doesn’t sound so sure now.
“But you thought something might have? Happened, I mean.” Harry presses.
Narcissa takes a sip of her tea, the china rattling as she shakily places her cup back onto the saucer. “I don’t know.”
“In 1993 you took Draco to St. Mungos for stomach pain, can you tell me any more about that.”
It takes her a few moments before responding.
“Yes, well, once he returned home for the summer holidays I noticed he wasn’t eating very much, so I took him to St. Mungos.” Wringing her hands, she folds them onto her lap. “They just let anyone become a healer I suppose; they were no help at all.”
“The healer's files said that they believed it was psychosomatic-“ Narcissa’s brow creases, not understanding. Right muggle word. “that it was uh- in his head.”
“My son is not crazy,” she replies curtly.
Back at Grimmauld Place, the summer before fifth year, Sirius had shown Harry the Black family tapestry, pointing to all of his ancestors rumoured to be mad.
“Does, uh, mental illness run in the Black family?”
“Draco isn’t a Black, he’s a Malfoy,” Narcissa states the line like an old worn out argument. “Either way, it went away on its own.”
It sounds like the sort of thing Aunt Petunia would believe, that pretending Harry didn’t possess magical abilities was the same thing as not having them. He doubts the stomach aches went away.
“Why are you asking me all this?” Narcissa asks. “Is Draco in trouble?”
The answer should come easily, it is all in the past. The act of revealing doesn’t feel any different from creating.
“No.” It sounds like a lie.
“Tea was lovely Mrs. Malfoy,” said Ginny, holding a squirming James, cranky for being awake past his nap time.
“Don’t mention it,” Narcissa answered flatly. “Good day.”
The words are hardly out of her mouth before the door is closed, nearly hitting Harry’s nose.
“What a bitch!”
“Ginny,” Harry hisses, hoping Narcissa can’t hear them through the door.
“Well she is,”Ginny huffs, hoisting James further up her arms she begins the trek down the long drive towards the gate, and past the anti-apparition charms. “Pestering you for years to come over just to force us out of her home, she didn’t even offer to let us use the floo. What did you talk about anyway?”
“It’s fine Ginny,” Harry answers lamely. He can’t exactly explain why Narcissa went cold on them.
Adjusting her hold on James Ginny assesses him. If she was considering asking a follow up question she decides against it.
Ginny passes James off to Harry with a groan, “you’re too nice.”
After tea Harry pops into the Ministry, he wants to jot some notes while his conversation with Narcissa is fresh in his mind.
The atrium is active with various office workers and visitors walking by, and flocks of memo soaring across the high ceilings. Harry waves and nods to all of the various hellos he receives on autopilot.
Ron is studying a calendar when Harry enters, scheduling his own interviews. As the investigation ramps up they’re not in office at the same time as much. When Harry is out interviewing Sabrina’s family Ron is in, and when Harry is in Ron is Harry doesn’t know where.
“Ah, made it back from tea then, thought I might have to break you out of the cellar,” Ron smirks. His joke is delivered a little flat.
“Yup, so you can call off the rescue mission,” Harry replies dryly, flopping down into his chair.
Harry doesn’t want to know what Ron will think when he finds out Ginny was there. If not outright against the rules it is a conflict of interest, but he didn’t see how he could avoid it without declining the invite.
“We need to schedule a check in with Lockhart’s sister,” said Ron gesturing with the calendar. “Orla has been hounding Anne for an update.”
Reviewing the memo Anne wrote Harry considers Orla’s schedule, she was very generous about suggesting potential meetings.
“I can stay late Wednesday,” Harry offers.
Ron sighs. “Can’t that’s delivery day at the shop.”
Ron had always made himself available to be an extra hand at the shop when George needed it, but lately it seemed like he always needs an extra hand.
“You should leave early, I mean, if you're not seeing anyone else today there is no need to stick around.”
“Oh I’m leaving but not to go home,” said Ron rubbing his eyes. “Hermione finally decided on a crib; honestly mate she must be an expert at this point, and she doesn’t want it shrunk because that compromises the structural integrity,” Ron shakes his head whatever that means, “so I need to figure out how I’m going to fit it in a fireplace.”
Apparating with an object larger than a handbag is ill advised, all of the spinning and twisting results with a lot of bruising as the item knocks about you.
“Oh Harry your back,” Anne greets, returning from some errand she sets a stack of files onto Ron’s desk, fixing her hair behind her ears. “Kingsley wants to see you at your earliest convenience.”
That means now.
Harry follows Anne out of the office and back into the shared waiting area for all of the Auror offices.
“I got a letter confirming a meeting with Astoria Greengrass, are you really going to be on the radio?” Anne beams with excitement as she walks with Harry towards the head Auror office.
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
“Ah, that’s so exciting! You have to tell me what she’s like, without her I would have never discovered the Strokes and then I would have never met Declan.” Declan was Anne’s muggle boyfriend who she met on a fan forum. “She’s like my hero.”
Realizing that she is talking to someone who is actually considered to be a hero, Anne falters. “Well, I mean…”
“It’s alright, I’ll tell her.” Harry smiles.
“Do me better and bring her to the office sometime.” Anne winks, turning to return to her own desk.
Kinglsy’s secretary lets Harry straight in.
“Ah Harry,” Kingsley greets. Leaning over his desk he gives Harry a warm, two handed handshake. “Have a seat, have a seat.”
The head Auror office isn’t much bigger than the partner offices, but with only one desk in the center of the space it is slightly more imposing. Or perhaps it is the lack of clutter and mess that makes it appear so. Thoughtfully decorated the walls are adorned with Kingsly’s accolades and mementos- framed Daily Prophet articles outlining major cases and wins, photographs of Kingsley nieces in their Hogwarts uniform, a Magpies quidditch flag. Harry stops at the picture of the Order of the Phoenix, gathered together in front of the staircase at Grimmauld Place; he watches as Tonks hair changes colour from pink to blue.
“So, how is the case going?” Kingsley asks, breaking Harry’s trance.
“Good, I mean, making progress, I can't really say….” Harry is not sure which details he can give, or if this is a sign that Kingsley knows about tea this afternoon, as he isn’t exactly sure if his current strategy is up to code- he has always found it better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Kingsley waves Harry off casually, “top secret I understand,” he shrugs easily trusting that Harry will share the details with him when the time is right.
“What I should have asked is, how long do you believe this investigation is going to take?”
“It’s hard to say,” the need for secrecy means that most of these conversations are spent talking in circles, trying to close in on something useful that may never come,
“Less thanthan a year?”
“I hope so.”
“I am not trying to rush you,” Kingsley clarifies, rubbing his chin. “Have you given any thought to your long term goals with the Auror department?”
“Sir?”
“The rumour is that Minister Smith, now that things are more stable, is considering retirement.”
In the post-war upheaval Smith had been thrust into the role, as a high-ranking Ministry official who had maintained a level of innocence during Voldemort's puppet government. His appointment was meant to be temporary, overseeing the trials of Death Eaters and Ministry officers tied to Voldemort's reign.
“I am considering running.”
Harry grins. “You would be great!”
Kingsley cannot hide an appreciative grin. “I would need to name a new head of the Auror department,” he directed a pointed look at Harry.
“Me?” asked Harry, shocked. “Shouldn’t you name someone with… more experience?”
“Harry there isn’t a single wizard in the world more qualified.”
Even if that is true Harry hadn’t given the position of Head Auror any thought, just like in school focusing only on the case in front of him.
“You don’t need to answer now, I just want you to think about it.”
It’s a muggle pub. Packed with the Thursday happy hour crowd, tables are surrounded by smartly dressed muggles, having arrived straight from the office. A five minute walk away is the lamppost which acts as the secret magical entrance to the Wizarding Wireless Network’s station headquarters.
Astoria probably chose it for its proximity to the station. Perhaps she came here often after work, maybe Malfoy would meet her here when she did.
Looking over the sea of side swept fringes he spots a woman in muggle clothes that is definitely a witch; possessing an innate eccentricity. While wearing office attire, Astoria did not blend in to the crowd at all; her lilac silk blouse with an elaborate bow at the neck sticking out like a sore thumb.
Sitting alone at a high top table, a nearly finished pint of beer in front of her, Astoria rests her head in the palm of her left hand, propping open a book with the other. Based on her disinterested expression it isn’t very good. Boredly, she flips the page.
Harry observes her across the bar for another moment before approaching, he’d purposefully arrived 10 minutes late to get to see her before she knew she was being watched. She looks up from her book as Harry pulls out a stool.
“The Harry Potter, I can’t believe it. When I sent out that invitation the station manager laughed in my face! ‘ Harry Potter doesn't do interviews’ his words exactly, but, here you are!”
He doesn’t recognize her from Hogwarts. Looking into her dark brown eyes and warm smile he saw a complete stranger.
Setting her book aside her soft dark curls shone as they reflected the light, her hair was very shiny. She wore a collection of rings on each hand, the diamond on her ring finger the most impressive of them all. On closer inspection her lilac blouse was pinstriped with a slightly lighter shade.
Giving Harry a firm handshake she continues, “Sorry this meeting is so late, I’m on air from noon until 8 so, -“
“Oh no, it’s no trouble at all really,” Harry reassures her; her rings are cold against his hand.
“What’s your poison?”
“Oh, uh, I’ll just have what you’re having,” Astoria nodded, finishing the little left in her glass before running to the bar for another round.
Making sure her back is turned facing the bar, Harry pulls the book across the table to inspect it. It doesn’t look like a typical book, with a plain white cover and Times New Roman font - Who Am I, Advanced Reader Copy . Opening the front cover, the insert reads the same, with strict instructions not to distribute or otherwise share the book for non-reviewing purposes.
“You really are just as bad as Draco said,” Astoria laughs, setting two frosty pint glasses down on the table. Flushing, Harry sheepishly slides the book back across the table.
“Gilderory Lockhart wrote a book and they want me to promote it on the station, do you remember him?” Astoria asks, putting the tome into her patent leather handbag, closing the clasp with a snap.
“Uh, a bit yeah,” Harry nearly chokes on his first sip of beer. “Has Malfoy told you any stories about his classes?”
Astoria rolls her eyes theatrically at the use of surnames, “no Draco hasn't told me much, just that he is as good at teaching as he is at writing.”
It is noisy in the pub, the buzz of the patrons obscuring her laugh. “But we’re not here to talk about the worst Christmas gift you’re going to get this holiday season,” Astoria announces, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a practiced flick of her wrist she leans forward, elbows on the table ready to get down to business.
“So, I’d explained it all in the letter, but basically the program is an hour long with ad breaks, so you only need to talk for 45 minutes, and we’ll go through your top 8 favourite songs, playing them on air and chatting about them in between.”
Pausing to take a long sip from her pint, she sets her glass back squarely on her coaster before continuing. “It’s a great way for people to feel closer to you, get to know you better - and who doesn’t want to know Harry Potter! Famous war hero and wizard extraordinaire, plus advertisers will love it.”
Using his fame for publicity is hardly a new phenomenon, it has been happening since Harry entered the Wizarding world, Astoria’s frank business approach to it however is. Honestly it is a little refreshing. What was she doing with Malfoy?
Harry nodding along, takes a small sip of his own.
“So….what are they?”
“What are…”
“You’re top 8 songs!” Astoria laughed, rolling her eyes. Right, the reason he was here. Harry licked his upper lip, he’d forgotten that he’d actually need to go on air for this whole set up to work.
“Er-“
“Don’t worry, no one ever knows off the top of their heads, that’s why I have the meeting,” Astoria reassured him, rummaging inside of her Hermes Kelly handbag she pulls out a muggle notepad and pen.
“It helps if you have memories associated with the songs, makes talking about them easier,” said Astoria, removing the cap from a bic ballpoint pen and sticking it on the bottom end. “At quidditch practice did the Gryffindor teams play any music to get pumped for a game?”
“We didn’t really play music at practice,” replied Harry unhelpfully.
“Okay, and when you were studying for OWLS?” Astoria tested the pen on the paper, drawing out a short series of loops.
“I studied at the library with Hermione,” Harry shrugged.
“Well what did you play over the summer holidays? Any worn out tapes?”
“Um, we had some Primus tapes I think?” Harry shrugged, at least that’s what he thinks was written on there, all he really remembers is the grotesque clay pig face that was on the cover.
“Really?” Astoria gasps, mouth open. “I never pegged you for a metal fan,” she smirks gleefully.
“It was more my cousin's thing,” even though Dudley had broken it and the other tapes Aunt Marge had gotten him from America his cousin still didn’t want him to have it. Maybe it could have been Harry’s thing, or more likely not.
Stumped, Astoria chews on the end of her pen, plotting her new plan of attack. With a thoughtful hum Astoria opens her handbag, pulling out CD book after CD book - more than could possibly fit. An expansion charm then.
“No one can remember all of the song and band names, that’s why they make pictures,” said Astoria. Harry doesn’t believe that is true. Selecting the CD organizer from the top of the stack and unzipping it. “Maybe seeing the artwork will jog some memories, or act as inspiration.”
Flipping through the thin plastic sheets the pages are two slots wide and three slots long, and organized so that the disc sat in the inner slot with the songbook beside it. She turns the pages slowly, careful not to let the plastic slip through her fingers.
Scanning all of the images Harry considers picking 8 at random, they were wasting a lot of time on him when he had so many more questions to ask.
“Wait, that,” Harry stops Astoria’s flipping, tapping a songbook with a grainy black and white image of an airship. “Sirius had that poster in his room.”
As a teenager Sirius had adorned his bedroom walls at Grimmauld place with a multitude of posters. He had to have a professional curse breaker, Bill Weasley, come in to remove the permanent sticking charms he had used to keep his mother from removing them.
Astoria pulled out the song book, “fantastic, this one's a classic! And Sirius is?”
“Sirius Black, my godfather.”
“Oh,” Harry isn’t sure what Astoria thinks, Sirius public image is a complicated one, while a hero to the order for most of his classmates he was that escaped criminal seen around Hogwarts - his pardon wasn’t even a front page story. “Well, I’m sure people would love to know more about that.”
Slipping the disc from its slot, Astoria gingerly places it on top of the songbook in front of Harry.
Sirius had hated that house. Dark polished wood, ancient, intricate fabrics, and fine glass and silver detailings, Grimmauld Place was the epitome of pure blood austerity, and the family that rejected him; Harry hated it too. Even years later, Harry couldn’t stand to be in there himself, hiring an estate manager to deal with the property. Now, further away from the loss he feels he should have emptied the house himself; was anything of Sirius' packed away or was it all lost?
Taking the CD, Harry places it into one of the pages of its songbook, and tucks it into his clock pocket.
“Let’s keep looking then,” Astoria interrupts his reviere with a false smile.
They continued working their way through the CD books, slowly adding to Harry’s collection. The remainder of Led Zeppelin’s discography, Let it Bleed - Rolling Stones on Astoria’s recommendation (if he listened to Zeppelin he listened to The Stones), Definitely Maybe - Oasis, Room on Fire - The Strokes and The Great Escape - Blur. As for actual songs they had two weird sisters tracks and the Celestina Warbeck ballad he and Ginny had danced to at their wedding.
Astoria was already looking to push back their interview, with her patent leather bound diary open in front of her she also penciled in another day to meet, after Harry had listened in on his homework to finalize his list.
“Not to sound ungrateful, because this very well could change my entire career, but it seems like you’re not much of a music fan,” Astoria begins, closing the clasp of her planner with a snap. “Why did you decide to go on the show?”
“Oh, uh, Ginny, my wife-” Astoria rolls her eyes at the clarification, because he’s a celebrity and everyone knows who his wife is. “She, uh. thought it would be fun… or funny.”
Astoria smirks, Ginny’s reputation precedes her then. “Well, I’m glad we’re including your first dance, maybe she’ll feel bad for putting you on the hot seat.”
Finishing her sentence with a leisurely swig Astoria finishes another pint. The pub is much quieter now, with many of the after work crowd having wrapped up and gone home, it was a week night after all. Just a couple short weeks ago the sun would still be shining, but now the sky is black, fall is descending upon them.
“I’m surprised you reached out to me, actually,” said Harry, peeling the corners of his PIMM’s promotional coaster. Astoria tilts her head waiting for him to elaborate. “I mean, aren’t you married to Draco Malfoy?”
Astoria’s expression darkens. Given her earlier comments Harry was sure she would put up with a little invasiveness on his part for the sake of this interview; he pressed on “why don’t you use your married name on air?”
She goes to take a sip of her beer before she realizes it is empty. Awkwardly she sets the empty glass back onto her coaster, off center.
“Well, get enough hate mail without advertising the connection - if people started calling in just to… they don’t need to know about me, they want to know about the music, and the people I bring on like you!”
She’s smiling with her final proclamation, gesturing with both hands as if she is now presenting Harry. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes, Harry gets the feeling she's to type to laugh when angry.
“How did you meet?”
“Because you would have noticed right?” Astoria laughs. She already knows Harry is nosey, her husband told her so. “Merlin, you are so obsessed with each other.”
“You are correct we did not hang out at school,” said Astoria. “I mean we always knew each other obviously, our dads worked together and my sister was his girlfriend's best friend, but we didn’t really talk for real until my sister's engagement party.”
Lacking anything to drink she begins to fiddle with her rings, turning them round and round on her fingers.
“Not for lack of trying, he was so mysterious after everything, rarely showing up to things and when he did, leaving without talking to anyone.” Astoria pauses thoughtfully.
“Anyway, this is so embarrassing but I saw him heading out to the balcony for a smoke, and then to the apparat off right after no doubt, so I begged my uncle Declan to give me a cigarette.”
Sitting up straighter, Astoria holds her right hand in front of her, all but her first two fingers curled, miming holding the aforementioned cigarette.
“So I have this cigarette and I go outside, standing a little ways off yeah, pretending like I don’t see him, I do this whole little routine of rummaging in my handbag for a lighter- which I don’t have because I don’t smoke.” As Astoria explains she ren-acts this action, searching through an invisible handbag she gives up throwing her arms up in exasperated defeat. “So I look around, because I’m pretending I don’t know he’s there, and then I look at him, trying to look cool.”
Astoria adjusts her stance to recreate this, slouching into an aloof shrug, and half lidded eyes, says “and I say, you got a light?”
“He’s already laughing at me, but he comes over with a smirk and he lights his wand, and me, I hold it out to him like this, like an idiot.” She holds her hand out across the table towards Harry, who is presumably taking the place of Draco in this story.
“ He looks at the cigarette, and then he looks at me, and he says. You need to inhale while you light it , I must have been crimson, obviously he sees through the whole charade, but I pop it in my mouth and he lights it. Well, I’ve never smoked before so I take a huge breath in-”
Astoria takes in a heaving breath, “and then, I tried to hold it in, I really did, but I have this terrible coughing fit.”
“At least he waited until I was finished coughing to laugh, very decent. He asked what I really wanted and, yeah, we just talked.”
Harry makes an affirmative hmm, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t matter as Astoria doesn’t look as if she is really listening, still in her own memory.
“I don’t think he’d laughed in a while.”
Harry takes a sip from his half full glass, deliberately drinking at a slower rate, as he considers his next question. What is a natural follow up to this.
“Merlin is that really the time!” Astoria gasps, checking her watch. “I am so sorry Harry but I told Draco I would be finished nearly a half hour ago.”
Tossing all of her belongings back into her purse she doesn't mention it was his fault for being entirely unprepared.
“Oh, no, sorry to keep you so long,” said Harry, taking a shallow sip of his drink.
“I’ll post you to confirm our second meeting,” Astoria said as she tied the belt of her dark brown leather coat.
Harry remains in his seat, waiting until Astoria is out the door before following after her. Exiting the pub, Harry ducks back to hide behind the doorway. Draco Malfoy is standing outside.
“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” Astoria says, accepting Draco’s cigarette to take a short drag herself before handing it back to him.
“Expected Potter would be a special case,” Harry can hear Malfoy’s sneer.
Taking back the cigarette Malfoy stands with his left hand in his pocket, wearing black trousers and a black peacoat.
Looping her right arm through his left they begin walking off, they’re voices fading as they begin to walk down the street. “Yes, yes, you were right about everything, he was late and not at all prepared,” Astoria laughs.
Their voices fade as they disappear around the corner.