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Astrid Malfoy had been ready for this day her whole life. It was in her blood, after all, to become a witch. And finally, she would get to learn what it took. Of course, her Father had instructed both her and her brother in the fundamental basics, to ensure they maintained the desired image, and this included basic Quidditch practice (not that Astrid would actually be allowed to join the team of course).
Unlike her brother, she did not try as hard to hide her excitement by replicating their Father’s feeling of distaste towards the school, it was two years before Draco would get his letter so perhaps he was just a little bitter. Astrid was quietly pleased that the day had come and they were standing on the very station that would lead her to a new world.
She would miss her mother, most definitely, holding on to her for longer than would be appropriate as they said their goodbyes. Clutching her mother’s dark cloak in her pale fists, Narcissa whispered sweet things into her daughter’s ear not wanting to let go either. That was until Lucius let out a low warning for them both. Astrid and her mother had always been close, as had Narcissa and Draco. Her mother was everything Astrid had idolised and wanted to be when she grew up. She would write her daily.
Astrid knew standing with the other three members of her close family that she stuck out like a sore thumb. Mainly just because, unlike them, her hair was a dark brown colour and would be slightly curly if she let it.
Draco had inherited their father’s light blonde hair and since Narcissa dyed hers the same colour regularly, it made Astrid appear as if she wasn’t a Malfoy at all, but belonged to some other pureblood family standing on the platform instead. Although, there was definitely one family that could be discounted from the list…
The Weasley’s were a gaggling bunch of lawless, feral, blood traitors and they made no shy attempt in hiding it. It was chaos looking over at them all, a sea of red-headed scrawny kids all bundling on the train. Atsrid counted six. Her father had warned both her and Draco about them. Both the mother and father had red-hair too, showing as clear as day the family unit. A young girl in her own worn clothes clutched at her mother’s side. There was an older boy (who ultimately looked the most in control out of the siblings) and a young boy too.
Two almost identical boys, both pushing trolleys were messing about next to them – clearly twins and clearly Weasley’s. They were grinning with smiles bigger than Astrid had ever seen on another person’s face, and it was strange how they didn’t seem to notice the weird looks they were getting from other people going past – they looked about her age as well. A giggle escaped her lips as one of the twins almost fell flat on his face, but the noise was cut off when her father grabbed her wrist, sternly telling her not to get distracted. They had an image to maintain after all.
The goodbyes between her and her family were short and practically emotionless. She was reminded to write them every week, using her own owl instead of the cheap-grade ones from the Owlery and she was to receive good grades and work hard (like any other daughter). But there was no ‘I love you’ exchanged between father and daughter, not that she expected it.
Wanted it? Maybe. But expected it? Never.
She was just his daughter after all.
***
It was third year when Astrid realised how exactly she resembled her family, or more to the point, who she resembled.
It was a summertime dinner party at Malfoy Manor, and, at her mother’s side, she was maintaining an amicable conversation with a wizard named Bartholomew Brickett.
What he said that day had stayed in her mind forever.
At first, she didn’t see it, she refused to see it. But now, standing in front of the mirror she couldn’t not see it. However much she hated it, she couldn’t deny the fact anymore…
Astrid Malfoy was the spitting image of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Astrid Malfoy looked exactly like the deranged woman in Azkaban, with wildly curly brown hair and narrowed glaring eyes – even when she wasn’t angry – sharp cheekbones and firm set scowl on her face. And recently, recently she’d started to notice that unpredictable glint in her eyes too.
It terrified Astrid, that she could the younger reincarnation of her evil aunt, but it seemed to please her Father that she finally belonged in the family – even if it was like that.
Astrid refused to end up like her Aunt Bella, not over her dead body. Astrid had watched her aunt’s name be whispered in the streets as she grew up, always associated with the worst kind of evil. Moreover, Bellatrix Lestrange had gone mad in Azkaban, she had simply lost her sanity – whatever sanity she still had after the Dark Lord was defeated anyway.
Therefore, Astrid opted to follow her other choice of career path, the only other respectable choice for a Pureblood woman. And that was when the way she looked became her greatest weapon.
***
Astrid had always had to keep her love for Quidditch a secret from her family. After all, for Malfoy women, Quidditch was a social event to be enjoyed, but never overly celebrated.
Still, it was the Quidditch World Cup! And her father wanted to take her with Draco and him!
Astrid could still remember the disapproving letter she had received from her parents when she had made Chaser for the Slytherin team last year, but she sent them a reply refusing to give the position up, using the excuse that it had actually improved her communications with her Housemates. Draco was already in the team, Seeker, though even Astrid would admit the only reason he made it was due to their father’s bribe. She on the other hand had got on the team through her own sheer hard work, something no one could take from her.
Astrid knew she would have to contain her interest at the Cup but being allowed to even see it was enough for her. She was well-practised in remaining silent when she’d rather speak up… she had her mother as her inspiration for that.
It was true that Astrid idolised her mother no more, she saw her for what she was. A coward, living in fear of her husband and the world they lived in. A woman who chose to drop her head and not see rather than argue her side in any confrontation. It was only meeting other women at Hogwarts that Astrid had learned not all women were like that.
Sure, Astrid could play the same part as her mother and when she did marry that is what she would have to be, but inside she was a storm and whilst she was a free woman she was not about to quench it.
Still, the fact that most of her life had been spent being seen and not heard meant that when she did interject it was never half-hearted or dim-witted and it was often paired with a malicious tongue.
That considered, alongside her surname, had built her quite a reputation at Hogwarts over the years and she relished the title of ‘the Ice Queen of Slytherin’ she was given. It meant no one bothered her.
She had that same solid as stone mask set on her face as the Malfoys arrived at the location for the Cup, their father easily leading his children up to where they would the game from, Astrid’s straightened brown hair flying in the wind behind her as she walked.
The atmosphere was undeniable.
At the same time, the Weasley clan settled into their seats at the top of the stands, all of them – Harry and Hermione included – staring around them in awe of the place, electric excitement flying between them. That soon dropped though when the second youngest Weasley spotted white-blond hair moving beneath them. The family followed the direction of his groan, including Fred Weasley (whose attire made it very clear who he was supporting) to spot the Malfoys as they moved below them.
The three came to a halt as Lucius spotted them with a scowl. “Well, put it this way… if it rains you’ll be the first to know.”
Draco Malfoy glared up at the family with his father, a haughty look on his face,
“Father, Astrid and I are in the Minister’s box,” He bragged to them.
“Don’t boast Draco, there’s no need with these people.” His father replied, whilst the third member of the party stood there silently.
Fed ignored the little brat and his father, instead choosing to study the girl herself. She had cut her hair shorter since the end of last year, but it was still dead straight and dark – setting her apart from her family. She didn’t need words like her brother to convey how she felt about them, one look was enough, her head held in the same high manor, eyes almost bored of the whole situation already.
“I assume you’ve met my daughter Astrid, Arthur?”
Lucius turned everyone else’s attention to her as well, almost as if he noticed she was slipping out of reality and wanted to haul her back. “After all, she is in the same year as two of your children, I mean who could forget with all the trouble they cause?”
Fred didn’t miss the sly jab at him and his twin, but neither of them was particularly bothered by it, after all, it was only the Malfoys.
“Weasleys.” Astrid greeted them in a bored tone, with barely a nod of the head in acknowledgement.
At least she was the politest out of all her family, even if it was a very low set bar.
“Malfoy.” The twins replied at the same time, with the same wicked grin plastered on each of their faces.
“Father I do believe the match is about to start,” Astrid said, constantly aware of the building tension.
“Ah right,” Lucius replied, looking back at Arthur Weasley one more time, “Enjoy yourself won’t you? While you can.”
The look of disgust washed over his face once more before he turned away, beckoning for his children to follow. Fred’s craned his neck and watched the Malfoy girl’s back keenly as she went, noticing how she kept glancing at the pitch, several more times. Perhaps Astrid Malfoy was more interested in this whole event than she was letting on.
“Seriously dude?” He was broken from his trance by George slapping his arm,
“What?” He defended, “She’s not exactly bad to look at.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Ron joined in, glaring at the spot where they just stood, “She’s evil.”
“She’s not as bad as her brother,” Fred said, no idea why he was defending the Malfoy girl – they didn’t exactly get along.
“That’s true.” George agreed, “She hardly speaks to us.”
“Because she thinks she’s too good for us.” Ginny scowled, “too good for anyone.”
The last words of Ginny’s sentence were cut off by an explosion of fireworks and all thought of Astrid Malfoy disappeared as the game began.
Except for Fred who gave one last glance over to the Minister’s box where they sat, only to make full eye contact with Astrid Malfoy herself.
Unlike most would, Astrid didn’t look away, instead, she held his stare, challenging him to do something. Fred noticed she wasn’t scowling, but instead there was an almost playful glare in her eye.
He made a move to wave at her sarcastically, hoping it would throw her off, but she suddenly looked away as her Father said something stern and her eyes glued back to the pitch unwaveringly.
Fred was still staring when Lucius Malfoy followed where his daughter’s eyesight had been, not impressed when they landed on the Weasley boy. Fred immediately looked away, letting himself succumb to the frenzy that was the Quidditch World Cup.
***
Astrid excused herself from her family as soon as the game was over, muttering some lame excuse about needing air that her father surprisingly bought. Considering they were outside the whole time it was quite a feat.
Really, she was ecstatic, the match had been thrilling. She didn’t care who won in the end, her father never allowing her to see enough matches to become attached to a certain team. But the intricacy of their formations and tactics was almost genius. She just wanted a few minutes to celebrate alone.
“Oi Malfoy!” She spun around to face the two most annoying members of the never-ending family running towards her. At least she was alone now, she didn’t even need to try and be ladylike.
“Tweedledumb, Tweedledumber.” She nodded at the twins respectively, “Gambling I see, what would your father say?”
“Well actually, we’re winning,” George said, patting his overflowing pockets.
Astrid just chuckled at their stupidity, a chuckle they appeared to be very confused at.
“Not with that money, you’re not,” She smirked, “Try Leprechaun gold.”
The look that struck their faces made her laugh as she twiddled a piece of her hair watching them with bemusement, “Better luck next time…”
Suddenly an ear-piercing scream rang out across the field, amplified by more and more joining it. Astrid looked to the sky as the world around her became darker and she stopped in her tracks, her mouth dropping open as the dark mark grew across the clouds. She stumbled back a few steps, reality dawning on her… this couldn’t be happening…
“Shouldn’t you be joining in the family fun?” George sneered at her, but Fred noticed how genuinely shocked she looked – even if only for a moment.
“Shouldn’t you be finding your family?” She fired back, “Wouldn’t want to be mistaken for muggles dressed like that.”
With those words left in the air, the girl started running off, one thought echoing through her mind. She had to find Draco. Similarly, the twins turned and ran for their family tent in the opposite direction. The insults thrown between Weasley and Malfoy left to rest under the shadow of the Dark Mark.
***
Astrid adjusted her turtleneck top, wrapped around her throat in a chokehold, sucking everything close to her body. Her eyebrows were drawn into a straight line, no expression. Her dark hair was perfectly straightened, not a single kink insight and perfectly framing her pale face.
The perfect daughter.
She turned away from the mirror, not looking behind her as she closed the door on her seemingly untouched room, luggage bag resting against the wall in the corridor. She barely glanced at it, knowing the elves would carry it down for her.
Descending the spiral staircase one step at a time, another face stared back at her from the bottom of the hall. Cold, calculated and cruel.
She could hear Gilly struggle down the stairs with her case as she reached the landing, shoes echoing off the polished floor. She turned to the elf, who was taking the utmost care not to let the case, which was almost the height of the little thing, touch the ground.
“Astrid.” Her father gained her attention again immediately, Draco already stood beside him at the door, his hair as slick as always, “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Father.”
With a confirming nod, her mother turned on her foot and they walked towards the large door as was the custom, which was opened for them by Gilly, who proceeded run in front of them.
“Gilly hopes Master and Miss Malfoy have a most pleasurable year at Hogwarts,” The elf bowed low as Astrid took the case from her.
She opened her mouth to thank the elf, but immediately closed it again, not to be caught stooping by her family. Instead, she just gave a confirming nod to her and turned away to face the large, black iron gates at the end of the tree-lined driveway. Her father’s face turned to meet hers, and although no words left her mouth she could tell what her icy-blue ones were ordering.
Don’t mess up.
Things had changed recently, everyone could feel the shift. Even the house-elves were acting differently.
Things had been especially tense between Astrid and her father since the cup. When she’d asked about what happened he’d simply told her to not be impertinent in matters that do not concern her. Put together with his unusual behaviour it created a story that Astrid wasn't sure she wanted to read.
Maybe ignorance like her mother’s was better, safer, but Astrid's mind worked too hard, felt too deep for her to not feel the shadows slowly creeping over their lives.
***
For Fred Weasley, the discussion about the Yule Ball came much too soon because really there was only one person he wanted to take, and she was far out of his reach – for three main reasons.
Firstly, their interactions had been vastly limited to short, often snarky, conversations (which he liked to imagine were flirtatious) and on the Quidditch pitch (where she - as a chaser - avoided him – a beater - at all costs).
Secondly, she probably already had a date. With those eyes and that smirk – all the boys in her house were fawning over her, and the other schools too.
Finally, and probably the biggest reason he stood no chance was her surname. The beautiful, intelligent, mysterious girl that Fred Weasley was so intrigued by was from a pure-blood fanatic, dark-wizard worshipping, Slytherin family. She was a bloody Malfoy.
Astrid Malfoy sat clearly in view that very moment, surrounded by her Slytherin peers on their table in the Great Hall. She seemed to be mindlessly listening to their talk, very much the same way that Fred himself was haphazardly zoned out of his brother’s wittering, though clearly for different reasons.
How, even at breakfast, she could already be looking so put-together, whilst the rest of the world as bleary-eyed and scruffy haired, partially annoyed him and partially had him in awe.
Fred never missed those slight glances down at where her brother – the less delightful Draco Malfoy- sat goofing around with his mates. She didn’t have any close friends of her own that Fred Weasley knew of, keeping mostly to herself despite being as popular amongst the crude purebloods as her brother was.
Actually, at that moment Astrid Malfoy looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else than there.
As if he was spot on in his assumption, her mouth moved, speaking words to the group that he couldn’t hear from so far away. Then she promptly rose, exiting the hall, head held at that proud height and moving with the subtle confidence that she always did.
It was only when she was gone from sight did Fred Weasley realise he’d been asked a question. He looked back over to his youngest brother who repeated the snide remark about who the twins were taking to the ball.
Well, considering that asking the elusive Malfoy girl was difficult, no scrap that, impossible, then he may as well make use of his magnetising personality and dashing good looks and take advantage of the fun night with a good looking girl. That was when he spotted Angelina Johnson sitting a mere half a dozen people away from them.
“Hey, Angelina!” He called over to her.
The beautiful dark-skinned girl turned away from her friends and towards him. Fred and Angelina were on good terms, so she was as good a shot as any.
“Do you…” He pointed to her, “Wanna go…” and then stuck his thumbs at himself, “With me.”
He’d assumed that she and her friends were talking about the ball as well, it was the only thing anyone was talking about.
“To the ball? Yeah alright,” She smiled at him.
And that was it. Fred Weasley had a date to the Yule ball.
And he was a more than acceptable date, they had a good time together, dancing and joking around. But Fred Weasley, however hard he tried – and he really did, could not stop his eyes drifting over to the Slytherin girl dancing with a boy from Beauxbatons that Fred vaguely recognised being from the Travers family, another group of pureblood maniacs.
With his dark hair and pale skin, he was the perfect dance partner for the girl. He suited her well, Fred thought angrily, watching the two glide across the floor.
Fred knew Astrid Malfoy was capable of a lot of things, but he could never have pictured her dancing quite as gracefully as she did tonight, even if not a hint of a smile graced her lips – not a real one anyway.
Fred found her simply breath-taking in her dark blue dress that sat right in all the right places with a beautiful decoration of flower patterns climbing up her front, over her collarbones and then around the back of her neck. She had earrings and a rather ostentatious ring on her right middle finger, but that was all the glamour insight. Still, if Fred didn’t know her any better, he would say she looked… uncomfortable in the setting.
It was not long after Fred and Angelina had finally sat down that a Durmstrang boy appeared, asking her for a dance. Angelina looked over at Fred, who smiled encouragingly… he was done for the night anyway.
Malfoy was now sat down, her partner continually trying to strike up a conversation with her that seemed to be falling flat every time.
Fred almost laughed, if there was one thing certain in this world it was that if Astrid Malfoy didn’t want to talk to you there was no way in hell a single word was leaving her lips. It made him wonder how he ever managed to engage her in their past few encounters throughout the year so far.
Fred needed some air, he decided, and a break from the Weird Sisters melodies, just for a few minutes. He glanced over at his twin who was busy flirting his way into a dance with a similarly red-headed Beauxbatons girl, seemingly fine by himself for the moment. Hence, Fred left him to it.
What he did miss was how Astrid Malfoy (who had been keenly aware that Fred Weasley had been watching her the entire evening) caught sight of him as he left through the dancing crowd, the look on his face in that second making her wonder if she was not the only person who had struggled to fully enjoy the night.
Well, at least he had a partner whom he enjoyed the company of. Austin Travers was an identical photocopy of the people she had been surrounded by her entire life. Vying for her company and time, but not because of who she was.
No, the only reason the boy was sitting beside her right now, hand conveniently placed on her leg, was because of her surname.
Her sodding, stupid, damning surname.
Her bloody birthright that she wanted nothing to do with right now.
If only she wasn’t born under that name she could be like all the other gormless students laughing and giggling over boys they fancied tonight.
She wouldn’t have to be with a certain partner because her Father considers them to be a suitable contender for her hand in marriage when she leaves this place.
After all, that was the life she’d chosen, and it was better than the alternative.
But she just wanted this one night, the night that every student around her was going to treasure as a night of magical existence. She wanted to be able to grab the nearest boy to her, no notion of name, or blood purity or any of that shit and just dance with them. Instead, she was forced to maintain an image that she despised, all for the sake of her family’s name and for being proper.
The word tasted sour on her tongue tonight.
It was hard not to death stare every single person in this room. It wasn’t their fault she was who she was, no more than it was her own.
At least if she were a boy like Draco she would be in the position to choose to dance with whoever wanted and choose her own partner. But, because she was nothing other than a girl, she was stuck with the boy who stared at her as if she was some prize to win, whose hands kept wandering whenever they tried to dance, whose fingers were trailing far too high up her leg at this very moment…
Screw this.
Astrid Malfoy got to her feet abruptly, turning to her partner and mustering the most pleasant look she could before excusing herself for the need of some air.
She left the Great Hall too, following the exact pathway the Weasley twin had taken.
Fred Weasley himself was almost regretting coming onto the balcony this late. The cold air was nipping at his cheeks and the view of the grounds was smothered in the darkness of the night. It would be engulfed in blackness completely if not for the moon shining above him. At least he was calmer out here, alone.
However, he was alone for barely five minutes before another joined him, shutting the door behind them as they did.
Fred Weasley watched in the upmost confusion as Astrid Malfoy promptly turned around and ripped her heels from her feet, chucking them straight into the black abyss as hard as she could, watching with satisfaction as they disappeared. Fred just stared at her.
“Don’t look at me like that Weasley,” she simply said, “I understand that they may have cost more than your entire family’s outfits put together, but that means nothing when they give me such darn blisters.”
Fred tried not to wince at the jab at his family.
It was clear that Astrid Malfoy was angry, her snarky comments always appeared when she was. But what surprised him was what came out of her mouth next, as she sighed deeply and said,
“I’m sorry.”
“My, my,” Fred replied the only way he knew how, “Is that an apology Miss Malfoy? I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Yeah well don’t get used to it,”
Fred almost smiled, that was the Astrid he knew. “And I didn’t mean it like that anyway, just that you can have all the money in the world, and it doesn’t mean a thing… not really.”
“Is that how you feel?” Fred asked softly, not sure what to make of this honest conversation for once.
Nothing the girl had ever said to anyone had anything to do with feelings at all. And, truthfully Fred was baffled at why the first time she let something through the facade would be with him of all people.
“I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t.” She suddenly snapped, shaking her head as if it just dawned on her what she was doing, "I should go-”
“Malfoy,” He called after her, suddenly not wanting her to leave at all.
She turned back and when her eyes met his he was momentarily shocked by the hurt in her eyes.
Could it be that… was it even possible that Astrid was hurt by her own name… what if she didn’t like being a Malfoy at all? It might be that Fred was jumping to the completely wrong conclusion, but something was nagging at him in the pit of his stomach.
Fred swallowed deeply, trying again, “Astrid.” He glanced down to where her beautiful dress was now puddled around her feet, “You’re barefoot.”
“I wasn’t going back in there.” She replied, “Turns out Travers isn’t the boy of my dreams after all.”
She let out a soft chuckle that Fred shared, noticing a little bit of light coming back into her eyes as he did.
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“Not quite sure how I’ll break the news to father that there will be no engagement after tonight.”
“Is that what he wanted?”
“It’s all anybody wants of me.” She replied shortly,
Fred’s eyebrows scrunched together. He knew that between most families like hers there was this thing about marrying ‘pure’... but engaged?
The girl was only seventeen years old for Merlin’s sake!
The idea made Fred secretly furious, but the girl in front of him seemed almost resigned to it, as if it were her only option.
“What about a job? Your future?”
“When I’m married I won’t need a job and my future will be to have children. That’s how it works Weasley.” She said at the look on his face, “What? Did you think I’d just swan off and marry some random muggle, get a job and live happily ever after… not everyone’s that lucky.”
“And you get no choice in this?”
“Ultimately it’s father’s choice, who I marry and when.”
Fred turned away from her, leaning out on the stone balcony again, “That’s sick.”
“Yes.” She replied, with a sigh, “Yes it is. And you know what? Tonight was meant to be fun. I was meant to have fun, for once, and my stupid surname ruined everything, again. I just wanted one dance with someone who wasn’t trying to win my family’s favour. I wanted to dance with someone who wasn't just trying to feel me up. I just wanted…”
She trailed off, staring back out into the darkness,
“Merlin, look at me, I don’t even know what I want. My father would throw a fit for even hearing me say these words aloud, let alone to a Weasley…”
Fred realised she was more a less talking to herself now, but one thing she’d mentioned stuck in his head.
She didn’t notice his hand at first, but, when she glanced to the side, she noticed him holding it out for her to take.
“What kind of joke is this?” She asked tiredly,
“No joke. You said you wanted to dance, so, Miss Astrid,” He purposefully left off her surname, “Will you do me the honours?”
“I can’t dance in there with you.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” He smiled, ignoring the slight hurt at her words, even though they weren’t meant to harm him, “Besides, I can’t be seen dancing with you, I’ll break Lee’s poor heart.”
And there it was again, that hint of a smile, tugging at the corner of her lips and he loved it. He’d never met someone so afraid to smile before and every time he saw it emerge it lit something in his core.
She seemed to contemplate it for a moment, and he could visibly see when she decided to screw it all and chose to take his hand.
Hers was so soft against his, but there was no fear behind the movement, as if she had made the decision, so she was going to go through with it.
“Wait,” She said suddenly, and for a second he thought he’d read her wrong, but she simply slipped the ostentatious ring from her finger and placed it on the side before taking his hand again and letting him guide them around his neck.
He hesitantly placed his hands on her hips, assuring they stayed there after what she had said about the Travers boy. She simply stared at him as he started to sway, leading her around slowly.
Her grey eyes were magnetising, like a storm tugging at everything he was, pulling at his heartstrings. She really did look beautiful tonight, but nothing was more beautiful than the way she looked at him now, completely open for him to see the actual her. He wondered if he was the first person to meet the real Astrid, or whether he’d even met the full her properly yet.
Astrid couldn’t read Fred Weasley half as well as he could read her, dancing together and looking up at his wide, curious eyes, she had no hope in hell at guessing what he was thinking – and she was usually a very talented people reader.
She focused on his gaze, and not the feel of his hands on her hips and how comfortable she was with them being there, or the magnetism drawing her eyes downwards towards his lips. She was losing it.
There was no music apart from the distant hum echoing from the Great Hall, but it didn’t matter. Even the cold didn’t seem to bother her bare shoulders anymore, or the craziness and stupidity of what she was doing. She even let herself silence the nagging voice in the back of her head telling her she’d regret this tomorrow.
After all, she was dancing with Fred Weasley, the biggest blood-traitor she knew, and she was letting him closer to her than any other person had been before – physically and emotionally she guessed.
Tomorrow could wait for now. This felt too good to lose, too normal to give up… too right.
“You look beautiful, you know.” He said quietly, eyes not leaving hers for a second,
“And you look like an utter fool in those dress robes.” She replied nonchalantly, “But looks can be deceiving.”
He chuckled, the noise sounding too pleasant in her ears for her to ignore. Suddenly everything felt perfect and she had no idea why. This wasn’t what she wanted, and yet it was… it so was.
This time she didn’t stop her eyes as they flickered down to his lips and then back to his face again. He seemed to catch on as she started to lean in,
“Wh-What are you doing.” He asked breathlessly,
“I wanna try something,” she whispered,
And then she grazed her lips against his.
Their warm breath mingled in the millimetres between their lips, electricity sparking between them as she pulled away.
But immediately her lips brushed against his again, settling there this time and Fred’s stutters faded into a soft moan. Her hands reached up, weaving into his fiery red locks and tugging him closer, he was so enticing, and she wanted more.
Fred was frozen against her lips as if his body couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening. Astrid was kissing him. Astrid bloody Malfoy! The untouchable girl was touching him, the movement igniting his soul.
The sensation of the contact almost made her light-headed and she was sure in that moment if someone had asked her name she wouldn’t be able to reply. And she loved that. She loved forgetting everything… but what if he didn’t want it?
She was the one to pull away first, eyes looking up to his questioningly. She had kissed him, not the other way round. Her whole life decisions had been taken from her, she didn’t want to do that to him.
There was a pause as if they both wanted to speak, but both were too shocked to find the words.
Fred was the one to break resolve first, the longing left on his lips from the cold night air too much to take.
He knew what she was asking him, did he want this? Did he?
He showed her the answer the only way he knew how.
He closed the gap, pulling her into him more feverishly this time, more needing.
Damn, he needed her right now.
As if suddenly kicking into action, his hands, on her waist, pulled her body even closer, so she was flush against him, his breath tightening at the feel of her so close, a low rumble sounding in his chest. His thumb reached up to her chin, gently guiding her mouth open and his tongue traced the taste of her bare lips.
She gasped loudly as he licked her bottom lip and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue straight into her mouth, exploring her, tasting her.
They stumbled backwards until her back hit the wall of the castle and a voice rose in her head about being grateful for the cover the balcony provided, but she shushed it, putting all thoughts other than Fred Weasley’s mouth against hers straight to the bottom of her mind.
Instead, she focused on the feeling of her fingers gripping tightly in his long hair, hearing the groan that escaped his mouth as she tugged harder, warmth spreading from her core.
Her lungs were burning, starved of Oxygen, but she couldn’t pull away just yet, not when their lips were moving in a synchronised symphony against each other, melded into one, both their eyes closed, allowing themselves to be absorbed in the feeling.
The rough stone dug into her spine as she pressed further against the wall, as if Fred was trying to remove every inch of space between them, but his hands remained at her hips where he had first placed them.
Astrid used this as an excuse to break the kiss, pulling away to the side as there was no space to pull back. With a breathless huff of air, she smirked at the sight of him panting in front of her,
“You can move your hands you know?” She said, bringing her own to clutch the fabric of his robes at his chest, “I don’t mind.”
His smirk grew on his face as she slowly pulled his face back down to hers, angling him this time so that they both had full access to each other. This gave Fred all the confidence he needed to release completely, letting his hands slowly start to trace the curve of her body like they were foreign lands, beautiful and unknown to him. He wanted to learn every inch of her.
She bathed in the sparks his grazing fingertips left against her skin as he traced his fingers down the side of her face. It was as if he didn’t believe she was real, that this was real. Astrid wasn’t sure if she believed it was either.
The kiss was shorter, gentler, sweeter almost. He moved slowly against her, letting the feeling lapse over him. He pulled away again, this time leaving centre-metres between their lips so the air they breathed mingled in the space between them.
“Blimey.” He breathed, the only word able to leave his mouth as she stared back up at him, grey eyes fluttering open and closed.
She chuckled slightly and that was when he saw it.
The corners of Astrid’s mouth were tugged up by an invisible force. As she looked up at Fred, her face was lit up with a soft, yet complete truthful smile.
And Fred found it breathtaking.