Chapter Text
Summary: "Draco," she said patiently. "I'm dying."
It was the summer of '94 - the summer before his fourth year - and Astoria Greengrass had snuck into through his bedroom window, bringing with her news of terminal illness and a bucket list. At that time, he hadn't realized that her bucket list would be the start of his long and fickle path to redemption.
Warnings: Mild swearing and generally non-advisable teenage shenanigans. Rating: T
Astoria Lyra Greengrass' Summer Bucket List (ft. Draco Lucius Malfoy):
#1. Sneak out.
. . .
Much later in life, when Draco Malfoy would reflect on his younger years and his shift from blood supremacy to tolerance, he would wonder what exact moment had been the start of this shift. Perhaps the year the Dark Lord held Ollivander and that Lovegood girl captive in the Malfoy Manor finally opened Draco's eyes to the hypocrisy of blood supremacy. Perhaps it was the Carrows forcing them to perform the cruciatus curse. Or perhaps it was the moment Potter returned to save him, a long-time enemy, from imminent death.
In reality, while all of these moments had in fact contributed to his change in ideologies, none of them had been the start of it.
Rather, the first little seed of doubt had been planted during the summer of '94 - the summer before his fourth year - in the form of a sickly girl named Astoria Lyra Greengrass.
It was in the first week of summer, and Draco was sleeping peacefully in his bed. His dreams, though now a haze, were pleasant. All was right in the world, and he was perfectly at peace...
That was until he awoke to the sound of a rock being thrown at his window.
Sitting up straight in the bed in alarm, Draco's eyes shot over at the window from over his nightstand. He was expecting to see a thief or Death Eater or someone intimidating outside his bedroom window. Instead, when he looked over, he saw a disgruntled-looking Astoria Greengrass with her hands pressed against his window, mouthing the words let me in.
He made it a point to roll his eyes at her.
It was past midnight, and his mother always said that nothing good ever happened past midnight. Plus, he was so rudely woken up! He had half a mind to just leave her there and not open the window for her, but her knocking began to increase in frequency and volume.
Grumbling, he slid off the covers and marched angrily over to the window before rolling it open.
As soon as the window opened, Astoria let out a sigh. "Finally!" she said, exasperated. "I thought you were going to leave me out here."
"I was considering it," said Draco, scooting back so that she could enter. "Merlin, don't tell me you walked all the way here?"
A mischievous smirk crossed her face. "Maybe," she replied.
"Astoria, it's dark! And it's a hour walk, at least! And you're only twelve!" He said self-importantly, despite the fact he was barely fourteen and had already pursued considerably more dangerous endeavors.
She frowned. "I'll be thirteen in a month. And, besides, I used the Wizarding bus."
Astoria flattened herself so that her stomach was brushing the windowsill, and shimmied her way through the opening until she was in Draco's room. When she emerged, her face was red, dark hair escaping her elaborate updo (one her mother arranged, no doubt) in frizzed tendrils, and her breath coming in unevenly. Draco rolled his eyes once more.
It wasn't the first time she had snuck in into his room. They grew up friends after being introduced at Daphne's eighth birthday party. Daphne herself never liked Draco much (the feeling was definitely mutual), but he and Astoria got along well enough. And Narcissa, of course, encouraged any friendship his son could create with powerful families. And the house of Greengrass was second only to the Malfoys and the Blacks in terms of power and wealth, according to his Mother.
But, still, despite their friendship, Draco was still annoyed at her uninvited visit.
He opened his mouth to complain, but the words suddenly dried in his mouth. He had only then noticed what Astoria was wearing.
"What is that?" he cried in abject horror. "Who cut your pants in half?"
"They're called shorts, Draco, and Muggle children wear them during the summer," she said patiently, reaching her hands up to remove the brouche that was barely holding her hair in its updo.
Not even giving it a second glance, she tossed it onto Draco's desk. Draco had seen the clip before, many times. It bore the Greengrass crest on it — two calligraphic G's interlocked in a way that always reminded him of horseshoes — and shone a soft gold that complimented her dark hair.
"Perhaps you should ask your Mum to buy you a pair? You can even have her do an Extension Charm on the pockets," she continued. She grinned up at him goofily. "You'd be surprised how many things you can fit into a pair of magically expanded pockets."
Draco looked confused. "Why would I want a pair of pants that were made wrong? If I'm paying for a pair of pants, I might as well get my entire money's worth."
Astoria gave a shrug. "Suit yourself," she said plopping down on his bed. She glanced up at him. "So, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here."
"Yes, of course, I am," he said, feeling slightly exasperated.
She sighed a very melodramatic type of sigh. "As it turns out, I have a problem," she said, propping up a pillow to lean back on. "Draco," she said patiently, "I'm dying."
In the moment of silence that ensued, Draco swore he could've heard a pin drop.
"What?" he blurted after a moment. He rolled his eyes after a second, tossing a pillow at her head. "Cut it out. That's not funny, Astoria."
She gave an annoyed exhale. "Yeah, well, it isn't a joke," said Astoria. "You know how I sometimes get sick and have to stay at St. Mungo's?"
Draco slowly tipped his head into a nod, still not quite believing her. Everyone knew that Astoria was sickly. It got to the point where Narcissa would casually inform him that Astoria was in St. Mungo's again, or someone would mention that she had been sent home from school again, and he'd barely even bat an eye. Despite perhaps looking healthy, Astoria was ill. But dying? No, no way.
"They've been running tests on me for the last few months now, and two weeks ago, they discovered I've got a blood malediction," she said, waving her hand dismissively as she talked. "Essentially, many years ago, a witch cursed one of my ancestors, and the curse resurfaced in me. Lucky me."
"Are you serious?" He asked in disbelief.
He wasn't sure how one is supposed to tell their friend they're dying, but he thought that you'd at least be teary-eyed or emotional. Astoria, though, held a strange air of indifference over the entire situation.
"Quite serious," Astoria. "The Healers say that my blood malediction will end up killing me. Young."
She bit her lip, and for the first time her indifferent resolve faltered for a second and Draco could see she was frightened. And as quickly as it slipped, she was regained her impassive expression.
"They said I'd be lucky to reach adulthood," she continued, "As you can imagine, my family didn't take the news well. They've spent their time these past few weeks either moping about the house or dragging me to different Healers."
Draco's eyes widened. "Astoria, how do you expect them to react?"
"I get why they're upset," she admitted, "but there's no use in crying before I'm dead. Weep all you want after I kick the bucket-"
"Kick the bucket?" Draco echoed, confused.
She made a wave-like gesture with her hand. "It's just a Muggle saying," she said dismissively. "Like I mean, you can weep all you want after I'm dead. While I'm alive, listen to me and what I want. When I say I don't want to spend the last years of my life either watching everyone cry or sitting in a Healer's office, listen to me." She looked up at him owlishly, her dark blue-almost-black eyes making her look intense. "Can you do that, Draco?"
Draco met her gaze. "I can try."
A small smile crossed her face. "Splendid," she cheered, clapping her hands together. She sat up straighter, apparently more interested now. "I don't want to spend the last years of my life doing nothing. I want to feel alive when I have the chance."
"How do you plan on doing that?"
The small smile turned into a victorious grin. "I thought you'd never ask," she said before reaching a hand into the back pocket of her "shorts", and pulling out a rolled-up wad of papers.
Astoria unfurled it and handed it over to Draco so he could look at it. Now that it was in his hands, he realized it was a magazine. The cover of the magazine portrayed a non-moving picture of three teenaged girls in colorful bikinis.
"Teen Queen Magazine's Top 100 Things to Add to Your Bucket List?" he read out loud the title, perplexed. "Why doesn't the picture move? And what's a Bucket List?"
Astoria stuck out one finger. "One, the picture doesn't move because it's a Muggle photograph taken with a Muggle camera." She held out another finger. "And as for Bucket Lists, I'll explain that later."
Draco's upper lip curled. "If you ask me, you're veering far too close to Muggles," he said.
Astoria didn't even blink. "Well, then it's a good thing I didn't ask you," replied Astoria shortly.
"I'm just looking out for you, is all," Draco said, genuinely concerned, "I don't want people calling you a Blood Traitor."
A beat of silence ensued.
A serious expression crossed her face. "Would that really be so bad - to be called a Blood Traitor? To be called anything for that matter. What does it matter what people call me if I'm going to die soon anyway? What does any of the whole Pureblood, Mudblood, Halfblood, Blood Traitor labels matter? I'm a Pureblood, yet my blood is the very reason for my family's grief."
Her words caused Draco's mind to spin. He attempted to string together a defense, something to rebuff the traitorous implications she was making, but he drew a blank.
Astoria seemed to pick up on his discomfort, for she changed the topic. "Regardless, this magazine intrigued me, so I decided to create my own Bucket List," she paused, digging into her pocket once more to retrieve a piece of parchment tilted: Astoria Lyra Greengrass' Bucket List (ft. Draco Lucius Malfoy). "Oh, before you ask again, a Bucket List is a list of things you want to do before you die." She looked at him expectantly, still holding out the parchment. "Well, what do you think?"
"I think Muggles have a weird fascination with buckets, whether it be kicking them or listing them," Draco muttered.
Astoria blinked twice at him before cocking her head to the side, considering it. "You do have a point there," she conceded, lifting her shoulders into a shrug. "Dunno, Muggles are just weird like that, Draco. Wizards are weird too." She threw her head back, "Everyone's weird."
"You most of all," said Draco with a snort.
She shot him an attempt at a stern glance, but it wasn't all that intimidating considering she was fighting off a smile of her own. "Anyway," she said pointedly, "I've come up with my own Bucket List of things I want to do before this summer is over. The problem is, most of the things require a friend to do it with. I wanted to ask Daphne, but all she's been doing lately is moping around the house."
"Moping? Wow, I wonder why. It's not like she's been told that her only sister whom she's fiercely fond of is terminally ill," he said dryly.
Astoria sighed theatrically, her shoulders slumping. "Look. I get that this situation sucks. I get that it sucks to watch someone you love die young. But you can't just focus on the suckiness so much that you miss out on the things that actually matter, you know?"
Draco nodded, feeling his throat constrict and his chest tighten. It piled up all of sudden, the realization striking him. Oh dear God. Astoria was dying. How could she be dying? How could he one day outlive her? Watch her get lowered into the ground? Would she suffer before she died? Was she in pain now?
The more he thought about it, the more his world started to spin and his heart began to race.
Astoria seemed to pick up on this, and she furrowed her brow. "Oh, don't get all mopey on me too," she said, hopping off the bed and crossing the room so that she was standing in front of him. "Draco," she said, tilting his chin up, "I'm fine. Sure, I might die one day, but everyone does - so what if it happens a little sooner for me?" Changing the subject, she lifted her sheet of paper. "All I want you to do is help me check some of these things off my list. Can you do that for me?"
He nodded, his throat still tight.
She gave him a sad smile, and before she could say something else, the two heard footsteps from the hall outside his bedroom.
"Draco? What's all this ruckus?" came a muffled noise from outside his bedroom.
"Mother!" Draco hissed to Astoria, looking panicked.
It certainly wouldn't look good if his Mother found a girl in his room past midnight. She probably wouldn't be too dismayed considering her fondness or Astoria, but the discovery would be sure to bring about "The Talk" that his mother seemed to bring up a lot to Draco now that he had turned fourteen. When he complained about the frequency of "The Talks" - his mother would only tilt her nose up and declare that the lack of sex education in England was the reason for the rise in teen pregnancy and venereal diseases and she would simply not be contributing to that.
Astoria's eyes widened for a second, and she made the decision to quickly dive under Draco's bed. And not a second too soon. As soon as Astoria had hit the floor underneath Draco's bed, his door swung open and Narcissa peeked her head through.
"Draco, why aren't you in bed?" She questioned, raising a thin, arched brow. She glanced over at the window. "And why is your window open?"
Draco froze, fumbling to come up with an excuse. Thankfully, Astoria snapped him out of it by discretely pinching his foot from under the bed.
"Oh!" He said, snapping out of his stupor. "I couldn't get to sleep; I was feeling queasy. So I opened a window to get fresh air."
His mother raised her brow higher, giving her a stern look.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a tendril of Astoria's dark hair peeking out from under the bed. He quickly stepped over it with his foot, concealing it from his Mother's view. For her part, Astoria hissed in pain and pinched his foot again, signaling for him to get his foot off, but he didn't dare move.
"What was that noise?" Narcissa asked, furrowing her brows together.
"Oh, it was a cough," Draco covered quickly. "I coughed." For good measure, he coughed a few times into his hand.
His Mother's face was impassive for all of two seconds before total and utter panic took over it.
"Oh, my darling, are you falling ill? First, you were feeling nauseous, and now you're coughing?" cooed Narcissa. "Don't you worry, my precious little Coco, Mummy shall fetch you a teaspoon of henbane and turmeric," she said soothingly, seemingly unaware of Draco's increasing look of horror.
Draco would later learn that his Mother had known full well that he wasn't ill, and also knew that he had Astoria in his room. What he hadn't realized then was that in her haste, Astoria had left her hair clip laying on the desk and gave her away. So, trying her hand in cruel and unusual punishments, Narcissa both fed him the henbane and turmeric concoction and intentionally called him Coco, knowing that Astoria would hear. This was a secret that she would later tell - albeit with much self-satisfied smirking - to a much older Draco.
Before Draco could protest, his mother had turned on her heel and left. From under the bed, Astoria snickered.
"Your mother calls you Coco?" Astoria teased as she slithered out from underneath his bed.
Draco felt his face redden. "I can't believe I must take henbane and turmeric because of you. It tastes foul."
Astoria rubbed a spot on her scalp. "And I can't believe you stepped on my hair."
"It's worse than bad milk," Draco stressed. "Worse than Hagrid's dirty laundry, moldy goat cheese, a hippogriff's rear end-"
"Oh, you'll live," she said dismissively. She was at the window, one leg through and the rest of her body still in the room, when she suddenly paused and dug her hand into her back pocket.
"What - are - you - doing," Draco hissed. "My Mother will be back any second now!"
Astoria looked up at Draco, smiled, and then pulled out the folded piece of parchment that she called her Bucket List. "#1: Sneak out," she recited from the list. She made her hand into a fist and jutted her thumb out, making a 'thumbs-up' sign. "Check. One down, 25 more to go."
"Okay, very good, now can you please hurry," he goaded, his eyes darting towards the door. Then, he froze when he realized what she had said. "Wait! 25? You have 25 more things?"'
"And I'm still adding," Astoria said sweetly. She swung her other leg out the window, but her head was still peaking through. "Draco, meet me at my house tomorrow at noon," she said, her tone imploring.
"I will," he said.
Astoria smiled and moved her head back and out of the window. She turned to leave but turned back around as if having just remembered something. "Oh, and Draco?"
"Yes?"
She suddenly looked quite serious. "Please don't feel mourn me. Save your tears for when I'm gone, okay? I'm not dead yet."
He opened his mouth to speak but found the words had died in his throat, so all he could do was nod. He watched her face relax, and her carefree grin was back.
Then, all of a sudden, she stuck her hand once more into her magically expanded pocket and retrieved a camera. Before he could guess out what she was going to do, she turned around and angled the camera back towards them.
A selfie.
There were few things in this world Draco disliked more than selfies. But, before he could protest or shield his face, she stuck her tongue out at the camera, clicked the capture button, and pocketed the picture that printed out before Draco could his printed face.
Without missing a beat, she jumped down to the ground beneath the window. "Then I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget!" she called over her shoulder.
And then she was gone, having slipped into the cover of night - her musical laughter still ringing in his ears.