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Christmas is coming. The days are getting colder and shorter. Every morning Draco wakes up to a silver sheen of frost that glitters across the windows of his little apartment, and makes the whole world shimmer in the weak winter sunlight. Most days seem to involve making plans for dinners and parties and family visits. Normally he wouldn't have bothered, but Astoria is relentlessly enthusiastic about the holiday, and Draco can't help but be swept along in her wake. She has that effect on him.
The truth is, without her he would be completely lost as to how to do Christmas. When he was younger his mother would host grand parties at the Manor. They would have lavish Christmas banquets in the dining hall before retreating to the drawing room and opening presents under the tree. Those days always felt special. They sparkle in Draco's memory, but they feel like another time, experienced by another version of himself. He isn't that person anymore.
It's been four years since he last had a proper Christmas. Two of those were spent in worry and despair. For the two afterwards he was still reeling, and it didn't really feel like there was much to celebrate. One of the things he loves most about Astoria is the way she makes it feel like there are things to enjoy again. Sometimes he manages to look at the world through her eyes, and it seems a bright, beautiful place. He can understand why she's so relentlessly upbeat about life.
By mid-December most of their holiday plans are sorted out. They're spending Christmas Day alone at Astoria's house, and they'll visit Astoria's family for the new year. That's all fine. That's all easy. What Draco is worried about is Boxing Day.
They've been invited to spend it at the Manor. Both of them. Despite the fact that Lucius has made it abundantly clear how little he approves of Astoria. It seems like a recipe for disaster, and Draco is spending entirely too much time worrying about it.
On December 18th he wakes up to find the world blanketed in a thin layer of snow. It covers the frozen ground, glazes the branches of the trees and bushes outside his window, and just generally makes everything a bit miserable because it's so cold. When Astoria's tawny owl shows up just before lunchtime, she needs a warming charm cast over her to thaw her out. Draco gives her a drink and lets her perch in front of the fire while he reads Astoria's note.
The lake in the park is frozen solid, and everyone else is at work so it's deserted. Care to join me for a skate? I have a spare hour or so around lunchtime. A x
Draco glances at the owl, all fluffed up and warm. The idea of sending her back out into the frigid air feels almost cruel. Instead he grabs his skates, wraps himself up in his coat and scarf, coaxes the owl up onto his arm, and slips downstairs and out into the back alley. He gasps as the chill wind hits him, and quickly turns on the spot and Disapparates. Even crushing blackness is preferable to the biting wind.
He appears with a small pop on the cobbled road out the back of Astoria's house and lets himself in through the back gate. The owl on his arm is digging her claws into his arm, and she seems distinctly ruffled by having Apparated. He strokes the top of her head with one finger to try and appease her, and keeps on smoothing down her feathers after he's rung the bell for Astoria to let him in.
Her delicate outline appears after a few moments. Although it's distorted by the frosted glass, Draco knows it's her because he can hear her humming a Christmas carol as she fiddles with the keys and then waves her wand in sinuous curls to get the door unlocked. When it finally swings open, Draco can't help but smile
She's wearing a smart red dress, made of some sort of light, floaty material. Her hair is loosely tied back, and there's a Muggle biro tucked behind one of her ears. Apparently she wasn't expecting him to come in person, because when she sees him a grin blossoms across her face.
"Draco," she says, leaning against the doorframe and folding her arms, any formality dropping away immediately. "This is a nice surprise. I was expecting an owl."
"Well, I did technically bring one with me," he says. "I can write a note and stand round the corner while you read it if you want the proper experience."
Astoria rolls her eyes at him, smile widening even further as as Draco holds the tawny owl out to her. "I'm not sure that will be necessary." The bird hops off Draco's arm and flutters to Astoria's shoulder. She lets the owl nibble her finger.
"She was freezing when she reached my apartment," Draco says. "It didn't feel right to make her fly back when I could just Apparate here. I'm not sure she enjoyed the experience, but it was better than the alternative."
Astoria looks at the owl on her shoulder. "Did the nasty man make you Apparate? Did he take you through the horrible dark tunnel that means you can't breathe properly? Isn't he awful?"
Draco tuts and folds his arms. "I was trying to be kind."
Astoria shoots him a grin. "I know. Thank you." She detaches the owl from her shoulder, and lets her flutter off into the house, leaving them alone. "I probably shouldn't have sent her in the first place, but she gets bored in the house. She's always keen to take a job, even if she regrets it later. I'm not sure she's smart enough for much forethought. Anyway..." Astoria looks up at Draco, brown eyes exceptionally warm and welcoming on this coldest of days. "What can I do for master Malfoy today?"
Draco raises his eyebrows. "Master Malfoy? So formal, Miss Greengrass." He indicates his skates. "I believe an invitation was extended to me. I'd like to accept."
Astoria's grin brightens, shining like the Christmas lights she's charmed to weave up the banisters of the stairs behind her. "That's quite wonderful news," she says, with a formal little nod. For a moment she and Draco look at each other, then she cracks and a little giggle bubbles out of her. "Sorry." She covers her mouth with her hand and tries to compose herself. "Just... Give me a minute to get ready."
She turns away, still grinning, draws her wand, and starts summoning things down the hall. Her scarf drapes itself round her neck as she slides her arms into the sleeves of her coat, and she gives her wand another little flick, so her hair comes loose and spills over her shoulders. Her skates are the last things to arrive, lacing themselves together and landing in the crook of her waiting arm.
She turns to Draco and offers him her spare hand. Her eyes are still fill of amusement. Bright, and merry, and rather beautiful. "Shall we?"
Draco, smiling, accepts, and together they set off down the frozen garden path. Behind them the door shuts and locks itself of its own accord.
-
"Sometimes I wish it didn't have to be so cold for everything to freeze," Draco says as they sit beside the frozen lake and pull on their skates. He can feel the chilly air biting at his fingers even through his dragon hide gloves, and it makes tying laces a bit tricky.
Astoria laughs. "Unfortunately I think that's just the way the world is."
"Well it's very inconvenient. I can't feel my fingers. I think they've frozen." He growls and bends over his skates, struggling with the laces. Finally, on the fifth attempt, he manages to wrestle them into a decent bow.
Astoria pats him consolingly on the arm. "You'll soon warm up, especially if you hold my hand. Come on." She rises to her feet and gives his hand a tug. "The longer you sit there, the colder you'll get."
Draco heaves a sigh and gets up. He lets her tow him across the ice for a moment, before she glares at him and he decides he should probably start skating for himself.
It doesn't take long for him to get lost in the smooth, repetitive motion of skating. Astoria's hand is light in his, and he's enjoying the peace and quiet of the afternoon. As promised, the park is deserted apart from them and a couple of birds. The ice is in perfect condition, helped along by the Charmwork they'd done together before stepping out onto it. It's relaxing, skating in circles with Astoria beside him, the only sounds the chirruping of birds, the whistle of the wind, and the carving crunch of skates on ice. It's easy to let his mind wander. Of course it goes back to the things he's worrying about, namely Boxing Day.
Last time Astoria and Lucius had spent any time together it had turned into a rather cold affair, with Lucius throwing out little jibes and comments. Astoria had ignored him, had kept up a flow of pleasant conversation with Narcissa, who she'd thankfully got on well with. Ever since that occasion, however, Draco has done his best to keep his parents and Astoria apart. It's easier that way, having his life compartmentalised. He has Astoria, and he has his parents. Two completely opposite worlds that never have to touch. He never wants them to touch.
The problem is, sometimes it feels like the two halves of his life are tearing him apart. In the last few years there's been so much change, and there are days when he feels stretched between the past and the future. He hopes he isn't the person he once was, but embracing all the things Astoria seems to take so easily in her stride is terrifying. A massive upheaval of everything he's ever known. The truth is, he's afraid. Hopelessly afraid.
A tap on his arm and Astoria's smiling face pull him from his thoughts. He's been gliding along mindlessly, and apparently she's been talking the whole time, although he has no idea what she's been saying.
"The lights are on but no one's home," Astoria says. "And I really did want to hear your opinion on what I should get Daphne for Christmas. You're so good at gifts." She turns round and skates backwards in front of him, holding his hands. "Are you thinking about Boxing Day again?"
Draco sighs and frees one of his hands so he can tuck a loose bit of hair behind his ear. He's been growing it out and it's almost long enough to tie back properly, but not quite. Bits keep escaping into his eyes, no matter how many charms he uses in the morning.
"How can I possibly forget about it? I'm facing the prospect of spending the day with my uncivilised oaf of a father. Everything is going to go spectacularly wrong, although I'd really rather it didn't." He shakes his head, a few strands of hair blowing into his eyes as he does.
"I've been well trained in the dark arts of socialising," Astoria says, squeezing his hands tightly. "As has he. I'm sure we can manage one civil afternoon without drawing our wands on each other."
Draco looks away from her. "You don't know my father."
Astoria skids to a stop and pulls Draco to a standstill too. She steps very close to him and reaches up to take his face in both hands, turning him to look at her. He lets her, gazing down into eyes, which are shining with concern.
"If it would be easier I don't have to-"
"No." Draco can't let her finish the sentence. "I wouldn't even consider going without you. I need someone to make the afternoon bearable. If I have to go on my own I might die of boredom listening to the pair of them talk about the chandelier restoration or whatever other project they're doing at the moment." He sighs. "No, you'll make it interesting, even if... Well. Even if he'll be awful to you."
"I think I can handle him," Astoria says, frowning across the park, as though she's trying to imagine the situation. "I hope I can. He's harmless really, isn't he? Just a miserable, bitter old man with some out-dated beliefs. I almost feel sorry for him."
Draco nods, but doesn't say anything.
Astoria squeezes his hands. "I know you care what he thinks. And I don't blame you for that. He's your father. Of course you care."
"I'm sorry I do," Draco says, meeting her eyes.
Astoria seems to consider him for a long moment, then she shakes her head. "I won't ever understand you and your father, Draco, but I do want to at least try to have a civilised dinner with him. He's part of your family. It matters to you, and it matters to me too. Besides, we're a team. We can get through anything together, can't we? And I'm sure dinner with your parents is no different."
"Dinner with my parents is hardly a game of Quidditch, Astoria. You can't strategise against my father. Not these days... He's a law unto himself. All I know is that he'll be utterly loathsome."
"I still don't understand," Astoria says, spinning around and setting off skating again. "I know he doesn't approve of me, but I'm not sure what his problem is. I'm a nice, respectable pure-blood girl, aren't I?"
Draco skates after her, quickly catching up with his longer stride. "With a job like yours? You're practically a blood traitor. It doesn't help that you do things like wander round your house with Muggle pens stuck behind your ear, and you sometimes use that eclectic- whatever that Muggle power source is."
"Electricity," Astoria says, tone going ever so slightly frosty.
"I'm not saying I have a problem with any of it," Draco says quickly. "It's odd, but it's not-" He catches sight of how tight Astoria's shoulders have gone all of a sudden, and he swallows. "My point is, someone like my father wouldn't think it was right. He'd think you should be using your talents for something more worthwhile. But..."
Draco glides beside her. She's avoiding his eyes, looking down at the ice ahead of her, never glancing in his direction. He sighs and adjusts his scarf, the soft, grey one she'd bought him for Christmas last year. His favourite. "Whatever anyone says, I don't mind your job. I think it suits you, and I know you're brilliant at it... I don't entirely understand it..." He trails off, wrapping the scarf tighter round himself and tucking the ends neatly away, then brushing the hair from his eyes. "But I know it's what you love. And I like seeing you happy."
She finally looks up at him. "You think so? You really don't mind?"
Draco shakes his head. "Not anymore."
She smiles and takes hold of his hand, relaxing again, expression thawing like ice beneath too much sun. "I don't think we should worry too much more. Besides, we've talked about too much serious stuff, and this is supposed to be my lunch break. Can we enjoy ourselves for half an hour?"
Draco looks down at her in mock seriousness. "I don't know about that. I'm not sure it's respectable for a Malfoy and a Greengrass to enjoy themselves. What would my father say?"
Astoria snorts and shoves him in the chest. "It would be a scandal, I'm sure, and all the more reason to do it." She starts skating, dragging him along by the hand, and they spend the next half an hour whirling about together. They try a dance, which ends with Draco falling flat on his backside while Astoria giggles helplessly at him, and Astoria shows off her collection of beautiful spins so she's just a blur of peach coat and brown hair. The whole time, Draco manages to forget about the Manor, and Boxing Day, and his father, and just concentrate on Astoria, and bliss.
-
On Boxing Day morning Draco sits perched on the edge of Astoria's kitchen table, arms folded, a single point of serenity amongst chaos and panic.
"Have you seen my other shoe?" Astoria asks, rushing in through the kitchen door, limping with one shoe on. Her wand is in her hand and she sweeps it round the kitchen, making a series of neatly wrapped presents start packing themselves into bags.
"I can't say I have," Draco says, reaching out a hand to intercept a bottle of wine that's just flown from its rack and is heading for the present bag. "I wouldn't waste such a nice bottle of wine on my father. He doesn't much like it, and he'll only complain. I'd take this one instead." He draws his own wand and summons a smaller bottle. "Mother will drink it. We can keep the other one for ourselves."
Astoria runs a shaking hand through her hair. "Are you sure? That one doesn't seem-"
"Expensive enough? You could spend all the Galleons in Gringotts and it still wouldn't be enough. Don't worry."
Astoria hobbles across the kitchen and starts going through the bags, checking and double checking that everything's there. Her hair falls across her face, her cheeks are red, and the floaty scarf draped round her neck is falling away from her shoulders. Draco walks across and adjusts it for her, then pauses by her side and strokes a hand through her hair.
"Are you okay?"
She doesn't look up at him. "I'm fine," she says breathlessly. "There's just a lot to do, and- it has to be perfect. I need to make sure everything is-" She pauses and presses a hand against her chest, bowing her head, face screwed up in pain.
Draco crouches beside her and moves his hand to her shoulder. "Astoria. Do you need to sit down?"
She shakes her head hurriedly and takes several deep breaths. "No. I think it's just- The sooner we get going the better. If I just carry on..." She reaches for the present bag, but Draco catches her hand.
"I can do that. I can do everything. You get ready, and I'll make sure we have everything we need, okay?"
She looks up at him. "What happened to you? You've spent all month worrying, and now you're... So calm. I don't understand."
Draco shrugs. "There's nothing I can do now, besides getting on with it. He'll think what he thinks. I don't care."
She shakes her head and smiles. "I'll never understand you."
"I'll never understand me either. Here." He waves his wand. "Accio Astoria's shoe." A glittery blue high heeled shoe zooms out from behind the sofa and into Draco's hand. He taps Astoria's ankle with his fingers, and she lifts her foot so he can slide the shoe on for her. She smiles at him, still a little shaky, but already brighter.
"Thank you, Prince Charming."
Draco frowns. "Isn't that from one of those Muggle fairy tales you were telling me about?"
Her grin broadens instantly, until it's as bright as the weird Muggle fairylights that Draco never entirely trusts, which sparkle and blink on the Christmas tree behind her. "You were paying attention."
Draco looks at her. "Of course I was. Now, shall we get going? I'd hate to keep my father waiting."
-
There is nothing companionable about the silence around the table as they eat. The chink of silver cutlery against pristine porcelain plates feels formal and cold. Draco sits straight-backed in his chair and tries desperately to think of something sensible to say.
The conversation ran out an hour ago. They've already suffered through drinks in the reception room, and they've exhausted the obligatory discussions about the weather, thanks for unwanted Christmas presents, and complaints about how crowded Diagon Alley and the surrounding Muggle streets have been for the past few weeks. Beyond that there doesn't seem much to say. Nothing that isn't fraught with peril, at least.
Astoria finishes her final sprout and sets her knife and fork aside.
"That was wonderful, thank you."
Narcissa looks up from her turkey and gives Astoria a small smile that Draco recognises to be genuine. "It's a pleasure." She dabs at her mouth with a napkin. "I don't think I've asked yet, but how is your family? It's been far too long since I last saw your mother. And I haven't heard much about your sister recently."
Astoria brightens, and starts chatting away about her sister's new job at the Ministry. Before too long, she and Narcissa get lost in a detailed conversation about the ways frost damage can affect Flutterby bushes. It's one of those moments that reminds Draco how much he loves his mother. Even if his father is perpetually difficult, she, at least, is prepared to make an effort.
Draco finishes his dinner and leans back in his seat, quite happy to watch the two women talk. Their laughter bubbles through the air, thawing out the frosty atmosphere. Astoria's eyes are shining, and she leans into the conversation, the way she does when she's really enjoying herself. It's almost enough to make Draco relax a little, this feeling that things are going well, and that Astoria is being accepted. However, a single glance at his father shatters that illusion.
Lucius sits stony faced at the head of the table. Whenever he looks in Astoria's direction it seems as though he can smell something awful. His expression becomes even more pinched, lip curling with distaste every time she or Narcissa laughs. Under other circumstances, Draco might have found it fascinating to watch his father slowly be pushed to breaking point, but in this situation it feels like impending doom.
The moment Astoria starts enthusiastically telling Narcissa about the beautiful Muggle roses she'd bought for her garden is the moment all his self-control fractures. He sniffs in a very deep breath and draws himself up in his seat, seeming to swell with displeasure. The sight, although not as impressive as it once might have been, is still enough to make the conversation falter as everyone in the room turns to him.
"I understand you were an excellent student while you were at school, Astoria," he says.
Astoria's smile turns slightly wary. "I enjoyed my studies. I'm sure I could have done better, but exam results are in the past now."
Lucius caresses the stem of his wine glass. "That's not what I heard. Top grades in everything, as should be expected of someone from a family of such calibre. What I fail to understand is your career choice."
Astoria's shoulders stiffen, and Draco reaches out without thinking to put a steadying hand on her knee under the table. Her eyes flicker to him for the briefest moment, then she looks steadily back at Lucius. "I've always been interested in the law, Mr Malfoy, and I enjoy helping people. After the war there were lots of opportunities to step in and change things for the better. It seemed natural to take them."
"So it was... an ambitious move? To take a job in Muggle advocacy?" His tone drips with incredulity, and Draco's fingers tighten on Astoria's knee. She closes a hand over his, and he can feel it shaking.
"I'm sure you understand as well as anyone how important it is," Astoria says, voice unwavering even if her hands aren't. "You've seen first-hand the damage that can be caused if people are unprotected and unspoken for."
Lucius's face twitches. His eyes narrow and he leans forward slightly in his seat, fingers going still, the tips of them white as he presses them tight against his wine glass. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
"Well," Astoria says mildly, "you had considerable exposure to the Voldemort regime, didn't you? I'm sure you've seen some reprehensible treatment of Muggles, and Muggleborns."
Lucius glares at her, pale cheeks flushed pink. "You're a Greengrass," he hisses. "One of the most respectable families. How can you-"
"Lucius," Narcissa says in a warning tone.
Draco looks between his mother, his father, and Astoria. He doesn't know what to say or do. He's trapped in the midst of this whirlwind of a conversation, and he feels sick.
"Astoria," he murmurs. "Perhaps we should-"
"No," Lucius says, cutting him off. "You mustn't leave yet. I'm enjoying this conversation with your girlfriend, Draco. I'm always curious to hear about fields I'm unfamiliar with."
"No you're not," Draco mutters, but it's so quiet only Astoria hears him. She strokes her thumb across his knuckles, and looks down at her gravy-stained dinner plate.
"I wonder," Lucius continues, grey eyes piercing across the table at Astoria, sharp like daggers. "Does your illness affect your work? I suppose it must be manageable, if you spend most of your time sitting around chatting with Muggles. It can't be too taxing."
Draco removes his hand from Astoria's knee and clenches it into a fist. He's shaking too now, and he's never hated his father more. He barely knows what to do with himself, and he has no idea how Astoria is so calm.
Her smile is pure ice as she looks up at Lucius again. "I appreciate your concern, but like you say, I find the condition quite easy to handle."
Lucius nods, feigning concern. "And it's a blood malediction? Perhaps that provides an explanation for your... associations."
Before Draco knows what he's doing he finds himself on his feet. His chair catches on the floorboards as he pushes it back. It falls to the floor with a clatter, and everyone looks up at him. Lucius's lip curls.
"Sit down, Draco. You're embarrassing yourself."
Draco ferociously pushes the hair out of his eyes. "No. I'm not embarrassing anyone. You are- are..." He doesn't know what to say. There's so much anger coursing through him that he can't form words.
"I am what, exactly?"
"You can't do this," Draco says. "I won't let you insult her."
"Draco," Astoria breathes.
"Let me?" Lucius drawls, with a laugh, apparently enjoying himself. "You won't let me? I think you've forgotten that this is my house. I can say anything I like here."
"Then I don't want to be in your house anymore." Draco turns to Astoria. "I won't stay here if he's going to talk to you like that. Will you come with me?"
Astoria nods and gets to her feet. "Of course." She takes Draco's hand and turns to Narcissa, who has also stood up. "It was nice talking to you again, Mrs Malfoy."
Narcissa nods. "You too, Astoria. I can only-" She cuts herself off with a glance at her husband. "Well. I'll send you that information about the Flutterby bushes."
"That would be wonderful, thank you." She gives Narcissa a polite nod, then walks from the room, Draco beside her.
They're halfway down the corridor to the front door when Lucius catches up with them. He strides up to Draco and catches him by the shoulder. He's thinner and frailer than he used to be; Azkaban and the war took their toll on him, but he's still strong, and Draco can't help but be spun around to face his father. His arm twists as he tries to keep hold of Astoria's hand, and he's forced to let go.
"I don't want to-" he begins, but Lucius interrupts, voice low, a desperate hiss that's apparently meant to keep their conversation private, even though Astoria is right beside them.
"Draco, don't do this. This is the wrong decision. You're making a mistake."
Draco wrenches his shoulder free. "Get off me."
His father's hand shifts to his arm instead, and he steps in close, eyes manic with urgency. "You don't understand, Draco. Our legacy, a thousand years of proud wizarding tradition. Would you throw it all away for someone like her? These dangerous ideologies... She isn't one of us, Draco. She's a blood traitor, she-"
Draco pulls his arm back and folds it across his chest, looking at his father with disgust. "What legacy? A Dark Mark, and some day this crumbling ruin of a house? I'd much rather have-"
"Blood, Draco." Both Lucius's hands are on his shoulders now, gripping his jacket so it pulls tight across his back and restricts him. "Blood, and status. What will people say, if you take up with someone like her? You'll undermine your position in-"
Draco laughs, high-pitched, trembling with fear and adrenaline. "My position? I don't have a position any more. And people say enough about me already, thanks. I think I can handle a bit more gossip." He shakes his father off and turns his back on him, stalking toward the door. It's already standing open because Astoria has left. He's breathing fast like he's been running, and his heart is pounding in his chest, sending that supposedly special Malfoy blood cascading fast and hard through his veins.
"She's weak," Lucius calls after him in what seems to be one final desperate attempt to pull him back. "Has she told you she's dying? What will you do? When you've walked out on us and she's gone? You'll be alone. Just think about what you're doing, Draco. Do you really want to be alone? Would you really abandon your family for someone who is going to leave you?"
Draco stops dead in the doorway. He can hear his mother's footsteps in the hall behind him as she walks down the hall to join her husband. He can hear his father's breath, quick, and rasping. He's sounded sick ever since he left Azkaban, and it's only getting worse.
At the bottom of the steps outside, Astoria is standing in the unblemished snow with her hands in the pockets of her peach-coloured coat, gazing down at the white marble. Her hair is wind-swept, and Draco thinks he can see the stains of tears on her cheeks, shining in the sunlight. Her eyes flicker up to his for the briefest moment, then she turns her back on him, wiping her eyes. Like she already knows what choice he's going to make. Like she knows who exactly he is, and thinks the worst of him.
He swallows hard. Anyone sensible would think the worst of him, and Astoria is the most sensible person he knows. The best person he knows. Good enough that he can never hope to live up to her. But she makes him want to try at least. She gives him hope for himself.
He turns to look back at his father, who is standing shrouded in the darkness of the hallway. "Yes," he says. "Yes I would leave you. I would do anything for her. Because I love her."
"One day you'll regret-"
"I won't regret anything," he says. "Not anymore."
He looks at his mother, whose eyes are unusually bright, but whose expression is as unreadable as ever. "Have a good new year, Mother. I hope we'll be in touch."
Then he turns away from them, picks up his coat and scarf, and walks out of the Manor into the weak winter sunshine. He reaches out to touch a hand to Astoria's shoulder as he passes, but thinks better of it. She might not want to be touched.
"I'm going home," he tells her. "Do you want to-"
She sniffs and takes hold of his hand, nodding. "I'll come."
He looks down at her slim, pale fingers in his, and he squeezes her hand tightly. There are a hundred things he wants to say to her. He wants to apologise, to reassure, to reiterate how much he loves her. But his throat is dry and he's still so angry he doesn't trust himself to speak.
The snow crunches beneath their feet as they walk down the drive. Their breath mists in the air. An icy breeze bites at their cheeks, and Astoria keeps wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Draco can feel the weight of what's just happened pressing down on him. The Manor looms at his back, and every step away from it feels decisive and terrifying.
Halfway down the drive he comes to a stop. He glances back at the house, then away, up at the dark, bare trees that line the road. There's a silver lining of snow dusting the branches. He remembers being a lot younger, and getting so excited to walk up this avenue in the snow. The Manor has always looked wonderful in winter, with its windows sparkling jewel bright across the frosty grounds. It's always looked most like home in the snow, although less and less in recent years. And now-
"You're shaking," Astoria says quietly, looking up at him.
"So are you," he says, looking back at her. Her hand is trembling in his, and her shoulders are tight. Maybe the tension is the only thing holding her together. "Are you alright?"
She shakes her head. "I knew it would be awful, but I didn't expect-"
"He shouldn't have spoken to you like that," Draco says, stroking a hand over her shoulder.
"I'd rather know how he really feels," Astoria says, looking away from him. "And I suppose he was right in a lot of ways, about my illness and everything..."
"You know-" Draco begins, then stops. He looks into her face finds courage there. He takes a breath. "I'm not sure I care about any of it. Your health. Your job. I know you're a-" He swallows and looks down at his shoes. Perfect, black, polished to a shine, now stained with grey flecks of dust and snow. "But I don't think it matters. I mean it's all nonsense, isn't it? Because we like to feel superior." He spits the word, mocking it.
"But I'm certainly no better than anyone else because I'm a Malfoy. In fact, I'm almost certainly worse than most people. I suppose I take after my father in that." He sighs and wraps his scarf tighter round his neck. "And I would quite understand if, after all that mess, you decided I was a waste of time. I know you deserve better, and you probably want someone who-"
Astoria wraps both arms round him and drags him down so she can kiss him. Draco is so stunned he forgets what he was saying. His eyes go wide for a moment, and his hands flail wildly in the air before finally settling on Astoria's hips. When she pulls away he follows her instinctively for an inch or two, before remembering himself and straightening up.
His hair is all a mess. One of her hands had slid up and knocked some of it from its tight ponytail. Flustered, cheeks burning despite the cold air, he ruffles it off his face and stares at her. "I don't-"
"I love you too," she says, eyes blazing with something fierce and... maybe even proud. It's far from the first time she's said it, but that look in her eyes, and the new catch of emotion in her voice leave him feeling stunned.
"Do you?" He breathes.
She nods and takes hold of his hand, inspecting his fingers. "Of course I do. Even before everything you just did, and more so now. I never expected... All those things you said. Draco." She kisses his knuckles and gazes up at him, like she's seeing him for the first time, shaking her head in amazement. "You're a constant surprise. I hope you know that."
Draco gives a very small smile. "I'd hate for your life to be boring."
She laughs and hugs him tightly, body pressing in against his. He slides an arm round her waist in response and gathers her in, burying his face in her hair.
For a long moment they stand there like that, entwined, halfway between the Manor and freedom. The breeze blows a few snowflakes down from the branches of the trees, and they scatter into Astoria's hair and across Draco's shoulders. It's bitterly cold, and the sky is beginning to become tinged with pink as dusk gathers. Astoria starts to shiver, and Draco releases her.
"Wasn't there a rather nice bottle of wine we were thinking of drinking?"
She gives a soft laugh and nods. "At my place. Shall we go?"
Draco throws one final, fleeting look back at the golden windows of the Manor. "Yes."
They join hands, and this time it doesn't feel nearly so difficult to walk away from the house. The wrought iron gates let them pass, and in the quiet lane beyond they Disapparate with a pop, heading for the warmth, and home. Fine wine, good company, a Christmas tree decorated with Muggle fairylights, and whatever the future holds.