Even in the Darkest of Times (Draco/Astoria)

1 | Astoria

 Chapter One: Astoria

"Say, have you ever been in love?"

Astoria frowned at the question, unsure of whether or not the man who sat facing her was purposely being impertinent. Not only that, she was rather alarmed at the seemingly random question he had – rather nosily – asked her. Going on dates with strange men had never sat well with Astoria at all, and it was only upon the insistence of her sister Daphne (threat would've been a better word to use) that she'd agreed upon this particular date. It had taken her quite by surprise when she'd discovered her date was rather affable, well-dressed and reasonably good looking. Although Astoria had yet to remember what he'd said his name was.

And there he had to go and ruin it all by imposing such a ridiculous question on her.

"Er, well," she coughed awkwardly, placing her hands together daintily on the table, the way Mama used to, "I'm not quite sure I feel...er, comfortable answering that."

The man let out a laugh that distinctly reminded Astoria of a hyena, and she cringed. She wasn't sure if she could be particularly taken with a man who sounded like that.

"'S only a question," he responded finally, with a small shrug. Then, his watery blue eyes met Astoria's own dark ones and they seemed to twinkle at her in a manner that made her want to squirm uncomfortably in her seat (Mama would be rolling in her grave seeing her own daughter do that. Far too unladylike).

"Usually," the man continued, "people answer that question with a simple 'Yes' or 'No'. Shows that they've moved on. You didn't. Still hung up over a certain wizard, are you?"

"Will you keep your voice down?" Astoria's cheeks reddened as she cast a hurried glance at a Muggle couple who sat on a table a few feet away from them but, thank Salazar, they seemed not to have heard him. She turned to glare at the man who seemed relatively undisturbed. Was he a buffoon? Daphne had let on to Astoria that the man was a pureblood. Yes, it was quite understandable for Muggle-born wizards to have their little slip-ups in public. Excusable for half-bloods too. But for a pureblood? It was ridiculous.

"Don't matter to me," the man responded casually. (Astoria resisted the urge to correct him. "It's doesn't matter to me," she thought. Bad grammar was such a turn-off.) "We could always Obliviate them. Stupid creatures as they are, wouldn't notice a thing, would they?"

Astoria bristled. It'd only been seven years since the Second Wizarding War had ended and the scars that it had left behind were cut deep and still in the process of healing. Over the course of these years, Astoria had seen the people around her change and present very little references of the life they had lead previously. She, too, had come to terms with the reality of what her own parents had been involved in – what she had seen her parents turn into as these ugly, revolting beliefs – these lies – began to take the shape of a man, a creature, with red eyes, a man who haunted her dreams even today.

The War had changed people and anti-Muggle sentiment was at the lowest it had been in nearly two hundred years. To hear this man talk of Muggles – of other human beings – in such a way, caused such a wave of fury to take over Astoria that the glass of water that was placed in front of her shattered quite suddenly. Barely even registering the look of alarm that shot across the man's face followed by several pairs of eyes now turning to look at them, Astoria got up abruptly, her eyes narrowed into angry little slits.