Unsortable

Chapter 5

He was burning. The warmth of the girl had set him on fire. His whole body humming and his lips tingling from their intense contact, Draco quickly strode to his room and closed the door. Leaning his head against the cool stone of the wall, his mind replayed the last twenty minutes again and again.

This was not good. He had to put this away. Thinking about Aerie, their kiss, her scent, her dark curls in his fists, her breasts pressed against him, her... everything... would only lead to trouble for him. He could not protect her from the horrors going on in his life. He thanked Merlin sincerely that he was so skilled at Occlumency; he did not know what would happen if Voldemort found out about the girl. His family was already in danger and he did not need one more thing to worry about.

But the attraction was undeniable. He was obsessed with her. And he did not even really know anything about her. She was a pureblood, she had assured him, plus she would not have been able to attend Hogwarts and be Head Girl if she had been anything less. That led him to question why she even came to Hogwarts this year when the world was so clearly in turmoil. Why did she not stay in America where it was at least a little bit safer? Was there a reason? She was more advanced at magic than she ever indicated; her quality of performance was well above anyone he knew. If she was so good, did she think that she could handle herself in the upcoming battle?

That thought did not sit well with him. He steered his mind from it, going back to the question of why he was so attracted to her. Deciding to answer at least one question about her, he went to his bookshelf and pulled down a large volume entitle Great Wizardry Families from the top shelf. Wanting to know where her family originated, he opened the book and turned to the middle. The benefits of this book came from the enchantment placed on it to automatically update itself after every new birth in the families. He had turned straight to his own family at Malfoy. He gently brushed his fingers across the embossed names of his mother and father before turning the page to the next family of Matthews. Going straight to the bottom he found what he was looking for.

Astoria Aeridia Matthews was situated right underneath Corvus Leo Matthews and Cassiopeia Lyra Greengrass. Greengrass--he knew that name. Why did it sound familiar? Then it hit him--that was the name of one of Parkinson's friends! Aerie was related to some students here and she never said a word. Nor had she mentioned that her first name was not, indeed, Aeridia. He tossed aside his frustration at that; it really was not any of his business what she wanted to call herself. He flipped back through the book until he found the Greengrass family. There were two young Greengrass members here at the school then. Daphne and another Astoria. Daphne was the name of the girl who associated with Parkinson. Looking further up he found that the father had a brother and sister. And looked who married out of the family! The Greengrass girls' father Fornax had a sister named Cassiopeia who married a Matthews. So Aerie was cousin to the Greengrass Slytherin girls at Hogwarts. He ran through his memory to see if he recalled any time when Aerie would have talked with the girls over the course of her being here and could not remember. Then again, Aerie talked with everyone.

He looked at the tree again and found a Malfoy tie further up in the branches. And the world keeps getting smaller, he thought with a shake of the head and closed the tomb. So Aerie's mother was from England; that explained her accent. He had wondered why, if she was from America, she spoke like a native Brit.

Putting the book away, Draco stood in the middle of the room and stared at the door. He sighed. "Well, this is just a pain in the ass."

Kissing Aerie again was out of the question. There was no reason to and it would only cause more problems in his continuously confused mind. He was barely being able to maintain his composure whenever he would go to Malfoy Manor for meetings and other assignments. He remembered every kill he was forced to make and each took a little piece of his soul with them. Voldemort was relentless and Draco was pulling further and further away in his loyalty. Frankly, he would be thrilled if Potter was able to rid the world of the Dark Lord.

He almost cursed himself for thinking that. Blast Potter and his heroic destiny. But if he were to succeed, Draco would have the chance for his family to live without fear of death. From the bottom of his soul, for the first time, Draco wished for the peace that would allow him to finally breathe easy. And if Potter is the one to do that, then so be it. He thought about Aerie, and smiled. Maybe, once all of this was done, he would have a chance. For now, he would have to continue to be an ass.

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He woke the next morning with a splitting headache, echoes from the nightmare sending shivers down his spine. The dream consisted of his mother and Aerie held at wand point. He had just enough time to pull out his own wand before the unknown assailant killed them both. He woke several times in shock and always the same dream came back. The intensity of it all put him in a black mood.

He wandered out of his room in his uniform to see Aerie about to walk out of the portrait hole. She paused with one foot out and flushed when their eyes met. Draco felt like a knife was thrust into his heart when seeing her, his mind going back to his dream. He turned away from her and waited until the portrait closed before looking up again. He sighed. It was going to be extremely difficult to ignore her. He headed down to the Great Hall ten minutes later and slumped into a seat next to Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were gorging like normal and Parkinson was several seats down next to Daphne Greengrass. He blinked in surprise, quickly looking down at his plate. He could clearly see the family resemblance between Aerie and the Greengrass girls. All three had dark curls and high cheekbones. But where Aerie was dark in eyes, the Greengrass girls had blue. Did they even know they were all related?

"Parkinson is giving you disgustingly adoring eyes, Draco," Blaise sneered, interrupting his thoughts.

"Let her, I don't give a damn," he replied sharply.

Blaise scrutinized him critically. "You are in a fowler mood than usual, mate. Is everything alright?"

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Not really. The Dark Lord is demanding too much of my family. It's getting difficult."

"You're not in trouble are you?"

"I'm not dead yet, so I don't think so," he muttered darkly. Inside, he suddenly felt warmth and a feeling that could only be described as comfort melting through him. He looked up, right into the eyes of Aerie, who was sitting three tables over at the Hufflepuff section with some friends. She smiled slightly and looked away. The comfort lingered briefly before disappearing.

He instinctively grabbed his chest, trying to hold on to the remnants of that feeling.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked.

Draco turned to him in concern. "I don't understand what's going on. The simple lack of her has more of an impact on me than others' presence." He got up quickly and grabbed his bag, leaving Blaise staring after him in confusion.

He left the Great Hall and went straight to his first class. No one here; excellent. He slammed his bag on the table and threw himself into a seat. What the hell just happened? Without having to think about it, he had been able to find the girl out a crowd of over one thousand students. He knew when she was looking at him. And it gave him peace. He groaned; kissing her once (twice, he reminded himself) had altered everything. He could still feel her--a tiny white light inside himself that, if followed, would lead him right back to the Great Hall where she was sitting.

The door opened to the classroom. "Hello, Drakie," he heard Parkinson simper and suppressed another groan.

"You've been ignoring me all week," she continued, coming up behind him and draped herself across his shoulders. "Why?"

He shrugged her off. "We talked about this; I have an image to uphold. Being tied down to you changes that." He tried not to gag; her perfume was overpowering. Not like the light, fresh smell of his roommate.

He shut that thought away as quickly as it had come.

"But it's just the two of us right now, darling," Parkinson replied, trailing her fingers up his arm.

"Not for long," he retorted, hearing the tell-tale signs of students in the halls.

She pouted briefly before turning him to face her and kissing him roughly. He pushed her away with a sigh. "Get to class."

"That was something to think about until this weekend," she said softly then walked away.

The second she was gone, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Merlin, she gave wet kisses. His hand came away with pink, glittery lip gloss. He had the urge to be sick.

It was not like when Aerie kissed him. She consisted of nothing but softness, warmth, and a spice that he could not name. Speaking of the Head Girl...he felt that warmth again inside and turned in his seat, coming face to face with Aerie. His heart jumped as he took in her black curls piled high in a messy bun, dark almond-shaped eyes staring at her notebook, and full lips pink and only enhanced by lip balm.

"How long--"

She shrugged. "Long enough. We don't need to talk about it." She pulled out a quill and the essay they had due and focused intently on it.

He turned back to the front and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Women. As the rest of the students filed in the classroom, he glared at anyone who looked his way or had any indication of sitting next to him. He was not in a sociable mood.

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That weekend, Draco left Aerie to take care of Parkinson again, giving her free reign of the story she would fabricate for the girl. Neither had spoken much to one another during the week and when they did, it was mostly in monosyllables. It was pissing him off that they were not talking, but he was not going to be the first to broach any form of serious conversation with her. He snapped at anyone who looked at him wrong. Five weeks of the same dodge-and-evade game they played followed.

With only one more week until holiday break, Draco sank deeper into depression. He had not been called home since that weekend over a month ago, and he had not seen or heard from his mother since then. Parkinson apparently was doing her job at reporting favorable information to his father because he had not heard from him either. At the moment, he was laying on his bed, idly doodling in the air with his wand, when he heard a crash and curse come from the living room.

He was on his feet and out the door in seconds. Skidding to a stop, he stared at the vision before him.

Garland draped around the room with lights twinkling. There was a twelve foot white Christmas tree in the corner by the fireplace, covered in deep green, black, and silver ornaments. A ladder stood to one side of it with Aerie perched at the top, brandishing her wand at a large silver star that was piecing itself back together. Music swept softly through the suite. What froze him was her.

She had changed out of her uniform and was wearing a deep red dress that fell to mid thigh, covered in lace. A white ribbon stood in stark contrast with her black hair and she was barefoot. She made eye contact with him then went back to fixing the star, placing it gently at the top of the tree when she was done.

"I dropped the star, no need to get your knickers in a twist," she said, climbing down.

Draco did not say anything, just watched each leg as she came down the rungs. He had not realized her legs were so long, or muscular. His eyes snapped back to the tree when she hit the ground. He examined the ornaments with more attention than was warranted.

"If you can't be kind," she stated, misinterpreting his gaze, "then at least have the decency to be vague."

He cleared his throat. "It looks nice, actually."

She blinked at the sudden praise. "Oh, um, thank you. I felt that though it's late, it's better to decorate for Christmas than not at all. I was getting depressed."

He had noticed. Though he may not have been in the most receptive moods himself, he could not stop watching her. What he saw over the past weeks was a nice façade of happiness, but once no one appeared to be looking at her, Aerie withdrew in herself. It frustrated him that it concerned him.

"Are you going home for the holidays?" he asked out of the blue.

The sad smile that answered his question hurt him. "I can't get to America at this time, Draco. You know that. Voldemort has frozen all travel out of Great Britain."

No, he had not known that.

"But it's for the best," she said with a shrug. "My family is safe and I'm safe enough here."

That still did not make her happy, he noted. They both sat on the couch and stared into the fire.

"How long are you required to be at Malfoy Manor, Draco?" she inquired suddenly.

"No longer than is absolutely necessary, I suppose," he replied. "I'm to keep an eye on the remaining students here to attempt to quell any rebellion."

"Are there really that many students staying then?"

"Just a little over one hundred." He was wondering why she wanted to know.

"I just don't want to be overly bored." She smiled slightly, fiddling with the hem on her dress. He watched her fingers skirt over the lace and had to look away quickly so that it would not distract him.

"Parkinson's not staying, so you won't have to worry about altering her memory. Are the Greengrass girls staying?"

Aerie blinked at him in confusion. "I don't know. Should I?"

In his attempt to answer some of his own questions about her, he dove ahead. "Are you not related to them?"

She stared at him hard for a moment, then sat back and laughed. "You have looked into my history," she chuckled, apparently answering a question of her own. "Yes, Draco, I am related to Daphne and Astoria. First cousins, but I'm sure you already knew that. The reason why it seems like I'm ignoring them is that they don't know that I exist."

Now it was Draco's turn to blink in confusion. She held up a hand before he could ask the next obvious query.

"The story is embarrassing for my family, but I don't have a problem sharing it since you would get a more dramatic and scandalous version from anyone on my mother's side of the family," she started, smiling at him conspiratorially. His heart did a funny jig, though he only allowed himself to raise an eyebrow to have her go on.

She settled further into the couch, tucking her legs under her and turning her full attention to him. "My mother, Cassiopeia Lyra Greengrass, lived here in England with the rest of her family. After she graduated from Hogwarts, she went on the customary world tour with a couple of friends. When she visited America, she met a man who turned her world on its axis and showed her all that had been unavailable to her. She left her friends so that she might stay in the States with him and for the next two years lost touch with reality. I will spare you the details of everything she did during that time, because they are irrelevant. What is important is that her family was getting increasingly frustrated at her lackadaisical lifestyle with a man who had no intention of marrying her. She got pregnant, much to their dismay, but a week later she married another man by the name of Matthews. Seven months later, I was born."

"Corvus Leo Matthews had been one of my mother's first friends in America, and was the first to offer her slight redemption. He accepted me as his own and never wavers. My mother's family disowned her immediately upon learning of her hiccup and will never again consider her a part of the family. My mum never saw the man who impregnated her again after she told him about the upcoming birth."

He took a minute to absorb her story before smirking. "That sounds just about as scandalous as it gets."

She laughed.

"What was your real father's name?" he asked.

"I have no idea," she responded, shaking her head. "That was the one detail Mum wouldn't divulge. Probably thinking I would try and go find him. Which I did anyway."

"How did you find out that you were illegitimate?"

She scrutinized him for a moment in her weird, mind-probing way before continuing, hesitating as if she were picking her words carefully. "You know that trick I do where I seem to know what you're thinking? It's different than Occlumency, because I wouldn't be able to understand anything about you if I tried to use that since you're a master at it. I understand the aura around a person as an extension of themselves that is not controlled by the will of the mind. Being able to read that allows me to answer the unasked questions or understand what you want me to know without you ever needing to say a word. It also is tied tightly to those you're related to or have a deep relationship with, though each appears differently. I've known that I was not tied to Daddy the way I was tied to Mum since I was six. It was only natural that I would ask. Once I did, Mum wasn't able to lie about anything anymore."

He let his brain process that and went on to a lighter question, "Why do you go by 'Aeridia' and not 'Astoria'?"

She looked relieved that the topic was easier. "It's what Daddy called me. 'Astoria' was my grandmother's name and was given to me when Mum was still on good terms with her. Daddy called me 'Aeridia' to make life easier for my mother so that she wouldn't keep looking at me with sad eyes. And wouldn't it be strange to have two Astorias at Hogwarts right now?"

He did not see how that was an easier topic, but let it go and did not answer her last question. Her history was fascinating! He had never heard of someone being able to read auras. She was almost like a human lie-detector without the need for a spell!

"You want to test me," she said, just as the challenge was forming in his mind.

He glared at her. "Not if you are always going to be answering me before I even think of the question." That was going to get infuriating very fast.

She shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Ask me a question then and tell me whether my response is true or false."

He wanted her to start simple.

"What is your favorite color?"

That's good, he thought. "Green."

"True and typical. What was the name of your first pet?"

"Jupiter."

"True. What was it?"

He grinned. "A wolverine."

"Lie," she said and grinned back. "Though I will give you points for not hesitating. What was it really?"

"A falcon."

"That's better. What is your favorite season and why?"

"Summer, because my father is rarely home and we visit our summer home in Cote d'Ivoire."

She looked at him closely. "Most of that was true except for the house in Cote d'Ivoire. It's not the house, is it." The last part was more of a statement rather than a question.

He had to hand it to her; she was able to pick out the lie within mostly truths. He did not answer and watched her as she tried to focus on the truth in his aura. Her eyes became slightly unfocused. "It's not the house," she said again, a small frown forming on her forehead. "It's in the house though."

He kept his face blank. She was right, but he wanted to know how far she could go without him having to say a word. He leaned back and draped an arm across the back of the couch. She bent forward, subconsciously, trying to get into his aura further. Her perfume fell over him in an enticing wave. He sucked in a breath, intently focusing on his summer home in his mind and not the warm, supple body coming closer to him. "Within the library," she murmured, "but it's more than that. It's a feature of the library, something only you know about. Yes, that's it."

She was so intent on her reading, he almost smirked at how out of reality she had become. Aerie was on her knees, leaning toward him, face only a few inches away, and he had a clear view down her dress. Eyes up! he scolded himself, and dragged his eyes back to the soft face looking through him at something no one but she could see. But he was a man (though young) and was prone to hormones just like any other male, so his eyes almost immediately traveled back down her neck to exposed curve of her breasts. He clenched his fists; he had refrained from running his hands over her when they kissed over a month ago, and he had regretted being such a gentleman, wanting nothing more than to take both breasts in his hands and make her moan.

Aerie suddenly pulled back, sitting on her heels and her eyes focusing again. "I lost it, Draco. You stopped thinking about the secret place in the library and started on something else." She blinked in confusion. "I was almost there. You weren't thinking in anything coherent, so your aura was just pulsing. What was going on in your head?"

I was a little distracted by the large tits coming towards my face and the smell of your skin and swell of your lips and the curve of your ass sticking up in the air...he said silently, but out loud he replied smoothly, "Nothing."

"Lie." She crossed her arms under the very breasts he had been ogling. He had to fight with all his might to keep looking her in the eye and close his mind from her prying. She smirked coyly and said, "There, your aura pulsed again. What is it?"

Draco mentally cursed himself and tried to think about other things. Like homework; yes, I have a test to study for. Herbology, stupid class. Full of idiots. Aerie sits at the table in front of me. Aerie...

"You said my name," the girl in his thoughts said suddenly, making him focus back on her sitting in front of him.

"No, I didn't," he replied casually, knowing for sure he had not said anything aloud.

She was gazing at him in wonder, her head tilted to the side, her midnight curls tumbling over her shoulder and contrasting with the red of her dress. "Not with your words, but your body distinctly said 'Aerie' as you were trying very hard not to think about whatever it was that made your aura pulse. I've never seen anything like it."

Draco frowned, not liking that she was able to read him so well. "Can you turn that trick off, Matthews? A man will never get privacy around you."

A smile slowly crept over her face and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. "I can dim it with will, but I find it fascinating to read you." She leaned forward and quickly closed the few foot distance between them, all the while locking him in place with her eyes. He could not move even if he wanted to. "I didn't realize that I was so prevalent in your thoughts, Master Slytherin. Am I the reason for your distraction?"

He scoffed. "Absolutely not." His fists clenched against the couch again.

Her black eyes glittered in mischief, narrowing in mirth. "Lie."

This was not fair. She was reading him without a reciprocal reaction. He was not going to have that. He moved forward, knowing she would immediately retreat. She did, with pure nervousness, her previous bravado gone. He followed her with the mirror image of her earlier smirk. "I think," he drawled, pushing a curl out of her face and reveling in the shiver that ran through her. "That you should not boast of another's supposed feelings without sharing your own. So let me ask you, Miss Unsortable, how much of a distraction am I to you?"

"You don't have to pry into my brain to the get the answers, Draco," she said softly, and he stopped trying to use Legilimency. But he did not back away.

She took a deep breath and broke eye contact, going back to fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"But do you really think that now is the time to fully understand your feelings? Or even mine?" she questioned.

The meaning behind her words was immediately realized. She was right. Merlin, he could not afford trying to understand the complex tangle of the emotions she evoked in him. The Dark Lord did not need to have his eye on Draco, and definitely not on this girl. The point was to be a shadow, and Draco being distracted by feelings would get him killed. Or her. He backed away and retreated to the other side of the couch.

"Lock those feelings away for now, Draco," she murmured, her voice breaking. He looked up at her sharply, but the only betrayal of her inner feelings was her tone, for her face, with all of its soft curves and brightly dark eyes, only smiled at him brilliantly. "We have time in the future to talk about them."

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The following months flowed into one another seamlessly and similarly. Draco dragged himself through each day with an emptiness that was carefully cultivated and bolstered by the smiles of sweetness Aerie gave him whenever their eyes met. He watched as Aerie glided into each month without ever having an issue with the Death Eaters who ran the school. She was never questioned by Headmaster Snape or the others while other students slowly began to disappear from the classes. Longbottom and Lovegood had left in hiding long ago and the Weasley girl more recently. He knew Aerie was a supporter of the Boy-Who-Lived, but never had she been punished for it. The concept always swept relief through him, but that was quickly put away in a compartment distinctly labeled "AERIE" in the far reaches of his mind. Not now, he would tell himself.

Winter melted into spring that promised of beginning outside, while inside held the ever looming horror of Voldemort's ended patience. Draco tried all that he could to stay away from home; Voldemort's frustration was continually taken out on those around him. His father, normally taciturn, was increasing in his fury on Draco and his mother. The torment should have ripped Draco asunder, tossing him into the bleakest of depressions, yet it was at times like these that hope crept into his dismal mentality. He did not understand it. When going home for a weekend to be forced into participation of Muggle torture or to receive angry curses from Voldemort on the lack of Harry Potter, his mind flooded with the warmth of hope. An encouragement from an unknown source would sweep through him. The residual glow of it would last through the weekend, just long enough to get him back to school where Aerie would smile at him and walk into another room.

Though the "AERIE" file in his mind was overflowing, he still attempted to throw more into it. Like how it bothered him that they had to maintain their cool cordiality in the halls, or how he was not satisfied with just a smile from her when their eyes met, or how he kept having to quell the desire to throw her up against a wall and have his way with her. The last one was particularly dangerous. Blaise Zabini would smirk at him knowingly every time Draco would see Aerie in the halls.

She did not help by walking out of the bathroom with her wet curls dripping around her face, smelling sinfully good of a mix of strawberry and jasmine. The scent always lingered in their suite and reminded him of what he could not have. It was funny really, the entire wizarding world (and even the Muggle one) was falling apart, and all Draco could think about was how much he wanted the girl.