Disclaimer: Me owny nothing.

So I officially have no life. (; Just a goodbye fic. I'm leaving fanfiction forever.

Alright, just kidding, like I could survive without FF. :D I'm camping in two days and coming back July 5, and the only con about camping for me is no internet connectionos. So read some of Dan Bergstein's "Blogging Twilight" while I'm gone, kaykay?

Warning: Lots of baddie words, because it's Draco Malfoy, right?

Listen to: Find Your Love by Drake. (Don't judge me, okay?)


the feeling of vindication

oh, she makes me feel like shit
but I can't get over it

(The Maine)

He meets her at Theodore's eighteenth birthday, where everyone is dressed up in gorgeous dresses and dark suits and he feels like an outsider inside a world of people he (used to) knows, with dark circles under his eyes and a father in Azkaban and trouble. Theo won't look at anyone but Daphne (but what else is new?) and Blaise missed the soiree for a date with some Gryffindor (Penelope? Parry? Paige?), the traitor, and all Pansy ever does is mope and pout anyway.

So when she walks into the room, all dark hair and innocent onyx eyes in a navy blue dress, he stands up and stares.

"Shut your mouth. You look like an idiot," she hisses as she passes by, a smirk painted onto her face, as she hugs Daphne tightly and winks at Theo.

Is this love?


"Theo, my man," he murmurs, clapping his friend on the back as they talk beside the doorway when Daphne finally lets go of his hand to chat with her friends. "Who is that girl with dear old Daphne over there? The one with the black hair?" Theo gives him this look that makes his stomach twist as he glances at her again.

Theo shakes his head and sips at his champagne. "That's Astoria," he explains. "She's Daph's little sister. Two years younger than us. Big trouble, Malfoy. She's had more boyfriends than I can count on both hands and feet. She's a slippery one."

Draco raises a blond eyebrow and runs a hand through his hair quickly before beginning his approach. "In case you've forgotten, Nott, you're talking to Draco Malfoy," he drawls, and before he knows it he's standing before a very gorgeous girl with a very annoyed look on her face.

"Can I help you?" she snarls as she rolls her eyes at his awestruck expression. Suddenly, he seems to have forgotten how to speak.

Daphne hides a giggle and introduces them. "'Ria, this is Draco Malfoy, a friend of mine and Theo's from school. Draco, this is my sister, Astoria."

"Pleased to meet you," Draco says in what he's decided is a suave tone.

"Yeah, whatever," she grumbles back, and shakes his hand hesitantly before turning back to Daphne and chattering on again.

Draco looks up at the enchanted ceiling and curses. Do you hate me? he shouts in his mind.


They meet again at Flourish and Blotts, colliding in the space between the Quidditch and Romance aisles. "Astoria, right, Daphne's sister?" he asks when she pulls away from her spot splattered on his chest.

"Are you stalking me?" she growls back. Draco decides he hates her.

"No, I'm merely trying to be polite," he shoots through gritted teeth. "Look, I've no idea why you're being a bloody bitch to me, because I've done nothing to you, so I'm going to leave now and neither of us are going to talk to each other ever again and neither will care, alright?"

She stands back and crosses her arms, looking like the devil. "Yeah, whatever."

"Is that your catchphrase or something?" Draco grumbles in spite of himself.

Astoria rolls her eyes and looks over his shoulder as if there are many better things she could be doing. "Look, all I hear is talking, Malfoy. Where is the walking part?"

"Fine, fine," he says, almost shouting, as he puts up his hands in surrender and turns away, walking straight out of the bookstore and into busy Diagon Alley. Only then does he feel the vindication flood his chest as he realizes she remembered his last name.

You're fucked, the voice inside his head cackles.


Theodore and Daphne's wedding reception is beautiful, with trays full of exotic food floating around, people laughing and dancing as music rings from somewhere unknown. Draco finds his seat, lonely, and turns to his right only to find Astoria Greengrass's glazed eyes staring back at him.

"I hate weddings," she sighs, twirling her finger in a glass of red wine and then licking at it, sucking gently until the liquid has disappeared into her mouth. Draco grips the tablecloth.

Draco raises an eyebrow and looks around their table. Nobody else is present. The nameplates announce that Pansy, Blaise, Goyle, and their significant others should be sitting there. "How come you're not sitting at the head table, with your sister?" he asks, because he can't exactly find anything else to say.

"I don't want to see her and Theodore going all fluffy on me," she explains, as if it makes the most sense of anything at all. "They're disgusting. They're so in love. How can they stand it?" He realizes she is very, very drunk.

"Someone's bitter," Draco jokes, and almost feels bad when her face falls. Almost.

She gives this laugh, haunting and hollow. "Yeah," she mumbles. "Whatever."

He almost kisses her. Almost.


One week later, Draco gets an owl with a postcard from Jamaica, a picture of the wedding party waving back at him on the back. Thanks for coming to the wedding! it reads in sprawling cursive beside the snapshot, Love, the new Mr. and Mrs. Nott.

Blaise sits beside him, examining the wedding party. "This girl's hot," he notes, pointing to a red-eyed girl in a violently violet dress, leering dangerously.

"Yeah," Draco croaks. "Too bad she's a bitch."

"Bitches are the sexiest," Blaise says, his grin very menacing as he flings the postcard onto a nearby table. "You'd know, eh, Malfoy?"

He bites his lip, eyes still locked on the discarded postcard. "No," he sighs. "Not yet."


He spots her in Diagon Alley again, this time sitting outside the reopened Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, stirring a spoon in the melting white ice cream. He takes in a deep breath, clutching his bag from Eeylops, and sits down in the empty chair across from her.

She looks at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" she asks haughtily, stopping all movement abruptly to stare.

"Sitting," he says back quite calmly. "Is that illegal, now, Greengrass?"

"You can't," she argues, eyes glancing around wildly. "People might see. I don't want people to think the atrocious idea that I might be affiliated with you, much less dating you."

Draco sighs, feigning boredom, and leans his elbow on the table, resting his chin against his palm. "What, Draco Malfoy isn't good enough for you, then?"

She glares stonily.

"Look, everyone!" he yells suddenly, on impulse, and she cringes, face bright red. "It's me, Draco Malfoy, sitting with Astoria Greengrass, that's right, Astoria Greengrass of people! Don't worry, though, we're not dating, she's just madly in love with me." As the crowds around them begin to giggle and stare and point, all he sees is Astoria leap at him before he blacks out.

He wakes up in seconds as the pain in his arm begins to make him come to. He looks down and finds that the shooting pain are Astoria's sharp fingernails digging into his skin. "What are you doing?" she screeches. "Do you have a death wish? Are you begging me to murder you? Daphne won't, you know, if I kill one of her friends!"

Draco is still staring at her fingers. "Can you let go of me?" he complains, his back stiff against the hard concrete. He waves weakly with his free hand at a passing bystander. "Nothing to see here, just true love." He shifts his gaze to Astoria. "Are you mad?"

"Me? Are you mad?" she squeaks.

"You're pretty," Draco confesses then, "and I won't leave you alone until you go on a date with me."

She narrows her eyes. "Like hell I will."

And then a boy passes by, looking only about a year younger than Draco, and spots the twosome on the floor. "Astoria!" he calls, brightening up. His smile is goofy, Draco notes in his mind to make him feel better. "Haven't seen you in ages! Why don't we catch up?"

"I'd love to," Astoria gushes, her eyelashes fluttering and her body curving in all the perfect places, looking right seductive. "I'll owl you, alright?"

The boy is practically drooling. "Yeah, yeah," he says, voice cracking, and walking away in a daze.

"New boyfriend?" Draco asks, all jealousy drained from his voice cleverly.

Astoria rolls her eyes and stands up, staring at him down on the ground. "Jealous?" she spits back, sneering. "No. Just a lovestruck idiot."

"You do this often?" he says nonchalantly as he stands to join her, brushing imaginary dust off of his shirt.

"No," she replies, ignoring him to wave fingers at enchanted boys.

"Then why don't you?" Draco offers, slipping his hand in hers before she pulls away. "With me?"

She looks at their intertwined fingers and then meets his eyes again. "You're suicidal," she declares, cheeks pink.

Draco grins. "That's a yes, then?"


He takes her to Hogsmeade about a month after her graduation, and they sit in a crowded Madam Puddifoots, with lovesick teenagers surrounding them and the slight smell of illegal drugs intoxicating them. It's all very awkward and cliché, but she doesn't let go of his hand for a second.

When he Apparates them back home, he whispers, "I'd like to do this again sometime."

For a single second, her face flushes and her eyes sparkle and she looks like a regular girl as she breathes, "Yeah." And then she adds, "Whatever," and she's Astoria Greengrass again.

He likes that.


They are Draco-and-Astoria for three weeks until he walks into the Greengrass mansion to pick her up.

She's kissing the "lovestruck idiot" by her bedroom door, her arms locked around his neck and his hands pinning her against the wall.

He walks over and pulls him away before throwing a punch into his nose, making his knuckles sore and pink, but the feeling of vindication as blood pours down the nameless boy's face is worth it. Behind him, Astoria grabs his waist and gasps.

"Draco, I -" she splutters, looking so un-Astoria with red cheeks and confused eyes and messy hair.

"Save it," he growls. "Everything's just, 'Yeah, whatever' to you anyway." And he walks away.


She Apparates into his flat two days later, with tears in her eyes and regret on her hands. "I'm sorry," she sobs, looking like a tiny young girl in her yoga pants and face free of makeup. "Draco, I…"

His mind spins as she stands before him. His hand grips the bottle of firewhiskey just a little bit tighter. "I'm drunk," he informs dizzily, swaying in front of her. "And sad."

"That's alright," she whimpers, and steps closer. He wants to inch away but his legs are jelly in her gaze. "I love you."

"I've done some bad things," he breathes as she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him, pressing him against the wall tightly, their bodies flush against each others. "But you might be the worst."

"I'm not exactly the Virgin Mary myself," Astoria murmurs against his neck as he moans loudly.

Draco lifts her up and kisses her with all he's got. "And that makes it alright, then?" he growls into her ear.

"No," she responds, braiding her long, thin fingers into his short blond hair. "You do."


"You don't have to love me. You shouldn't," he chokes out as he strokes calloused thumbs along her sculpted jawline. "I'm not a good person."

She gazes up at him with those black eyes, looking like an angel or a devil, he's not quite sure anymore. "You're not your father," she reminds him, kissing his lips gently and running a hand through his hair. "You're Draco, and you are a good person, who's made a few bad decisions."

He sighs softly and presses his face into her cheek. He decides he loves her, too.


He wakes up in a daze the next morning, his head pounding and his body sore but everything is okay when he glances next to him and finds Astoria's eyes staring back, her small lips curved into an innocent smile. He stands up and then winces when his back stings. Turning around and peering into the mirror, he shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

"You're such a bitch," he wails, running a finger along the long, angry red scars on his pale back, resembling the marks Astoria's fingernails leave all too well.

"You like it," she giggles back.


A year later, as they eat ice cream at Florescue's, he gets down on one knee and shows her a shiny, fancy, expensive-looking ring on his palm. "I figured there was nothing else we could do but this," he says, faking boredom, but his heart's never beat harder when she laughs and hugs him, pressing her nose into his neck.

"You never gave me an answer," he reminds her when she pulls away, slipping the ring onto her finger.

She rolls her eyes as she opens her mouth. "Yeah -"

"Whatever," Draco finishes for her, and she smirks and kisses him chastely before dipping a finger into her ice cream and smearing it all over his face, making him gasp and smash his own cone into her face.

(Yeah, whatever.)