A/N: Written for HP Canon Fest in response to lectura35's prompt. A round of applause for Hooded Crime; my beta, my cheerleader, my adverb-killer, my #1 fangirl! Those familiar with Sissi (1955) will recognise the not-so-subtle allusions, though the story deviates quite a bit. I have enjoyed researching this fic, almost as much as I enjoyed pouring the content of my lectures at uni into it.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. The author of the following story (which is me) has no connection to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Books or Warner Bros., Inc. - No money is being made from this, no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

It was Asteria's turn to flash a fake smile at the camera and, as usual, it took a few tries to get the forgery just right. Daphne was infinitely better at it; one minute she was rapidly talking about her friend's engagement and the next she was posing for the delighted photographer.

"It just takes a little practice, that's all," she had told her younger sister on various occasions.

Unfortunately for Daphne, Asteria had grown up with her, and she could tell when her sister was lying. Even through the thickly laid veil of politeness. Still, Asteria was now nineteen and she had had to stop telling herself that it didn't matter if she wasn't as socially comfortable as Daphne, or even remotely as approachable.

"I still can't see the point of this," she said as evenly as possible.

Her mother didn't look up from her copy of the Daily Prophet, didn't bother to reply until after Asteria had stopped being photographed.

"Tradition," she said. "Look at Daphne, she doesn't question my judgement."

And neither should you. It was the unspoken truth, and Asteria bit back her reply; she was tired of being the disappointing child to her own mother.

The incessant clicking of the camera was the only sound to be heard for a long time after their exchange, but Asteria's mind was abuzz with conjectures that would have been considered unsuitable for well-bred young witches. She supposed, in the eyes of her mother, she ought to consider herself one of them.

Tradition couldn't be the sole reason they had come all the way to London for something as trivial as a photo-shoot; especially in view of the fact that all the photographer was doing was take portrait-length pictures of the two sisters, in various poses. The Greengrass tradition entailed a chronological progression of family portraits to be displayed along the length of the corridor leading to the main hall. Individual portraits, however, were not part of the age-old custom.

Asteria dwelled on the subject for as long as it was possible, but her furrowed brow was so immediately noticeable that it landed her a bitter remark from her mother. Then, she had to fall back on her fake smiling.

"Drop the rebel act," Daphne whispered in her ear. "It'll soon be over."

"It'll soon be over."

Two days after the photo-shoot, Asteria sat reading by herself in one of the drawing rooms. Actually, she had stopped reading some fifteen minutes before, when her parents had walked into the room with a tray of sandwiches and tea. Hidden from view by a heavy curtain, their youngest daughter sat in the window-seat.

"You must understand, dear," Mr Greengrass said, "that I do not take kindly to your renewed interest in that side of the family."

The quiet discussion ongoing a few feet from her had started quite innocently. Mrs Greengrass had just come back from a visit to her old friend, Andromeda Black, and her husband had inquired about the trip and about little Teddy. His wife had then mentioned in passing that she had chanced on her cousin Narcissa while shopping at Flourish and Blotts. Mr Greengrass had nodded, and she had added that, by and by, she had invited Narcissa, and her family, to stay for a couple of days at Greengrass Court and that they would be there shortly.

Such subtlety had been put in her mother's tone that Asteria was surprised her father had even picked up on it. She, however, had been too curious not to listen in for more.

"The reasons for our estrangement no longer stand, dear," Mrs Greengrass was saying.

"Neutrality was one of the vows we swore when we were wedded," came the reply, "and I won't stand for those Death Eaters corrupting the minds of my girls."

Her father's chastising sentence was followed by silence, but when her mother spoke again, her voice didn't give anything away.

"The War is over, Hyperion," she said.

Asteria was sure her father would have a pitiless remark for that too, but before the conversation could continue, the door of the drawing room creaked open.

"Mama! When did you get back?"

Even from behind the heavy curtain, her older sister's voice was unmistakable. Listening to Daphne's light footsteps crossing the distance between the door and their mother, Asteria cursed her bad luck. With her sister in the room, there would be no way of keeping to her hiding place for much longer. Daphne despised closed curtains and made a point of opening them to let the sunlight shine, whatever room she walked in.

Asteria tucked her wand into the book as a makeshift bookmark and stood up. She lifted her gaze at the exact moment that the curtains were drawn open by her sister. The effect of this unplanned synchrony was eerie to behold, and even more so for the two of them who stood, to all intents and purposes, locked in the act.

Daphne didn't cry out, but then again, when had she ever cried out in shock or surprise? She stared at her younger sister with her big blue eyes, though her gaze was far from piercing, only mildly interested in what was before her. The resemblance they bore to one another had never bothered either of them, before Hogwarts; if it had, Asteria had been blissfully unaware of it. Even so, before a lot of things happened, Asteria had rarely remarked how similar they were, but now Daphne had developed the striking ability to change the course of the conversation whenever it happened to stray in that direction.

The two sisters had often been juxtaposed, remarks like 'Oh yes, very much like Daphne, yes, only darker,' had been uttered when people didn't think her old enough to listen and understand. Standing so close to her in the narrow space between the window-seat and the drawn curtain, Asteria could almost persuade herself to believe she was in front of a faintly distorted mirror. Their eyes the same dull shade of blue, though Daphne's were an inch or so wider than hers, and such thin lips, accentuated by the excessively fair complexion. Daphne was seen many a days pinching her cheeks and biting her lower lip, in an effort to make her skin look rosier. For her part, Asteria thought the most noticeable difference between them was how much more attractive Daphne's gorgeous mane of long, blond hair was. Her own dark, brown, tangled mop barely qualified as hair, let alone gorgeous.

Daphne suddenly blinked, and the sinister spell cast by her sister's musings was broken.

"Asteria!" their mother cried, when she walked out of her hiding spot. "Eavesdropping, really!"

She said nothing, for there was nothing to say; she had been eavesdropping, but to explain that she had no other choice once her parents had entered the room was futile.

"Already under the influence of the Malfoys," her father said. "I remind you once again of the dangers —"

"Don't make excuses for her, Hyperion," her mother interjected. "We've always known Asteria would turn out to be the unruly child she is."

Daphne gasped on her behalf. "Mama!"

Asteria's grip around the book tightened and she calculated how many steps it would take her to get to the door of the drawing room, open it and disappear from the scene. Six steps. Six well-measured steps and her mother's disappointment would be behind her.

"I am not making excuses, Ariadne," her father was saying in his best placating tone. "Asteria is perfect as she is, and still young for that matter."

The affection was evident in his voice and she smiled warmly at his balding head. Perfect as she was. Surely, that couldn't apply to Asteria; Daphne was their mother's perfect child, the apple of her eye, the feather in her cap. Surely, Daphne would be the feather in anyone's cap.

She retrieved her wand from the pages, swiftly deposited the book on the coffee table and walked the six steps to freedom; all the while pretending not to listen to her mother's voice.

"Only a year younger than — Now, where do you think you're going, Asteria? Asteria!" She paused as the door opened and Daphne made to follow her sister. "No, let her go. Your father and I need to talk to you."

The navigable rivers and lakes surrounding the lands had made of Greengrass Court a stronghold, long before the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy had been introduced; the only thing that couldn't be kept out was the wind.

Asteria tried to ignore the cold chill that threatened to dampen her frustration. As she had marched out of the back entrance, little thought had gone into where she was headed. A walk through the gardens had seemed like a good idea; away from her family, she would have had the right interval to regain her composure and be back to confront her mother in time for supper.

The wand still clutched in her hand sent out shoots of blue sparks as her feet stamped on the white grit of the garden paths. It would have been easy to point it at herself and make her dress warm as if it had been hanging in front of a blazing fire, but Asteria had never gone for the easy route, even as a child.

From a tender age, whilst everyone else was keen on stressing the similarities between Daphne and Asteria, their mother couldn't have made it clearer that she had a poor opinion of her youngest daughter. Asteria's spontaneous sprouts of magic were given a cold nod, so that it often fell upon her father to praise her or slip her clandestine sweets and gifts. She used to wonder if anything would have been different, had she been born a Squib. After even her sorting into Slytherin had gone unnoticed, Asteria had given up trying to gain her mother's approval.

It took her several minutes to realise that the grit under her shoes had been replaced by soft, uneven ground. The gardens of Greengrass Court stretched as far as the eye could see, but the lands of the family reached further still. There were miles and miles of fields that looked deserted to the Muggles, but that had been the childhood playground of the Greengrass sisters.

The wind moved the sails of a lone windmill in the distance, and Asteria breathed in the summer air.

She had never gone this far on an angry stride; Daphne would usually catch up with her by the time she got just beyond the hedge on the eastern side of the gardens. It wasn't the first time Asteria had stormed out of a room, nor would it be the last, but it was the first time Daphne had not come rushing after her.

At the thought, Asteria felt a slight tinge of sadness. It was then, as she squinted to stop a lone tear, that she heard the sound of slack footsteps and someone humming a Celestina Warbeck's hit.

The thing about the Norfolk Broads was that, though rich in vegetation, it wasn't a good place to hide. The occasional shrubbery provided solace from the intemperate wind to the small animals of the countryside, and the magical wards screened the presence of wizards and witches to the Muggles; nevertheless, it was easy to spot someone in the tall grass.

Asteria had then no difficulty in recognising Draco Malfoy as he walked in her direction, picking at the grass and humming the popular tune.

"Trespassing, Malfoy? You've sunk lower than I thought possible."

She could barely contain a satisfied smirk as she watched her voice call him to a halt. Once the effect of surprise had faded though, he was quick in regaining his poise and a smirk to mirror her own appeared on his lips.

"Trespassing?" he parroted. "Need I remind you that, in a day or two, this forgotten island in the middle of nowhere..." He widened his arms to encompass the fields around them. "This will be mine?"

Asteria's smug grin faltered. These were the lands of her family; she had never known them to belong to anyone else, much less the Malfoys. She also knew her father's opinion of the former Death Eater family, and she was certain he wouldn't have given them an acre of his property, let alone such a large portion of grassland close to the main gardens.

"Lies never live to be old, Malfoy," she said.

If anything, he looked fascinated by her hostility. "Well, well," he said. "Who would have thought that the midget's velvet paws would hide such sharp claws..."

Midget! Asteria drew herself to her full height and stared at him with contempt. Even if he seemed not to comprehend the predicament he found himself in, gone were the days when she would have shied away and let her sister deal with him.

"Let's say you aren't trespassing on my property..."

"Yes, let's," he said.

"What are you doing here? Here, on this forgotten island in the middle of nowhere," she added, with a simper on top of it.

Malfoy ambled on the spot, picking at the tall grass again.

"Surveying the premises."

Asteria didn't say anything. His laconic reply had more or less answered her question, but if he insisted on keeping up the pretence that they were standing on his lands, she found herself unwilling to continue the conversation. In any case, his presence had ceased to be a novelty and Asteria's wand shot out more blue sparks as her thoughts turned back to her mother.

"Have you ever considered learning Occlumency?" Malfoy asked.

She supposed her blank stare wouldn't have been interpreted as polite, but his unexpected question warranted it, in her opinion. As her eyes locked onto his, she was even more surprised to catch a slight blush on his cheeks; it was gone in an instant, replaced by his trademark smirk.

"I could teach you, you know. Although..." he trailed off, plastering a thoughtful look on his face.

Asteria scowled.

"Yes, maybe I should wait until the deal is sealed."

She blurted out her confusion before she could check herself. "What?"

Asteria clasped her hands to her mouth, but couldn't help admitting that Malfoy was playing his cards very well for she had yet to work out what he was prattling on about.

"Clearly, you don't want to talk about it," he said. "I understand, the terms have yet to be settled and you're probably not privy to the exact details of the match."

Deciding he was by now just showing off with big words that didn't mean anything, Asteria turned to leave. There was no point in staying out on the fields anymore.

Malfoy didn't stop her, she noted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him resume his walk; the humming of Celestina Warbeck's song grew fainter and fainter, until Asteria reached the gardens of Greengrass Court.

Daphne, sitting on one of the benches, looked up and smiled at her younger sister.

"You're back."

"You're back."

Asteria rolled her eyes. She was about to tell him that he shouldn't be surprised to see her strolling about her lands, seen as she lived there, but she reined the urge in.

"Indeed," she said instead. "And you're back too."

The canvas Asteria had been unwrapping from a soft cloth slipped from her fingers. Inches from the ground, Malfoy's hand caught it and held it in place.

"I like it here," he said.

If truth be told, Asteria had walked to the spot where they had met two days before on purpose; in hope of finding him there, even. After spying Narcissa Malfoy in strained conversation with her father in another of the drawing rooms, Asteria had grown curious.

Malfoy's presence had had little importance on their previous encounter, but his and his family's prolonged stay at Greengrass Court shone a new light on what he had said. When the 'couple of days' her mother had tried to soothe her father with had expired, Asteria had wondered if her parents were really going to hand over some of their lands to the Malfoys and, if so, what the reason for it was. The Greengrasses were in no need of favours, or money; they had emerged as neither victors nor losers, glad to carry on living as a neutral party of wizarding society.

Asteria looked straight at Malfoy. In her opinion, nothing was to be gained from dealing with him.

"Thank you," she said.

Her hand lingering a little longer than needed, she took the canvas, and turned her back on him. There was silence as she resumed the removal of the cloth.

"You paint?"

Asteria smiled, mischief etched on her face, so evident she did not dare face Malfoy and risk exposing herself. How little he had changed since their time at Hogwarts, if her juvenile trap could tempt him so. The curiosity of the past couple of days had fed her ingenuity; she had set out to the fields outside the main gardens with a plan half-formed in her head, and her paint-box and canvas held tight to her chest.

Asteria spoke of her paintings, and of the colours she mixed herself, with the nonchalance of someone who has spoken about their passion before. Her mind, however, was working overtime, in feverish activity as to figure out how best to put Malfoy at ease.

She only halted mid-sentence when she heard him chuckle.

"I told you," he chided. "You really ought to consider Occlumency."

Asteria whirled around; her eyes were wide open in bewilderment.

"My grandfather used to tell me that women laugh when they can." He paused, for effect she realised. "And weep when they will."

The expression on both their faces hardened.

"You've been trying to have your way with me, Greengrass, but I will not be made a fool of."

She considered lying for a moment, she considered trying to convince Malfoy that she hadn't been on the warpath to have him confess whatever his business with her family was. She considered, but in silence, and to him it was like an invitation to say more.

"Listen, I get it," he said. "You don't like how this whole business has been conducted and you might even feel double-crossed by your family." He sighed. "It's out of my hands too, so can't we forget about our parents and just... Just learn to be friends on our own?"

"Friends?" Asteria wondered aloud.

Malfoy flashed her a wicked grin. "One step at a time, midget, it's no good to put the cart —"

"Do you always talk like that?" she interrupted. "Are proverbs and clichés your only means of expressing yourself?"

"Guilty as —"

"Don't bother finishing that sentence," she said, "and if we're going to be friends, stop calling me midget... It's Asteria, you know."

"I do know."

She scoffed. "Could have fooled me."

They stared at each other. Asteria's hands were still clutching the cloth that had been wrapped around the canvas, now lying behind her on the soft ground of the field.

"So," Malfoy began. "You came here to paint?"

The curve of a smile had started tugging at his lips, and though she knew he only meant to break the ice, Asteria couldn't suppress a sharp reply.

"Ah, the head grey and no brains yet," she recited.

She hadn't been trying to be funny; she had been mocking him and his ludicrous albino-like hair by using his own clichéd weapon. Nonetheless, his stern face that had only just begun to fall into a smile dissolved into laughter at her words.

"I knew that familiarity bred contempt," Malfoy said, with another little choke of laughter. "But you bring a whole new meaning to the expression."

She smiled, and it was a genuine smile.

The brush was poised on the canvas. Asteria's mind had left the material confines of her bedroom and she was smiling at the memory of the previous day. The feeling of the heather prickling at her bare legs as she walked, Draco at her side, and the sound of his laughter in her ears. The setting sun as they came to rest beside an abandoned windmill and the sweet smell of the evening air.

By the time they had walked the long way back to main gardens, Asteria had almost forgotten that he still had not explained the presence of his family in her home. They had crossed over the threshold into the back hall of Greengrass Court to find the room teeming with house-elves; some had been decking the columns with sprigs of heather and valerian, some had been polishing the lavish floor and furniture. Thus, her curiosity had come back to her.

"You really don't know?" Draco had asked and when she had shaken her head, he had smiled.

The brush slid off the canvas as Asteria brought her fingertips to her cheek.

Betrothed. She could still taste the word on Draco's lips.

"Oh, is this a new one?"

"Daphne! You scared me!"

"You were so wrapped up in your art... Such a good opportunity to sneak up on you."

Daphne nestled next to her sister on the window seat and pointed at the canvas.

"Is that the eastern windmill?" she asked. "I thought it must be for a painting that you had taken to spending so much time in the fields."

Asteria shifted uncomfortably. She had not told her sister about Draco, though she knew not why; she had always shared everything with her older sister.

She cleared her throat. "You're extremely chipper today."

Daphne giggled, but stopped at once when Asteria's eyes widened.

"A girl can't be happy in this house that everyone must question her," she said.

"You're happy then?" Asteria smirked. "Delays have dangerous ends, you'd better tell me now, before I come to my own conclusions."

Daphne stared at her. "Delays have dangerous ends?"

Asteria was about to reply, a clumsy excuse ready on her lips, but her sister beat her to it.

"It doesn't matter," she started. "We have more important things to talk about than your eccentricities... Mama doesn't agree, of course, but Papa and I wanted it to come from us."

A secretive and, at the same time, cheerful Daphne was never a good combination; Asteria knew that from experience. Countless times, she had been dragged outside their parents' rooms and shushed with a finger. Daphne would mutter 'Watch and learn', then five minutes later she would emerge from the rooms to reveal how the expedition to get them both horses had been an utter success.

Asteria had never told her that it only worked because Daphne was their mother's favourite.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Daphne grinned, disregarding her sister's wary tone. "Remember the photo-shoot?"

She didn't wait for her to nod; instead, she dived into a convoluted explanation of what their mother had needed the portraits of her daughters for. It was an account of the events so convoluted, in fact, that Asteria could only just keep up with her nonsensical monologue.

"Narcissa Malfoy is collecting portraits of young girls?" she asked, when Daphne paused to breathe.

The idea conjured such disturbing scenarios in her head that she was glad to hear her sister burst out laughing.

"Not for herself!"

Daphne pressed on with her convoluted explanation and, little by little, the pieces of the puzzle came together before Asteria's eyes. The Malfoys had gathered as many portraits of young unwedded witches as possible, in search of a bride for their only son; a bride that would prove more than just a faithful companion.

They had been looking for a political match.

"And they found it!" Daphne beamed. "It's me, Asteria, it's going to be me."

Surely, Daphne would be the feather in anyone's cap. Never had Asteria felt her breath catch so quickly in her lungs, and never had she so longed to succumb to the lack of air and faint on the spot. She could not, however, for her sister, her beloved and flawless sister, was looking at her with eyes that were full of hopeful expectation.

"I'm so happy for you," Asteria said; her voice was hoarse.

Daphne took her younger sister in her arms, and told her more of their mother's plot to marry her off into the Malfoy family. Asteria tried to focus on something other than the voice murmuring in her ear. She tried to think of the previous afternoon, when all had seemed so right, but now wormwood tainted her wistful memories.

"Daphne..."

She withdrew from the embrace, and it seemed to her that she was moving at a slower pace than everything else.

"What's wrong? Are you ill?"

She flinched when Daphne touched her forehead, but her sister was too concerned with her health to notice.

"You'd better lie down," she said. "The engagement party is tonight and Mama —"

Asteria stood up, so fast her head spun.

"I'm not coming," she said.

She had closed her eyes for a moment to regain her balance, but when she opened them again, the look on Daphne's face made her regret speaking her mind.

It shouldn't matter that Daphne was hurt by her refusal. She ought not to go, she ought to stay in her bedroom and hope that the next time she would have to see Draco Malfoy would be on her sister's wedding day.

"Mama will not allow it, Asteria," Daphne whispered.

She didn't reply.

"Do it for me, please, I need my sister to be there." She stood up too, so that they were eye-level. "Will you come, for me?"

Asteria bit her lip. She ought not to go.

"I will."

"I will."

The determination in Draco's voice had somehow become irksome to Asteria's ears. She clenched her fists and looked at him in defiance.

"No, you won't," she said, stressing each word. "You won't call it off because I won't be the one robbing Daphne of her husband."

"It's in at one ear and out of the other with you, isn't it?" Draco sighed. "I am not her husband, Asteria, and for that matter I don't want to be."

He closed the distance between them, as he had tried to do earlier, but Asteria backed away, again. Draco opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again. She looked down at the polished wooden floor of the antechamber.

The muffled noise of the party outside the room was a painful reminder of the roles they were expected to play in the real world.

"I didn't know," Draco said in an undertone. "I swear I didn't."

Against her better judgement, Asteria stepped forward and lifted her gaze to meet his. A remote part of her brain smiled in triumph when she observed that he was about her height; he would have to accept that she wasn't the midget he thought her to be.

The smile that had threatened to surface on her lips died in her throat, and she lowered her head once more.

"What does it matter now?" she asked, more to herself than to him.

"What does it matter?" he repeated. "Asteria, if —"

She cut across him at once. "I love my sister," she said. "Perhaps you don't understand because you don't have any siblings, but... Daphne is my sister, my other half, and I would never do anything to hurt her."

Asteria focused on keeping her voice steady, less the anguish she felt in her heart would become apparent. She was doing the right thing in stepping aside and it was incomprehensible to her how Draco could refuse to see it.

"'The Greengrass girl,' that's what my mother said." He lifted her chin up. "A daughter of Hyperion and Ariadne Greengrass, a pure-blood that had kept out of the war, a trophy wife to keep by my side, a colourless future for a colourless couple..." He paused and sighed. "And yes, Daphne is exactly what my mother wanted, but do you or do you not fit the —"

"No!"

In the blink of an eye, Asteria had freed herself and stalked to the other side of the room. Draco's unflustered tone irked her even more than the determination she could still hear underneath the smooth talk. Once the distance between them was enough that she could breathe without inhaling his scent, Asteria turned to face him.

"No, I don't fit that description," she said. "And neither does Daphne, but she will rise above the portrait your mother so obviously has based her decision on and she will be a good wife... Daphne is —"

"Daphne isn't you!" he yelled, drowning her reply.

Asteria hadn't expected such vehemence, and jolting back in surprise she bumped into the door she knew led into the main hall.

"When the time comes," she said, "I know you will do what's right."

She seized her chance and stepped through the door.

The noise of the party that the antechamber had so well dampened was in her ears again, but rejoining the crowd and the general merriment was harder than Asteria had anticipated. Some former schoolmates approached her, but the conversation progressed little, for Asteria kept glancing around the room. Finally, the tension in her shoulders slackened when she saw Draco walk out into the gardens with his father.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Asteria turned her attention to the young man in front of her. He had been talking about his research into the possible presence of kelpies in the broads and, though distracted, his company was not unwelcome.

"Magizoology?" she asked. "Do they teach it at Hogwarts now?"

"Alas, no," the young man said. "It was my grandfather who taught me everything I know."

Asteria inclined her head. "It's a branch of magic that I've never had much aptitude for," she said. "But I've always found it very interesting."

Without warning, the young man's arms spread out. "Mrs Greengrass!" he exclaimed. "Such a splendid party!"

The abrupt apparition of her mother at her side left Asteria wishing she had not tried to rejoin the festivities. She should have hidden in a corner or, better yet, gone back to her bedroom and pretend to be sick.

"Thank you, Rolf," her mother said. "I need a word with my daughter, if you don't mind."

It wouldn't have been a lie either for, at her mother's words, she did feel sick.

The young man needn't be told twice; he nodded at the host and at Asteria, then walked off into the crowd. The moment they were left on their own, her mother dropped the act and looked at her daughter with cold eyes.

"No less than two guests have reported to me that you're acting queer," she said. "What is going on, Asteria? Haven't I stressed how important it is for you to behave tonight?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Then why do you insist on misbehaving?"

"I was looking for Daphne," Asteria lied. "I wanted to talk to her."

"Where is Daphne? I haven't seen her in a while and the time is drawing near for..." She trailed off, staring at her youngest daughter. "Never you mind, go find your sister."

"Yes, Mama."

Leaving her mother to smile at some guests, Asteria darted out of the main hall. She went through the antechamber and into the long corridor that led towards the southern wing of Greengrass Court. Half of the age-old family portraits hung there, displayed in all their majesty, looming over those who walked past.

The rooms of Daphne and Asteria were as far as possible from the latest depiction of their family, which could be found on the wall of the corridor in the northern wing. Asteria marched up to the drawing room she shared with her sister and opened the door, altogether anticipating to find her on the other side.

For all that, it wasn't Daphne's golden mane that turned to greet her; it was Narcissa Malfoy's.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Asteria said. "I'm searching for Daphne."

She had already put her hand on the handle to leave and try Daphne's bedroom next, but the older woman called her back.

"Come here," she said. "Let me look at you."

Her voice was different from what Asteria had expected. Narcissa Malfoy was an entity without a real identity; she was a name that her family mentioned in hushed whispers, and always in association with her husband. Asteria had met Lucius Malfoy, on the Hogwarts grounds in her first year, but he had seemed nothing more than a concerned parent at the time and she had never crossed paths with him again.

Mrs Malfoy waited until Asteria was about to sit down on the sofa to ask her to stand instead.

"You're tall," she said, circling her.

"It's in the family," she replied. "My sister is tall as well."

"Indeed."

Mrs Malfoy sat down on the sofa and invited her to do the same.

"I have spoken to your sister before," she said. "However, I don't think we've been introduced, Asteria."

"How do you do, Mrs Malfoy?"

She smiled. "How do you do? And it's Narcissa."

Asteria inclined her head in assent and diverted her eyes to the coffee table; an ornate fan lay there, next to two empty chalices and a bowl of sweets. Daphne was the one who insisted on having sweets in their drawing room.

"What languages do you speak, apart from English?"

The odd question was followed by other questions, even more odd, but she answered them nonetheless; until finally she watched as Narcissa Malfoy's smile tightened before she spoke again.

"Aren't you wondering why you found me in your private rooms, Asteria?"

"I assume you came for Daphne," she said, and pointed at the chalices.

"You're clever."

The statement, which sounded as if directed at herself instead that at the younger woman sitting next to her, hung between them.

"Was my sister here, then?" Asteria asked.

She had not forgotten that her mother was waiting for her to come back with Daphne and, though she daren't say anything to the older woman, her time was limited.

"Yes, yes, she was," Narcissa Malfoy said, glancing at the door that led into Daphne's bedroom.

Asteria made to stand, but was again prevented from leaving.

"I suspect she might not want to see you, at the moment."

"Why?"

"Because Draco came to talk to his father and me earlier," Narcissa Malfoy said, "and he told us that he's chosen you."

Asteria jumped up from the sofa. "But I said —"

"Please, do not interrupt me while I'm speaking."

It came out as nothing like her mother's cutting and punishing tone, but made more of an impression because of it. Everything about Narcissa Malfoy was calm, poised and serene; Asteria was reminded of Draco and his exasperating composure.

After what felt like the longest pause, Narcissa Malfoy sighed.

"Tell me this, Asteria, how deep is your affection for my son? Do you love him?"

"I don't know," she said. "Please, don't ask me."

"I require an answer, Asteria, and your refusal to give me one is an answer in itself," Narcissa Malfoy said. "If you don't want it to be known, you don't do it."

She stood up and brushed down nonexistent creases on her dress.

"I love my son very much, Asteria," she said, looking at the younger woman. "I am not completely satisfied with his choice, but I see that it is not a bad one after all."

Asteria didn't move nor did she speak, but her fists were clenched on the lace of her dress. Narcissa Malfoy kneeled in front of her and covered her hands with hers; she was smiling.

"Draco presented you with a fait accompli, I know," she said in a softer voice than Asteria thought possible.

"I said no," she heard herself reply.

"Of course, and perhaps your sister will be upset for a few days..." She gave her a conspiratorial smile. "I have seen the way the young Macmillan looks at her though, and she won't be lonely for long, Asteria, trust me."

Asteria couldn't suppress a chuckle. Ernie Macmillan and Daphne. She chuckled again.

PROMPT: "If you don't want it to be known, just don't do it."