Leigh!fic | From the Outside (1/1) | Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass
Title: From the Outside (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 350
Summary: To the outside world, it didn't make sense.
Author’s Notes: Written for last week's posting at hp_humpdrabbles.
Astoria Greengrass was, at the heart of it all, a private person. Her sensational world tour aside -- where upon finishing Hogwarts, she and Romilda Vane had graced the pages of every global tabloid -- and despite her highly publicized marriage to and divorce from Draco Malfoy, she cherished her privacy. As she had grown older -- and matured -- she’d learned to relish the quiet, to embrace life out of the public eye.
However, it seemed the public eye was not quite finished with her. Not yet.
Pansy, no stranger to gossip herself, had summarized it thusly: “Astoria, darling, think of your ex-husband. Now think of your current paramour. Is there any surprise people are talking?”
It was true. The wizarding world was largely invested in her personal life. She had gone from ex-wife of Draco Malfoy, semi-reformed quasi-Death Eater and one of Britain’s wealthiest men to the live-in lover of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived extraordinaire and fellow divorcee.
Well, the wizarding world could stuff it for all she cared.
It was no business of theirs what happened behind closed doors. They didn’t need to give a tell-all interview to Rita Skeeter (not that either of them had considered it, but the offer had been made) about their unlikely courtship. Why had their previous marriages failed after such short periods? and Does the savior of the wizarding world have any interesting romance quirks our rabid readers would care to know about? were just two of the long questions suggested in Witch Weekly’s proposal.
The relationship didn’t make sense. At least from the outside, though there were times when Astoria wondered just what kept them together. Harry could be stubborn, close minded, and a workaholic. Betimes he often forget to come home, so caught up was he in a case. He didn’t care about the galas and social functions she thrived on.
But for all his faults, she had her own. Her vanity and quick temper were strong, and the pair had spent more nights than Astoria cared to recount sleeping in separate bedrooms, cooling off after another heated argument.
The wizarding world didn’t need to know that, though.
Nor did they need to know what else flowed between them. Desire, pure and simple. Harry was the first partner she could recall who could make her ready with a single look. There was no need to share his spontaneity, how he sometimes pushed all the dishes from the table and pulled her body tight against his. He could make her plead -- reduce her to a mass of quivering need -- with his hands and lips. And when he took her, she cried his name in pleasure.
The rumors would run, of course; gossip was the lifeblood of society. But the rumors would never touch the truth.
Their relationship made sense because they were in love. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 350
Summary: To the outside world, it didn't make sense.
Author’s Notes: Written for last week's posting at hp_humpdrabbles.
Astoria Greengrass was, at the heart of it all, a private person. Her sensational world tour aside -- where upon finishing Hogwarts, she and Romilda Vane had graced the pages of every global tabloid -- and despite her highly publicized marriage to and divorce from Draco Malfoy, she cherished her privacy. As she had grown older -- and matured -- she’d learned to relish the quiet, to embrace life out of the public eye.
However, it seemed the public eye was not quite finished with her. Not yet.
Pansy, no stranger to gossip herself, had summarized it thusly: “Astoria, darling, think of your ex-husband. Now think of your current paramour. Is there any surprise people are talking?”
It was true. The wizarding world was largely invested in her personal life. She had gone from ex-wife of Draco Malfoy, semi-reformed quasi-Death Eater and one of Britain’s wealthiest men to the live-in lover of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived extraordinaire and fellow divorcee.
Well, the wizarding world could stuff it for all she cared.
It was no business of theirs what happened behind closed doors. They didn’t need to give a tell-all interview to Rita Skeeter (not that either of them had considered it, but the offer had been made) about their unlikely courtship. Why had their previous marriages failed after such short periods? and Does the savior of the wizarding world have any interesting romance quirks our rabid readers would care to know about? were just two of the long questions suggested in Witch Weekly’s proposal.
The relationship didn’t make sense. At least from the outside, though there were times when Astoria wondered just what kept them together. Harry could be stubborn, close minded, and a workaholic. Betimes he often forget to come home, so caught up was he in a case. He didn’t care about the galas and social functions she thrived on.
But for all his faults, she had her own. Her vanity and quick temper were strong, and the pair had spent more nights than Astoria cared to recount sleeping in separate bedrooms, cooling off after another heated argument.
The wizarding world didn’t need to know that, though.
Nor did they need to know what else flowed between them. Desire, pure and simple. Harry was the first partner she could recall who could make her ready with a single look. There was no need to share his spontaneity, how he sometimes pushed all the dishes from the table and pulled her body tight against his. He could make her plead -- reduce her to a mass of quivering need -- with his hands and lips. And when he took her, she cried his name in pleasure.
The rumors would run, of course; gossip was the lifeblood of society. But the rumors would never touch the truth.
Their relationship made sense because they were in love. And in the end, that was all that mattered.