11 OCTOBER, 2001

—

when morning light starts to stir
truth will always come rushing forth

excerpt from poem #20, "verity," in my poetry book aftertaste

—

A brilliant medley of aromas lights off fireworks in Anastasiya's senses as she enters into the Parkinsons' residence.

The estate used to belong to Pansy's great aunt but was passed on to her right before she married Shreya. While expansive, it still exudes a comforting atmosphere; over the years, Anastasiya has taken many naps on the velvet loveseat by the fireplace. Pansy insisted on hosting a casual evening together, and while it took the Zabinis some convincing considering their own home was just as serene, the conversation pit and its firepit was what fulfilled the final push.

She isn't expecting much from a potluck of young adults who grew up having house elves cook for them, but Anastasiya is pleasantly surprised by the array on the dining table. Over the past few years of living on her own, she's had to learn to cook a fair few dishes. She places her cheese fondue at the center, casting a quick charm to heat it up over a flame.

As expected, several bottles of wine and whiskey are lined up on the countertop, behind which Goyle and Peadar have begun pouring glasses.

"What can I get for you, Anastasiya?" Peadar greets her with a bright, flashy smile as he gestures to the open bottles.

"I'll have wine," she replies, chirping up at Goyle's husband's own exhilaration. "Pinot Noir if you have any."

Peadar hands her a glass just as Shreya runs up and tosses an arm across Anastasiya's shoulder. "Isn't it so relieving to see each other outside of the Ministry?" Shreya reaches over and takes a sip from Anastasiya's glass.

"It is quite strange to see you out of a blazer," Anastasiya responds. "However I do like this outfit on you," she gestures to the silky top and black jeans that the other woman is in.

Anastasiya herself has dressed for what she refers to as chic comfort, with a pair of long, loose pants and a ribbed top whose semi-sweetheart neckline emphasized her collarbones. While she, unlike others who grew up in strict pureblood traditions, never cared much for lavish clothing, she does care much to look tidy and mindful of her appearance.

Over the past month, the brisk evenings started arriving earlier with the blink of an eye. If it weren't for the city lights that surrounded the spacious house, the stars and their galactic home would have been visible, even though just three weeks ago when Draco and Anastasiya had left the National Gallery at the same time it had still been light out. However, after coming of age in the bitter winters further up north, Anastasiya finds the biting October air of England to still be refreshing.

"Anastasiya, you have to try a lobster puff; they're absolutely divine!" Melike sneaks up from the couch she was previously lounging on with her husband. She holds up a pastry to the other woman with a small plate tentatively below in case any crumbs need to be caught. She offers a second to Shreya, who sets down her glass before popping it into her mouth.

"To which chef may I offer my compliments to?" Anastasiya responds between bites of the tender appetizer. She's immediately brought back to days by the sea, indulging in savory treats with her parents.

Much to both coworkers' surprise, a voice behind Melike replies, "I made them." Anastasiya looks up to see a head of blond. Draco leans down to take a bite out of his own pastry, the front pieces of his hair falling forward to brush against his forehead.

Shreya laughs before saying, "and since when could you cook anything, Draco?" Anastasiya isn't embarrassed to admit she would have asked the same thing.

"I've been asking the house elves to sneak me some recipes every so often for the past year," Draco says, wiping the corners of his mouth on a fresh napkin. "I've figured that if I want to leave my parents' manor eventually I shouldn't do it so cluelessly, considering you all manage to feed yourselves well."

Shreya cocks an eyebrow upwards and Melike seems to understand. The two settle back towards the living room, where they find their respective spouses, leaving Draco and Anastasiya alone. Adjusting, Anastasiya lifts her glass of wine back up to her lips for a small sip while Draco stares down at his shuffling feet, as if his piercing eyes will command them to stop.

He breaks their silence and quietly says, "you never wrote." He isn't quite sure if he sounds confident or desparate.

Anastasiya's eyes widen back at him and replies, "you never wrote!" While it's true the two weren't previously corresponding regularly, you tend to start doing so after spending an entire day alone at a museum with someone whose company wasn't a bore or a nuisance. Perhaps they hadn't been writing previously because the biweekly dinner parties ensured they'd see each other, but both had been too busy to attend last week's.

"Obviously, I was waiting for you," Draco playfully nudges at the woman's elbow, careful not to disturb her drink.

"I thought your father would have taught you better," she shoots back at him, "a gentleman is always the first to write." She takes another sip of her wine, the dark flavors singeing in her throat.

"I am equally shocked; you've said and proven time and time again you're a modern woman who doesn't follow these standards." A smirk spreads across his face, but it's different from the cruel sneer he used to wear, parading around as if he ruled the halls at school. He feels a warmth approaching his pale skin, hoping it's just the whiskey he's poured for himself.

Anastasiya seems to notice and toys with her words. "Are you sure it wasn't your stubborn Malfoy pride instead? Which of course I'm only fueling by praising your lobster puffs." She gestures to the appetizer in her other hand before taking the last bite.

"I reckon you would've pretended they were shit if you'd known then, isn't that right?" Draco leans in closer.

"Well, there is a memory charm I could easily use on you," she swirls her glass around, mixing the burgundy liquid.

"You wouldn't dare! There are very few things I can accomplish now, and making these lobster puffs is one of them." Draco replies, promptly cut off by Theo, who announces his entrance into the dining room with the clanging of his spoon against his glass.

He clasps an arm on Draco's bicep before saying, "My sincere apologies for interrupting, but I do believe my wife is rather hungry and I have vowed to satisfy her in every way for the rest of my life. Pansy, what do you say we start dinner?" He gestures up towards the short-haired woman padding in, who is parading a flapper-style shawl around her arms.

The Parkinsons sit down at either ends of the long dining table, and Anastasiya wonders if this is the furthest apart she's seen the couple while still in the same room. Everybody else follows suit, each sitting across from their spouse, leaving Draco and Anastasiya to occupy the remaining two chairs. If they weren't the only two not romantically linked, she would have sworn this was a plot to set them up.

Eyeing a big white plate with blue detailing, Anastasiya reaches over to help herself to the mushroom and truffle oil pasta sitting on it. Her assumptions about the groups' cooking abilities at the start of the night are proven to be entirely false, but it does seem like everybody has inherited their parents' expensive tastes. Sides of tuscan focaccia from the Notts and an assortment of caviar from the Parkinsons line the outskirts of the table, everyone creating their own portions and passing bowls on to the next person.

—

After dinner, Pansy leads the others outside to the conversation pit which sits proudly in the yard behind the house. Despite the wind gradually picking up speed, the fire in the middle does a fine job at maintaining warmth.

In true pureblood fashion, dinner never really stopped, as Anastasiya now indulges on the rich chocolate ganache cake Theo has prepared. As a child, she frequently returned home after dinner parties not feeling full; the unfamiliarity and mystery of other family's dishes seemed far too risky for a youth to completely trust. Now, she can appreciate the vast complimenting flavors and not having to cook all by herself.

She sits with one leg bent into a triangle shape, the base of her foot resting against the extended leg's thigh. Draco sits several inches away, turned slightly towards her as he sips on his second cup of black tea of the night, the first washing down the cheese fondue. He had already offered his long jacket to her when the wind began picking up, but she politely declined. The crisp evening breeze remains refreshing, but also keeps her alert.

"—and that was the day I vowed to never disturb the Giant Squid again." Theo wraps up an incredibly detailed retelling of one of the times the boys had gone for a midnight swim in the Black Lake.

Peadar laughs, "I can't imagine what it must have been like watching them swim by your window. That would've scared the wits out of me."

"Well that must explain why you were sorted into Gryffindor instead," Theo exclaims. "Although I personally can't imagine sleeping in a tower every night."

"Are you kidding me? Those towers were so nice and quiet. You can't hear all the obnoxious third years running around while trying to study." Shreya adds, "or sleep, I guess."

Melike interjects, "and this is why I will always think Hufflepuff had the best location. There's an infinite supply of study snacks in the kitchen and I'd sneak in during the middle of the night if I couldn't sleep, which was rare."

"I see why you married Theo, then," Draco replies, fully enjoying the dessert that seems to be made of cream and strawberries. "Speaking of which, what is this called? It's very delicious."

Theo responds, "the muggles call it an eton mess. Melike and I split one during an afternoon in Windsor and scoured for a recipe after."

Draco nods at the woman across from him, gesturing towards the dessert. Anastasiya gently takes the metal and spoons some into her mouth, silently savoring the sweetness. She doesn't have much of a craving for sugar, but the meringue is spun to perfection and the Swiss in her is won over.

If she hadn't known this was the first time Draco was seeing his school friends all together aside from the boisterous crowds of PRIME dinner parties, she wouldn't have guessed it. There was the occasional lull in conversation, but that could certainly be attributed to the food surrounding them. Perhaps this was true adulthood, learning to sit in silence and quiet with one another. Even Melike and Pansy, infamous for words that spill out a million miles a minute, have settled down after the meal. Melike rests her head on her husband's shoulder, while Pansy and Shreya have created some sort of contraption with their tangled limbs.

She seems to be thinking the same thing, because Pansy says, "I've really missed having everyone together like this. Well, of course it's not everyone, with Daphne and Millicent traveling, and we're going to have to track down Tracey's schedule and force her and that charming French husband over one night. But it feels like all the good parts of school again."

"It is nice getting to do things on our own terms. Like, no curfew and not having to sneak drinks in," Blaise continues as he runs a hand over his buzzed hair. "Although I guess fatherhood comes with a similar set of rules."

"Any plans to move out of your parents' place, Draco?" Pansy asks, finishing off the Chardonnay that she saved for after dinner.

Draco sighs. "You know I'd love to, but I don't know where I'd go and honestly I'm not sure I'm ready to live on my own. I've never been completely physically alone in my life."

Anastasiya turns to look at him, and this time she's the one to pass the rest of her chocolate cake over to him. He takes it wordlessly, giving a shadow of a smile in thanks. Slowly, people begin retreating; the Zabinis have to return and relieve their babysitter, although Anastasiya wonders what could possibly go wrong with an allegedly well-behaved child of two very polite and esteemed parents.

Draco sets the plate down on the ledge of the pit, and the two feel the fire between them burning warm, orange and yellow waving to keep the cold air at bay.

"It's interesting, isn't it?" Anastasiya says lowly, almost at a whisper. "You've been close friends with Pansy forever now, and I've worked with Shreya for years. We've both been over here so many times, but never crossed paths."

"It really took our fathers' desperation to get us here, didn't it?" Draco chuckles, lightly tapping his fingers on his glass.

"Speaking of which, how is that for you?" Anastasiya bites the inside of her cheek.

"How is what?" His eyes dart over to try to meet hers, but she stares intently into the flames.

"Your father trying to marry you off. I can't imagine it's any better than mine."

Draco's cheeks deflate as he strongly exhales. "I've come to realize there's many things that he and I don't see eye to eye on, and like everything else on the list, I've come to live with."

She shakes her head at him, adding, "that I completely understand. But it seems like as long as we keep spending time together, my parents stay off my back."

"Is it hard being away from them?" Draco asks, turning his face towards the fire pit to warm up.

"Most of the time, no. They raised me to be independent; I always kept to myself and occupied my time drawing and reading alone. As soon as I realized there were major values we didn't mutually hold, I knew I'd have to step away and grow on my own. Some days it's a constant reminder that I don't see eye to eye with them, but every time I go back I remember why I left." She toys at the end of her long, dark hair, her face barely lit by the fire and the moon.

"I think many of my fears have arisen from the times I've been away from them, but they all surround me being with them," he says slowly. "I don't know if that makes sense. I guess when I'm alone, I realize how much of what my parents taught me isn't true. I know my father might think I'm just going through the motions with PRIME, and I know sometimes it just serves as a mere distraction, but I have also come to realize the many lessons we learned as pureblood children that have no factual basis."

"Wouldn't leaving be a good thing, then?" Anastasiya inquires. "That's one of the biggest factors that led up to me moving here."

"I'm scared to uncover even more of the truth and realize that I don't know anything," Draco replies softly.

Anastasiya lifts her head up to meet his eyes. "Truth always comes out, whether you try to stop it or not."

She feels the heat of the fire warming up in her eyes as Shreya comes up behind their seats. She says, "I hate to break up the conversation, but it's getting late and we have work tomorrow. You're welcome to stay the night, and we can go to the Ministry together, but if not, I'm afraid we'll have to kick everyone out."

Anastasiya answers, "is anyone else staying?"

"Theo and Melike are, but the Goyles just left." Shreya drums quietly on the back of the sofa.

"I'll stay, if that's okay," Draco says. "I've got some things to take care of for PRIME with Theo tomorrow."

Anastasiya replies, "I'll stay too, then. That will help us settle who's late for work tomorrow morning."

Shreya swats at her. "You are late much more often than I am!"

"That is simply not true!" Anastasiya exclaims as she and Draco get up and head back to the living room, where the other source of fire resides.

Pansy is already bringing a pile of fluffy comforters to the floor by the couches and a few ottomans, making a den for the guests. The curtains are now drawn on the big glass doors, shutting away any illumination left from outside. It's far from the king sized beds both Draco and Anastasiya are used to, but it creates a special sense of snugness to be around friends in a more confined space.

On another night her head would probably be racing thinking about how her friends were curled up beside their respective spouses and she was left with a man she still feared she didn't know well enough. But tonight, she's realized she is much more worn out than she expected, and she doesn't have the time or energy to think about such things. As Draco lays beside her, he suddenly looks like that naïve 14 year old boy she once met in the middle of the Hogwarts Great Hall. All the worry that had plagued him just minutes ago is wiped away, almost like the fire has cleansed and rebirthed instead of razed and desolated. His eyelashes lightly flutter as the longest pieces of his hair hang down the brush against his eyelids, and a man whose family was once feared by many esteemed wizarding families now looks benign and powerless.

She's not one to eagerly accept the idea of sleeping in new places, with insomnia and nightmares being a frequent foe of hers, but her own eyelids feel heavy against her face. Not certain if it's a voice from down the street or one another reality away, the last thing she hears before drifting off is a child gleefully proclaiming they were going on holiday to France.

—

can you tell i was hungry writing this? i don't even eat meat but my mouth was watering for draco's lobster puffs.

i want to once again shout out thirstymalfoy , eratatouille , stanmiaa , and lolhiloool for helping me proofread my third person rewrites of the first six chapters! an especially big thank you to cal (everyone say thank you cal) for rewriting chapter three for me because i was really busy and stressed before my trip.

qotd: what are your go-to dishes to bring and/or eat at dinner parties?

don't forget to vote! it gives me a boost of serotonin which is hard to come by these days.

have a swagilicious day/night!