A/N: Beater 2 of the Chudley Cannons writing for Round 3 of the the Quidditch League Challenge.

Prompts used: St. Mungo's and "crystal clear"

I own nothing. I'm not J.K. This is all her world.

"There it is!" Astoria threw the Daily Prophet onto the table. "You're lucky you didn't smile; it might look like you're actually happy."

She laughed, teasing him as she always did. Draco picked up the paper to read the headline: Malfoy to Wed Greengrass. Below it was a picture his mother insisted on the two of them posing for. Astoria looked glorious, wearing that bright yellow sundress her sister had given her for her last birthday. She was forever in a loop of looking down at her lap and then radiantly smiling up at the camera. The ring on her finger—small but beautiful, just the way Draco knew she wanted it—was displayed in the photograph.

And then there was Draco, tight-lipped and barely moving in the moving picture. He looked prepared for a funeral.

"I was nervous," he set his morning tea back onto the kitchen table.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Astoria smirked. Her raven black hair was pulled tight into a bun. She was dressed in her finest clothes. "I thought you were angry with your mother for—what was it again? Oh yes!—for forcing you into yet another family publicity stunt."

"She's… lonely," Draco smiled up at Astoria. "She just needed someone to control for a few hours. Where are you headed this early?"

Astoria grabbed an apple. "No time for breakfast. I've got to get to the Ministry; my team is proposing that new spell I was telling you about to the board today. There's no time to waste!"

She kissed him lightly on the lips and was out the door. Then, nearly two seconds later, she was back in. Draco smiled into his oatmeal; she was always forgetting something.

"Did you let Kirby in?" He shook his head. Astoria was then out the backdoor of their London row home. Their backyard was very tiny, but that didn't stop his fiancée from putting up a cat house. He could hear her yelling for the tabby now. "Kirby! Here kitty. Draco's going to feed you, but you gotta come in. Kir-ahhhhhh!"

There was a crashing noise after Astoria screamed. Draco's left arm felt a strange pull up and down his forearm, like a pulse. He jumped up and ran for the door. The sound Astoria had made was one Draco only heard once before: during the battle. He had heard it repeat in his nightmares, distorted and distant, but this was crystal clear.

She was lying crumpled on the ground. Draco didn't even check to see if she was conscious; he scooed her up and turned on the spot.

"Draco? What are you doing—" It was Roni, the sixty-seven year old Italian nurse who Draco often ate lunch with.

"Here!" He set Astoria down on a bed. He was about to take her into care himself when Roni pushed him away. "What do you think you are doing!"

"You're not Healer Malfoy right now; you're Draco. Sit down and calm down," Roni's strong hands guided him into a waiting room chair. He watched, helplessly, as Astoria was pushed farther away from him.

Her head rose briefly.

"Draco?" She asked. Her voice was so small.

"Story," He was at her side, despite Roni trying to pull him back again. There were other healers—all his colleagues—coming over to see what was happening. It was then that Draco realized he hadn't apparated into the emergency area, but instead he picked his office. He supposed that when he thought of St. Mungo's he usually pictured his work space instead of the actual hospital.

Eventually, they had to pull her away to see what was wrong. He retold the events of the morning, excluding the pull he had felt in his left arm.

Astoria was lying in a hospital bed, playing exploding snap, when Draco was allowed to see her. She looked perfectly fine. Maybe a little tired, but that was all. She smiled at him when she saw him. He felt stuck to the floor, unable to embrace his raven-haired beauty. She cocked her head to the side. "I'm not dead."

No, she wasn't. But he still couldn't move.

"Healer said there are no complications. I was only stunned. I've got a mighty big bruise on my collarbone, but I'll live. Now come on," she pulled back the sheets and patted the bed beside her. "Get in."

Mechanically, he took a step toward her. The room they were in was much too sterile, which was something Draco liked only when he was on duty. As a patient—or rather family of a patient—he couldn't even appreciate the cleanliness. It made him feel too dirty to be there.

"Draco," Astoria was starting to get up. He quickly closed the distance, causing her to slump back into her pillow. "Much better."

"What," he paused. Instead of climbing under the covers with her, he began to pull them over her. He had had plenty of time to think outside in the waiting room on what he was going to say to her. But he had to be certain first. This wasn't going to be easy, and there was no way he could prevent it. "What happened?"

Her eyes, little green pools, pierced him. "It's nothing to worry over. The Aurors know, and that's all that matters now."

"Astoria—"

"No. I will not get into this," she crossed her silky white arms over her body. "I will not feed into this."

"I want to know."

"Draco," she warned.

"Astoria."

She sighed. "Fine. Yes, it was a Death Eater. No, I didn't see his face. Yes, he was male. Yes, he said things. Yes, I was afraid. No, I'm not worried now. Anything I missed?"'

Draco sank onto the St. Mungo's mattress. His back was to her now. "What did he say?"

"I won't tell you."

"Please—"

"Why? So I can watch you tear yourself apart? Absolutely not, Draco," she paused, only to place her hands on his back. Draco stood and walked toward the solitary window on the other side of the room. He gazed out on the Muggle world. Sometimes he was jealous; they knew nothing of the troubles his world had faced. They didn't know that their own existence had been questioned. They had no idea he was on the other side when the time had come. They didn't know he was a bad guy, a pureblood purist. A Death Eater.

His left arm itched. The Mark. He knew that a Death Eater had hurt her the moment it happened. Anytime a wizard or witch bearing the mark did anything in the name of the Dark Lord, Draco could feel the pull in his now-fading mark. It had been eight years since that stupid mark was put there, and he ws still paying for it.

"What did he say, Astoria?" Draco said through gritted teeth. He placed his head against the cool window, letting the temperature difference calm him.

"No. I won't," she said.

Draco whipped around. "Tell me! Why can't you tell me? Is it so hard? I already know, Astoria, so why can't you just say it!"

"I will not! How would you even know?"

"Because we all said the same things, and I'm sure it hasn't changed much."

"We? I know you mean they. Please just drop this!" She was starting to rise again. This time Draco stormed over to her and forced her to stay in bed.

"Do not further injure yourself! Just—just stay in bed, dammit," he yelled. "Stop acting like you're protecting me. Stop trying to make me feel better; I know what I was. Just tell me what he said! I—I forbid you from lying."

Astoria looked as if she had been stricken. Then her face changed, and Draco knew he made a mistake.

"Forbid me? Don't you tell me what to do, Draco Malfoy! If it weren't for you, we wouldn't even be in here right now!" She spat at him. "I'm supposed to be at the Ministry right now, proposing a rather important spell me and my team have been working on. I didn't hear you once ask about what's going to happen to my proposal or my job."

"You think I don't know that?" he shouted back. "You don't think I haven't been beating myself up over this for the past two hours, waiting to hear if you were alright? I was terrified. I need to know what happened, Story, so that I can make this better!"

"See? You still ignore my job, but we just have to learn about what some Death Eater said about your new fiancée. Yes! Quite important, isn't it?" Her sarcasm was only irritating him more. "Maybe you shouldn't have been one in the first place, and we wouldn't be in this mess? Ever think of that?"

It was worse than the Cruciatus, and he had endured that many times during his initiation. Draco always knew Astoria would forever be upset about him becoming a Death Eater. She had tried to talk him out of it on multiple occasions while they were secretly dating back at school, and he never listened. He had been too absorbed in his own pureblood world, believing himself superior. Astoria refused to talk to him for months after he earned his mark. He still referred to those two years as the worst of his life.

Becoming a Death Eater wasn't a choice though; Voldemort threatened to kill his mother if Draco didn't help. And if there was anyone in Draco's life besides Astoria that mattered more to him than himself, it was his mother.

"You know I regret—" his voice was barely a whisper. He felt tears springing to his eyes.

"Draco, I didn't—I really was just mad. I never—" instantly, Astoria began to apologize. He didn't want her to feel guilty, either, because she was absolutely right.

He sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing Astoria's hand softly. "Shh. I know."

"That doesn't make what I said okay. I didn't mean it. I was angry, and I'm so sorry, Draco," the words poured from her lips. Astoria gripped his hand tighter with both of hers. Draco willed himself to look at her. She was holding her breath. Her hair haloed her face, which looked exhausted.

Draco had never felt so guilty. There he was, yelling at her for not wanting to talk about her attacker, while she was dealing with the mess he created for them.

"Don't apologize. You're right," he finally said, "this is my fault. I was stupid. I joined a cause I didn't believe in, because I was more concerned about my life rather than the lives of those around me. I was wrong, and I am the reason this happened."

He took a moment to clear his throat. This next bit was what he rehearsed in the waiting room. He hadn't quite expected that they would blow up at each other, but in hindsight, knowing what Astoria really thought, the argument might have helped.

"I'm not going to stay with you and watch you get hurt. They saw our picture, and they acted," Draco closed his eyes. "You can leave me. You don't—you shouldn't be a part of my mess. I—I felt it when he hurt you."

He opened his eyes, doing his best to avoid looking into Astoria's face, and began to roll up his left sleeve. She tried to stop him. "Draco, please."

"I felt it," the mark was visible now. For years, he had tried to hide it from her. He knew she'd seen it before, knew she tried not to stare. He barely looked down at it himself if he could help it. "It's a part of me, that life. No matter how hard I try to erase it."

"So stop erasing it," she implored. He could tell she wanted him to look at her again.

But he couldn't. "I want to forget. I want to give you a life you deserve, not this. Today was just another example of what my job used to be. What my life—"

"Your job?" Draco looked at Astoria. She was smiling, closed lipped, but still smiling. She asked playfully, "Do tell me, Healer Malfoy, what your job is."

"Astoria," he didn't want to be teased now of all times. Was she barkers?

"Healer is the correct answer, but you get brownie points for naming the teacher," she squeezed his hand. "In all seriousness, love, you picked this career for yourself, because…"

"Because I wanted to help," he sighed. "Because I'm good at it."

She took his face in his. "You told me you wanted to give back what He took away. You wanted to help where He hurt. Because you have a much bigger heart than you or anyone gives you credit for. Well, except me of course."

She giggled. Then she pressed her lips to his, delicately at first, until Draco melted into her. Soon they were both lying horizontally, arms wrapped around each other.

"I'm not leaving you," Astoria said into his neck where she was cuddled. "Now or ever. I love you."

"I wish I could just erase the past. I never want this to happen to you again," he hugged her tighter. "If I could just get all the Death Eaters together again and rid the world of them—"

"Draco," she sat up. "That's not your job. Save that for the Aurors and the Wizengamot. Please don't say things like that."

"Not my job… I suppose it isn't," he smiled at her. When he proposed to her, he promised that he would always protect her. She was the force that pulled him out of despair. It wasn't her fault he used to be a part of the worst thing that happened to the wizarding world, and she certainly didn't deserve to have him go on and on about it. Draco promised himself he would stop as best he could. He felt her hands slowly pulling his sleeve back down, covering up the dull grey skull and snake. Yes, he would let her help him heal from the past as well.

Astoria's gaze turned to his face. She gently wiped the corners of his eyes. He hadn't realized he'd been crying.

"Today was rough, wasn't it?" She asked him. Draco nodded, not wanting to talk anymore about it. Astoria rested her head in the crook of his neck again. She laughed to herself. "If only you had smiled in our picture. At least then we'd have one good thing from today."

"Oh, shut up," he laughed along with her.

"You know, I never did get Kirby. I hope he's alright."

"It's a cat, Astoria."

"Our cat."

"He's fine."

She kissed the warm skin of his shoulders. "Let's hope so, or you'll be in this bed next."

"Mhmm. Yes, love, keep pretending you're scary."

"I am!"

Draco laughed. This was what he wanted for his future. Maybe not lying in the hospital, but definitely lying with Astoria, teasing her, kissing her, loving her. He would be getting up soon to tell Roni he was taking off for the day. Astoria would be free to go soon, and Draco felt like taking her somewhere exciting. After all, their engagement had just been announced. It was a time to celebrate.