Author's Notes: This is another side piece, it appears I'm on a roll of editing and publishing today
If you are reading Birds become Dragons, this parallels the beggining of Chapter 30
If you are not reading Birds become Dragons, this side piece stands perfectly on its own and spoils nothing of my ongoing fic
Hope you enjoy this smutty piece (warning you people for lemons ahead) and leave me some feedback before you go
Deliverance
Christmas 2006
"I'm healthy again, Draco. My body feels better than it ever has since before we married. It's not your fault. The curse is a Greengrass family heirloom and it befell me, it has nothing to do with you!"
"It has everything to do with me! I can't bear the thought of life without you. I won't strain you and risk shortening your time-"
"You'll simply deprive me of a full life then." The hurt in her words is transparent, mirrored in her eyes. "This curse will take my life, we both know it. It is not your fault. But you are keeping me from a part of my life; you are keeping my life from being better. That is your fault."
He can't say a single word. He has been selfish all along. He wants her, his mind won't stop thinking about wanting her, his body is about to stage a coup and take over because he wants her so much. And he keeps himself from having her so that he can keep her with him.
Except that notion is all wrong. He is not going to keep her, the curse already has a hold on her, visible or not, and it will have Astoria. He is keeping them both miserable. He is keeping their life at bay for something softer, something longer perhaps. Something neither enjoy, something neither mean, something neither love.
"I love you. I want you. I need you. If you won't take me for what I am, fully and in every way, with all that this blasted curse means, I can't stay." There are tears running down her rosy cheeks.
Rosy! When was the last time I saw her like this? Some winter before we married probably.
His mind finds a way through the memories and pins the one he's looking for.
Our Christmas at Hogwarts, in year six. She had been throwing snowballs at her sister, driving Daphne mad at the feeling of cold snow slowly making its way past her neck and down her back. She giggled through the whole thing, she couldn't stop herself. She ended up sitting next to him, still giggling, with bright eyes over rosy cheeks, smiling at him, trying to raise his spirit.
This woman before him was just a girl of fifteen when she decided to stay with him for the first time. She has chosen him time and time again.
This woman before him is twenty-five now, and she is telling him that she will choose him once more, but only if he chooses her and not her ghost.
He uses his thumbs to catch her tears.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I missed you."
His mind is lost in her eyes, her ever warm and welcoming eyes. He has a vision of those eyes no longer warm or alive, and throws all of his love at the damned sight, shattering it. On the other side, he finds her.
"I love you, more than you know, over anything."
"I know." She whispers in the air between them, he feels it on his lips, rather than actually listening to the words.
And then he crumbles. He takes her lips, her soft lips where the curse does not rule today. Hasn't ruled at all in a while.
Neither could tell what happened. They don't know what happened exactly. There was a hunger, a thirst, something so deep it rendered them hostage to their senses and their instinct. They didn't know what to touch or kiss first so they covered each other's' bodies with hands, and lips, and skin.
In the aftermath, their limbs are wrapped around the other, her hair is draped over his heaving chest, and he can feel her heartbeat through his ribs.
"Our clothes are in some rather unusual places." She says, lifting her head up just enough to look around the room. A shaking in her shoulder tells him she's laughing quietly. When she looks back at him, there is such a delightful shimmer in her lips, such a tempting path of her tongue and teeth over the bottom one that he can't help himself.
He roles them over, enveloping her body in his shadow, and takes to her mouth like he would to an oasis in the harshest desert. His thirst is nowhere near quenched when she pries her lips away for air. He second guesses his intentions at her deep gasp.
Seeing the doubt in his eyes, she gives him a wicked smile. "Afraid I'm still too weak, are you? Let me correct you." She turns them over, then. And proceeds to ride their pleasure this time, her hands on his chest, a silent command not to move. On the very verge of the precipice, she removes her hands and beckons him closer, so he sits up, moving with her. A wave engulfs them.
When they come ashore, they are castaways in each other's' arms, breathing slowly, washed away in each other's' bliss and brought back in a raft of skin.