-Little Star-

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Prompt: Acrid

There was an odd, melancholy air over the graveyard that day.

Despair hung on her every breath, and words left an acrid taste on her tongue. Only tears gave any sense of sweet relief. But even they felt like poison in her eyes. Astoria was silent, save for the ragged breaths that escaped her throat. She wasn't sure she wanted to breathe anymore. It seemed like such a chore now. There were times when she almost forgot how to, and would gasp and choke before sucking in the dead air.

Astoria looked at her family and friends around her, and saw only blank stares and hollow hearts. None of them understood. Not really.

She tried, sometimes, to plead for help, for some release from this sorrow, but she could never speak the words aloud, and no-one understood the desperate look in her eyes. Astoria could see it though, every time she looked in a mirror. Desperate eyes for a desperate soul, she supposed. She wanted someone, needed someone to help her; to wrap her up in their arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, that they'll get through this, no matter how hard and impossible things seem now.

But they couldn't see it, and they left her to lonely thoughts and desolate dreams.

He, Draco, seemed devoid of any emotion. He seemed just as dead, just as empty as the rest of them. It was almost as though he didn't care at all.

…Maybe he didn't.

A low, mournful note broke the silence, and a procession of men dressed in black marched towards them. She couldn't see it at first, but then a small sliver of white emerged between the black. They travelled closer and closer, and the coffin was coming into full view. Astoria was finding it hard to hold herself together. It took a conscious effort to clench onto her sides and stop her heart from pouring out of her chest.

The procession stopped then, directly in front of her and Draco, and she saw something flicker in his eyes. She forced herself to look forward.

Astoria broke then, shattering into a million shards of emptiness.

Her baby, stolen from life before she had even taken one breath.

The coffin was so small; she could have cradled it in her arms, like some cruel parody of the life her daughter should have had. Her baby never saw the sun, or felt the wind on her hair. She would never hear a song, save for the tragic lullabies the angels would sing as she slept. Snow would never melt on her tongue, and she would never feel a kiss on her skin…

She was Astoria's perfect little baby, but she had failed to give her life.

The earth seemed to spin then, too fast for Astoria to hold on. She didn't want to anymore. She wanted to be with her, her angel. Astoria was her mother, and she wanted nothing more than to follow her daughter to wherever she had gone, and keep her safe for the rest of forever. It was her duty, her divine right as a human being, and as a mother.

Who would miss her if she was gone, anyway? She was a hollow shell now, with a gaping abyss where her heart should be. Only death could make her whole again. She craved nothing more than to follow her baby into the grave, and curl up beside her coffin.

Astoria watched with horror as the men lowered the tiny coffin into the hole in the ground. It was all too much. She was ready to run then, to run and run until the breath in her lungs was spent. She wanted to run, and die and find her angel.

But then he cried.

Draco never cried. Not ever. She looked toward him, surprised and shocked and confused. He had been so strong, not showing an indication that he even cared that their baby was gone. But Astoria could see it now. Their little girl was everything to him too, wasn't she? She was his life, and his heart. His hopes, and his future. Just as she was Astoria's.

Suddenly her wish to run seemed foolish, and all she wanted in that moment was to crumble with Draco, and share their grief.

She didn't notice that her legs had given out until she was in his arms, and he was holding her close. Their sobs were a lullaby to their daughter, and their tears mingled, giving birth to a rivulet of wretchedness.

Apart, they were broken, but together, they could have some semblance of a whole. They had to be strong. They had an angel who needed them; who needed them to send up their love and kisses, their hearts and dreams. She could see that now.

Separate, they were nothing, but as one, they were her parents, and they always would be. Till the end of everything.

'Rest in peace, our little star…'