whenever she looks into his eyes she loses her thoughts - they spiral into nothing as she gazes into clear-cut glass, into palaces built of silver and green, into ruins of empires, into good and evil and life and death and that steady, unwavering in-between, that place that does not belong to anyone but belongs to everyone (that place that belongs to her).

astoria hears her name on the lips of crowds, of peasants, of media and common half-bloods, all who claim that she is wrong, so wrong in becoming a malfoy, that she will pay for her heartless marriage, that the universe will take revenge on her for daring to marry someone of pureblood (even though it leaks dark as his grey soul).

they misunderstand the meaning of heartless - to their expectations, she should marry someone of low-class, for 'love' - she thinks that she loves him, even though the newspaper prints disagree (they ink their papers into her soul).

astoria malfoy is not heartless, she is in love with a ruin that will never return her feelings (bad faith).

(we built our foundations on blood and crumbled to love)

a/n: because i am such trash, i have collected a place for all my short hp drabbles. enjoy, review, blah

-dee