Disclaimer: I own none of J.K. Rowling's excellent books, but wish with all of my heart I did
A/N: Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges Assignments)--[Assignment 7: Arts Crafts: Needlework; Task #3]- Write about a couple trying to piece a relationship back together.
Astoria stares blankly out the raindrop covered window. Her head is foggy, and her eyelids droop. The scenery from the window whizzes by as the train makes it's trek to King's Cross Station. Astoria hadn't gotten a wink of sleep for the past two and a half days. She had been on a business trip. But, that was not why she had not slept. Draco, she thinks. She internally groans and sighs deeply, sagging into the uncomfortable booth on which she sat. What am I going to do. The child will be born anytime...I don't need Draco's complaining… her thoughts drift as she closes her eyelids. Her dreams are filled with images of broken homes and shattered glass.
Astoria is jolted awake as the train halts to a stop. She gets out of her booth laboriously, grabbing her bags. Her thoughts are no longer blank and fuzzy, but clear and sharp, like nails. She motions for a taxi, and hurriedly gets in. She begs for the driver to drop her off three blocks away from the Manor so she has an excuse to not confront her husband right away. He would be off work, she knew. Astoria had been avoiding any contact with Draco for the last few weeks. She didn't quite know why. She walks along the dirt path, carrying her luggage and fights back against the wind while struggling to support her weight. She was almost seven months pregnant, and had pleaded with her husband to let her go on the business trip. She still had not taken leave. Of course he agreed with slight irritation in his voice. She had been very angry and hurt by this, but she knew that he would always be the way he was. So, she grudgingly backed off.
Astoria takes a deep breath as she holds the Manor's handle. After several minutes, she forces her clammy hands to turn the nob. The door was unlocked. She peeks inside cautiously, like a mouse after fleeing a cat, checking that the coast is clear. The hallway is dim, like always. Astoria sees this as a safe signal and shuts the door silently behind her, slinking into the hallway. She emerges from the hallway, seeing her husband reading a book with a flashlight in the even darker Main Room.
"Draco," Astoria says half-heartedly.
Draco turns to face her, his reading spectacles falling down the bridge of his nose.
"Astoria. How was the trip?" Draco asks.
He gives her the expressionless gaze that he seemed to have reserved for her over the past five months. His gray eyes are placid and bloodshot. His platinum blonde hair pokes out in all directions instead of greased back with every hair in place. At seeing his ghastly appearance, Astoria audibly gasps. Had the argument left him that disgruntled?
Instinctively, Astoria rushes to his side. She recounted the argument silently in her head. Astoria had returned home that day having worked for twelve hours. Her contractions were becoming more and more present and much more painful. After arriving at home she collapses into the armchair that the Greengrasses had given them as a wedding gift. Her contractions started to disperse and her back pain ceased. She sighed deeply, ready for what was to come after her husband returned from his annual visitations with his parents. As expected, the door burst open. Astoria stiffened her spine. Draco's footsteps filtered through the manor. He emerged into the room looking drained and stormy. He always looked as if he had experienced his ghastly childhood every time he returned from his parent's manor.
"You look horrible," Astoria inquired in a scratchy voice.
Draco grunts and slumps into the chair opposite of Astoria. She snorts.
"And you don't even have a job."
Draco glares at her, the way he used to glare at Harry Potter whom he'd held a grudge towards since his father had told him what Potter had done to Lord Voldemort. She waits for an answer, but something ticks inside of her.
"Can you just answer me!" Her voice was teeming with annoyance.
Draco's glare faltered. There was a sparkle in his eye that was as bright as the sun but it's glow was as dark as night. His hair fell into his face.
" You know nothing," He got up as fast as if he had been shocked by lighting.
Astoria jumped up almost as fast. She didn't know where this argument could go, because she had never had a real argument with her husband. Just some occasional bickering, and that was all.
" What do you mean?" Astoria's face heats up. She seems to be unbothered by her burning fatigue. She clutches her stomach. There is a piercing silence between them. Draco's eyes fall to her abdomen. He recoils, his eyes full of terror and resentment. He looks as if he is going to burst into tears. As expected, Astoria sees a tear fall down his pasty, ghost-white face.
Draco looks at her and says, " Forgive me. Our bickering isn't good for the child,"
Astoria gasps. " You don't know what love is, do you? Do you even care about ME?" Her laser-like glare chars his heart.
Draco looks like a puppy that had just been struck by it's master. He darts from the room.
Now, Reader, do not think that Astoria has no regrets, for she does. Her shame is as high as a mountain and her resentment is like an iron that she forgets has been plugged in for decades. She forgets that it is plugged in, and burns herself again, not considering the blisters that it had left.
This fight had been one of the biggest without a reason. Astoria knew that her husband loved her more than a precious jewel, but he also despised her because she "brought out the worst in him". It was her fault that she had cracked the shell that his parents had fashioned for him. On their wedding day, many of the guests held their heads in their hands. They looked at Draco's heritage and frowned. He used to be a Death Eater; his own father was a faithful follower of Lord Voldemort. The guests knew that the couple's home would be broken. Their children would be thrown into Azkaban, they thought. But Astoria vowed a promise to herself that would prove their evidence as false. That promise was that her children would be happy, healthy, and accomplished. Her husband would be humble and rational, as would she. Astoria would make certain of that. Looking back on the day of her betrothal, she was confident that she could prove them wrong. But, now, her doubts clung to the thoughts that had borned them.
After a long pause, Astoria walks over to her husband, tears in her eyes. Draco's gray eyes land on hers. Astoria cups his face in her hands.
" You and I both have doubts about the child," she whispers.
" But, we can choose how we are going to care for our child. We can raise our infant to be just about anything. If this child lives in a wrathful home, he will be wrathful; if he lives in a peaceful home, he will be peaceful. We both need to be at peace, Draco, before our child is even brought into this world in order for him to be a peaceful human. Even if our own parents let their own doubts and anger fall upon our shoulders, we can shed those burdens. No weight that we bear will become our child's. We can make changes to our history, even if our parents expect us to follow in their "exemplary" footsteps. Our child will love everyone with shameless love. Understood?"
"Understood," Draco replies. His eyes and heart soften. Astoria's wounds are healed. Astoria and Draco hold each other close until the all of their misunderstandings are understood, and all of their broken promises are mended.