He went through the most recent figures on what the various Malfoy properties had brought in as profit since the beginning of the year. He hated going through the ledgers more than any other job required of him, mostly due to the fact that he'd never had much of a head for maths and figures nor did he enjoy spending hours at a time searching for inconsistencies in the numbers or any other sort of sign that one of the businesses wasn't doing as well as they'd expected to.
There was a soft knock on the door and, without bothering to look up, he called out, "Come in," expecting to see one of the elves or his mother come to check on him and make sure that he wasn't working himself to death inside of his father's office.
Instead, it was his fiancée who stood in the doorway, a pensive expression on her face as she watched him working for several long seconds before clearing her throat to get Draco's attention, as though he didn't know it was her from the smell of her perfume. She wore Pansy's perfume these days. Was it to drive him mad?
"What do you want, Astoria? I'm very busy so if you could make whatever it is you have to say go as quickly as possible, I would greatly appreciate that. I don't have the time for you to hem and haw over your words when I still have a mountain of paperwork to get through." He waved his hand at the chair in front of the desk. "Whatever you have to say, go ahead and say it or else I'll kick you out and we'll both be cross."
She settled in the chair and fidgeted, twiddling her thumbs as she struggled to dredge up the courage to speak her mind; it had taken quite a bit out of her just to knock on the door. "I was hoping you would spare me the shame and indignity of having to ask this question by just being upfront with me, but it's been four days and you've not said a thing so I have been left with no choice but to ask. You left the reception early with someone else, plenty of people have told me they saw you leave with some other girl and I just want you to be honest with me. Did you sleep with her? Did you bring her into your bed or join hers?"
Sighing, Draco set down the paperwork on his desk and focused his gaze on Astoria, critical and calculating. "We agreed upon this already, Astoria, quite a long time ago if I recall. You know this sort of thing is to be accepted, expected, and tolerated. I don't see the point in your making a fuss now as though you never thought it would happen."
"Did you sleep with her? Just tell me—I don't even care that you did it, really. it's that you were so public and bold about the whole thing. That sort of attitude towards the matter, before we're even married, is more than embarrassing, it's horrifyingly mortifying to have everyone see you gallivanting around with someone else. They think there's something wrong with me and that's why we haven't wed yet, then to see you run off with some other girl only confirms that belief."
"Like how you snogged Panny in front of an entire room of people before disappearing with that wretched woman?" He cringed immediately at his own use of the affection term, remembering all the times he used to call her that, many of them happier times than now.
Astoria raised her eyebrows at the nickname. "'Panny'?" she repeated, mildly amused. "Let me guess, you'll be calling me Tori to all your old mates when you decide to go drinking in the back garden, talking about what a great sex life we have? I didn't peg you as the sort to engage in the use of nicknames or any terms of endearment, really."
He rolled his eyes but refused to snap back at her, instead choosing to calmly reply, "You shouldn't be sneaking around with other people, especially after telling me to my face that you didn't partake in that sort of behaviour. What happened to you not being at all like Pansy Parkinson? Whatever happened to that bold declaration?"
"Am I not allowed to tell a little white lie, then?" She shook her head and ran her fingers over the ornate arms of the chair. "If you're going to take girls to bed, just do your best to not make it so obvious. I don't want to have to ask this of you again."
She can be bold when she chooses. Normally a tongue on a woman would frustrate him, but hearing those words come from Astoria...well there's a reason I chose her, I suppose.
The paperwork on his desk fluttered and he got to his feet, shutting the office window, which he had not recalled ever opening in the first place. He didn't want to look at Astoria, still seeing an image of her kissing his ex-fiancée every single time that he looked at her.
"I suppose I don't handle my alcohol as well as I'd like to pretend that I do. I hadn't really intended to walk off with someone else, it just sort of happened and I couldn't think of a reason to stay any longer." It was the closest that Draco would ever come to an apology and Astoria nodded in reply, grateful to take whatever she could get at this point.
Fiddling with the end of her chair's arm, she pressed her lips together, forming a thin, tight line. "After you left, I spent some time talking to Tracey and it got me thinking about how much I hate not being married. Out of all my house mates, I'm the only one not yet married and it pains me to think that we might end up like my sister—what if one of us dies, what is the other left to do? I think we should just get it done."
"Well that's not really up to me, I thought you knew that. Your mother and my uncle, they're the ones who decide if and when we're to marry. I have no say in the matter unless my uncle were to die suddenly. That would leave his son in charge and the boy's only fifteen and quite easy to manipulate. He likes me well enough already."
"Hm." Astoria made a face like she was seriously taking out the older Malfoy just for the opportunity to see herself walking down the aisle towards Draco.
He started to look back at his paperwork, expecting that Astoria was going to head out of his office. When he didn't hear the sounds that ought to accompany her getting up, he lifted his head and saw that she now wore a dazed expression in her eyes and seemed to sway back and forth just a tiny bit even sitting in her chair.
"Are you okay, Astoria?" When he got no response, Draco leapt to his feet and came around the other side of the desk to place a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you've not had any alcohol yourself recently, right? You look completely out of it right now. Astoria?" As a last ditch effort, through clenched teeth, he practically yelled into her ear, "Tori?! Hello?"
His fiancée leant forward and suddenly collapsed, falling out of the chair and into his arms, letting out a breathy gasp, her eyes fluttering before shutting altogether. He shook her but upon receiving no response, Draco gently set the girl on the settee and stepped outside to fetch a house elf.
He nervously watched the Healer place the back of his hand on Astoria's head and waited for some sort of sign that anything had changed, even though a potion the colour of milk already confirmed that this was not the case. She had been unconscious for a full week at this point and Draco was now more than tad worried that his fiancée would never open her eyes again. It wasn't just that he'd have to seek out a new bride—although that was also a big part of the matter. He had grown used to his little companion like she was the sister he might have in a different life. She was still daft, still too mouthy for her own good, but it truly was difficult to imagine a life without her.
"Well?" He asked the second the Healer straightened his back. "Was the potion wrong? Is she going to wake up? Is there any change at all?"
The man shook his head, making Draco tighten his hands into fists and strongly consider punching a hole in the nearest wall. "I am afraid that doesn't seem to be the case, no. I'm terribly sorry, Mr Malfoy, but it may be time that you consider alternatives, as this current treatment doesn't appear to be doing much. Now I know that your wife has a serious genetic condition that has left her in this situation before but each occurrence only makes her weaker and that much more prone to illness. Obviously no one wants to lose a girl so young and my personal recommendation would honestly be to move her directly to St Mungo's so that she can have full time care. House elves and my visits once a day will only do so much."
"No." He glared sharply at the Healer, wanting to scream. "I won't let her be moved, that is absolutely not going to happen. She is my responsibility and I insist she stay here so I can make sure that nothing happens to her or that her condition worsens while I'm not around."
The man pursed his lips before nodding solemnly and moving away from the bed to pull out several bottles of potions from his bag, setting them on the bedside table and explaining each one's purpose and when to give them to Astoria. The table, already crowded from a week's worth of attempted cures, was now overflowing to the point where Draco was afraid it would collapse from the weight of it all.
"Now Mr Malfoy, I hope you understand that you only have me on retainer for another week and then I will need to return to St Mungo's full time." He held up a hand to stop Draco from saying anything. "Yes, I'm aware that you could increase my pay in order to keep me on but I genuinely don't see the point in it. I have given all the advice that I can and at this point there is no reason to my still being here. Either she will wake up or you will come to your senses and have her moved to St Mungo's where I and my colleagues can give her more thorough treatment."
Scowling, Draco called a house elf to escort the Healer from Malfoy Manor before turning back to adjust Astoria's bedsheets and her hair, grumbling under his breath the entire time.
What if she didn't wake up? If Astoria was stuck in a coma, would that be grounds to nullify their engagement and seek out a new wife? But there was a large part of him that was reluctant to set her aside no matter the reason. He truly did hold a level of affection for the girl, as daft and naive as she could often time be.
"Draco, dear?"
He jumped and looked up to find his mother looking at him from the doorway. How long had he just been standing over Astoria, frozen in place as he pondered over what to do?
"I...was thinking that perhaps that man is right. What little medical knowledge I have is severely outdated and the house elves aren't trained to look after her full time. She needs to be under the supervision of people who know what they're doing. Sophronia agrees that this is what's best for her daughter to survive. Would you at least consider the notion?"
Three years ago, his mother would have ordered him to escort Astoria's unconscious form to St Mungo's and demand that he act more like an adult. She would have stood with her spine straight and stiff and reminded Draco that he ought to respect her as his mother. Now, though, her hands and voice shook and he could see the patches where her hair was thinning from stress. When Father was sentenced to Azkaban, he took the strong, confident, and resilient Narcissa Malfoy along with him. Draco lost both of his parents that day.
It hurt to see her so weak. Perhaps that was why he conceded, saying, "I will give her another week. If she has shown no signs of improvement by this time next week, we can take her to St Mungo's. Otherwise, she will stay here with me, where I can keep an eye on her."
Though his mother nodded, the expression on her face seemed to be one of pity. He despised the idea of anyone feeling pity for him, even his own mother—especially his own mother in her current state, which was far more pathetic than his own. Her concern meant that she saw weakness in him, something for which she felt sorry.
Hi didn't need her—or anyone else's—pity.
The second she left the room, he placed a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled scream, giving his vacated chair a nice hard kick.
This wasn't how things were supposed to go. At twenty, he ought to be married with at least a child on the way if not already born. He was supposed to be the top of the social class, powerful and wealthy and able to command respect with just a word. Instead, his betrothed was in a coma with no wedding in sight, let alone an heir. He still had money—for the most part—but the Malfoy name meant very little both in and out of Pureblood society as he and his mother were seen as pathetic turncoats by the upper class and a disgusting Death Eaters by everyone else.
He kicked the chair again, practically hissing in Astoria's direction. "You better wake up soon, do you hear me? How am I supposed to succeed with you like this? Wake up before I change my mind and find someone else to take your spot, got it?"
Leaving her bedroom, he ordered a house elf to watch over Astoria and report to him if anything changed. Draco still had a mountain of work to get done, a situation that had only grown worse over the past week as he spent most of his time upstairs.
It was time to start considering alternatives just in case the worst were to happen. Draco needed to ensure that he was prepared for anything, even if that meant getting rid of Astoria to make way for someone new.