The following chapter describes graphic violence and death. Please proceed with caution.
Standing over Haffrey Malfoy's sleeping form, Pansy held her lit wand aloft, briefly glancing up to see Astoria on the other side of the bed, casting Petrificus Totalus over her aunt and forcing a sleeping draught down the woman's throat, not wanting Drisella to wake up in the middle of her husband's murder and cause a ruckus.
Pansy herself slowly pulled the pillow out from underneath the frozen form of Haffrey Malfoy, placing it over his nose and mouth to block off his ability to breath. It would be far easier to use the Killing Curse or poison the man but both methods were far more easily traceable and poison could be combatted before he was dead. A suffocation, if done correctly, could be made to look like an accident and had no magical signature tied to it.
What she hadn't anticipated was how long it took to smother someone; in all of Julia's Muggle films, such a death was quick and easy, taking only moments at the longest. But she stood with the pillow for what felt like forever until she suddenly felt Haffrey struggling underneath her, waking up as the freezing charm wore off. Astoria, seeing his movement, rushing to the other side of the bed to help increase the weight over her uncle's airway, the two of them working together to snuff out what remained of his life.
Another thing they hadn't anticipated? The smell that followed after Haffrey finally did die as his body relieved itself one final time, letting out a pathetic little rattle and then falling silent permanently. He was gone forever, just a remnant of an obstacle that had once been in the way but would no longer bother them.
As Pansy pulled the pillow away, Astoria turned to avoid looking at the body, vomiting onto the floor in disgust. She could hardly imagine that what they'd just done was real as her heart pounded intensely and she felt light on her feet, beginning to sway back and forth.
"Sit," insisted Pansy, conjuring a chair and Vanishing the sick from the floor, placing the pillow back underneath Haffrey's head as she levitated his body and turned him over. The man's death seemed to have quite little impact on the older woman, whose face was mildly flushed but otherwise remained neutral.
They remained there for several minutes longer, Astoria trying to recover her nerves while Pansy bustled around putting everything back in its proper place, making it appear as though they'd never been there at all.
Finally, when Astoria was ready to go, Pansy Banished the chair as well as making her way over to Drisella, taking the spells off of her and quickly muting the magical signature she'd left behind. Thankfully there were years of spells in the house to mask what they'd done.
With everything back in its place, the two left out the way they'd come in, grateful that the wards were set to allow Astoria in and out without a problem. Holding hands, the duo Apparated to the outside of Julia's flat, Obliviating the drunkard that gaped up at them in bewilderment at the sight of two young women appearing from nowhere.
"Well?" asked Julia as they came into the flat. She was holding Pansy's three week old son, bouncing the infant up and down to make the boy stop fussing. "I'm assuming by the fact that your wizard cops aren't bursting through the doors right now that things went well?"
"Yes—give me Asterion, will you? I need to hold someone right now to calm my nerves. I've never done anything like this before, you know. Oh, even worse, Astoria was sick after the fact. I had to Vanish all of it before we left or else there'd be evidence. Oh, hello baby, how are you? Did you miss your mummy?"
"I still can't believe you named him Asterion. What kind of name is that? I hope that's the sort of thing that children in the wizarding world are commonly called or else the poor boy's going to get beaten up quite a lot."
Stepping away from the overly casual banter of the two older women, Astoria snatched up the pin from the kitchen and settled herself on the sofa, still feeling her stomach churning from nerves over what they had done.
A man was now dead because of Astoria—because of Pansy—and all because of her desire, obsession, whatever it was she felt for Draco. Her willingness to do anything for the man had made it very clear that he cared for her either very little or not at all; Astoria had killed a man for Draco and he wouldn't even send her a letter.
Yet beyond feeling nauseous about her actual actions, there was no guilt surrounding her, no feeling that she'd really done anything wrong, because as far as she saw the likes of Haffrey Malfoy, he'd only ever been an obstacle and a particularly obscene one at that.
What they had done was necessary—not even a necessary evil, really. How many people died every day for lesser causes than the sake of love? Why should someone like Haffrey Malfoy be allowed to have the happy ending at the expense of her own happiness, her own sense of fulfilment? There was no reason he should be allowed to win, and so there was no guilt for her actions.
Throwing up into the bin, Astoria felt her head spin from the weight of everything that occurred in the last hour, the implications of her actions. If they were caught, a lifetime with Draco would be replaced with a lifetime spent in a dark spell in Azkaban.
No, no, Astoria told herself strictly and shook her head. They would not be caught because there was no evidence that anyone had ever been there. Haffrey appeared for all intents and purposes to merely have suffocated in the night, rolling over and blocking his own airways while deep asleep, unable to save himself.
They would be fine. Everything would be fine. It had to be fine. After all, things done for love would always work out if one tried hard enough.
Right?
When Serbius, his sixteen year old cousin, owled Draco asking if the two males could have a discussion, he had no idea what it was that even needed to be talked about seeing as he hadn't formally spoken to the boy in several years despite their purported closeness as young boys.
But go he did, Apparating to his uncle's house and taking pride in his ability to do so. He was greeted at the door by a teary-eyed Guinevere, who appeared to not have bathed or changed clothes in several days based on her unkempt appearance.
Uncle Haffrey—dead for three days. Serbius, who knew that Draco would come by with a demand to change the contract eventually, had chosen to supersede that moment by inviting Draco over to discuss the matter and avoid confrontation.
"Do you know how he died?" Draco asked this boy, who had been dragged up to the head of his family with absolutely no warning. "Has anyone performed an autopsy or at least called a Healer? I thought Uncle to be a rather healthy man."
Serbius, face expressionless, blinked rapidly in Draco's direction, not showing any other sign of a reaction for a long moment, instead choosing to usher the older male towards his father's desk, where a large stack of paper was waiting for both of them.
"My father never did set an actual wedding date, did he? Perhaps it's about time we go about correcting that, huh? I wouldn't want you to have to suffer any longer than you already have." He pulled out the wedding contract from his stack of papers, shoving them across the desk towards Draco. Looking down, he saw that the dates listed for the wedding remained blank, just waiting for something to be written down.
Frowning, Draco chose to look back up and maintain eye contact with his younger cousin, still confused about the timing of it all. "You'd need to get Mrs Greengrass to sign off on this, something she would need to be here for with us. There's no point in having this meeting right now without her." He brushed the contract back at Serbius, knowing that Mrs Greengrass would never agree to such a thing as handing over her oldest surviving child to Draco for the rest of their lives.
"Yes. Let me see...yes, here it is." Serbius pulled out a second document, a notarised signature from Sophronia Carina Greengrass stating that any date as settled upon by Serbius Artemius Malfoy was acceptable for all parties involved on the Greengrass side. "See? So whatever date it is that you want, I'll write it down and everything will be completely fine. You have the freedom to pick whenever you want." He shoved the contract back at Draco, who finally chose to really look at the contract for the first time.
Any date that he wanted. How long had he been waiting for a day such as this, even though it meant the death of his uncle? Only a few months ago, he'd been lamenting his fate of never being able to marry and now here he was, finally able to do as he pleased with the contract set right in front of him, just waiting for a date.
It would have to be a date set after his father was released from Azkaban or else there would be great hell to pay, so he wouldn't be able to pick anything prior to the eleventh of June of next year, but they also didn't need Lucius to help plan out the wedding itself so any time after his release would be completely acceptable. A date soon enough after Father's return but with enough time in between for him to recover and recuperate.
Smirking, Draco wrote out the day he had in mind and handed the contract back to Serbius, letting the boy look over what had been written down and then signed his own name, Banishing the paper off to a cabinet labelled 'weddings'.
"Well, I suppose you have a runaway bride to go chase down, huh? Astoria ought to be happy to know something's finally been settled between the two of you."
Despite the positivity to his words, Serbius' tone was sombre and Draco had to remember that all of this was possible only because a man had died. Yet though he could see the sadness in his cousin's face and the way that his shoulders slumped inwards, Draco himself could not actually feel any real sympathy for the death in question. His uncle had been an awful, conniving man that slept around with women half his age and gambled away much of the family funds; Serbius would be a much better face for the family, someone Draco could actually negotiate with.
But he also knew that it would be rude of him to leave without at least saying some kind of condolences so as he stood up and reached to shake Serbius' hand, he told the boy, "I am sorry for your loss, dear cousin. Of course Uncle Haffrey will be greatly missed by all those who knew him. I wish he had been given a lifetime twice as long."
Serbius looked at him for several moments as the two shook hands before finally moving his head back and forth and replying, "You don't have to lie to me, Draco. I know that you never much cared for my father while he was alive and I shouldn't expect you to have any affection for him now just because he's dead. Now please, go to your fiancée and let me know that at least someone is getting something good out of all the tragedy of today."
Such a young boy shouldn't sound so mature in his morose nature, but Draco did as was requested and departed from his cousin's home, shoving his hands into his pockets as he tried to think of where Astoria would be hiding out. Obviously she was with Pansy but for the life of him, Draco couldn't recall the flat he visited while in a drunken stupor.
Surely Pansy would still have an owl for what few friends she had, so he decided that the wisest thing to do was go home and send off a letter with his own owl, hoping the bird would be smart enough to figure out where she was even without an actual address.
Until he received a response, though, Draco at least had the knowledge that things were finally going to be set right and go back to how they ought to be. Astoria had to know the best option was to take the path of a good life, particularly when it was being dangled right in front of her. She couldn't be foolish enough to deny him now that they had a true date set for their wedding. He had done so much for her; she hadn't even written a letter to him during her absence.
Still with a smirk on his face, Draco set about writing his letter for Astoria. No longer would he have to suffer longings of jumping off the roof of Malfoy Manor. Finally he was going to live the life he was always meant to have, with a beautiful bride by his side.
Things were going to work out.
Right?
