Blue were the Flowers she Bled

Astoria's heart had not been hers for years. She knew that, even if the boy it belonged to had refused to accept it. Her breathing rattled in her chest now, stumbling down and climbing over every rib, where it once used to flow unimpeded.

She was kneeling on the ground, enjoying the smell of a freshly mowed lawn while she tended to her row of myosotis. Her dress skirt puffed around her, a cloud of yellow from which her torso emerged, skinny arms reaching for the objects of her care. "Forget-me-nots" the people called them. Sky blue and her favourite flower. Shy, little things that grew close to the soil, enjoying the shade of larger plants. Small and fragile, but springing back to live every year.

She often dreamed of them. Ever since she was a little girl, so little that she barely remembered anything else about those days, she dreamed of lying in a field of blue flowers. Myosotis, she would later learn. Myosotis that she would grow and tend to in the garden.

It was always warm in her dream, in the meadow under the sun, and she felt cosy in the embrace of the flowers. There would be a breeze, just enough to push the petals against her skin, and each touch felt like a kiss. A little peck on her cheek, on her chin, on her fingers. A thousand little caresses that made her feel safe.

She had dreamt of the field of flowers her entire life. It had a pull on her soul like nothing else, one that was supposed to be matched by one person, and one person alone. The one meant for her. The one who would one day lift her up from her bed of flowers, and keep her in his arms forever.

Astoria's dream had shown her all of it, if never all of him. The dreams through which she saw the future were hardly ever clear. Sometimes, though, the dream changed. The meadow was covered in flowers that bit, not kissed, and then morphed into something else altogether.

Something warm, red and thick.

Blood.

X

It was cold, and the wind seemed intent on getting under their clothes and into their bones as they ploughed through the snow. The day's shy sunlight reflected off the pristine white snow around them and pierced their eyes. There was a single strip of muddied snow, carved into the hill by the students stubbornly walking to Hogsmeade. They were third year students, and they would not be defeated by the weather. There being Durmstrang students around only made matters worse, as the ease they exhibited after years of practice at threading through such weather scorned them. As it were, Astoria and a handful of Slytherins were making it to Hogsmeade out if pure spite.

She had the thickest wool robes and cloak she owned wrapped around her, but she shivered every time the wind found a crack through which to slip in and reach her. Daphne had tied her little sister's favourite scarf round her neck, looping the ends as many times as they would go, covering Astoria's face up to her nose. She had a beanie, in the same butterscotch yellow, that had been positively pulled down to her eyes. Astoria had pushed it up her forehead, and Daphne had tugged it down again. They had compromised and it now sat just above Astoria's eyebrows, in stark contrast to them. Her shiny brown hair was allowed to freely flow down her back, and it whipped in the wind along with the now loose ends of her scarf.

The scarf had been a gift from her mother, and that alone was enough to make it her favourite. But when she had first touched it, fresh out of the gift-wrap paper, equal in all things but for its colour to the one Daphne held, her gift had bloomed. Astoria had touched the fuzzy yellow wool and she had Seen. She had seen a pair of hands clad in black gloves rearrange that scarf around her neck, in a snowy day. She had seen a pair of light grey eyes wink at her, the face hidden by black wool.

Astoria was pulled from her reveries by a voice. She looked up from the path, catching a glimpse of her sister's jade green scarf a few steps ahead just before her vision was obstructed by a black shape.

"Daphne, you're a terrible sister. You let your sister look like a Hufflepuff," the shape said, as it approached Astoria, "and on top of it you let her be cold in this weather."

The black shape came into focus, and then hands clad in black leather gloves – surely lined with fur, she thought, whose hands could tolerate this cold in nothing but leather? – reached for her scarf and rearranged it snugly round her neck. A pair of light grey eyes winked at her, and Astoria gasped as she recognised them.

Draco Malfoy. The boy in her visions, the boy in her dreams. Grey eyes and pale, long-fingered hands. Silver blond hair and a sharp jaw. It was all there, and she needed a moment to compose herself before she could thank him.

X

There was a curse to their blood, but they were often blessed with gifts. The Moirae being cruel, fickle creatures, the Greengrass gifted women were often the ones reaped the earliest by the all-reaching black hand of Death.

Astoria knew she was gifted. She could see into the future, if only a little each time. Sometimes in her dreams, sometimes when she touched things. It was as simple as that. She was a Greengrass, and it ran in their blood. It could lay there, dormant, through generations, being carried from mothers to sons and daughters, quietly. Sometimes it bloomed across a generation of cousins, others it would shyly bloom in a single branch, for a single time, and then hibernate for a century.

The curse often followed, but its appetite was seldomly satisfied by the gifted. It was known to skip across the magical bond of women married into the family, rotting husbands' hearts to better feed on the wives.

Astoria had seen in happen with her own mother. Slowly, the curse had put down roots in her mother's body, and then it had grown and spread, like a weed no one could get rid of.

Her mother had taught her everything she knew about gardening, and she knew every potion and every spell to keep their beds of flowers safe from weeds. If they did manage to find purchase there, Astoria's mother had yet another vault of knowledge on purging them from the earth.

But once the curse took hold of Mother, neither Astoria nor Daphne could find a way to uproot it. They had seen her waste away, wilting before their eyes, all the way down into an early grave.

Daphne had given up on gardening entirely, and refused to keep any plants in her rooms. Astoria had found comfort in it, but kept her plants out of sight. It was a thing she would rather do outside, in the garden and in the greenhouse. There was too much pain on Daphne's eyes whenever they walked by flowers. The memory of her father shattering every single vase, pot and window-box would never be anything but fresh in her mind.

So Astoria kept only a handful of vases in her bedroom, by the window off to the corner. It ensured no one would see them immediately upon entering, and they were strategically placed beyond the armchair. She would go as far as to keep them from blooming, so that their scent wouldn't keep both her sister and her father out of her rooms.

She tended to them weekly when she was home, sitting on the windowsill while she carefully plucked dead leaves, replenished the earth, and watched it become darker as she watered it. He was the only one who had liked Astoria's greenery nook. The only one to actually sit on the windowsill with her, caressing the leaves absentmindedly while they talked, often while she worked.

Astoria's heart twisted in her chest, her breath escaping her. It did so more frequently now that he had forgotten her. Astoria tried to take deep, slow breaths, but her lungs refused to take in air, and all it did was whistle past her throat. She tentatively leaned on the window, hoping to be able to sit down before she fainted, but her legs faltered. They buckled beneath her, and her knees hit the hardwood floor with a thud so sharp that her vision exploded in colourful spots. She leaned forward, supporting her body with her hands, but those too failed her.

Astoria crumbled all the way down to the floor, while the pressure on her chest eased, and her breathing steadied. Her heartbeat synchronized with the running steps of her sister.

She was facing the wall, and could not see Daphne, but she heard her kitten heels skid across the floor as she entered her room, and her unusually high-pitched voice.

"Toria!"

She heard her sister's long, sure stride towards her, towards the nook she disliked. Her vision was no longer splattered by colour, but it was dark at the edges, and she didn't have enough air in her lungs to answer.

"Where does it hurt?" Daphne was kneeling by her side now, carefully turning her upper body up, cradling her head, looking into her eyes and then quickly down her body.

Astoria tried answering, but the words she wanted to say came out in a painful sounding gasp.

"Daphne, get a Healer," their father roared from the door, panic seeping through his voice.

Astoria tried to speak again, but all she managed was to cough this time around. A hoarse, wheezing cough that echoed in her ears, and doubled the pain in her chest.

She felt her body being moved and lifted off the floor. Before her vision went dark, she caught a glimpse of her sister running for help, and of the worried look in Father's face as he laid her body on her bed.

On the floor, by the window, there was a single blue petal.

X

Daphne watched her sister from the door, hidden in the shadows and gripping the wooden threshold. It was happening all over again and all she could do was watch the Healer concoct yet another potion that he would make Astoria drink despite its horrible taste. He would try a dozen different things before admitting defeat, and then he would sit Father down and tell him that there was nothing to be done.

This time, she was old enough to sit by his side.

It had been the same with Mother, and Daphne had feared nothing in this world as that moment. Confirmation. The future no longer being an if but a when.

The curse had wrapped a greedy hand around Astoria, and it would not let go.

"You can keep hiding there," Astoria said in a wheeze, "but I'd much rather have you be someplace where I can see you. Preferably close to me."

Daphne looked at her little sister. Her brown hair tidily gathered in a braid over her shoulder, despite the tendrils that stuck to her sweaty temples. Her body made smaller by the expanse of the bed she sat in, surrounded by pillows, her faithful black cat on her lap, hissing at the vials of potions being fed to its owner, and then left to clutter the bedside table.

"I'm afraid there isn't much your sister can do," the Healer said, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder to where Daphne stood.

"Hush," Astoria ordered, a harshness to her tone that she rarely allowed. "Worry about your potions, I'll worry about my sister."

Daphne walked with her head held high, despite the fear she felt, emboldened by Astoria's attitude. Her little sister was not one easy to anger, but crossing her was not without its consequences.

"I think this is all I can do for now, Miss Greengrass," the Healer said, looking meek in the face of illness, "but I shall be back daily, and more often if needed be, until you're well."

Well, Daphne thought, looking for her sister's eyes, as if being well again were a possibility.

She hated that her sister was thinking the same, the shadow across her eyes all the confirmation she needed.

They both nodded their heads, dismissing the Healer. He left with a promise to come back with a name for this illness, with a reason. Daphne didn't care to escort him out. Their father would be just down the corridor, pacing like he used to, waiting for him and any hope he could offer.

Daphne faced her sister, and wondered how long she would have her for. Astoria was on her fifth year at Hogwarts, and about to breeze through her OWLs only a couple of months from now, despite all that was happening. Lord Voldemort was back, and there was something seriously wrong with almost everyone they knew. Draco was a shadow of himself these days, and no one seemed to be able to help him but Astoria. Daphne didn't know, exactly, what she had been doing with him, but she had always returned unharmed.

At least until now.

"What happened, Toria? Is Draco messing with magic he shouldn't be? Are you helping him?"

Her little sister managed a sad smile.

"Nothing happened, not like that," she replied, lowering her gaze. "Draco and I just talk."

Daphne scoffed.

"There's more than talking going on between you two, lovebirds. Anyone can see it, and I've seen you with swollen lips after these so-called conversations."

Astoria covered her lips with her fingers, but did not blush. Her little sister was a lot more daring than Daphne gave her credit for, apparently.

"He doesn't think it's safe for us to be together, right now. Maybe after all of this…"

Astoria's voice faded into a heavy silence. Daphne filled it with her steps, then with the creaking of the bed while she climbed atop it to sit by her sister.

"What happened between you and Draco, Toria?"

"I'm not sure, Daph. I think he just needs a little time. He has a lot going on."

The lone tear that fell from her eye told a different story. Daphne caught it with her thumb, and cleaned it off her sister's cheek. It was just their luck, wasn't it? When Astoria would need Draco the most, he had decided that they should keep their distance.

But that was a conversation for later, somewhere in a quiet corridor at Hogwarts, just between her and Malfoy.

"Don't think harshly of him, Daphne."

"I'm not thinking about Draco. I'm thinking about ways to help you."

"I'm just sick, Daph, we don't even know what it is, yet."

Daphne took hold of Astoria's chin. Not with force, just lifting it with her fingers, so that her sister would lift her eyes to hers. Two sets of brown, warm eyes bored into each other. They both acknowledged the lie spoken between them, but none of the sisters voiced it again. There was something else in Astoria's eyes, Daphne could tell, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Astoria's breath sped up, her chest rising and falling quickly, and that brought on another coughing episode that sent her cat scrambling off.

Daphne jolted from the bed, picking vials from the bedside table, pouring a few on a fresh cloth like she had seen the Healer do. Astoria reached for the cloth and held it to her mouth and nose, breathing the fumes in. Daphne climbed back onto the bed, supporting her sister's forehead as her breathing steadied.

"Just breathe, Toria. Slowly," she said, again and again, soothing herself as she went.

"I'm tired," her sister whispered after a little while.

Daphne helped Astoria lay down on the bed, adjusting her pillows, and making sure to pull the covers tight around her. Daphne perched her upper body on an elbow, and watched her sister fall asleep, as she caressed her temple.

The cat eventually climbed up the bed again, and found purchase between the sisters. Daphne caressed its fur, then, until it too was sound asleep.

She stayed up.

X

"Can I sleep with you in here tonight?"

Daphne raised her head from the warm pillow at the sound of her sister's voice. She turned on the bed, looking over her shoulder.

"Sure. What's wrong?" she asked, speaking more to the vague direction of the door than to her sister, as Astoria hadn't bothered with a light. "Did you dream of Mum again?"

"No. I dreamt of the flowers," she replied, "but I didn't like it this time."

"Why not? You love your flowers."

"They were hurting me."

Daphne held her covers up, inviting her sister. Astoria climbed in, producing no more sound than that of the whispering of her nightdress against the sheets. She snuggled close to her, and Daphne made sure to tuck the blanket closer.

"I won't let the flowers hurt you."

"How?"

"I'll cut them all. I'll pull them up by their roots, burn them, and salt the earth. No more flowers if they try and hurt you."

Daphne hugged her sister under the blankets, kissing the crown of her head, and closed her eyes. Astoria, however, never properly settled. She kept moving, adjusting her pillow, the blankets, Daphne's arm over her body.

"You rotten creature, will you stop fidgeting?"

Astoria giggled, but she settled. She didn't fall asleep though.

"Are you thinking about your dream?" Daphne whispered in her ear. "Because I've told you I'll keep you safe from the flowers."

"No, I'm thinking about Mum. What if she doesn't get better?"

"She will, Toria. She has to. Now go to sleep."

X

Astoria sat up in bed, covered in sweat, screaming. There was a hint of light over the horizon, shyly coming inside her room, daring to paint stripes over the floor that climbed over the furniture. The promise of light did nothing to appease her terror.

Daphne burst through the door, barefoot, her short braid undone, her nightdress askew on her shoulders. She jumped onto the bed, grabbing hold of Astoria's hands.

"Today! Something is going to happen to Draco, today. When the sun sets. There was blood, and a knife. There was a skull and a snake. It had red eyes."

"What had red eyes, Toria? What did you see?"

"I can't remember it all, the dream is fading. Daphne, you have to help me."

"I'll do anything for you. Anything."

"I need you to convince Draco to talk to me. Please, I need to warn him."

"It was a nightmare, that's all."

"It was not, Daphne! I can tell when it's just a dream. This wasn't. I was Seeing."

Astoria scrambled to get out of bed. She was feeling better after a week in bed, and her legs were steadier than they'd ever been since the last time she'd spoken to Draco. She nearly ran to her desk, hurriedly looking for a piece of parchment in which to scribble a note, just a note would suffice, all she needed was to warn him.

She did, and she simply wrote: 'I need to talk to you'.

Daphne was behind her when she turned.

"You're not going to the owlery. Give it to me."

"Daphne-"

"I'll send it. I'll get dressed and try to reach him in some other way, even, but I'm not letting you step outside."

Astoria conceded, and handed her sister the note. Malfoy Manor was now off the Floo Network, she couldn't speak through the fires. She could try and cast a Patronus, just an orb of light would do, but how was she supposed to find a happy memory now?

She climbed back into bed, burrowing under the linen. She was so cold now, and she struggled to find warmth all the time. She pulled the blankets higher; the cold made her worse, and she needed Daphne focused on finding Draco, not on another of her coughing fits.

Her worried mind kept trying to piece her dream back together. She disliked Seeing when she touched objects, but at least those visions were clearer, vivid even. Her dreams were harder to understand when she couldn't remember half of them.

There was a serpent coming out of a skull, and something about a knife on pale skin that she suspected was Draco's, so maybe that explained the blood. The red eyes she could never place.

She wondered until she was warm again, and then her mind succumbed to slumber, and Astoria found herself in the meadow, under the sun, amidst the blue flowers. In her dream, she coughed, and her lungs strained until a single myosotis dripped from her lips, landing perfectly on her awaiting palms.

X

It had been two days since her vision, and only now had she received a reply from Draco.

Astoria clutched her chest, sobbing through the pain, wishing for a way to pull her heart out. Maybe if she could, it wouldn't hurt so much. All she could do was crumple the letter in her hands.

She was sitting on her bed, back propped up by half a dozen pillows, but none of them were enough to hold her up against the pain. She threw them off. Then, even the softness of the mattress beneath her became unbearable. How could there be luxury around her when she had been robbed of the most essential comfort in this world.

Astoria crawled from the bed to the floor. She pushed the rug from underneath her and lay on the hardwood floor, her temple dragging against it as she cried. The pain in her chest never diminished, only grabbing her heart tighter, and tugging.

Lachesis had measured her thread, and determined it should be untangled from Draco's, never to be weaved together again. She had jerked them apart, and if the pain in Astoria's chest were any clue to it, her thread had not come out unscathed.

Draco had written to her. After weeks, after barring her from visiting, he had finally written. A short, harsh letter, telling her that he had broken their bond. Nothing else. No apology, no words of comfort.

'I found someone worthier' he wrote at the end.

Once more, Daphne came running at the sound of her sobs.

"Something's gone terribly wrong, Daphne," she whispered, "I can't feel him anymore."

Her sister didn't bother asking. She knew what she meant, even if she hadn't known her sister had a soulmate. Daphne cradled her body, keeping Astoria in her arms, holding her as she cried.

The sun was setting, the horizon now orange, and pink, and yellow, painting puddles of light on the dark wood that creeped over the sisters, quickly chased away by the following darkness.

X

Astoria met Draco after Quidditch practice often. The walk back to the castle allotted them precious time alone. She was wearing a canary yellow dress that day, simply cut - as befitted a fourteen-year-old – but with a certain charm that made her feel older.

Draco turned the corner, waving the rest of the team goodbye, sending them on their way ahead of the two of them. Being alone and being allowed some privacy were usually two different accomplishments.

"One of these days, you'll realise you're not in Hufflepuff," Draco teased, pulling his wet hair back from his forehead.

"One of these days, you'll come to terms with yellow being my favourite colour," she replied.

Draco smiled, offering her his arm. She laced hers through, and leaned her head on his shoulder. It was so easy being together, so peaceful.

It had been easy since that first time, when Draco had tucked her scarf on the way to Hogsmeade and they had found themselves talking all the way back to Hogwarts.

It was meant to be, plain and simple. Clotho had seen fit to spin them into a red string together, and they felt complete around one another. There was a complicity between them that no one else could match. Their link wasn't physical, but they were drawn to hold hands and sit close together. It was comfortable, and warm.

They walked silently for a little while, until Draco stopped, kissing the crown of her head. He let her tale a couple of steps more, before tugging on her hand, and pulling her back into his arms. He brushed her long brown hair of her shoulders, watching it flicker in the wind for a moment.

"What is it?"

"I wanted to look at you."

"You can do that and walk, so that we won't be late for dinner."

"Not without tripping, I can't."

Astoria giggled, hiding her face on his shoulder. She was the happiest she remembered ever since her mother had died.

As her face was turned, she caught a glimpse of blue out of the corner of her eye. Myosotis. A little clump of them growing not far from where they stood. She gasped through her smile.

Draco noticed, and followed her stare. He moved first, pulling her by the hand as he moved towards the flowers.

Astoria took a seat by the blue flowers, caressing their soft petals, but picking none. Draco was quick to pick a handful and carefully place them along the small braid on the right side of Astoria's head that kept her hair off her face. One of them fell, landing on Astoria's lap, and she toyed with it. Draco kneeled in front of her, holding a ring made of myosotis, his hand waiting for hers.

Astoria smiled brightly then, as Draco long hand slid the ring down her finger.

"As soon as we're out of Hogwarts, I'm replacing that with my mother's ring."

"Your mother's ring? That's your family's," she said, admiring the contrast of the blue on her finger against the yellow of her dress.

"You'll be my family. And that ring belongs to all Malfoy brides," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

That prompted her brown eyes to meet his grey ones.

"Will it always be like this, for us? Will we always be happy together?"

"Ever just as sure as the sun will rise, Astoria."

She leaned forward, then, kissing him on the lips. It was a chaste, quick kiss, but something in her chest shifted. Like a piece of a puzzle falling into place, Astoria's bond settled into her heart.

X

The return to Hogwarts only made things worse. Astoria would meet Draco's eyes across the Common Room, or the table at the Great Hall, sometimes across a bookshelf at the library, but she could never find the bond they once shared.

All she found were the broken pieces of it, and a broken boy she could no longer fix. Draco was cold, now, unsmiling, ever watchful, with deep dark circles under his eyes. And he cared absolutely nothing for her. He felt nothing.

None of the pain, none of the trouble breathing. Hers had become far worse. The coughing wasn't so bad now that she was taking several potions a day for it, and breathing in the fumes from several others every night before bed, and every morning before she got up. But the pain was always there. Like a vine, it grew around her heart, squeezing ever tighter. She felt tired all the time, and she had trouble walking up more than two flights of stairs.

Everyone noticed, and everyone assumed it was the curse. It was, in a way, but there was more to it, she knew. The petals she coughed up every morning told her so. Her dreams were all the confirmation she needed.

Daphne watched over her like a hawk, and made sure she was seen by Madam Pomfrey every week. The Healer hadn't been able to give her illness a name, but Astoria had adjusted her meticulous study plan to include time for research. She took to spending a couple more hours in the library, and soon she had her answer.

Her heart was blooming with love, plain and simple. Her love was flowering, and because Draco would no longer have it, it would soon flood her lungs with flowers. And blood. Her heart would bloom and bleed, and her only hope was for Draco to love her again.

Draco, her soulmate, the boy who had ripped their bond from both their chest and remained unharmed, while she slowly drowned in it.

Clotho had seen fit to keep spinning the thread of Astoria's life from a cursed clump of blue fibres that she plucked from her distaff. And all she could do was hope to pluck the blue petals from it before it was too late.

X

Astoria felt particularly faint on the morning after her last OWL. She had managed to push through the exams, and she knew she had done well, but they had taken a heavy toll.

She felt the cough building up inside her chest, her breath rasped against her throat, and she sat up looking for the potions that would ease it. But before she could reach for the vials she kept at hand on her bedside table, her lungs burst into blue petals and red specks.

Her coughing fit took charge of her body, shaking her shoulders with every spasm, making it impossible for her to keep straight. Astoria found herself lying on her side, coughing into her pillow, trying to smother the sound of it.

The girls in the beds next to hers ran to her, only to retreat at the grim sight of blood and flowers splattered across the pillow. Astoria motioned for her nightstand, pointing to a milky white vial, but none of them knew what to do with it.

"Daph…" she managed to say, in between to wheezy breaths, just before her cough got hoarser, and then wet. She coughed up two more perfect flowers, the vine in her chest twisted again, and then her world went black.

X

She came to in a bed freshly made, in a brightly lit room she had recently become familiar with. The Hospital Wing.

By her bed was not her sister, nor Madam Pomfrey, but Professor Slughorn.

"Miss Greengrass, good to see you awake again, even if you're still awfully pale. I hope you don't mind that I've carried you here," he said, apologetically. "The other students were much too scared to be of use, not to mention that this is much more private."

"Thank you, Professor," she managed, before her lungs rattled again.

Slughorn was quick at that, helping her sit up, so that she wouldn't choke, and Conjuring a bubble of air that he held at her mouth and nose. Into it, he dropped the same potion Astoria used to soak the cloths in.

"The fumes should work better like this."

Astoria nodded, and the bubble, now milky white, nodded with her. She meant to thank him, but he waved his hand and urged her not to speak.

"You'll only make it worse. Breathe, Miss Greengrass."

The heavy door of the infirmary came ajar, the hinges creaking against the weight, and Daphne came through them all wrath and little sense.

"Why didn't your feebleminded year mates get me? Don't they know you have a sister?"

"Miss Greengrass, you will keep your voice down within these walls or find yourself beyond that door in no time," chided Madam Pomfrey, walking towards Astoria's bed with a tray of potions and ointments, her eyes sternly fixed on Daphne.

"Your sister's mates were not so feebleminded, they did get help," said Slughorn. "They might have been too scared to think of you, though. But your sister is better now, and I'll leave her to your care and that of Madam Pomfrey."

Astoria tried to push the bubble away from her face, so as to plead with Slughorn.

"I've told you not to try and speak," he scolded, "and not telling your father of this is absolutely out of the question."

Daphne sat on her bed, despite Madam Pomfrey's pointed look at the chair next to it, and tucked the loose strands of her brown hair behind her ear. Astoria noticed how her sister's blond hair had been pulled into a French braid, which was odd considering how early it was and the fact that Daphne liked to sleep in when she had a free period instead of classes.

"I was in the Library," she offered. "Doing research on ways to help you, and trying to figure out, exactly, which curse has affected you, because Mum's was not like this."

Astoria winced, and hoped Daphne hadn't noticed.

"Has the Healer not told you, Miss Greengrass? Don't they know what this is?"

Astoria turned her eyes to Madam Pomfrey, pleading. It wasn't fair for Daphne to find out like this, not when she had been hiding the most important clues.

Her heart raced in her chest, and she could feel her lungs strain again, despite the bubble of white vapours. Astoria shook her head and destroyed the bubble with one swift gesture.

"He hasn't seen this, Madam Pomfrey," she explained.

"Seen what, Toria? Your coughing fits? Your fainting? The way your breathing wheezes even in your sleep sometimes? He's seen it all," Daphne interrupted, turning her body to the matron. "Do you know what this is? Can you treat it?"

Madam Pomfrey looked to Astoria, giving her the change to tell her sister the truth before she did.

Her lungs gave her no such thing. It wasn't as bad as before, but Astoria still coughed up a few petals into the palm of her hand, and there was no denying the specks of blood on her lips.

Daphne jolted up from the bed.

"Is that your blood? How long have you been coughing up blood!?"

"I told you I was sick," Astoria replied, meek, her voice a whisper.

She could still taste the metallic tang on her tongue, and her sister had seen the stains. There was no point in lying, now. Not when she held a handful of blue petals in her palm.

Daphne's eyes locked onto them next, and Astoria saw revelation dawn in them. If she had been reading about curses, even if she only focused on the coughing, she would have at least stumbled on a passage or two about this.

"Are you telling me you've known about this and not told anyone, Toria?"

"What's the point in giving it a name? It doesn't change anything."

"What's the point? The point, Toria, is that if this is Blooming Heart there might be something to be done! I'd say that changes quite a lot."

"Enough! Miss Greengrass, I understand your reaction, I truly do." Madam Pomfrey stepped in closer to Astoria, vanishing the petals and cleaning the blood with quick swipes of her wand. "But your sister needs care, and arguing will only make her worse right now."

Daphne took a deep breathe, squaring her jaw. "How can I help?"

Astoria looked up, apologising with her eyes. Madam Pomfrey Conjured another bubble before she could speak, and started dropping potions into it, explaining as she went. Daphne followed her instructions on how to apply ointments on Astoria's back, and how many spoons of which vial to feed her.

In the end, she wiped the tears from Astoria's face, and dragged a bed next to hers. Madam Pomfrey didn't even try to dissuade her.

"I'm sorry," Astoria murmured.

"No, you're not. I'll make sure Draco is, though."

"Daphne…"

"Not now. Go to sleep, I'll keep you safe from the flowers."

Astoria couldn't see it, but she could hear the sobs in her sister's chest, and she could feel her tears landing on her hair. She hugged her sister closer, and was fast asleep when their father arrived to take them both home.

X

Daphne demanded they stayed for the rest of the term, though. It was just another two weeks, she said, and the journey would be easier on Astoria if she was well rested. Professor Slughorn pointed out that travelling through the Floo Network wouldn't be that straining in the first place, but gave up the argument fairly quickly under Daphne's furious gaze.

Astoria knew her sister was onto something. She had a mission, but she wouldn't tell her about it, and Astoria couldn't even be mad at her. She had hidden far worse for far longer.

She was still sleeping in the Hospital Wing, and Daphne had pretty much moved to the bed next to hers. Madam Pomfrey had simply rearranged the folding screens so has to give them some privacy, and let them be as long as they adhered to Astoria's strict schedule of vapours, ointments and potions.

On the third night, Daphne arrived a little later, a victorious glint to her eyes. She pulled their beds together, made sure Astoria had her potions, spread a rose-tinted ointment on her back and chest, and then got into bed.

"I think there's a way, Toria."

Daphne wouldn't tell her what the way was, though. Astoria eventually fell asleep, despite her curiosity, looking into her sister's eyes. Their semblance was uncanny. They shared the same brown eyes, even if Astoria's were kinder. Her sister was blonde and Astoria a brunette, but their hair fell around their faces in the same way. Their skin was pale, but warm, peachy in its tones. Their features were similar too, but where Daphne had already acquired the sharpness of a young woman, Astoria still held on to some of the roundness of childhood. They wouldn't be able to fool anyone by simply trading scarves, but no one could deny the blood they shared.

Astoria was particularly thankful, now, that they did not share a curse.

She woke up in the middle of the night, trashing in her bed, with Daphne's arms tightly wrapped around her jerking body.

"It's alright, Toria, I've got you."

Astoria's dream had morphed once more, revealed just a little more of her future, and she had found herself swimming up through blood, fighting to stay afloat on what used to be a meadow.

"I'm so scared, Daphne."

"It's fine, I'm here. I'll keep you safe from the flowers, you can go back to sleep."

"I don't think I want to," Astoria said, her voice trembling.

Daphne kissed her temple, kicked off the blankets and got up. She didn't have to go far; her goal was on a chair close to their joined beds.

Astoria watched as Daphne searched her satchel, extracting a small, jade green pouch from it. She walked back to bed while she opened it. Astoria expected a flask of Dreamless Sleep, perhaps a special batch of it, but the pearl-like sheen of the potion contained within told otherwise.

Daphne sat back on the bed, cross-legged, and offered the vial on her outstretched hand.

"What is it?"

"A way to make you better, I think. I've been reading about Blooming Heart, and the best way to stop it is to make Draco love you again."

"You can't make him love me again."

"Your problem is unrequited love, Toria, and this will make Draco love you back."

"Love potions only last so long-"

"This isn't a measly love filter. It's Amortentia. Slughorn had an entire cauldron of it to show us."

Astoria's breath caught in her throat, and she feared another coughing fit would take over here. Daphne was quicker, and Astoria found herself breathing in and out of a bubble with a minty smell before the pain started twisting in her chest.

The flask of Amortentia lied on her blanket, hastily dropped. Astoria held it up to the moonlight, marvelling in the way the potion shone under it. She thought about opening it, but she knew already what it would smell like. His discreet cologne, leather and broom polish, and the faint smell of myosotis.

"This isn't right, Daphne. It won't be real."

"I'm done with right. Your sickness isn't right either, and I don't give a damn about it being real or not. It will keep you alive, and rid you of this, and that's enough for me. We'll find a way for you to give some to Draco tomorrow, and that's it."

"Daphne, we can't-"

"We can. We absolutely can. I'm not letting that ferret make you this miserable, and if I have to rob him of his will, so be it. I'm tired of losing people."

Astoria looked up from the vial in her hand, and took in the sight of her sister. Daphne was now kneeling on the bed, still holding her wand across her lap, the knuckles of her right hand going white. Her jaw was stiff, and her eyes were glazed with tears. Breaking, but unrelentless. On the verge of tears, but nowhere near running from the fight.

"I'm just so tired of everything, Toria" Daphne whispered, her voice cracking, "I just want a little happiness that I can trust."

X

The following morning, the Greengrass sisters could be seen having breakfast in the Great Hall, as if nothing had changed. As if the tale of Astoria coughing up flowers and blood hadn't travelled all across the castle, to be heard by even the most remote portraits, long forgotten in unused corridors.

Their ruse was a simple one. Astoria had simply offered to pour Draco a fresh glass of juice, a few drops of Amortentia carefully hidden in the drink. Daphne made sure Blaise was engaged in conversation with her, and the rest of the table was too busy pretending they weren't paying attention to actually pay attention.

"I'm glad to see you're doing better," Draco said, his cold eyes glancing minutely over her.

"Thank you," Astoria said, struggling not to lose her composure.

The Draco she knew, her soulmate, would have spent every day and every night by her side in the infirmary. He would be eating next to her, and not across her. He would be looking her in the eyes.

She watched as Draco took another sip from the glass. He sniffed the juice before he set the glass down, and Astoria's heart was aflutter. Her heartbeat cantered, not daring to gallop for the fear of ruining it all, and Astoria dared hope. Maybe Daphne was right. Maybe Draco would love her again.

"Anything wrong with the juice? Does it smell funny?"

"It smells like a perfectly ordinary orange juice. You're having some, you know that."

All her hope crumbled, and her chest heaved, threatening to come apart in blue blooms right there. Astoria wondered if she could simply dissolve into flowers if he hurt her bad enough.

"I haven't spoken to my parents about you, yet," he said, his eyes evaluating her reaction.

Astoria had to set down her cutlery, for her fork was rattling against the plate, and she could feel a hundred eyes on her, lingering on her every movement.

"They don't know what you've done to my heart, and they don't need to. If you'll only fix it."

The words flew out of her mouth like arrows, sharp and bitter. Astoria didn't know where they had come from, but she suspected her strangled heart had played a part in it.

Draco raised his eyebrows, looking at her, truly, for the first time in months. His mouth twisted into an ugly snarl, the shadows under his eyes and his hollowed cheeks only adding to mask of pure scorn he wore in that moment.

"Why would I want to fix you?"

He planted his hands on the table and rose from his seat, ignoring her as she struggled to keep upright where she sat. Her breath gurgled and rasped in her throat, and her cough grew hoarser and hoarser.

"Can't breathe!" Astoria managed to say through her coughing fit.

Daphne ran to her, holding her in her arms, keeping her standing at first, then allowing her to kneel as she massaged her back, as if she could push her sister's cough out. She dared hope when she heard Astoria draw one single, whistling breath in, then hoped no more as she exhaled blood and flowers instead of air.

There was now a puddle on the floor, flowers, leaves, lone petals, all drenched and swimming in red, red blood, bright and shining under the grey light of a sad morning.

Myosotis, Daphne realised then. Her sister was being killed by the flowers she so tenderly cared for.

And the bastard causing all of this could not care less as he simply walked out of the Great Hall.

X

Astoria stood waiting for Draco on a dark corridor. It was late, and she would probably get in trouble if she were to be caught. She was wearing her uniform, her cloak draped over her shoulders, a couple of books on her arm. Surely, an exhausted fifth year falling asleep in the library and sleepily wandering through the corridors on the way to her bed would deserve some leniency.

Draco should be just around the corner, about to emerge from a door that wasn't always there. He never told her what he was working on, and all she had managed to learn about this secret project of his was that it rattled him to the core.

Lord Voldemort was back, and she knew the Malfoys had opened the doors of the Manor to him. With his father in Azkaban, and his mother more hostage than hostess, she could only imagine the whirlwind in Draco's mind.

He had grown agitated, and fickle, mercurial even. He never slept much, but Astoria had found ways to make it easier for him.

So she waited for him, every night, to sooth him.

She saw him round the corner, his shoulders slumped, his hair tousled, and his eyes lost in the stone floor. But when he raised his eyes to her, the grey in them was not kind. It was harsh, and cold, and the bond they shared tugged on Astoria's heart.

Still, she valiantly stepped forward, her best smile in place, a kiss on her lips ready for him to take.

He didn't even approach her. He stood well apart from her, an instable sneer on his face.

"What's wrong, Draco?"

"You're here. You're always here, too close to me for me to focus properly."

Astoria gasped, and her heart was tugged against, as if it were being pulled out of her chest.

"You never said anything. I didn't know, Draco, I'm sorry."

"I don't need your excuses. I need you to be gone. You're a weakness."

Astoria wavered where she stood, divided between the urge to run from him and to run towards him. She didn't understand the sudden change, she hadn't seen this coming. He had been more distant, but she figured he was simply too worried to be himself.

"What do you mean? What did I do?"

"You're here. You're always here and I can't have someone like you. I can't love you. I can't be weak, not now."

Draco spat the words at her, his eyes hard, his body stiff, and Astoria wondered how he could stand there so still, so straight now, when all she wanted to do was crumble onto the floor, clutching her chest.

The red string that joined their hearts seemed to have been cleanly cut on his side, and she didn't know how that was possible. All she knew was that he seemed determined in ripping it off of her heart, wrapping it around his hand and yanking it.

Her heart had a hole now.

Astoria dropped her books and fell forward. The small ring made of myosotis, carefully preserved by Draco before, in what now seemed a different life, danced before her eyes, dangling from the necklace she wore it on. Close to her heart, at all times, it now fell from her chest and hanged over the void between her and the floor.

Astoria lay down on the cold stone floor. The ring was crushed beneath her cheek, and the blue blood of the petals sullied her skin.

Her heart had a gaping hole, now, and all of her pain condensed into that spot. A dark, hard, insidious little thing, that her heart would nurture until it sprouted roots.

X

She was haunted now, by a future that could no longer come to be. The Fates had made her a promise, and Clotho had spun her thread to be together with another from the beginning, but they had broken their vow.

Even her gift had failed her, not bothering to warn her while she could still do something. She should have seen just what was there, right in front of her eyes, and not some holy light in her dreams.

She was barred from comfort, and the pain in her chest never dulled. Even in the meadow, her chest ached. Even in the meadow, she saw his hands. His pale, long-fingered hands, reaching for hers, pulling her up to stand and then dropping her halfway, only to fall back on flowers that bled. The blood oozed from the very earth, rising and rising, as the flowers grew stronger around and above her, holding her, grabbing her, roots and vines constricting her. She tried to breathe, and found that she could not. All the while the blood rose around her, engulfing her, reaching ever higher, covering her neck, climbing her cheek, kissing her lips and then entering her mouth, carrying blue petals inside. Astoria would try to breathe, choke, and then wake up, coughing and choking all the same.

Most days, she wished for the end. Her chest rattled with every breath, and anything else but sitting still was a struggle. Her coughing fits were getting worse, too, longer and harder to quell. Her skin had lost all of its lovely undertones. Her favourite colour was starting to show through the paleness, as she became gaunt and gangly.

The one thing she could still do was sit in bed, her eyes lost where the green nook used to be, and argue with her sister.

"Astoria, I need you to fight. There's a way to end this, and we both know it."

"It won't fix me, Daphne. Cutting it out of me won't help," she said.

"You won't die! How is that not fixing it?"

"Once your soul is bonded, there's only one thing that can help you," she explained. "You love someone so much, that to lose them is to never recover. Cutting this thing out of me, cutting my feelings for him out of me, won't give me back my life."

"Cutting those flowers out of you will save your life! That's fact. We know that. St. Mungo's has been doing it for decades now. Why do you have to be so stubborn about this? Why won't you let me help you?"

"It will be nothing but a half-life, and I'm cursed anyway. Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Because I can't go through this again! I promised you I'd rip those flowers out if they hurt you, remember?"

Astoria winced at the pain in her sister's voice, remembering that night. The dream had turned on her for the first time that night. The flowers had bled, and she had been too scared, and too little, to understand their message.

"I'm sorry, Daphne, I am. But cutting this out of me may leave me unable of loving anyone, again, and I don't want that. I want to love you, and Dad, and even him." Her voice was just barely above a whisper, her throat too raw these days to produce anything louder.

"But you'll be alive, Astoria, and we'll teach you love again. And someone else out there will love you like he was supposed to, and you'll love him back."

"I won't. You know that. I have a soulmate, another half of me walking the earth, and all I'll have to offer will be a miserable life with me, where I don't love anyone back. Do you know how painful that is? Because I do, Daphne, and I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy."

They had had the very same argument almost every day since they'd come home from Hogwarts. Father had pleaded with her to let him take her to St. Mungo's, but Astoria remained adamant about her decision.

Her fate was set, and she had made peace with it.

"Toria, please! We don't have to lose you like we lost Mum."

"We tried the Amortentia, and it didn't work. It was wrong, but I tried it anyway."

"So why can't we try this? Don't you dare tell me it's wrong."

"I wouldn't be whole, Daphne, and I'm tired of being broken."

X

Clotho had stopped spinning the blue thread. Lachesis held several measures of it in between her hands, presenting it to her sister. Atropos played with her shears as she inspected the fraying blue thread of Astoria's life. She plucked a blue petal from it, inspected it, and finding it worthy of her approval held on to it while she snapped the shears closed.

X

Daphne let her father down from her arm on the sofa, sat square in front of the burning hearth. It was cold, and there was frost covering the grounds. Their boots had cracked it with every step as they walked back from the Greengrass family vault, where her sister now lay buried. Under the earth, pulled there by myosotis, weighted down by her aching heart.

They had forbidden people from bringing flowers. Some distant relatives had sent a crown of flowers early in the morning, myosotis of all things, that Daphne had thought to order the elves to discard of. She had thought better then, picked up the large circle, feeling the wires pierce her skin, and closed herself off with it. She couldn't simply Vanish the thing, oh no, she had to destroy it. She had ripped it apart, smashed and stomped every flower until they were nothing but blue smudges on her clothes, on her hands, on the soles of her shoes and on the floor. A blue smudge for every month robbed of Astoria's life.

Her little sister was dead. The flowers had hurt her, and now Daphne had a promise to uphold.

The mist had not lifted, as if the weather mourned too. The gardens looked eerie in the grey light, statues and bushes all oddly shaped silhouettes that burst from the mist as one approached them.

Daphne walked through the garden straight to Astoria's favourite place. The bed had not gone unkempt during the last days of her sister's illness. They had elves after all, and Astoria specifically ordered them to keep her myosotis.

Still, they had wilted under the changing season, taken to hiding underground to wait for Spring.

Daphne adjusted her jade green scarf, making sure it would remain out of the way, while ignoring the pain it elicited. They had buried Astoria with hers. She held her wand tightly in her hand. With harsh movements, she uprooted every single plant in that bed, piling them on the stone path. Daphne pointed her wand at the pile of dormant myosotis, and set them alight. Flames burst from her wand and spread all over them. She let the flames warm her, but only for a little while. She had a promise to keep.

She Summoned two large bags of salt from inside, slit them open and carried them over herself, pouring them with glee, having trouble seeing what she was doing through her tears. She salted the earth until it looked like the first snow had already fallen, when the snowflakes kiss the ground but can't yet cover it. The salt, too, would disappear overnight, but it would seep into the bed, and linger there. Barren, like she had wished Astoria's heart to be, and just as dead.


Author's Notes: Written for

Assignment #4 Horology Task #2 Write about a character dying / dying earlier than their canon death

Character Collection – 132 Astoria Malfoy

Insane House Challenge – 255 Family Greengrass

Yearly Musical – 154 Disney, Tale as Old As Time, Beauty and the Beast, Ever just as sure, as the sun will rise

365 Prompts – 341 insidious

March Writing Club – Book Club 7 (creature) cat; Character Appreciation 15 (potion) Amortentia; Film Festival 11 (plot point) a grim medical diagnosis; Games Corner Dragon Age 10 (Action) Searching Through a Bag/Satchel/Purse; Lyric Alley 14 They don't know what you've done to my heart; Showtime 17 To Thine Own Self / Reprise - (Colour) Blue; Lizzy's Loft 2 Draco/Astoria; Bex's Bits and Pieces 19 (Trope) Hanahaki Disease; Elizabeth's Empire 16 (relationship) siblings; Ari's AU Armory 21 (style) flashbacks; Snake Nest Haley 11 Write about a sibling relationship; Lion Den Dialogue 5 "I'm just so tired of everything" and Scenario 22 Write about unrequited love

Word count – 9364 words