Thank you so much for the feedback! I truly do appreciate it! This chapter is... It was very difficult for me to write and put into words. I still don't know if I said what I wanted to say. I originally had a different backstory for Astoria, but a lot of recent events, particularly the Brock Turner trial, influenced what I changed it to.
Disclaimer: I in no possible way own the Harry Potter.
"Happy birthday Draco," Healer Derwent greeted as Draco took a seat in his office.
Draco nodded in response, twisting his hands together.
"How have you been Draco?"
"Okay," he responded simply, not meeting Healer Derwent's eyes.
"You gave us quite a scare last week. Do you want to talk about it?"
Draco had tried to imagine the scene from a Healer's perspective. Two patients in bed, covered in blood with ripped sheets, one nearly starved to death and bearing marks of an attack. He imagined it probably was a very startling thing to start the day off with.
"Not really."
"Miss Greengrass is doing well," the Healer continued. "She's been improving vastly over the past few months, and I expect she'll be ready to leave by October."
"That's good."
"She's seems to be quite fond of you. She's been wondering how you're doing."
Draco raised his eyebrows. He hadn't seen Astoria since last week and didn't really want to have any more encounters. "What have you told her?"
"Only that you are coping."
Draco snorted at the word.
"Do you and Miss Greengrass have any kind of history together?"
Images flashed through his mind. He saw her crumpled on the Hogwarts dungeon floor. She shifted into the girl he saw last week, wild and ferocious, desperate to fend him off, then to the girl who sat next to him and talked about art and Ireland. The girl who laughed and made his stomach tense up. The girl who never should and never would love him.
"Not particularly," he answered.
When he was a child, Draco Malfoy made a big deal out of his birthday. It was a birth-week in the Malfoy household. Not only would he receive lavish gifts and special favors, but Lucius Malfoy usually cleared his schedule for anything Draco wanted to do. Whether it was riding horses, visiting the country, or going to a Quidditch match, nothing was too good for Draco. He had everything he could ever want.
He celebrated his last birthday at a hearing for his father and mother. A week after the hearing, he watched Lucius Malfoy being led away to Azakaban.
On his seventeenth birthday, he watched Lord Voldemort murder Muggles for sport.
His sixteenth birthday, he was branded with the Dark Mark.
He didn't enjoy his birthdays so much anymore.
He was in his room when the assistant Healer came in.
"Draco?"
He didn't move.
"Draco, your mother's here to see you."
He felt his heart jump in his chest and his breath catch. He had asked for no visitors, but he expected the Healers had ignored the request for his birthday. A special favor.
"I'll send her back then."
Narcissa Malfoy had lost everything and nothing after the war. She didn't lose the house or the many villas that belonged to the Malfoy family. She never went to Azakaban, never suffered any of the shame her other family members did. She never took the Dark Mark. For her, family was more important than any cause, and her logic to save her son before saving the Death Eaters made her some kind of savior. She became the Woman who lied to the Dark Lord to save Harry Potter.
With that title, she watched her husband dragged to Azakaban for life. She watched her sister become consumed with grief. She watched her son crumble and deteriorate until she could no longer recognize him. She was a spectator for the damned.
"Hello my dragon," came her voice.
She had called him "her little dragon" since birth. Though he had rolled his eyes in embarrassment during his Hogwarts years, it always made him feel that she was on his side. He knew she would be there for him.
Narcissa sat down on the edge of his bed. He didn't move from his position, hands clasped behind his head and eyes closed. Narcissa had gained some of the weight back that she had lost during the Dark Lord's occupation of their home. Again she was the attractive mistress, and only occupant, of Malfoy Manor.
"I had the house elves prepare a treat for your birthday. Your favorite."
She set a plate next to his bed on the table. It was slices of sweet bread stuffed with cream cheese and raisins that he'd always had a particular fondness for. The smell of the bread washed over him, and he opened his eyes to stare at his mother.
Narcissa placed on hand on Draco's torso, her touch more motherly and gentle than he remembered.
"Oh my boy. What have they done to you?"
He supposed it was fairly noticeable. He was skeleton thin with sunken cheeks and ribs that stuck out in the wrong spots. Much of his body was scarred or burned. The Dark Mark was ribbed with brutal, jagged lines from his early attempts to cut it off.
"Mother they haven't done this," he said resolutely.
She took his hand in both of hers and pressed it to her face. Narcissa Malfoy never cried, and today was no exception. She was ever the perfect Black and Malfoy model: regal, collected, and graceful. She was a survivor of two wars, both times on the wrong side, and still she came out relatively unscathed. Draco envied her.
They sat a while, his hand pressed to her face. Her lips were pursed together, as if she were collecting her thoughts before she said them.
"I asked them how much longer they thought you should say. Do you know what they said to me dear?"
He didn't respond.
"They said you aren't getting well. They said you were employing any means you could to take your own life."
"What do you want me to say Mother?" he asked blankly.
She squeezed his hand in hers. "There is an outside visiting area. I asked if you could accompany me down there."
With a motherly tug, she pulled Draco up and out of bed. He was easily taller than her, her forehead reaching his chin, but she outweighed him. Arm in arm, the mother and son walked down the hallways. Several patients stopped, taken in by Narcissa's presence. She had always had a way of commanding attention. It was one of the many traits that made Lucius Malfoy pick her.
They turned down a hallway Draco had never taken where Narcissa nodded to a Healer. The Healer nodded in return and waved them forward. They passed through a set of double doors, and Draco felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. It was a clear day with no clouds and a pleasant temperature. The air was not tainted with the hospital smells Draco had become so accustomed to. A soft breeze blew the grass, green with the summer sun. The summer season filled Draco's eyes, nose, and ears, and he felt more at peace than he had in months.
Narcissa led him to a bench to sit. She stroked the side of his face with her hand as they sat in the sun.
"We need you Draco. We need you to stay with us," she said with a calm voice.
"Who is 'we' Mother? You?" he asked.
"No my dear. Your father..."
Draco snorted. "He never gave a damn about me..."
"That is not true," Narcissa said, her voice sharp with defense.
"Then explain to me how he let this happen Mother! He was supposed to protect us! He said every single time 'No harm will' come, and it did! He lied to me!"
The image of Lucius Malfoy in Azakaban flashed before his eyes again. His father was gone. He was not going to protect him. He'd stopped protecting him before Draco had even turned sixteen.
"Who watched them torture all those people Mother? After it was all over, I couldn't go into the drawing room for months. And you know..."
He still remembered it. After the war was over, and he and Narcissa were on their own back the Manor, he'd tried to go in to the rooms of the house where he'd watched the Dark Lord and his aunt torture and murder the victims paraded across the manor grounds. He had managed to stand in the room for three minutes before he broke down. Narcissa tried to move him, but she couldn't do it by herself.
"Mother why did you put me in here?" he murmured. "There's nothing anyone can do for me."
"I had a choice Draco. We always have a choice. I chose for you to live. I believe you can. And you know they can help you."
He fell silent again, and they watched the leaves on the tree blow in the wind.
"They said you won't do the therapy they prescribe," Narcissa said.
"No. No I won't."
She sighed. "I've made a lot of mistakes Draco. Too many. Just like your father," she said, her voice full of both guilt and pride. "We picked a side, and the side we picked betrayed us. After the first war, we thought things would be fine. We had you, and your father assured me we had protection. We should have left the country when your father felt the Mark burn at the Quidditch World Cup. We should have gotten out, moved you somewhere safe. I should have insisted, but I didn't. I stood down, and it destroyed us. I let that bastard take you and Mark you and ruin you, and I failed as your mother Draco. For that, I am sorry."
She took his hand again, and for the first time, Draco saw a single tear leave Narcissa Malfoy's eye.
"I love you my dragon. And it would break my heart to lose you now after all this. But I cannot tell you to chose to live. You have to make that choice yourself. But you are loved Draco. You are loved more than you understand."
It was only when the summer breeze turned cool that he allowed her to lead him back inside.
In the evening, he walked through the hallways, his mother's words swimming in his head. It seemed to him that the tragedies of the war made his mother braver. Almost as if there was something Gryffindor or Hufflepuff in her. He realized that she was right about a lot of things, but he had already chosen his path.
He passed by people without meeting their eyes until he felt a hand tug at his sleeve.
"Come with me."
Green eyes met his grey, and before he could do anything, Astoria pulled him gently back towards the common area, which was deserted. Everyone was at dinner.
She settled down on a squishy couch and tucked her feet beneath her. There were bags under her eyes, and she looked very tired.
"You've been avoiding me," she stated.
"I haven't."
Her gaze pierced him until he looked away. She didn't have to say another word, but she did.
"I wanted to say thank you. For staying. And I'm sorry again, for hurting you."
"It's fine," he replied shortly, hoping that his lack of communication would send her away.
However, Astoria Greengrass was not afraid of silence.
"Are you afraid of me?" she asked.
"No."
"Then why won't you talk to me?"
"Because I can't."
"That's rubbish Draco Malfoy," she said with anger in her voice. "That's a load of hippogriff shite, and if you're too scared to tell me the truth then I..."
"You want the truth," he interrupted. "The truth is that I'm messed up. Like really, really messed up."
"Draco, everyone in here is messed up," she said rolling her eyes, "That's kind of how we got in."
"But not like me," he continued. "Look, none of you saw the things I saw or did the things I did. Not even close. "
"Draco."
"What?"
"Look at me."
He looked at her and saw something in her eyes, something that could have been a scar.
"You want to know why I attacked you last week Draco? I have PTSD like you. I have depression, anxiety, and PTSD, and I have physical inner body damage from what happened to me. You aren't the only one who saw things Draco."
Astoria took a breath.
"I was fifteen when the Carrows took the Hogwarts Express. We were just children. I watched them as they terrorized my friends and filled everyone's heads with lies about Muggles and Muggle-borns. My best friend was Muggle-born, and I had to hide him. I put an Disillusionment charm on him when we were on the train, and then when we were in Hogwarts, I used disguises to get him to class. When we had Muggle studies or Defense Against the Dark Arts, I made him stay in my dormitory. The Carrows found out, and they tortured me until I was almost dead. Then they took him, chained him up in the dungeons and did horrible things to him. Worse the Cruciatus. He was gay, and they used that to make him suffer. They made me watch all of that Draco."
He didn't remember all the Carrows' victims. He'd been summoned a few times to perform the Cruciatus Curse on others, but there had been much darker things in the dungeons he hadn't been brought down for. Crabbe had. Sometimes Goyle.
Astoria continued on. "After Christmas break, Amycus Carrow got bored with how things were going. Said it wasn't exciting enough to just curse students. A lot of them passed out after seconds under the Cruciatus, and that wasn't 'fun' for him. So he started taking girls for his pleasure."
Draco felt his heart stop, and a sickening feeling spread in his stomach.
"He would wait until a girl was walking alone, to or from class, the bathroom, or dinner. He'd wait, and then he'd stun them. No one knew what was happening because after he was finished with them, he'd threaten them. There was a girl in my House, a sixth year, who told us we shouldn't be walking alone. Ever. We asked her why, but she couldn't tell us. I was so stupid, but one day I ran to the library by myself because I had an over-due book and I didn't want Pince to be mad at me. I don't know what happened until the moment I woke up. I fought against him, but he put a Full-Body bind on me. There wasn't anything I could do."
Draco felt sick. There was bile in his throat, and if he opened his mouth, he knew it would go everywhere. This was too much.
"After, he threatened me and told me he would do the same thing to Daphne and then kill her if I told anyone. And you know him Draco. You know he would have. I was a nervous wreck. I couldn't eat or sleep, and I couldn't focus in class. I shut down for the rest of the year."
He remembered instances where Daphne Greengrass had discussed with her friends at the Slytherin table her concern for her sister. At the time, Draco had shrugged it off. He had had his own problems to worry about.
"It wasn't until after the final battle was over that I felt safe enough to tell someone. I had a long talk with McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt. About twenty other girls came forward then too, but it was put onto Alecto's charges because Amycus had died in battle. They made sure we got justice, but they couldn't do anything to help me. What happened was so sick and twisted and wrong, and it messed me up so bad Draco. I started hurting myself. We took our OWLs later that summer, but I had a huge panic attack during the first exam, and they moved me to here. I still dream about what happened, and I wake up nearly every night screaming because I think he's there. I'm afraid of the dark because I think he's waiting in the shadows somewhere. I can't sleep, and I hate taking the sleeping potions because then I can't wake up from the dreams and I go into shock. I keep asking for a roommate, someone, to stay in the room with me so I can feel better, but they don't put anyone in, and I have these night terrors. I sleep walk, and that's how I ended up in the closet. I was asleep when I attacked you, because I thought you were him."
Astoria placed a hand on Draco's arm, her gaze penetrating.
"I've been where you're at Draco. I didn't want any of the Healers to see that. I didn't want to talk about it. It took me some time. Just like you. You need time. I understand that. But don't you dare think for one second that you're protecting me or sparing me from anything. I know. I know better than every single Healer in this ward what they did to us. You're not saving me from anything because there is nothing to save me from. I'm just as messed up as you are. And when we met I thought that it would be good because then I wouldn't have to be alone in this. You'd understand. You'd be my friend, and we could help each other. Then you left me."
The full realization of what he had done hit him like a ton of bricks. He had thought it was selfless to spare her from him, when in reality he had abandoned her. He had hurt both of them. "I'm sorry," he whispered shamefully. "I'm so sorry."
"I know I can't make you be my friend, but I'd like to try it again. I know you could help me a lot. I think I can help you. The healers told me that it helps to have someone you can be accountable to."
Draco had no words to say to her, but he met her gaze evenly.
"I know you don't really believe in second chances, but I do. I think me and you both are going to get a second chance. Will you think about it?"
"I'll try," he responded hoarsely.
Astoria nodded at his response and stood. Before she disappeared, she told him one last thing.
"I hope next year you celebrate your birthday somewhere better than here."
June 5, 1999 was another birthday for Draco Malfoy. He had been alive for nineteen years, and the past three had been rubbish. He had decided not to have anymore birthdays. But this birthday, his nineteenth, became a day of realization. Maybe he had a few things left to live for. Maybe it was worth figuring out what those were.