And I'll take to the sky on a natural high...
Loving you more till the day I die
Take to the sky on a natural high
Loving you more...
Daphne swayed to the music as Draco prepped breakfast on the kitchen's well-worn counter, plastic fruit containers littering the surface. It was one of those muggle songs that she played back at Hogwarts, obliterating all hopes of a peaceful moment with that damned record player, volume cranked all the way to the top.
According to Astoria, Daphne had an entire shelf dedicated to her records. The shelf bent from the weight of Brenton Wood & The Rolling Stones & Etta James, colorful covers illuminating the dark Slytherin dormitories.
Salazar only knew how she accessed British records, let alone American ones. That was the real accomplishment, considering the ideals their families shared.
Now, he reckoned it drowned out much more than the sound of other people.
He tried to appreciate it as he cut up some fruit. It wasn't the sweets that Astoria adored, but it would have do for now.
Fetching a small wooden bowl, he displayed an array of peaches, blueberries, & strawberries, some of the approved fruits for Astoria. Opal had offered to cook long ago, but Draco had been adamant about doing this for his wife.
Besides, he knew how to present things the way she liked.
"Morning,"
Scorpius emerged from the hallway, rubbing his eyes. As much as his son would like to avoid his family, Draco knew he couldn't resist the chance to spend time with someone other than himself.
"Morning Scorp," Daphne chided, turning her head, "Finally decided to come out of the room for once, eh?"
"I do come out of my room, auntie,"
She threw him an overly playful smile, "Only when your bonehead dad over there drags you by the heels. Actually, he's not being too boneheaded right now. Check out what he's doing for Tori,"
Too busy listening to their conversation, Draco hadn't noticed that his hands were still busy. Now the fruit bore the shape of a flower, nearly exploding blueberries at the center.
It was something Astoria would've fawned over if she could walk all the way to the kitchen. He could already imagine her over his shoulder, popping blueberries into her mouth & covering his neck in violet kisses.
"Quite the artist you are, dad,"
Someone was over his shoulder.
A lanky, blonde haired teenager who hadn't been this physically close to Draco in weeks, nor cared to acknowledge anything he did if it didn't directly involve him.
Draco reckoned it had to do with...actually, he had not the faintest idea. As far as he was concerned, Scorpius viewed him as something more like a piece of gum on his shoe that wouldn't budge.
"It's for mum,"
A hint of a laugh echoed in Draco's voice.
Was he that desperate for Scorpius to be in his life again?
It seemed like ages since he had. The entire summer had been spent isolated from one another, Daphne & Astoria occasionally filling the rift between father and son. Aside from that, the days were filled with terse interactions that to Draco saw no avail. As always, he had to remind himself why this was happening, that it wasn't personal, that he was just trying to 'cope' with the eventual loss of his mother. Astoria liked to coin that term whenever she thought Draco was being too harsh, much to his irritation.
It was rather troublesome to have a wife with a Master's in Psychology, especially when she used it against you.
"She'll love it,"
Draco faced his son.
He wasn't smiling, but his eyes softened momentarily. A start, he supposed.
"Scorpius, come and dance with me," Daphne interrupted, "You look like you need to wake up,"
An attempt to lighten his mood, Draco concluded. Daphne never knew how to deal with emotional tension of any kind.
Heat crept up into Scorpius' cheeks, a typical teenage reaction.
"Auntie..."
"Please," peer pressure your son into dancing with his lonely aunt. Or I'll hex him into the next country,"
She was joking, but they all knew the nasty divorce she'd endured with Blaise half a year prior. He had taken her children, her dignity...everything.
Giving Daphne a sympathetic glance, he hardened his face towards Scorpius.
"Well?"
His son's voice was null, "Well?"
"Don't know why you're still standing there. Dance with her,"
His voice was too casual. He was playing the part of a happy father much too well.
"She's been through much more than Astoria,"
Draco's voice was low enough that Scorpius had to lean in to hear. He rolled his eyes in response, dragging his feet towards Daphne as a grin creeped onto her face.
In an odd way, his son's reactions made him hopeful.
Maybe he wasn't as shaken up as he thought.
————————
For the next week or so, Draco lived in that little bubble. Everything was going to be fine. Well, maybe not quite so optimistic as that. More of a 'everything will be fine eventually' type of perception, which made everything a little more rose tinted to him.
The usually bland, boring cypress trees outside suddenly held his gaze for minutes at a time. He could notice the individual branches, shades. Which ones were on the brink of death, and the ones that were newly introduced to life.
Astoria even seemed healthier to him. On some days, he swore he could see a peach flush in her face, or a roundness in her cheeks. A glint in her dark amber eyes, the one that was there before all of this.
And for a while, he had no trouble believing the lie of his own creation.
Less acutely aware of what was going on around him, it was easier to disregard his wife's slow but steady progress from eating ravenously to pecking on her food like a bird. The usual array of breakfast he prepared for her was now all she'd eat within a day's period, if that. Opal's worried glances and Scorpius's more frequent visits to his mother's room penetrated the back of Draco's mind. But that was all.
Draco had never been the type to believe in something like "ignorance is bliss". He reverently believed that knowledge was power (ironically, a phrase McGonagall used often in her lectures), and would challenge anyone who thought otherwise.
A wave of understanding came over him in that week or so. It was so nice to notice the smaller details, the insignificant details, instead of taking in everything as it came.
Maybe it was better to live like that.
But, there's always a pattern with Malfoys. One they don't like to discuss.
Nothing good ever lasts forever.
————————-
"Draco,"
The voice said his name in a strange way, as if it was unfamiliar.
"Draco, you need to come now. It's urgent,"
Opal's tiny voice sounded more like a screech when it was raised. Draco could hear
her familiar rasp on his door, a sound he'd grown used to when she used to be a temporary nurse.
He felt so…tired at the moment. Exhausted, even.
But it was the middle of the day.
Dazed, he rose from his bed when he should have been sprinting. He lazily opened the door, Opal's anxious presence directly in front of him.
Her voice was grim.
"Your wife has gone into critical condition. She hardly has a heartbeat, maybe 20, 30, beats per minute,"
Her voice choked up, her charcoal eyes rimmed with tears.
"I think it's time to say your goodbyes. While you still can,"
That should've been the moment when he woke up, but it wasn't. His eyes were still half open, peering at Opal as if she'd just asked a confusing question. Even the sounds of Scorpius' and Daphne's desperate pleas to his wife across the hall did not uncloud his vision. It was like he couldn't think .
He felt like he was back at square 1 again.
It was a peaceful day when he got the news.
Draco had gone out to dinner with Astoria the night before, taking a few days off after working Godric knows how many hours that month. 200? 220?
He couldn't recall, and honestly, it didn't matter. The fact that he and Astoria got some time alone after spending the entire year with Scorpius' rants and banter was enough.
Speaking of Scorpius, he had already been at Hogwarts for a month and a half at the time, writing more letters in the first week than Draco did his entire time there. Both parents heard paragraph after paragraph about his newly forged friendship with Potter's son (something Draco wasn't exactly thrilled about), every escapade described in intricate detail.
As long as Scorpius was happy, he had been too. Albus Potter would suffice as a best friend for now, he supposed.
Today had been spent cleaning house and trimming those white roses Narcissa had given them last Christmas, a glass of water chugged here and there.
Now he was just waiting for her to get home from that St. Mungo's appointment she had.
It was one of the routine ones, the kind that didn't worry him at this point. He had barely thought of her illness since Scorpius turned 10.
He heard keys turning from outside.
Astoria rushed in, wearing an expression that was almost unfamiliar to him. One that he hadn't seen in ages. One that made him afraid.
She handed him a paper worn from re-reading.
It was a laboratory report.
He could actually feel the blood draining from his face as realization came upon him.
"I'm dying, Draco,"
Astoria looked up at him, and all he could remember now was how blank her face was.
Like she knew this was coming.
Astoria wasn't going to live forever, Draco knew that perfectly well. They'd be lucky if she made it to 40. It didn't stop him from crumpling the paper that day, from sobbing his entire heart to her as he held her stiff figure in his arms.
Nor did the truth stop him from taking Astoria to New York, to California, to France, even when he had to wheel her around. They dined together on foreign cuisine along with their son, ignoring the fainting episodes and trips to the hospital and endless doctors appointments.
It didn't even stop him from postponing funeral arrangements. They'd figure it out when she passed away. No one needed to worry about that right now.
He knew it was going to happen someday. He just didn't expect to be so surprised when it did.
So when he now crumpled onto his knees, sobs racking his entire body, he knew that was a mistake he would never forgive himself for.