Worth the Wait

Chapter One

He told himself he wouldn't miss her. He lied. He misses her with every breath, but it was the right thing to do, even if it hurts more than a crucio.

He exhales heavily as he scrubs his hand down his face, the cool metal of his wedding ring a stark contrast to his warm skin.

He sits down at the edge of his four-poster and runs his hand against the spot where her nightgown used to lay. If he closes his eyes and imagines just right, he can almost smell her shampoo.

She deserves better than him. He knows that– without a shadow of a doubt. That doesn't take away the ache in his chest– the hole in his heart that's shaped like her.

He drags himself out of his wallow when he hears one of the French doors to his bedchamber open.

"Draco, darling, your mother is looking for you," his wife, Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy, states as she enters the room. "She has your robes for our anniversary ball. She needs you to try them on."

Draco purses his lips, but nods as he stands. He's about to pass his wife when she grabs him by the sleeve of his Oxford.

"Draco," Astoria says, quietly. "Can't we at least discuss it?"

Draco shakes his head. Astoria has been at this for a year. Over a year, really.

"There's nothing to discuss, Astoria."

Behind his back, Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy rolls her eyes.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming," Draco lies. He really couldn't care less. "It is my greatest honor that I've been allowed to spend this last year with my beautiful Astoria. She is kind and gracious, and far, far too good for me."

That earns a few chuckles from around the room. Draco meant that part, at least. He's fortunate that his and Astoria's parents arranged their betrothal when Astoria was still in nappies. She is a beautiful witch, and she is kind and gracious. In fact, she's been far too gracious with Draco, under the circumstances. All in all, Draco could've done a lot worse.

However, he also could've done with choosing his own bride. If it had been up to him, he knew precisely the witch he would've chosen– and it wouldn't have been Astoria.

Astoria is a lovely witch, and Draco does care for her– but more like a sister. They're friends. They're also husband and wife, according to the parchment hanging in Draco's study, but ultimately, they're friends– good friends, even.

"I'd now like to invite anyone who would like to join us in a celebratory waltz onto the floor."

Draco slips his hand from where it had been resting against Astoria's lower back around to take hold of her hand to lead her out onto the dance floor.

Draco and Astoria's first wedding anniversary celebration ball was, of course, designed and planned by the Malfoy matriarch, with some help from Astoria, although Draco doubts it was an enjoyable affair for his wife. If there's one thing Draco knows for sure, it's that Astoria doesn't want to celebrate this particular day either.

Draco guides Astoria to the center of the grand ballroom at Malfoy Manor, holding one hand in his own and securing the other at her waist.

"So," Astoria says quietly, a lilt in her voice as she smirks covertly at her husband. "Too good for you, am I?"

Draco disguises his laugh with a cough.

"Of course. Surely that's not the first time I've said that."

Astoria smiles, moving her hand from Draco's shoulder to the side of his neck.

"It's not. Perhaps, I just wish you remembered that fact when I'm trying to discuss with you a rather serious matter, rather than just walking out on me."

Draco sighs, leading Astoria in their waltz with practiced ease, like it's second nature to him. Frankly, it almost is. He's been learning these inane Pureblood dances since he could walk.

"I said there's nothing to discuss, Tori," Draco frowns, averting his eyes from the clear, icy blue ones of his wife. "Please, let it go."

Astoria huffs. Perhaps if she'd been married to a more traditional Pureblood man– one with whom she hadn't been friends since childhood– she would've let it go. She'd never been particularly concerned with pushing Draco's buttons, though.

Draco feels the shimmer of a wandless silencing charm envelop him and his wife. Impressive witch, that Astoria.

"I will not let it go," Astoria hisses, but her voice holds no malice. "You forget that I saw you two. I saw the way you looked at her. For a year, I watched you with her. You will never look at me like that."

Draco opens his mouth to argue, but stops when Astoria's glare pierces his.

"I don't want you to look at me like that. You should be with her, Draco. I've never seen two people more in love in my life. I want that for you," Astoria says, earnestly. "I want that for me too. I love you, Draco, but I am not in love with you."

Draco nods, understanding. He loves Astoria, too, but like her, he is not in love with her.

"I'm sure I don't see it every time it happens, but I know you think of her often. It doesn't take a Legillimens to see that you still love her. Please, Draco, let me help you. Or rather, let me help us both."

Draco sighs, coasting to a stop as the song, and by extension their dance, ends.

"No, Astoria. I will not ask you again."

Astoria had been right. Sometimes Draco feels as though a minute can't pass by without something reminding him of her.

Sometimes he swears he can smell her perfume, or when he walks into the Malfoy Manor library, he expects to see her curled up in the chair across from his with her nose in a book like she would've been once upon a time. Other times, it's when he's shuffling through his wardrobe and finds the jumper she used to hog, or when he decides to torture himself by looking at the hidden box of photos he has from their time together.

Draco paces across his study, trying to gather the will to stop himself this time. He can't.

He pulls out his wand and mutters a slicing charm across his palm, letting a few drops of his blood hit the handle and lock on the bottom drawer of his desk. The lock clicks open.

Draco stitches his wound back up with another whispered spell before reaching to open the drawer. Blood magic is serious business, but Draco can't take any chances that his father might find these photos. Draco even took extra precautions and keyed the ward to only accept his blood, not just any Malfoy blood.

As far as Lucius Malfoy is aware, Draco had no relationship with a certain Muggleborn witch. Everyone else in Wizarding Britain knew. It's not like it was a secret, at least not after a while. Lucius had been in Azkaban, though, until shortly before the wedding and news traveled slowly on the island.

There seemed no reason for Lucius to know about Draco's prior relationship. The contract had been signed when Astoria was only one year old, to take effect on her twenty-first birthday. There was no getting out of it, not that that kept Astoria from trying.

Draco knew from the get that Astoria did not want to marry him. They're good friends, and were so long before their marriage. Astoria, though, had always wanted to marry for love. She dreamed of finding a knight or a prince to whisk her away from the life she was born into. Unfortunately, for her, she ended up with an ex-Death Eater who'd already given his heart away a long time ago, and who had no intention of leaving the life he was born into.

He wanted to. Draco knew in his heart of hearts that he would've done anything to get out of this marriage. He would've given up his title, his inheritance, his home– all of it. He would've done it for her. He would've done it for Astoria too, if either of them had had the choice.

Draco pulls out a photo from his box. It's one of his favorites. It's a photo his mother took on one of the evenings his witch had visited the Manor. It wasn't the first time she'd visited post-War. That had been a near-disaster. Draco hopes he'd given her some better memories of his childhood home to replace some of the evil ones. She certainly gave him better memories.

The photo has Draco and his witch sitting in the Malfoy library, curled up beside one another by the fire, while she reads aloud from a well-worn copy of Pride & Prejudice. It was her copy, obviously. Lucius would've turned purple in anger if he knew that a Muggle book was in his home.

Draco watches the photo on a loop for an inordinate amount of time. The glow of the fire hits her face just right, and when she smiles, one of her curls falls over her eye. Draco watches over and over again as photo-him brushes that curl behind her ear before he leans in to press his lips to hers.

Draco's eyelids flutter closed as he wonders if it is, in fact, possible to die from a broken heart. It's said that time heals all wounds. It's been thirteen months since he lost her and it still hurts like the day he watched her leave for the last time.

"Astoria, no. Absolutely not," Draco states, firmly, completely unwilling to go along with the plan Astoria has just presented to him.

Astoria sighs heavily, running her fingers through her long, dark hair before twisting it into a plait.

Astoria is kneeling on Draco's bed, resting her bottom on her heels, now with her hands on her hips as she eyes her husband with frustration.

"I'm going to try to not take offense to that," she hisses, watching as Draco leans against the wall opposite her with his legs crossed at the ankles. He's purposely put as much distance between them as possible, she knows. She also knows that he certainly won't get into his bed until she vacates it.

"You know that's not how I meant that," Draco frowns. He didn't intend to upset Astoria, although he sees how what he said could've hurt her feelings.

Astoria laughs lightly. It's so easy to fluster him.

"But think about it, Draco, it could work," Astoria presses.

Sometimes Draco wishes he had married a different witch. One who wouldn't be so lax with the rules. Pureblood wives aren't supposed to talk back to their husbands. Apparently, Astoria didn't get the memo.

"It could also kill you, Astoria. It's not worth the risk."

Astoria waves her hand in a shooing motion, as if she's completely unbothered by that concern.

This time, Astoria rolls her eyes right to his face. Draco can only imagine what his father would've done if his mother ever dared to roll her eyes at him. Astoria knows that Draco is absolutely not his father, though.

"Of course it's worth the risk! It could be a way out for both of us!" Astoria shrieks, crawling across Draco's massive bed to sit on the edge of it, her eyes locked with her husband's. "Draco, I'm not saying this lightly. I've been thinking about this since our anniversary. Three months. Three months, I've been weighing this decision."

Draco frowns again. Astoria thinks his face might freeze like that if he continues doing it.

"The only stipulations of our marriage contract were that we marry as soon as I turned twenty-one and that we produce at least one male heir. Draco, if we do that, your father couldn't stop us from separating. He'd have his Pureblood heir. He probably wouldn't care what you did afterward."

Draco scoffs. He knows that's not true. His father would hunt him to the ends of the earth if he walked out on his duties to his wife and to his family. Not to mention, that if he went along with Astoria's plan, he'd have a child to consider, as well. Draco would be damned if he let his child grow up like he had. He knows already that he'd love his child more than anything else in the world, and that he'd do anything to protect them.

"And don't you dare think for a minute that it wouldn't be just as weird for me as it would be for you. Once was more than enough for me–" Astoria says, narrowing her eyes when Draco cuts her off.

"I'll try to not take offense to that."

Astoria sighs, and she tries– really, she does – to not laugh, but that's one thing she could always count on with Draco– he knew how to make her laugh.

Draco smiles, genuinely smiles, at his wife. The kind of smile that shows the dimple on his right cheek that very few people know about.

"Please, Draco. Please, consider it," Astoria pleads, wrapping her arms around her stomach, her face softening.

Draco scrubs his hands down his face, frustrated still. There's one aspect of this plan that Draco still isn't willing to compromise on.

"Your curse, Astoria. We knew when we married that your curse might affect your fertility, and that even if it didn't, that pregnancy could weaken your body too much. You could die."

Astoria nods, and Draco thinks he can see tears welling up in his wife's eyes.

"We have to try, Draco."

Draco winces and averts his eyes from Astoria's. Well, he supposes that at least this time he wouldn't be under such a strict deadline. The one and only time that he and Astoria had shared a bed had been on their wedding night. Their marriage contract stated that they had twelve hours after signing to consummate the marriage. The penalty for refusing was Azkaban. Draco had almost been willing to risk it, but Astoria would've been guilty too. He would never have let her go to Azkaban.

"Astoria, we're talking about using a child as a means to an end."

Astoria furrows her brows.

"Yes, in a way, but we're required to produce an heir regardless. Furthermore, I want to be a mother. I want you to have someone if my curse does kill me, because it will kill me. Pregnancy might speed up the process, but I'm terminal either way," Astoria explains, standing from the bed and walking over to her husband, placing her hands on his forearms. "I want you to get your witch. You'll have to work for it, I'm sure, but Salazar, Draco, you and Hermione Granger are supposed to be together. Let me help you make that happen."

Okay, so. Funny story. This started as a one-shot, inspired by a song. I deviated from the song rather quickly, so I changed course and somehow ended up at ten chapters so far. All of which have been written in the last week. Do not ask me how that happened.

This is only my second Harry Potter fic, so go easy on me.

This fic is intended to be an easy read. It will be a little angsty here and there, but overall, it'll be pretty light. There will also be no Astoria or Ron bashing here. I'm a Dramoine shipper through and through, but that doesn't mean we have to hate Astoria or Ron.

In this fic, we have not one, but two unreliable narrators. Strap in.

I have zero clue how long this fic will be. All I know right now is that it'll be at least ten chapters.

If any of that sounds good to you, I encourage you to encourage me by leaving a review. Those are like candy to me.

And as always, thank you for reading. You're the best.