Draco and Astoria
Part 2 — The Goodness Within
Chapter 1 — The Funeral of Margot MidgenAstoria stood at the grave for far too long, given that she was not immediate family. But she stared inside the carved mound of earth and saw, not her cousins' casket, but her own. Margot had been only 35 when she succumbed to the malediction which ran rampant through the women in her family. What did that give Astoria? A little over a decade? A solemn decade in which to do something meaningful with her life— a time during which her peers were all deciding what "meaningful" meant. But for Astoria, there was no time for trying her strengths or making mistakes. She had to get it right every time.
Well, she had made one right move thus far and that had been leaving Draco Malfoy at his manor in the Highlands. Yes, perhaps the way it had been done was cowardly. But it was right. She hoped that she would be remembered as a good woman, if nothing else. Perhaps Draco might have still wanted her, even with her malediction. But the fantasy of marriage and children had combusted when she had heard Draco's discussion with his parents. What had his father said? Something about "tainting" the Malfoy bloodline. Well, she didn't care one knut about the Malfoy bloodline, but she cared deeply about Draco and the pain it would cause him to watch his wife (if he dared make her that) and possibly a future daughter succumb to the same malediction.
Strangely, it was Mrs. Malfoy's words that hurt Astoria the most to reflect upon. If she can even have children. For as long as Astoria could remember she wanted children—a house full of their laughter and cries. Now, it looked as though that was one of the many things her short life would not provide her.
Astoria walked away from the grave slowly and then, barely thinking about it, apparated back into a deserted alleyway in greater London. She had returned to work at St. Mungo's, but this time as a Healer-in-Training for the maternity ward. It was painful to work with new mothers and their babies when that life was so off-limits to her, but it was worth it to care for the youngest witches and wizards as they entered the world.
Astoria didn't have to be in work that day, as she had switched her normal second shift for the funeral. So she continued to walk slowly through crowded Westminster, not wishing to be back in her lonely flat, but with nowhere to go. No one to see. It had been over a month since she had left Draco, and already the loneliness of her life was eating away at her.
Just then, as she turned the corner of the wide, winding street, she saw a tall, thin man with white-blonde hair—
She ducked behind a storefront. Could it really be him? If it was, he could not see her and she could not see him. She knew that all her resolve to leave him would crumble at the slightest provocation. Checking to make sure no one was watching her, she disapparated and reappeared right outside her flat in Pimlico, her heart still pounding in her ears. Quickly, as though someone was in pursuit of her, she walked forward past the white pillars of St. George Street, down the concrete steps of her basement apartment. She tapped the door with her wand to let herself in and closed the door quickly behind her.
The lights of her flat came on around her with another wave of her wand. It was sparsely decorated and dimly lit — but not uncomfortable. She sat on the pale blue sofa and stared at the light filtering in from the tiny, street-level window. What on earth was Draco doing in Westminster? Going to the Ministry, perhaps? His parents didn't live in London and no one else he knew lived here either. As she sat there, she wondered if she had even truly seen Draco, or if she had just been so hopeful to see him again that she had imagined the whole thing. What if it really had been him? What if she hadn't run away? If he had seen her, confronted her, asked her to explain herself? What if, while walking and talking, he forgave her for what she had done? What if, when they arrived at her flat, she invited him in? What if he accepted? What if they sat together on the sofa, just talking, but getting closer and closer until his face was mere inches from hers and his hand reached to touch her thigh through her robes—
No. She couldn't think like that. That time in her life was over. She had to move on.
Chapter 2 — SearchingDraco was pressed against her—Astoria. One hand exploring her soft, smooth curves, the other caressing the wet, soft opening between her legs. The smell of her long, dark hair engulfed him like flames and he burned for her. Yet, no matter how he searched, he could not find her mouth to kiss her. He was becoming more and more entangled in her thick dark hair, but no beautiful, yearning face appeared to him.
"Please," he moaned. "Astoria, please."
"Shh," she said, "they'll hear you."
At first, he wasn't sure who she meant, but then he heard it. The screaming. The cursing. He could feel, rather than see, the jets of green and red light just behind him. He was naked on the floor of his parents manor house, this faceless, Astoria beneath his erection. But he could hear the high-cruel laugh. The curse was coming for him. He wanted to run or cower, but he could not. He had to lay here on Astoria, shield her. For if the Dark Lord saw her, he would surely kill her—
Draco awoke with a start, covered in sweat and panting, his cock still half hard from the equal parts terrifying and erotic dream. It had been so vivid. In one way, it felt as though he had just had Astoria wet pussy cupped in his hands. In another way, it had felt as though the You-Know-Who had been just behind him—about the strike once again.
It took him a moment to get his bearings. Even without the disorienting dream, Draco would have been hard pressed to remember why he was in this shabby, musty room instead of the handsome, comfortable one he had become accustomed to at his manor in the Highlands. But then he remembered. He was staying at the Leaky Cauldron in London. He was looking for Astoria.
Draco rose from the bed then and began to dress. He ignored his erection and let his penis become soft. He didn't want to pleasure himself. He wanted to experience the world of pleasure he and Astoria had created together. He wanted to pleasure the woman he loved.
Before going down to breakfast, Draco was careful to take his potion. He could not afford any weaknesses right now, not if he was to find Astoria and fast. He couldn't bear to think of her going another day imagining that he didn't want her or thought her a burden. He couldn't bear to live another day without her when her days, according to his mother, were so limited.
Draco ate a hasty breakfast in the Leaky Cauldron, barely tasting what he was putting in his mouth, barely noticing the world around him. He knew Astoria was not here at the Leaky Cauldron, so she must be taking up residence somewhere else.
After he finished his breakfast, he went to have a look near St. Mungo's, as he was sure she would go back to work there. However, he did not see her go in or out at all that day. Frustrated, he decided to check the Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Maladies and Afflictions. He asked the secretary at the front desk there if she had seen Astoria, but the woman said no, eyeing Draco nervously. In fact, many people stared at Draco as he passed, glaring at him or turning to whisper to someone nearby. With a shudder, he recalled why he had decided to leave London to begin with.
He walked down the street for a while after this, looking at the crowd, but not hopeful to find Astoria near Westminster. Once, he thought he caught a glimpse of someone with her same long, dark hair, but when he turned to look back, he saw no such person. He remembered his dream—her long black hair surrounding him, but unable to find her face. He shook himself. He was going properly mad now.
After a while of walking among Muggles, all busily hurrying down the street to catch the Underground after a long workday, Draco ducked into an alley and disapparated. He reappeared outside the Leaky Cauldron and walked into the shabby old bar to order himself a drink.
It was after the second drink that they approached him.
"Eh, you're Malfoy's son, ain't ya?" said one grimy looking man.
Draco tensed, but responded coolly, "I don't see how that concerns you, sir."
"Sir," the second, taller man, mocked. "Well we are concerned sir. Your daddy owes us, see? Owes us big time."
"That," said Draco, still staring straight ahead, "is a matter you'll have to take up with him."
"Oh but we have!" said the shorter man with a wheezing giggle. "We and our associate have taken it up with him many times, but he isn't being too cooperative, like."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Draco flatly, "but it is still none of my concern."
The taller man got close to Draco's face then, and Draco turned his eyes onto the pallid, grimmy face of this thug.
"You Malfoys always talked a big game," he sneered. "But soon, real soon, it's gonna be time for you to pay up."
The two men walked away then, leaving Draco feeling shaken. He watched them leave the bar, downed his drink, and then walked quickly upstairs to his room. He wondered what on earth his father could have gotten himself into this time and how many times he would be dragged into his father's dangerous blunders.
Inside his small room with its dusty wardrobe and rusting mirror, Draco laid on his rickety bed and closed his eyes. To calm himself from the very close altercation he had just had, he closed his eyes and thought about Astoria. He saw, in his mind's eye, her face, pale and perfect with pink, rose bud lips. He imagined how those lips would kiss him, if he could just get her back. He remembered the feeling of them on his neck, lingering down his navel, and then the sensation of them closing over his cock.
The erection from this morning was back and more demanding than ever. He unzipped his pants, keeping this vision of Astoria in his mind. He imagined her gasping with pleasure as he entered her, her breasts pressed against the wall as he took her from behind, her perfect ass clutched in his hands as he thrusted deeper and deeper. He imagined reaching over and touching her, rubbing her until she was moaning, shaking, begging him for more…
"Oh God, Astoria," he moaned, his hot cum spilling out. "Please."
Draco opened his eyes when he had finished. He was in the dark, cold room, not pressed against the wall of the manor, taking Astoria. Astoria was not here. He was alone.
He cleaned himself up and laid back down, thinking about falling asleep and wondering where he would search for Astoria the next day. Because he would keep searching. He would not give up until she looked him in the eyes and told him she didn't want him.
Draco was just drifting off to sleep when his door banged open.
"There he is!" screeched a man's voice.
Disoriented, Draco looked around in the dark. He fumbled for his wand, but ropes suddenly bound him tightly.
"What the—" Draco began.
"Stupify!" a woman's voice yelled, red light filled the room, and Draco knew no more.
Chapter 3 — The Missing VillainWhen Astoria went to work the next day, she could feel that there was a tension in the air, but she wasn't sure why. Some of her coworkers stared at her as she passed, but none of them said anything to her except a pleasant "good afternoon" or "hello". It was only during her break that Healer Slaunders pulled her aside and handed her a copy of The Daily Prophet.
Healer Slaunders with a stern, but kind and practical woman who had been a Healer for almost 40 years. When she handed Astoria the paper she said, "Read this when you've got a moment alone."
Astoria ducked into the break room, which was luckily empty, and looked at the newspaper. The front page showed two articles. The top article was about an upcoming election for the new Minister of Magic. The second article read:
"Former Death Eater Missing: Potential Kidnapping Committed at the Leaky Cauldron
"Early this morning a potential kidnapping scene was uncovered in one of the rooms at the Leaky Cauldron following reports of yells and bangs heard during the early hours of the morning. The room in question was reportedly occupied by one Draco Malfoy, a well-known 'former' Death Eater. Ministry officials were called to the scene, but an insider-source tells the Prophet that they are not pursuing the investigation any further…. (for quote from Ministry official, please see pg 13)."
Astoria flipped furiously to page 13 with trembling fingers and read on.
"'It's quite understandable for people to get worked up when any sort of Dark violence occurs, given the not-so-long-ago events with You-Know-Who," said Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, Percy Weasley, early this morning. "However, we want to assure the public that this appears to be a case of Death Eater-on-Death Eater violence and is an isolated incident. The movements of the Malfoy family have been heavily traced by Aurors following their controversial release from Azkaban and we have no evidence that these activities are linked to any Dark plot, nevermind any association with You-Know-Who.'
"According to an insider source, however, not everyone at the Ministry shares Mr. Weasley's views. The anonymous tip-off claims that Harry Potter, the once-boy hero who saved the Magical Community from the tyranny of You-Know-Who and the Dark Forces he commanded, now an Auror working for the Ministry, has been taking the matter very seriously, indeed. He has urged the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to open a formal investigation into the alleged kidnapping of Mr. Malfoy. Whether the Minister has agreed is yet unknown."
Astoria reread the article three more times, frantic for more information—for some evidence that Draco was okay. But there was nothing more and it became clear to her that the Magical Community did not care whether Draco Malfoy was okay. No one cared whether he lived or died. Except her.
Slowly she let the newspaper fall onto the rickety staff table in front of her. Her whole body trembled and she felt tears coming to her eyes. Draco had been in London after all. It was him she had seen yesterday walking the streets of Westminster. Had he truly been looking for her? If so, it was her fault that he had been kidnapped by Death Eaters. For, although the Prophet seemed scant on details, that appeared to be what happened. So, it was her responsibility to find him — to save him. But how would she do it all on her own when everyone had given up on him?
Not everyone, she thought to herself with a desperate flicker of hope. One more person still cares.
Astoria looked at the clock. Her shift was over. She had been frozen in horror, but suddenly her body was alive with action. She turned on her heel and ran from the room — racing down the corridor towards the main exit of St. Mungo's. Healers and patients alike stared as she flew by, but she didn't care. She had to get to the Auror office before it closed.
As soon as she was away from St. Mungo's and hidden in a dirty alleyway, she disapparated and reappeared just outside the Ministry visitors box. She waited impatiently in the decoy Muggle telephone booth while it spat out her Visitor's Badge and, slow as old potion, glided down to the Atrium.
The main floor was already teeming with people leaving work for the day. Astoria rushed against the flow of the crowd towards the Visitor's Desk.
"Wand?" said the middle-aged Welcome Wizard lazily.
She passed him her wand.
"Astoria Greengrass," he said. "Purpose here today?"
"I need to speak to Harry Potter," she said quickly.
The wizard, who was looking at his watch in a restless sort of way, looked back at her amused.
"'Arry Potter?" he said. "What? You a fan or somefink? We got a lot them comin' in 'ere. Wantin' to tell 'em their sob stories or propose marriage. But 'e's already married, see? Mrs. Ginny —"
"I'm not here to propose to Harry Potter!" said Astoria loudly. "I need to speak to him! It's urgent—"
"What's urgent?" said a voice behind her.
Astoria turned and saw a young man of medium height with messy black hair and thick glasses. Although she had gone to school with Harry Potter (a year behind him), it had been awhile since she had seen him up close and she had never had a conversation with him before. In her mind she had pictured him to be taller, stockier, and more chiseled instead of the scrawny character she saw before her.
"Mr. Potter," she said. "I need to speak with you about the kidnapping of Draco Malfoy."
Harry's brow knitted above his bright green eyes. "Do you have some information regarding the kidnapping Ms.—"
"Greengrass," said Astoria. "Astoria Greengrass. And no, I don't have any information about it. But I read in the Prophet you wanted to launch an investigation into the kidnapping. Has the Minister approved it?"
"I can neither confirm or deny that information," said Harry slowly, looking curiously at her. "Ms. Greengrass, if you don't mind me asking, how do you know Draco Malfoy?"
"We're… friends," said Astoria, feeling this was the simplest explanation.
"When did you last see him?" asked Harry.
"I—yesterday. Possibly."
"Possibly?" repeated Harry.
"I think I saw him walking around Westminster, but I can't be sure," said Astoria.
"And when did you last have contact with him?"
"A few weeks ago," Astoria admitted. "Please, isn't there anything you can tell me? I'm very worried about him."
Harry looked troubled, looking over his shoulder he said, "Is there an address I can reach you at Ms. Greengrass?"
"Yes, I'm staying in Pimlico — St. George's Square. Flat number 22A."
"And will you be there this evening?"
"I — yes," said Astoria, taken aback.
"Good," said Harry, adding quietly, "We'll be in contact."
Harry turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. Astoria was mystified by this interaction, but at least she was getting somewhere. She hoped.
Chapter 4 — In the DungeonWhen Draco finally awoke it was to a splitting headache in a dark, dank basement he recognized as the dungeon in his own childhood home. It's where he used to lock Dobby the House-Elf when he was child, bored and sadistic. It's where countless souls were imprisoned and tortured by You-Know-Who and, under You-Know-Who's direction, Draco.
"Draco?" said a hoarse and scared voice from a dark corner of the dungeon. "Draco, darling, are you awake?"
It was his mother. Fear gutted him. He hadn't heard her that scared since the days when You-Know-Who would force her to watch as he tortured Draco.
"Mother," Draco responded. His voice, too, was hoarse. "What's going on?"
She began to sob.
"They came in demanding to speak to your father," said Narcissa Malfoy. "They were demanding that he hand it over, but he didn't have it. They killed him."
Draco's head was spinning. His father? Dead? He tried to adjust himself against the chains that held him, but they were vice-tight.
"What were they looking for?" Draco asked.
But before his mother could answer, the dungeon door burst open.
"Well, well, well, look who's awake," said a thuggish looking man Draco recognized as the one who had stunned him.
"Who are you?" Draco demanded with more confidence than he felt. "What are you doing in my family's home?"
"Don't recognize us, do ya?" said the stockier man. "Just lowly servants we was to you, wasn't we?"
"Name's Scabior, scum," said the taller man. "And this here is Bretcher. We brought you Potter. We brought him here to this very house because we were loyal to the Dark Lord. And you attacked us and we was tortured by the Dark Lord because of you and your disloyalty!"
Draco remembered them now. They were led by Greyback who had been killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. Clearly, his minions had survived.
"Listen, I—" began Draco, but Bretcher cut him off.
"No, you listen, pretty boy," he snarled. "You're going to tell us where it is or you're going to watch your mother die."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Draco yelled, panicked.
"The Time Turner!" screamed Scabior.
"Time Turner?" said Draco, truly nonplussed. "What are you talking about?"
"Come on, Malfoy," snarled Scabior. "You think we're messing around here?"
He whipped around, pointed his wand at his mother and shouted, "Crucio!"
His mother screamed and thrashed in her chains.
"Stop!" yelled Draco, feeling so much like that seventeen year old boy again. "Stop! I'll help you!"
"Ah, there he is," sneered Bretcher. "Ready to give us the goods now?"
"I don't know where the Time Turner is," said Draco, quickly. "My father and I have barely spoken since we got out of Azkaban. But I know where all of my father's hiding places are. I can help you look for it."
Scabior and Bretcher looked at each other.
"You better not be havin' us on," said Scabior.
"I'm not," said Draco, trying to keep his voice steady. "You can take whatever you find. I don't care about my father's things."
"We want the Time Turner," snarled Bretcher.
"And you can have it!" insisted Draco.
Scabior and Bretcher looked at each other and then back at Draco.
"We'll think about it," said Scabior, finally. "Decide whether you're lying or not. If we decide you're lyin', you can kiss your mummy goodbye. If we decides you're tellin' the truth, then you'll help us look. If you don't find it then, well, you can kiss your own life goodbye."
The two men walked out of the dungeon then, slamming the heavy, steel door behind them. Draco could still hear his mother's sobs and wondered how many souls had been murdered in this dungeon, and if he would be next.
Chapter 5 — ClassifiedAstoria paced her flat to and fro, trying to squeeze meaning from Harry Potter's words. Clearly, he was asking to come visit her. But why? For what purpose? Did he have information that the Daily Prophet did not? Part of her was desperate for more information and another part of her was scared of what she would hear about Draco's kidnapping and the possible violence that may have been inflicted upon him already.
She stopped pacing abruptly and lowered herself onto the sagging, grey coach, putting her face into her hands. She opened her eyes against the warm darkness of her palms and tried to catch her breath. She had to stay calm. She had to stay focused. For Draco.
Three loud pops sprang from the silence, one right after the other. Pop! Pop! Pop! Astoria jumped up, startled, and found herself staring at a tall young man with a shock of red hair, a woman about her age with a lot of bushy brown hair and discerning brown eyes, and Harry Potter. She understood. This was Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley. The famed trio.
"Sorry to barge in like this," said Ron Weasley.
"We couldn't risk being seen," said Hermione Granger, flicking her want towards the dusty drapes so that they concealed the ground-level windows.
"What? Why?" asked Astoria, her heart still pounding from their sudden arrival.
"The Ministry has forbade us to have anything to do with these kidnappings," said Harry.
"Kidnappings?" said Astoria, placing emphasis on the plural. "It's been more than just Draco who's been kidnapped?
"Yes," said Hermione. "His mother and father have been kidnapped as well."
"So this is an attack specifically on the Malfoy family, then," said Astoria.
"Exactly," said Harry. "We have reason to believe that they may be looking for a valuable object."
The three exchanged a look that Astoria didn't understand.
"What valuable object?" she asked.
"We have no idea," said Ron. "But…"
He looked at Harry, unsure.
"Can we trust you, Astoria?" asked Harry. "Because what we're about to tell you is extremely classified ministry information. We're not even technically supposed to know about it."
"You can trust me," said Astoria quickly. "I'll do anything to save Draco and if that means keeping your secrets, I'll do it."
"Can't say I understand, but okay," said Ron, with a shrug.
Astoria glared at him.
"Ron," Hermione hissed.
"The point is," said Harry loudly over the other two, "that we think the kidnappers are not rouge Death Eaters seeking revenge. We have reason to believe that they are working on Ministry orders."
"What?" gasped Astoria in disbelief. "But why? Why would they kidnap his whole family and blame it on Death Eaters? Surely they could extract whatever information they wanted without all that? As it is, they confiscated all their belongings when they went to Azkaban and if they really felt their information important enough couldn't they just use Veritaserum on them?"
"We think it must be something they don't want anyone to know they're looking for," said Ron.
"Something illegal or very dangerous," said Hermione.
"We think this is all stemming from the Department of Mysteries," said Harry. "Although we can't be certain."
"But what it all comes down to," said Astoria, "is that they won't help Draco or his family?"
Hermione shook her head sadly.
"No one will save him," said Astoria, feeling a wave of hopelessness descend upon her.
"We didn't say that," said Ron, looking indignant. "Why do you think we're here?"
Chapter 6 — SurvivalBy nightfall (or what Draco assumed was nightfall from the gnawing his stomach), Draco was trembling. It had been over 24 hours since he had taken his potion. He felt like he was in Azkaban again and he didn't not need Dementors to feel the crushing despair that was pressing in on him now. Would he survive this? Would his mother? Would he be able to find what they were looking for and, if so, would they truly let them live? Would they be tortured? Would he ever see Astoria again?
Astoria.
He pictured her. Beautiful dark hair, warm, dark embers of eyes. Naked in bed, her body exposed to him so completely without a stitch of clothing, without even the sheets as the summer air permeated through the wide windows. He saw every inch of her. The curve of her thighs, the way her stomach arched and curved down to that sacred, warm, wet place between her legs, her dark, erect nipples, her impossibly perfect breasts which fit perfectly in his hand, her beautiful mouth whispering his name, a smile dazzling him, her fingers twisting around his.
Astoria. She was light. He had to survive for her.
Suddenly a noise sounded from above. Someone was unlocking the trapdoor. Draco braced himself for whatever was to come next.
"All right, Malfoy, we've decided we believes your little tale," said Scabior, pulling Draco roughly from the cement floor. "Now you're gonna help us look about for that Time Turner."
"And if you tries to escape," said Bretcher, "we won't hesitate to kill you, see? And your mother here as well. Understand."
"I understand," said Draco, trying to keep his legs steady.
"Please, do whatever you want to me, but don't hurt my son," pleaded his mother.
"Stay out of this mother," said Draco, his voice flat and cool.
"Yeah stay out of this, ya snobby bitch," yelled Bletcher.
"Don't you dare speak to my mother that way!" Draco flared up at once, but almost immediately felt the wind knocked from him as a blow hit him in the chest.
"No!" yelled his mother.
"Shut up! The lot of ya!" said Scabior. "We're what's in charge now and don't forget it again. Now, come on."
They hauled Draco up the stairs and Draco went, still panting, praying he could find the hidden Time Turner they were so sure his father had.
Chapter 7 — Rescue MissionAstoria could not believe that Harry, Ron, and Hermione — the trio that saved the world from You-Know-Who — were going to help her rescue a former Death Eater. Especially when they seemed to dislike him so much.
"Why though?" asked Astoria, finally. "Why are you doing this for him?'
They looked confused.
"Because he's been kidnapped," said Harry. "We can't just leave him."
"But… you could," said Astoria.
"But we don't do that," said Hermione firmly.
"Nah, we love saving people," said Ron. "We've saved Malfoy's life loads of times. It's basically a habit."
"Besides, we don't agree with what the Ministry is doing," said Hermione. "It's these kind of back-room deals that got us into trouble in the days of Voldemort."
Astoria flinched at the name.
"You do want our help, don't you?" asked Ron.
"I— yes! Of course!" said Astoria, flustered.
"All right, then," said Harry briskly. "We have a pretty good idea of where he's been taken, because it's a place that's technically Ministry property now."
"Where?" asked Astoria.
"The old Malfoy Manor," said Ron.
"The Ministry seized control of it after the Malfoy family was arrested," said Hermione. "They stripped the place of all its valuables and Dark artifacts at the time, but…"
"But what?" said Astoria, angrily. "What else could they want from him."
"Perhaps they need something that can only be taken with Malfoy blood? Or specific information that only he knows?" continued Hermione. "We're not entirely sure."
"What we are sure of is that we need to hurry," said Harry. "So, we're going to go rescue him. We want to make sure that this is a secure place to bring him back to."
"Of course it is," said Astoria, her heart racing at the very thought of having Draco back with her in her little flat.
"Good," said Harry. "We have no idea how long it will take, but we'll try to send word when we have him."
"What? No, I'm coming with you," said Astoria, forcefully.
"It's too dangerous," said Hermione, shaking her head.
"It wouldn't be such a bad idea to have another wand on our side," said Ron, quietly.
"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip, looking nervously at Astoria. "She doesn't have any fighting experience. What if she gets hurt?"
"It's a risk I'm willing to take," said Astoria fiercely.
Harry stared at her for a long while, then said, "All right. You can come. You know the basics, yes? Expelliarmus, Stupify?"
"Yes," said Astoria, not admitting that she had only ever used those spells in a classroom.
"Let's apparate together then," said Harry. "It's best we all show up at once."
Chapter 8 — The Light in the Darkness"Where is it, you scum?" roared Scabior.
They had checked everywhere Draco could think of — under the floorboards in the drawing room, in the locked chest behind the panel to the left of the fireplace, behind the tapestry of his grandfather, in the concealed cupboard in the attic. None of those places revealed any treasures, nevermind a Time Turner.
"I'm telling you," said Draco, growing more and more panic-stricken. "The Ministry raided this place when we went to Azkaban. They took everything."
"And we're tellin' you that the Ministry don't have it," growled Bretcher.
"How can you—"
"Crucio," screamed Bretcher.
Draco fell to the floor in agony. The pain went on and on ripping through his body like bolts of lightning until finally, at long last, it stopped and he laid panting on the floor. Between detoxing from his potion, weakness from lack of food, and the pain, Draco was fading in and out of consciousness.
"If he don't know where it is, we is gonna get chucked right back in Azkaban—" Bretcher was saying.
"Well, perhaps the little brat thinks he can pull one over on us," said Scabior, his clicking of his boots growing closer to Malfoy as he spoke. "Perhaps he needs a little more cruciating to loosen his tongue."
"No," Malfoy moaned. "Please, I don't know—"
"Crucio!"
Draco screamed again, his weak and shattered body flailing against the floor as the curse wracked through him. Tearing him. Burning him.
"Stop!" Draco heard someone scream through his own agony.
The pain ceased. The light was very dim around him, fading to black as his eyes rolled back in his head.
"Stupefy! Stupefy!" he heard other voices yelling.
He forced his blurry eyes open and saw, to his horror, Astoria silhouetted in the front doorway of Malfoy Manor.
"No," he moaned, attempting to get off the floor, to go to her, to shield her from harm.
His body shook badly. He felt that he might be sick. But it didn't matter. He had to get to Astoria.
"Stupefy!" other voices were saying.
Draco craned around and saw Potter, Weasley, and Granger. Of course. Who else would it be?
"Avada Kedavra!" he heard one of the Death Eaters shout.
"No!" cried Hermione and pushed Astoria out of the way, dueling hard with Scabior.
"Astoria!" Draco cried, lifting himself off the ground with every ounce of strength he had left in him. Then a curse hit Astoria in the chest and she fell to the ground in a crumpled heap of robes and black hair.
"No!" Draco screamed and stumbled towards her, throwing his body on hers, trying to shield it from further harm.
Her warmth, the smell of her, the shape of her in his arms. It was all too much.
"Astoria," he whimpered. "Astoria."
He was ignorant of the chaos around him. It was meaningless noise if Astoria was— but no, she couldn't be.
Then, suddenly, her eyes opened.
"Draco?" she said.
"Yes, Astoria, yes. I'm here," said Draco holding her even more tightly in his arms.
"I'm so sorry I left you," she whispered.
Draco shook his head frantically, not wanting her to say anything that sounded like a goodbye.
"Don't worry about any of that," said Draco, impatiently brushing the tears from his face. "Don't worry. You're here now. We're together now."
"I just wanted to protect you," she continued, weakly. "I didn't want to cause you any pain."
"Of course you didn't," said Draco. "That's who you are. You've never caused anyone pain in your life. How could you? You're so good. Much better than I could ever, ever deserve."
"You deserve more than you think," said Astoria, a smile lighting her face as her eyes fluttered closed again.
"Astoria! Astoria!"
Her eyes did not open.
Chapter 9 — Polyjuice PotionDraco paced back and forth across the worn carpet of the musty basement flat, retracing the steps that Astoria herself had traced mere hours before. Astoria was in hospital. He needed to see her, but Potter had insisted he come here instead. "For his own protection", he had said. What did that mean? The rogue Death Eaters had been taken into custody already. What protection did he still need that he needed to hide away in this basement like a coward while Astoria fought for her life? Several times, Draco made for the door, but stopped himself. If Potter did have some insider-Ministry information, Draco ought to wait to hear it; lest he have to be saved by Potter again and look like a fool.
After six agonizing hours of waiting, Potter apparated into the front room.
"Astoria—" said Draco at once.
"She's fine," said Potter. "She's resting right now."
"I need to see her," said Draco, hardly daring to believe Potter's words.
"You can't. Not yet. I'm working on—"
"I don't care what you're working on!" Draco snarled. "I need to see her!"
Potter stared at him for a moment, his piercing green eyes penetrating Draco's.
"You're in love with her, aren't you?" he said, and he sounded shocked, as though he didn't believe it possible.
"Love?" Draco spat. "Love doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about Astoria. I would do anything for her. Be anything for her. She's… she's everything to me."
At these words, Draco lowered himself onto the sagging, old couch, head in his hands.
"Look, there is a way that I can get you in to see her," said Potter after a moment. "But you'll have to be disguised—"
"I don't care!" said Draco. "Anything. I'll do anything."
Potter pulled a flask of muddy liquid out of his cloak pocket. Then, to Draco's astonishment, seized a chunk of his own hairs and tossed it into the potion which immediately began to froth and bubble, turning (to Draco's annoyance) Snitch-gold.
"Polyjuice Potion," said Draco, dumbfounded. "But where did you get it?"
"Hermione made it," said Harry.
"That's an incredibly complex potion," said Draco.
Potter laughed. "She's been making it since we were 12."
Momentarily stunned, Draco said, "What on earth did you need to make Polyjuice Potion for at 12?"
"To pose as Crabbe and Goyle to see if you were the Heir of Slytherin," said Potter, smirking.
Draco was caught somewhere between outrage and amusement, but decided to ignore this revelation. He had to get to Astoria.
"So I'll look like you," Draco clarified.
"That's the idea."
"For how long?" Draco asked.
"An hour. You'll wear my Invisibility Cloak until we're inside the room. Then, you can take the Polyjuice Potion and I'll leave with the Invisibility Cloak on. Just be sure to leave before the hour is up. And—" Potter suddenly looked wary— "don't do anything that I wouldn't do. Please."
Draco rolled his eyes, but nodded.
They apparated to St. Mungo's with Draco under the Invisibility Cloak. Once inside, they walked onto the large Spell Damage unit to room 707. When Draco saw Astoria, he could hardly breathe. She was one of four beds. She was sitting up, reading, looking almost completely normal. When she saw Potter, she smiled, which made Draco's inside squirm with an old, familiar jealousy.
"Hello, Harry," she said, marking and closing her book. "How are you?"
"Good, and you?"
"Oh, I'm fine," she said. "Well, except for the dizzy-spells and loss of consciousness. But once they get that under control I'll be in tip-top shape."
"Astoria, I have some news," said Potter, then he leaned in close to whisper into her ear, "Draco is here. Under the Invisibility Cloak."
Astoria gasped and looked frantically at the space around Potter as though trying to discern his invisible form.
"He's going to take Polyjuice Potion," Potter continued to whisper, "and then he'll look like me, okay? Just in case anyone comes in."
For good measure, Potter inconspicuously pulled the curtains around Astoria's bed closed. Draco gulped down the Polyjuice Potion and felt his body begin to heave, shrinking slightly, his hair growing in length, his eyes blurring. When it was over, he lifted up his hand to feel the scar on his forehead. Draco pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and handed it to Potter who, Draco could only just make out. In return, Potter handed him a pair of glasses. The world came into focus just in time for Draco to see Potter disappear beneath the Invisibility Cloak.
Astoria was staring at him, her deep, dark eyes pulling him down into eternity. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he sunk down into the worn, wooden chair at her bedside.
"Is it really you?" Astoria asked in a hushed voice, her eyes searching his face.
"I think so," said Draco, smirking slightly. "If I start having wild ideas about saving the world from evil, though, do me a favor and knock me out."
Astoria laughed and it was nice to see.
"How are you, really?" she asked.
"How am I?" said Draco with a snort. "You're the one laid up in a hospital bed."
Astoria waved a delicate hand.
"I'm fine, honestly. Except for the whole passing out situation. But they're working on that. Harry says you're staying at my flat for now until things calm down?"
She added the last part in an undertone.
"Yes, I am," said Draco in a low voice. "But I don't know if it's such a good idea. I don't want to put you at risk—"
"Don't be ridiculous," said Astoria. "No one knew about us anyway, not really."
Draco saw a slight blush bloom on her pallid cheeks at the word "us".
"Besides," she continued. "My flat has been given all the protective enchantments that Hermione Granger can think of, which seems ideal to me."
Draco shrugged. He supposed it was. Despite his feelings about the 'Golden Trio', he knew their magic (especially Granger's) was ironclad.
"I heard about your father," said Astoria. "I'm very sorry."
Draco shrugged again. He wasn't sure how he felt about his father's death yet. He was still too angry with him for putting them all in danger. Again.
"How is your mother?" asked Astoira.
"She stayed here at St. Mungo's for 24 hours, mainly for shock. Now she's living at her parents' manor in Cambridge. She's also being given protection, supposedly."
"Oh, good," said Astoria.
They lapsed into silence. Draco was at a loss of what to say. He wanted to stand by her bedside and stare at her forever, and at the same time felt an awkwardness between them that had not been there before. The way Astoria had left and the reason for which it was done hung between them like a thick curtain.
"So, when do you think you'll be out of this place?" said Draco in a hearty voice that was so unlike his own
"Soon," said Astoria.
"Well, when you are released, I'll be there," said Draco, firmly. "To take care of you. Like you took care of me."
"I… don't think that's such a good idea," said Astoria, not meeting his eye.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Draco," she said, quietly. "I left for a reason."
"Yeah and it was a stupid one," he said with more venom than he intended.
"Was it? Was the fact that I'm dying stupid?" asked Astoria, coldly, finally looking him in the eye.
"I — that's not what I—" Draco began, his hands beginning to shake.
Suddenly a red-haired, rosy-cheeked nurse entered the room carrying a smoking goblet.
"Your afternoon medicine, Ms. Greengrass," said the nurse in a thick London accent.
"Thank you," said Astoria, smiling warmly at her as she took the goblet in her hands. "How's your shift going, Verity?"
"Ah, you know how it is this time of night," said the nurse called Verity. "All the crazies are out and they somehow end up here. Ah, and Mr. Potter is here to see you!"
Verity looked at him, beaming, her eyes shining as though with tears. Draco had never been looked at in such a way before and it startled him.
"Mr. Potter, I just have to say this," Verity began, rather breathlessly. "'Cause I never know if I'll get the chance again. Thank you. Thank you, sir. Your gift to the magical community has been — well, there are no words, are there?"
"Thank you," said Draco, stiffly.
"An orphan boy, with no parents, no love, no proper home" Verity went on. "And yet you never stopped fighting for us. It's beyond courageous, Mr. Potter. Beyond anything—"
"Thank you, Verity," said Astoria, loudly, handing her the empty goblet.
"Ah, well, I'll let you get on with your visit, then," said Verity, taking the goblet and leaving the room.
"Well that was… uncomfortable," said Draco.
Astoria giggled, but then stopped abruptly, looking worried.
"Draco, your hair—"
"Shit, already?" said Draco. "I'd better go, but — Astoria?"
"Yes?" she said.
"Please don't give up on us. Because I'm not. I don't care about… any of that stuff. It only makes me love you more."
With that, Draco turned on his heel and exited the room. As he walked down the hallway people stared and gawked at him, some not even bothering to hide the fact that they were pointing, open-mouthed, at Potter's scar.
"Pathetic," Draco muttered under his breath.
He exited St. Mungo's and was about to apparate from a dark alleyway off the main street when a wizard to his left said, "One day we'll kill you, Potter. Just when you think you're safe. We'll kill you, your wife, and everyone you love."
Draco saw a dark-haired man weave his way around the corner and out of sight. Draco had time to consider, just before he apparated, a truth he had been reluctant to accept — that being Potter was not easy.
Chapter 10 — TensionAstoria was released from hospital three days following Draco's visit. She had been replaying their conversation over and over in her head day and night when she was supposed to be resting and recovering. But Astoria found it impossible to rest when the prospect of discharging home to her London flat also meant living with Draco again — a prospect that made her equal parts terrified and exhilarated.
It was Hermione Granger who came to get her on her discharge day.
"Of course, the Ministry is still denying any involvement in Draco's kidnapping," said Hermione in an undertone as they walked towards the hospital exit. "But our intel tells us the Department of Mysteries has had renewed interest in certain old wizarding families. They appear to be looking for… something."
They apparated from an alleyway just outside St. Mungo's entrance and landing on her street in Pimlico. Astoria needed a moment to catch her breath.
"Are you all right?" Hermione asked her.
"Yes, I'll be fine," Astoria assured her.
They walked towards her number 22A and Draco threw open the door as soon as she had descended the steps to the basement flat.
"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed warningly. "You could be seen—"
But Draco ignored her, pulling Astoria into her flat in a tight embrace that left Astoria breathless. Hermione followed her in, looking something between amused and uncomfortable.
"Just a reminder to not leave the flat for now," said Hermione firmly. "We'll be coming by every few days to make sure that you're safe and see you have everything you need. Meanwhile, we'll be working to uncover the truth and imprison those involved in your kidnapping, Malfoy."
"Thank you," said Astoria, her heart full of gratitude for all that Hermione and Harry had done for them. She turned to Draco and was surprised to see his brow furrowed, his eyes cold.
"Why are you doing all this, Granger?" he demanded.
Astoria was shocked by his tone, but Hermione seemed unsurprised.
"It is my job to keep corruption out of our Ministry. It's Harry's job to end Dark plots against anyone or anything in our community and catch Dark wizards conspiring against our hard-won peace."
She smiled then and said, "Don't worry, it's nothing personal. Just doing our job. You don't owe us anything."
With that, Hermione left. Astoria sat down on the couch as slowly and normally as possible so as not to arouse concern in Draco for how exhausted she was. Draco, however, was still staring at the door that Hermione had just left through. He sank down on the couch next to Astoria.
"She's wrong," he said quietly.
"What?"
"She said I don't owe them anything," he continued. "But I owe them everything. Not just for all this, but they saved my life so many times during the war. And then Potter killed the Dark Lord. I may have gone to prison, but I'm sure it was only a matter of time before my family was killed by the Dark Lord himself. We had failed him too many times."
"By that logic, we all owe Harry Potter a great debt," said Astoria gently. "Don't get dragged down in the past again, Draco. What happened in the past does not have to define your present."
Draco looked at first like he wanted to argue, but then he smiled softly and looked Astoria full in the face.
"This is why I need you in my life," he said. "You are the sunlight in my storm clouds."
"How very poetic," said Astoria, trying to sound casual, but she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Well, I think I'm going to go to bed for now. I'm exhausted."
"Of course," said Draco, standing up at once and putting his hand on her arm.
"I don't need help," said Astoria, a little more fiercely than just meant to. "Thank you, though."
He watched her go in silence. Her heart ached with the words she would not, could not say. However, she truly was exhausted and when her head hit her familiar pillow, she drifted immediately into sleep.
That first week with Draco was strained, awkward, and most of all frustrating. Every movement Astoria made she felt was in an effort not to make contact with Draco. But the more her recovery progressed, the more her body screamed in protests of desire. How she longed to sit just a little closer to him on the small sofa, the space between them positively humming with unsaid words, unfulfilled passions. How desperately she hated to close the bedroom door on him every night when she longed only to drag him into the room with her, into her bed…
On the third day of their isolation, Ron Weasley came to visit them.
"Nothing to report," he said without preamble. "Just checking you're still alive."
Astoria was surprised at how cold his tone was compared to Hermione's.
"Thank you," Astoria said.
Ron shrugged and Draco glared. After he left, Draco snorted.
"If it were up to him, he'd probably hand me over to the Death Eaters himself," said Draco.
"What? What do you mean?" asked Astoria in alarm.
"Don't worry," said Draco with a sigh. "I just mean that Weasley isn't exactly my biggest fan."
"But he couldn't possibly want you dead," said Astoria, reasonably.
Like Ron, Draco shrugged.
"Maybe, maybe not," he said. "But I can see he's sure tired of saving my life."
"He must be able to see that you've changed though," said Astoria.
"Have I, though?" said Draco.
"Immeasurably," said Astoria, earnestly.
"I love you."
Astoria stared at him. He'd said it without thinking, she could tell. His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink.
"I'm sorry— I just—" he began, then shook his head. "No, I'm not sorry. I'll never be sorry for loving you."
"Draco," Astoria began, although she had no idea what she was going to say to him.
"No, listen to me Astoria," he said, his cheeks filling with more color as emotion rose in his chest. "This is ridiculous — living like this. Not touching each other when I used to kiss every inch of your body. Sleeping in separate beds when we used to make love every night. Not saying a word to each other when I used to feel I could tell you anything about myself. I don't know if you still feel the same way — or if you ever felt that way at all. But, please, please do not make me pretend to not be madly in love with you."
Astoria's eyes filled with tears, blurring the man in front of her, the man she loved, until they spilled over onto her face. He came to her then and wrapped his arms around her. Falling into him felt like rising above the surface of a deep pool of water and drawing breath.
"Draco, I can't," she sobbed into his chest. "I can't. I can't do this to you. I love you too much. Don't make me—"
"Do what?" said Draco. "What do you think will hurt me more? Loving you and getting to spend every moment of your life with you? Or loving you from afar, knowing we are both alone and both worse off for it?"
"You can — you should love someone else," choked Astoria.
"But I don't. I can't," he said. "I love you. And I will until my dying day."
He held her gently apart from him now so that he could look her full in the face.
"If our time is limited, do not deprive me of one more moment on his earth without loving you," he said, and lifted his hand to her face, caressing it softly. "Without touching you," he continued, then brought his face close to hers and breathed, "without kissing you."
He kissed her then, softly at first, then hungrily. Astoria clung to him for fear of drowning in her passion. Their knees buckled and they sank to the couch. His hands were everywhere then, his moans desperate. She could hardly breathe and yet she felt more alive than she had in months.
"Draco, please," she moaned.
"Do you want this?" he breathed roughly in her ear.
"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, I need it."
He pulled down her pants, yanking them roughly, hurriedly to her ankles. Astoria kicked them off as he fumbled with buttons of his own pants. They didn't bother removing their shirts, just desperate to be together again. Draco fell upon her, thrusting himself inside her so roughly she cried out.
"I'm sorry," he gasped, pulling out. "I shouldn't be so rough. I forgot myself—"
"No, no," Astoria pulled him back towards her. "Do it again."
He groaned at her words, his eyes alight with desire and then thrust inside her again. He took her roughly that first time, as though all their time apart had made him ravenous. Her back was against the arm of the sofa, the furniture rocking beneath them with each thrust.
Draco came quickly with a desperate moan that told her he wasn't done with her yet, that he would take her again later if she let him. And she knew she would. She ran her hands over his back as he breathed heavily on top of her, the feeling of each breath, each heartbeat precious to her.
Later, he carried her into her bedroom and took off every article of clothing she still had on. He kissed every inch of her and Astoria closed her eyes, content in the feeling of his lips on her body. Then she heard his breathing accelerate again. His tongue played on her nipples and she gasped. This time, he entered her slowly. She was slick with desire and somehow even more desperate for him this time. But his movements were determinedly slow until she was bucking underneath him. Then, without warning, pleasure exploded inside her. She cried out, burying her face in Draco's chest. She could hardly catch her breath when Draco began accelerating, his thrusts becoming more urgent, fueled by her orgasm. Before she knew what was happening, her body was wracked with pleasure to the point of pain.
"Draco—" she cried.
His thrusts became wilder. He cried out and then slumped down upon her. They both laid there for a while, shaking, as he became soft inside her. When he finally looked at her, she saw there were tears in his eyes.
"Marry me," he croaked.
Chapter 11 — A Malfoy"We've caught him."
Potter, Weasley, and Granger stood in the tiny living room of Astoria's flat.
"Well? Who was it?" Draco demanded.
"Amos Diggory," replied Potter.
"What?" said Astoria and Draco together, both shocked.
"But he worked for The Department of Control and Regulation for Magical Creatures, didn't he?" said Draco.
"He was the head of the department at one time," said Granger. "But after Cedric died, he stepped down. Then, when the war ended it looks like he resigned completely following new rules and regulations regarding house-elf and goblin rights."
"Didn't like being forced to acknowledge that other creatures deserved to be treated with the same respect as humans," scoffed Weasley.
"Anyway, his wife died this past year and it sounds like he's gone, well, a bit mad since," finished Potter.
"You don't say?" said Astoria, faintly.
"So now what?" said Draco. "He'll go to Azkaban, right?"
"He'll be tried," said Potter. "But it's likely he'll go to St. Mungo's ward for the insane."
"That's it?" exclaimed Draco, outraged. "After he had my father killed and hired thugs to torture my mother and me? After he nearly got Astoria killed?"
"Your lot did that and worse during the war," said Weasley, a dark look crossing his freckled face. "And you're still running free."
Draco drew his wand, heat rushing to his face.
"Ron!" admonished Granger.
"Look," Astoria intervened, "it sounds like he'll be locked up and he'll never be able to harm anyone again. Which is all that matters, right?"
Draco looked at her lovely, pleading face. The rage which he felt so acutely seemed to evaporate somewhat. He still loathed Weasley, but didn't feel that same intense need to fight with him as he so often had.
"Yes," said Draco, stiffly, lowering his wand. "As long as you're sure he will be securely locked up, Potter?"
"Of course," he replied.
"But what I don't understand," said Astoria, "is why? Why do all this?"
Granger and Weasley exchanged a glance. Potter's brow knitted behind his round glasses.
"He wants his son back," he said, his green eyes shifted towards the floor. "He thinks if he can get a Time Turner he can have one last moment with him."
"That's mad," said Draco.
"Is it?" said Potter, still not looking at anyone, but then his expression smoothed suddenly. "Well you don't have to be in hiding anymore. You're free to leave this flat."
Draco looked at Astoria and she beamed back at him.
"Thank you, Potter," said Draco, grudgingly, but he extended his hand.
Potter, looking bemused, shook it.
"Just doing my job," he said.
"I think you know it's more than that," said Draco.
Potter shrugged, but didn't say anything more. Draco nodded an acknowledgement at Granger, but could not do more than restrain a glare for Weasley. Once they had gone, Draco turned to Astoria.
"We're free," he said.
"We are," she smiled. "You can run away now, if you like."
He took her in his arms.
"The only place I'm running to," he said, "is the Ministry of Magic to get a marriage license."
Draco and Astoria walked into the Ministry of Magic using the Visitors Entrance. Draco had never had to use the Visitor's Entrance before, his father feeling he was too important to use such an unceremonious entrance and insisting the Floo Network be connected to their fireplace. Astoria, on the other hand, has used this Visitor's Entrance 2 years previously to get her Assistant Healer's License and was familiar with the squashed red booth. Last time she had not had Draco Malfoy's hands around her waist as she dialed the numbers 61221. She had not had Draco's breath on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, her stomach swooping, and her head spinning. As they clanged downward below the street, he pressed himself against her and moaned softly.
"Draco," she chided, although rather breathlessly.
"I could stay in this tiny box with you for hours," he said. "I wouldn't mind one bit."
"Get yourself under control," she mock-scolded, but moved her hips against him anyway, causing him to gasp.
"Don't tease me," he groaned.
Too quickly they landed in the atrium of the ministry. Both of them rather flushed, they stepped from the box into the large, polished hall. Astoria's low heels clicked on the tiles, Draco's smart shoes tapping beside her in time. She was wearing a knee-length white dress beneath lilac robes. Draco was not wearing dress robes per say, but he wore sleek dark green robes for the occasion.
Draco's euphoria and lust was dropping quicker than the lift had; he was suddenly feeling a cold sweat of anxiety at being back in this building again. One of the last time he had been at the Ministry he had been sentenced to Azkaban. He knew, rationally, that he had nothing to fear by being back at the place. Yet, was it his imagination or did the wizards and witches stare at him longer than necessary as they passed through the crowd?
Astoria felt Draco's tension. She gripped his hand more firmly.
"It's all right," she said. "We're here for happy business and no one can stop us."
Draco smiled. "Happy business," he repeated. "I like the sound of that."
They took the lift down further to the Offices of the Magical Law Enforcement which, apart from their Auror office, contained all of the miscellaneous licensing offices as well. Draco, with effort, did not look at the Auror office as they passed. Astoria, however, did look and saw Harry Potter leaning over the desk of another Auror, looking over some documents. He looked up as they passed and she smiled at him. She knew Draco did not like Harry, but she had no qualms with him, especially since he had done his utmost to save Draco's life. Potter smiled back at her. They passed by.
In the licensing office, they stood in a queue until they came before a middle-to-late aged witch with several moles upon her over-rouged face.
"Purpose?" she said in a rather bored voice.
"We're here to get married," said Astoria brightly.
"Names?" she continued, not looking at them but flicking her wand so that a pile of paperwork flew from a folder to land in front of Draco and Astoria.
"I'm Astoria Greengrass," said Astoria, then with a side-eye at Draco continued, "And Draco Malfoy."
The woman looked up and her quill, which had been scribbling the information Astoria spoke of its own accord, stopped. The woman's small eyes narrowed at Draco.
"Malfoy, then?" she said, her tone no longer bored, but cold and hard.
"Yes," said Draco stiffly, his face unreadable.
She snorted. "I guess anyone can just walk into the Ministry these days."
"Excuse me!" said Astoria, taken aback by the open hostility.
"Forget it, Astoria," said Draco. "Just forget it."
Then, abruptly, Draco left the queue and the office.
"You're well shot of him," said the witch. "Malfoys are criminals, every one of 'em."
Astoria bent low so she was eye-level with the wretched woman and growled, "You know nothing."
She stormed from the office after her soon-to-be husband.
"Draco!"
She ran after him as he walked down the winding hallway of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, his head bowed. He stopped, but did not turn to look at her until she caught up with him.
"Draco, please, ignore that awful woman—"
"How can I?" he said, his voice trembling. "How can I, when I'm about to give you that name, too? How can I do that to you?"
"Because," Astoria said, "we love each other."
"What kind of love is it to burden someone with this legacy?" Draco said, bitterly. "That's what my father did to me and I can tell you it's not love."
"What your father did has nothing to do with this," Astoria said. "He made horrible choices, treated you horribly, and, if you'll let me say it, cared more for power and blood-status than any person. You are not your father."
"How do you know I won't become him?" said Draco, a true fear in his eyes now.
"Because you love me," said Astoria. "More than anything."
He looked into her eyes.
"I'm nothing without you, Astoria Greengrass," he said. "You are what makes me good."
He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her lips. She embraced him without pausing to consider where they were, who was near. She kissed him harder than she had ever kissed him, tried to put all the feelings she couldn't articulate into that kiss. When she pulled away, Draco was smiling again. Someone cleared their throat nearby. The two of them turned to see a beautiful, red-haired woman standing before them in the corridor.
"I hate to interrupt," said the woman, raising her eyebrows in amusement, "but there are better rooms at the Leaky Cauldron for this kind of thing."
Astoria and Draco pulled apart, looking slightly abashed. The woman looked from the licensing department and back to them.
"Do I owe you congratulations, Malfoy?" she asked.
"Not yet—" started Draco, but was interrupted by another arrival in the corridor.
"Ginny, there you are," said Harry, coming towards the beautiful red-haired woman and kissing her on the cheek in greeting.
It clicked for Astoria, then, who this woman was. She was Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter's wife. She had been in Astoria's year, although they hadn't been close.
"Sorry, got held up in meetings about the new regulations for the Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ten," she said. "Then I almost had to call the Aurors on these two for public indecency."
Her tone was mocking and she smiled as she said. Harry raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling, too.
"Malfoy," he nodded at Draco.
Draco returned the greeting with a taut smile.
"Anyway, I think they're about to be married," said Ginny, briskly.
"We were trying to," said Astoria. "But that witch in there was absolutely horrid to us—"
"Oh, Dremilla," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Remember when we went to get our marriage license from her, Harry? When he said his name she went on and on about her daughter and how pretty she was, the whole time talking about how red-heads were foul-tempered. As if she was trying to get Harry to leave me for her daughter! Ha!"
Harry chuckled and even Draco cracked a smile.
"Don't let her get to you, is the point," said Harry.
"I hope you two have witnesses," said Ginny, looking around as if for other people. "She won't let you get married without witnesses."
"I never even considered witnesses," said Astoria, horrified.
"No problem," said Ginny, quickly. "We'll be your witnesses."
Harry looked at her confused, but said nothing.
"It's about time we buried the Death Stick and got on with being friends," said Ginny. "Or at least acquaintances. Besides, if Dremilla says anything to you, I can hex her for you. They can't arrest me — my husband is Harry Potter."
Astoria and Draco laughed at this as Harry rolled his eyes.
The four of them walked back into the office. The shock on Dremilla's face as Draco Malfoy reappeared with Harry Potter at his side was worth it, if nothing else.
After all the paperwork was signed, Astoria pulled Ginny aside.
"Thank you so much," said Astoria. "I understand what you did and it means a lot."
"Draco was never my favorite person," said Ginny. "But everyone deserves a second chance. And, more than that, I think that love can have a profound effect on people. I expect much better behavior from Draco with you around."
Astoria laughed and hugged Ginny. Meanwhile, Draco was shaking Potter's hand.
"Thank you," he said, stiffly, but sincerely. "For everything. I mean it."
"No problem," said Potter, looking awkward, but pleased. "I hope you're happy, Malfoy. I really do. You deserve it after everything that happened."
Draco was genuinely touched by this. The fact that Potter, of all people, thought he deserved happiness meant more than he would have thought it could have.
"You as well, Potter."
Chapter 12 — Life & DeathOver a decade later, Astoria lay in a plush, four-poster bed, looking up at the familiar green canopy emobroided with its gold thread. She was so tired, but determined to stay awake for just an hour more. She had to say goodbye.
"Mom?"
A boy walked into the room, hesitantly, apprehension and hope etched in equal measure upon his pale face.
"Scorpius," said Astoria, her voice sounded weak even to her. She cleared her throat and said in a more robust voice, "Are you all packed and ready to go?"
"Yes, Mom," said Scorpius, coming to sit on the bed beside her. "But…"
"But, what?" asked Astoria, her brow furrowing at the look of anxiety on her son's face.
"I don't want to go back," said Scorpius, his lip trembling slightly.
"Why not?" said Astoria, trying to prop herself up on some pillows, but only managing and shaky lean on her right elbow.
"Mom, please don't get up," said Scorpius.
Astoria ignored him. "Scorpius, darling. Why don't you want to go back to Hogwarts? You have Hogsmeade to look forward to this year! Plus, you must miss Albus after a summer apart."
"I — yes, I do," Scorpius conceded. "But I — I just don't think I can leave you."
Scorpius turned his face away in an effort to hide his tears from his mother, but Astoria's heart broke all the same. She had always known this day would come. The day where her condition would cause pain to her son. Her husband, at least, had consented to this pain a long time ago (not that it made it any easier for either Astoria or himself to bear). But her son was born into this without any say. Her heart ached with the guilt of what she was doing to him now. She wished so desperately for him to have a normal childhood. Yet, here she was, disrupting it.
She could remember well the day that she had found out she was pregnant. It had been only a year since she and Draco married. She had been having dizzy spells more and more. Fearing a progression in the malediction that plagued her family, she went to St. Mungo's for a full examination. She sat in the little white room with Draco by her side, waiting for her results, all muslces tense, expecting the worst. When Healer Slaunders came in and told them she was pregnant, she could barely take it in.
"What does this mean," said Draco at once, "for her conditon?"
Of course, Draco would think immediately of her safety. Meanwhile, Astoria's heart had swollen with unrivaled emotion and joy at the news.
"I won't lie to you," said Healer Slaunders, "there may be some affects. For one, you will need bedrest during the later stages of your pregnancy. The birth will be a risky one, but not overly so. You most likely will have bedrest perscribed for the months to follow as well. But what concerns me more is…"
The Healer hesitated, looking at Astoria.
"What?" said Draco sharply.
"You will most likely be shortening your lifeline by doing this, Mrs. Malfoy, by at least a few years if not more."
Draco started to speak in tones of concern, but Astoria cut him off.
"I'd rather live a short life that was full, than a long life that was meager," she said simply.
Neither the Healer, nor Draco, could argue her choice. It was hers to make, afterall. What was more, although she didn't say it to Draco, was that she knew a young death was inevitable for her. She wanted, desperately, for Draco to have something else to hold onto, to live for once she was gone.
"Darling," Astoria touched her son's hand on the bed. "Darling, I know this is hard. But for children to leave their mothers is natural, regardless of the circumstances."
Scorpius wiped his face, no longer attempting to conceal his sorrow now. He was his father in miniature, but her son had always been an unusually sweet boy. Talented and funny, but shy and sweet all wrapped up in one. She loved him so much she felt her heart could explode. She knew that, although her death would pain him greatly, he would go on. The light and goodness inside him made him strong.
"Dry those eyes, love," said Astoria, patting him clumsily on the cheek. "You are going to be just fine. You're going to be brillant."
The bedroom door opened a second time and Astoria's husband came into the room, looking worn. Draco had more lines in his face and more white in his already white-blonde hair than he had had even a few years before.
"Scorpius? Are you packed? Don't leave it all for tomorow, son," said Draco, his voice somewhere in the no-man's-land between stern and gruff.
Scorpius got from the bed, hiding his face from his father, and left the room.
"I hope he wasn't wearing you out," said Draco, looking at wife with concern and taking the space on the bed that Scorpius had just vacated.
Astoria waved this off, although she was bone-tired.
"Draco, I need to say something to you," she started.
"You don't need to say anything to me," Draco interupted. "You need to rest—"
"Hush," said Astoria sternly. "And listen. On the day we got married, you said to me that I was what makes you good. Do you remember that?"
"I do," said Draco, quietly. "And it's true."
"And do you remember what I said to you on our wedding night?"
Both of them, in that moment, felt themselves transported back to that time, to younger bodies and more energetic minds.
Draco could almost feel the way that Astoria felt under him then. Her smooth, curvy body writhing and sweating benath his as he thrust himself deeper and deeper into her. How soft and wet she was, how her body trembled with pleasure. The sound of her scream as she climaxed and the bucking of her hips. Astoria, too, could see it in her mind's eye. Draco looming above her, face strained with ecstacy, the way he filled her up with each thrust, the way he had held her wrists in his hands, pinning her to the bed, needing to have complete control over her. The way he had collapsed into a shuddering ogasm on top of her, crying out and biting her neck so hard it had left a mark.
They had needed each other's bodies like air to breathe back then. So many nights were were spent in that never-ending ecstacy. Just when they thought they were done, Astoria would gently rub Draco's inner thigh or Draco would kiss Astoria's taut nipple on her soft breast. Then Draco would suddenly be grabbing Astoria's hips, pressing her soft, round ass against his stomach, and thrusting into her from behind like a wild animal, never sated.
Even now Astoria's heart fluttered to think of those times, atlhough the energy for such intercourse had long since been beyond her. These days it was more soft kisses and carresses than thrusting, scratching, and biting. Draco, too, felt a stirring in him to think of those times. It was hard to think of, when Astoria was so fragile now. The last time they had had sex was on his birthday in June.
Astoria had been having a rare good week and Scorpius was still at Hogwarts, finishing up his second year. Astoria had come into the bathroom where Draco was just finishing shaving, dressed only in a towel. She'd watched him for awhile from the doorway, admiring the muscles in his back, his still-toned legs. Then she move towards him. With a touch of her finger, the towel fell. Then she got on her knees and took him into her mouth. He was so surprised, he was still soft, but not for long.
"Astoria —" he had cried in shock, and almost admonishment, worried it would make her too tired. But as her mouth worked over him, he felt his thoughts and worries collapse. He groaned, unable to stop himself from grasping the back of her hair and moving her mouth even further along his shaft. Gasping, she released him from her mouth and stood quickly, leaning against the vanity, her ass out. Draco knew her well enough to know what she wanted. He thrust himself inside her against the vanity. She cried out and he stopped.
"Are you okay?" he panted.
"Please, Draco, please fuck me," she cried.
He moaned and thrust his hips against her once more, his hands tight on her waist. A few more hard thrusts and he felt close to finishing — it had been so long since they'd had sex. But then an awful thought occurred to him.
What if this is the last time?
"What is it, Draco?" she panted, turning to look at him.
He said nothing, but led her to the bed. It was the bed where they had made love countless times, slept every night of their marriage. It was the bed where they had made Scorpius. He laid her down in it, her face bewildered. He then proceeded to kiss every inch of her skin, from her neck, to her breasts, to her stomach. He got between her legs and began licking and sucking, the way he knew she liked it. He savored each cry, each moan. When she climaxed, he continued kissing her legs as she shuddered. Then, he entered her again, moving slowly. They stared into each other's eyes — ice blue engrossed in chocolate brown. He began to moan softly and breathing became more ragged. He was still moving slowly when his orgasm came, trying to savor each moment. He collapsed on her, tears rolling down his face. Together they laid there, connected, shuddering in pleasure, and yet crying for the thing they already missed.
"I remember you told me some rubbish about how I was already good," said Draco, finally.
"I said, that the goodness was there inside you," said Astoria. "You just need some good in your life to bring it out."
"And without you—" Draco choked.
"Without me, there's Scorpius," said Astoria. "Who is, without a doubt, the best of us."
Tears rolled down his face, but Draco nodded. "Yes. Scorpius is the best of us."
"I love you, Draco," said Astoria, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes fluttering as exhaustion overtook her.
"I love you so much," Draco said, his sobs a distant echo to Astoria. "I love you so much. I'll love you always."
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