Draco had not gone near Astoria for the next three days, but he hadn't sent her from his room either. She couldn't understand what that meant. She desperately wished she knew where they stood. She would almost prefer being yelled at to being avoided and having him lurk about. She was asleep when he had come to bed, and still asleep when he had left. She didn't know what he was doing when he left, and didn't care to know either. The absence of husbands was a normalized aspect of marriage in high-class pure-blood society. That was a given, but it still chilled her to have him avoid her so carefully all while keeping her in the closest living space possible.
The difference in Draco from his sixth year was considerable. He was sure in his choices, and he was intentionally cruel, intentionally cruel in a different way than he had been as just a nasty teenager who liked to get a rise out of people and show off to his friends. He had always been cruel, yes, but now he was aware of deeper manipulation and confident in his cruelty. However, he was no longer cruel for sport and that was somehow more unnerving to her because that meant he was cruel in his temper, which made him unpredictable. She didn't understand his intentions or emotions any longer, and she now doubted that he himself understood them.
The likelihood of him ever letting her understand them was practically nonexistent.
She was slightly frustrated with the fact that her father had apparently decided to make the knowledge she had given him known to Lucius Malfoy. Had it really been a wise idea to basically wave it in Mr. Malfoy's face that her father could expose Draco if he so pleased? With full knowledge that she could possibly be marrying his son?
It was wise, she knew, her father always was wise in his decisions. She knew he wasn't simply peacocking for the sake of it. There had to have been a reason, even if she herself wasn't sure what that reason had been.
A reason she unfortunately had to pay for.
She loved her father, but he was not above sacrifice in order to achieve exactly what he wanted. Even if the sacrifices were not his own.
She wondered what it would feel like to go through what she had with Draco if she was someone else. To be the same girl who would be awed by the ring on her finger to also be attacked by her husband. That girl would curl up in fear at the sight of the man that put her hands on her, disgusted at the sight of him. Perhaps she would fight back, demand respect, attempt to hurt him back. Perhaps she would go home to her parents, seeking an end to the marriage.
Pure-bloods did not end their marriages.
The traditional magical marriage ceremony that bound them together in itself was nearly impossible to get out of as it was, as well as it being simply unheard of and against what her people believed in to separate over simple matters such as abuse.
Yes, the girl who would be mesmerized over the apparent luxuries that come with her new title would become unhinged at the violence that she had experienced.
Astoria was not that girl.
She supposed she was both stronger and weaker than that girl depending on who would look at it. She was weaker in the sense that she allowed herself to be treated as practically a slave and still seek her husband's affections. She was stronger in the sense that she could withstand such hardships and still have her head held high and remain prepared to take on the life she herself had asked for and she herself had wanted even with full knowledge of what was to come to her.
She was just not the same as that imaginary girl she compared herself to. She never would be. It would be a waste of effort to pretend to be someone different, to pretend to have pride when it came to such matters. She did have pride, she did, but it came at different times and in different circumstances.
In her life she could only accept who she was and who she was raised to be and make the best of it. She envied that girl who would act appropriately to such a situation just as that girl probably envied her, but it did not matter. They weren't the other and there was no point in sulking about it or trying to charade as the other.
Astoria feared Draco just as much as she had when she stepped into the manor the first day as his wife. Her fear had not changed much once he had actually harmed her. It was unfortunate, but it was expected. Violence had not been what Astoria had feared the most out of her marriage to Draco Malfoy. What Astoria feared more than bruises was not having anything at all. Emptiness.
She was beginning to realize that she had been fearing something that already was. Her whole life was filled with absolutely nothing besides distractions of effort to end up exactly where she had ended up. The winner of nothing.
She could resent Draco and blame him for the darkness she was beginning to feel, but the darkness had already been there. She had just been telling herself otherwise, telling herself that there was always something more she could do to get what she wanted, telling herself that she had been chasing a light, a light that never existed.
No, no. Perhaps it did exist. She could not become completely pessimistic. If she wanted to survive and not become another pity story to be told over tea about another bride that threw herself off of a balcony then she could not think that way. She would have children. Though, admittedly, it was hard to look forward to children when they would be placed in the same cycle she was a part of, as her parents were at part of, as her grandparents had been a part of, and on and on. The competition for nothing.
She cursed her husband more for exposing the memories she couldn't bear to think of than the physical pain he had put her through. The ones she tried so desperately to block out. The ones that made her remember just how useless and empty everything was. Everything was just like those sweets that were put out for show that no one ate in fear of ruining their precious figures that made them worth something because their minds certainly did not.
What was the point?
There wasn't one. There never was. Just an endless cycle of emptiness masked as something glamorous.
Astoria's mind fell on the memory of her brother that Draco had uncovered and she grabbed a pillow quickly, sucking in all of her breath before screaming into it. She desperately pushed at her thoughts, thoughts of him, pushing them away.
No, no, no.
No, she had no brother. No brother would just abandon her. No brother would just allow himself to be stolen from her by someone who didn't deserve him.
Enough.
She forced her mind to stop, blanking it out. No more. She coughed slightly, touching her throat. Her neck was mostly healed, but there was still a tickle there. Draco was quite good with healing potions. He could be a healer, actually. Astoria's lips twitched at the thought, imagining the gossip and scandal that would surround such a job for a man such as Draco Malfoy. Oh, she could just see Lucius Malfoy's face at the news.
She jumped when her eyes caught sight of him in the room as he watched her. She hadn't seen him come in. "Good evening, Draco," she told him, clearing her throat.
He nodded, watching her with a guarded expression. "Is there something on your mind?" It had been the first time he had spoken to her since he had gotten so angry at her, since he had hurt her. Since he had made her remember. Did he see her scream?
"I was just thinking about how good you were with healing potions. I knew you were talented in Potions class, but normally healing potions are on the more dull side of the subject. Students don't typically desire to spend much time learning and perfecting them," she told him, looking down at her lap. She probably had looked so ridiculous screaming into a pillow and then smiling to herself like a lunatic.
"My mother always needed healing, and it was the only thing I could do to help her. Help with the aftermath," he told her stiffly.
Neither of them said anything for a few minutes and Draco went to his balcony doors, staring outside. She could almost hear the dust particles moving in the air with how silent they both were.
"I don't-" he began shakily, his voice breaking through the quiet before cutting off for a few more moments.
Astoria waited. She hadn't heard him speak in such an unsure way since they had been at Hogwarts together. He sounded so strangely vulnerable.
"I don't want my children to have to deal with the aftermath. I don't want there to be any aftermath," he continued finally, quietly.
Her breath caught and she held it for a moment, going over his words again slowly. She realized that his statement was his form of an apology. His way of telling her he didn't want to hurt her again. He didn't want to hurt her like he had watched his mother be hurt by his father. Astoria watched his back for a few moments, relaxing her tense shoulders and releasing her breath. His words did not fix who he was or what they were, what he did, but it reminded her that he was human.
"Draco?" she said softly after she had allowed more silence to hang in the air after his confession. .
"Mmm?"
"I'm not stupid," she said, repeating her only fighting words from the balcony, her voice stronger than it had been when she was at his feet.
Draco turned to look at her, his eyes searching hers. "No," he said after a while, his voice sounding tired. Breaks of silence seemed to be a trend in their conversations. "You aren't. I suppose projection is another trait I seem to have inherited from my father."
Projection. He was calling himself stupid, she realized. She knew he wasn't stupid at all, but she didn't know what to reply back to him. He wasn't stupid. He was lost as was she, probably more so. Draco wasn't innocent, no, but neither was she. They had always done what they were told, which didn't excuse their actions, but it was still true. Draco's sins were different than her own, but she could not sit there and act like she had none. Through this they had the ability to understand each other, and that gave her a small amount of hope that one day they could. She wanted to understand him in ways he didn't understand himself, as she wanted him to understand her how she was too afraid to understand herself. They needed each other.
"Aurors are visiting the homes of families that were close to the Dark Lord or his followers," he said, changing the subject. "I expect them to interview you, which I'm sure you will do fine with. Obviously we don't have anything to hide as we have not been involved with the uprising, no?"
Astoria tilted her head at the slight tone of implication in his voice. "Of course not. My family has always thought very little of the Death Eaters."
Draco gave a short, humorless laugh. "Right. However, we need to give the impression that we are both unaware of where my parents have gone. You don't know where they are which is good, but you know that I know where they are. The Ministry has been lenient in not throwing our family in Azkaban for our involvement in the war, but if they saw the state of my father I'm sure they would quite happily throw him in the mental hospital where he would rot without my mother. I am sure they will ask for the whereabouts of your family as well."
"I truly don't know where they are."
"Good. It will be easy then. Well, easy as it can be with people I despise interrogating me and my wife," he said irritably, pouring himself a glass of wine.
"My father has a good relationship with the Ministry, so I am sure it won't matter anyway," she told him, unconcerned.
Draco snorted. "Aha. From what I've learned about your father it sounds that the Ministry and him have an arrangement in that if they try to fuck him over he will fuck them over first."
She giggled, causing Draco to jump slightly, seeming surprised at the sound. "Yes, I suppose that is the more correct explanation. My father does know things about almost every single one of them. Damning things. Always damning things. They act so much better than us don't they?" she said, shaking her head and looking up at the ceiling. "So self-righteous when they compare themselves to us. Like they can do no wrong compared to the evil and backwards pure-bloods. They do the same things that they look down on us for doing, but only in secret. But, I suppose that's what is always natural when coming from your own perspective - to think of only yourself as the ultimate right."
Draco dipped his head towards her in silent agreement and sipped his drink, staring out at nothing for a while. "When I was a child my mother would take the untouched sweets from the tea when she hosted it here at the Manor. She would sneak it into the piano room."
She watched him curiously, surprised at his random and completely off-topic recollections. "She would wait until my father had left to do whatever it was he did when he left and she would take me in there with her and share them with me. She would eat them herself as well. She would eat many actually. More than you would guess that my mother would eat."
She smiled to herself, taking pleasure in knowing the perfect Mrs. Malfoy she had grown up admiring indulged herself occasionally after all.
"Once I stole all of the sweets after tea was over. I gathered them all in my skirts and ran to my bedroom and locked myself in my closet. I thought that if I ate them all and made myself fat like my mother had always warned me about then my mother wouldn't take me out in public for a long time. This way, I would be able to avoid the dreaded teas. I ate so much," Astoria told him, holding her stomach for effect, practically feeling the sickness she had felt that day. "I vomited everywhere. I could barely even look at sweets for years after, and I still don't crave them. The worst part was I did not gain one little bit of weight. No, actually, the worst part was my mother's elated reaction. You should have seen my mother's smug face. She just laughed and laughed at me, rubbing it in my face that my brilliant plan had failed. Oh, it was horrible."
Draco stared at her for a moment before he started snorting with laughter, looking at her like she was ridiculous. She blinked, shocked at his laughter. Such an unexpected sound to come from him. "It's not funny really," she insisted. "It's also not fair that your mother shared the sweets with you. You didn't have to sit through the tea." But Astoria was laughing as well. It was a bizarre feeling, to be there laughing with Draco Malfoy, her husband. To be laughing at all actually, authentically at least. Astoria thought of that girl again, the girl who would have ran for the hills at being physically abused by him. That girl would never be where she was, laughing about something as lighthearted as sweets only days after such an incident. Laughing with him.
He didn't deserve her laughter. He didn't deserve her forgiveness either, but she supposed she had not been holding anything against him to begin with. The only one who had was her imaginary opposite she had created in her head. There was nothing to forgive him for when there was no resentment there to mend. The only resentment she had was for herself and the fact that she didn't have enough respect for herself to react appropriately to what he had done to her.
Draco watched his wife's laughter die down and she seemed to lose herself in thought. He was sure she was wondering why the fuck she was finding any sort of enjoyment there with him after what he had done to her, what he had said to her. He decided that he was disappointed when she stopped laughing and her smile faded. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so carelessly, and he was sure it was similar for her. Laughing at the ridiculousness of their lives. He had seen a trace of the girl in her memories, the one with the great spirit. He wanted to see her laugh more.
He was an idiot. He was an idiot to care about such things when their lives had come to this. He was an idiot to care about such things after he had abused her, degraded her, and threatened her life. His wife's life. He was an idiot to care about such things when Aurors were about to be in his home, interrogating them about the real things that mattered in the world at the moment, things that were not his romantic life.
But, what else did matter without his family? What did surviving mean if he wasn't living? Astoria was his family now.
"Why have you left me in here if it seems that you don't want to be around me?" Astoria asked him, breaking him from his tormented thoughts.
"This room has the best wards. I told you that," he told her, flicking a dismissive hand.
"I thought you said I was replaceable. So what would it matter if I was a bit less safe?"
Draco paused, listening to the tone of her voice. There was bitterness there instead of the hurt he would have expected. He supposed bitterness made more sense. She had worked to be the one to come out on top as his wife. She had earned the title of irreplaceable. The title he had denied her.
"I thought you said that you would rather die than marry me," he answered casually, sipping his drink while he remembered her words that she had said so confidently as a child.
Astoria pressed her lips together, looking slightly annoyed and amused at the same time.
"I can sleep when you're in my bed," he told her quietly after a few moments. It was true. Since the war, he had only been able to sleep a few hours at a time at most. Yet he had slept through the night once she had arrived.
"And what about the girls you have casual sex with?" She asked.
"Pardon?" He asked, surprised at such an out of the blue and inappropriate question coming from her.
"What about when they sleep in your bed?"
Draco shook his head, watching her for a moment. What was she on about?
"Can you sleep when they're in your bed?"
"No."
"I see. So you lied," she said with a hum. "I'm not replaceable."
Draco watched her, fighting a smirk at her boldness. "As did you," he replied. "Not only are you still alive and married to me, but you did everything to be married to me."