Hello my loves! Alright some questions: Astoria and schooling. Okay so this was basically my bad, as when I was setting this up I was like "Okay what about Hogwarts. I need a reason she isn't at the school" and then I was like "I'll explain it later" and theeeen later never came and I forgot about it. Astoria is meant to be going into her seventh year and she finished sixth (she was married in the summer and her birthday was sometime in the beginning of August). I'll explain what's going on with Hogwarts at some point coming. As for Astoria being able to leave: I literally was like "Jordan put an explanation of why she can leave before the end of this chapter" (I obviously didn't). I realized I didn't and then"Oh maybe they won't ask before the next chapter" (you did), so I'll explain it this chapter! Haha, honestly I can't complain because the fact you're paying so much attention means so much! Oh and as for the magic that comes with being married: I'll explain that a bit better soon as well. As always, thank you so much for your encouragement, as it carries this story along. What are you all doing for Spring Break? I'm debating on visiting my father's house, but meh. It's a long drive and we always get into at least one crying/storming off fight. Plus, my friends will be home from school soo. Those of you worried for Drastoria, have faith!

I don't own anything from Harry Potter.

The Manor was just as cold and dark as Astoria had left it, but only now her mother was there, waiting for her.

Not now. Please not her, not now.

"Astoria," Freya quipped, squinting at her. "What is going on with your face."

Astoria wrapped her arms around herself, struggling to keep herself from becoming a blubbering mess in front of her harsh mother. She opened her mouth to greet her but stopped, realizing there was no way she could get any clear words out.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Astoria," she snapped. "Get a hold of yourself. Your weakness is nauseating. Where is your husband? You went out without him?"

Astoria shook her head, she didn't know where Draco was or if he had come home. She hoped he wasn't there, and she hoped he would calm his anger at least a bit before he returned.

"I expected your sister to be holed up here, avoiding her new husband. I was coming to check on her actually, but as she doesn't appear to be here I suppose my trip was an unnecessary risk."

Yes, an unnecessary risk. Her mother certainly hadn't come to check on her after she had married Draco. It wasn't about their well-being; it was about whether or not they were acting correct towards their husbands.

Both of the women looked to the house-elf when it appeared into the room, informing Astoria that her things had been moved back to her own bedroom.

So he had come back, and she had been kicked out of his bedroom.

Freya watched the spot where the house-elf disappeared from for a while before turning to look at Astoria again, her familiar green eyes searching. "Where have you come from, Astoria?" She asked slowly, her tone gentler now.

Astoria felt her lower lip tremble like a child as heavy tears pooled in her eyes, spilling over and dripping down her face. "The Nott's," she barely got out, covering her mouth with her hand as if she were going to vomit.

Her mother's face fell in a way Astoria had never seen, a look of sympathy filling her features as she went to her, pulling her into an embrace that she hadn't experienced from her mother since she was a little girl.

That pushed her passed control.

She fell apart in her mother's arms, pressing her face into her warm shoulder as she shook with sobs and Freya lowered them both to sit on one of the couches. Astoria sucked in a breath, breathing her mother's familiar scent, taking comfort in it and her closeness. The scent of her was different than she appeared, natural and a mix of essential oils with just a bit of a lighter perfume as opposed to being soaked in a strong, sweet perfume as many of the women they knew were.

Freya let her cry in her arms until her sobs quieted as Freya hummed softly, the same tune Astoria had come to know and hum herself, rubbing her back with the tips of her fingertips. She wasn't sure why her mother was being so out of character, but she wasn't sure what she would have done if she hadn't been there to soothe her.

"I won't force you to tell me what happened, but if you'd like to I'm here to listen," her mother told her once Astoria had quieted, her breath coming in childlike hiccups.

Gratitude swept over her at her mother's words. She wasn't demanding the truth, she didn't take the truth, but she gave her a choice instead. Astoria felt an odd satisfaction when she decided herself to tell her mother what happened, explaining everything to her on her own will. It shocked her how comfortable she felt doing so, as she didn't know anyone more likely to be mercilessly critical to her than her mother.

Freya was quiet for a long time after Astoria had finished, and her arms had stiffened around her more than once when she had been speaking. She wondered if she was planning on saying anything at all. Astoria didn't mind either way as just the fact that she was here when she needed her, though she didn't know she'd ever need her in this way, was enough.

"Love is the worse pain you will ever come to know, sweetheart," she said finally. "You've felt it one way, and now you're feeling it another. I am so sorry that on top of all the difficulties you have to put up with you have to experience this as well."

There was a long pause, and Astoria was stunned by her mother's thoughtful and mournful words for her. She didn't want to think about what she meant when she had told her she had already felt the pain of love in one way, so she mentally disregarded that bit.

"Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, you have survived this and will continue to survive it."

"I don't want to only survive," Astoria replied, her voice small. "I want to feel like I'm living. I want to feel like I'm someone more than just a wife to my husband just as so many others."

"The price for the top is high, and it's a price we will keep paying until the day we are surviving no longer."

The top of what? What was the point?

Astoria closed her eyes, shivering. She appreciated her mother's honesty, but the truth was not at all relieving. "I just wish I wasn't so stupid," she whispered.

Freya took a deep breath, adjusting Astoria in her arms. "I'm not going to tell you that you aren't stupid, as you yourself have made yourself believe that, and only you yourself can convince yourself otherwise. Though I do have to remind you that you are my daughter."

Astoria smiled slightly against her mother's clothes, nodding slowly. "How could I forget? You make a point of making yourself memorable."

"That's right," she answered and Astoria could hear the smirk in her voice. "I do love you, Astoria. I know I don't tell you enough, and I know I'm hard to love back, but I never wanted this for you. You deserve so, so much better," she continued, her voice breaking off slightly near the end in warning of tears. Astoria had never seen her mother cry. "You definitely don't deserve to pay for the things I've done."

"Were you ever in love?" She asked quietly, changing the subject.

"Yes."

"But not with father."

Her mother laughed in response and Astoria nodded, expecting as much. "Have I met him?"

"No."

Astoria frowned. She was sure she had met nearly every man in their community. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure, darling."

Astoria decided to drop it, not wanting to push her mother. She sat up and touched her puffy eyes lightly, letting out a shuddering breath.

"Well, you look like thorough shit," Freya told her, grimacing as she examined her face. "Perhaps it's a good thing you've been thrown out of your husband's bedroom."

That was the mother that she knew, her kindness was fun while it lasted.

"I must be going, Astoria. I've already been here much longer than necessary," she told her and Astoria stood, swaying slightly in dizziness and exhaustion. "Get some sleep and do something about your appearance. A pretty face is harder for a man to ruin, and I can assure you Draco definitely wants to ruin you right about now."

Freya was so fucking tired.

She was so tired of the bullshit that smothered every inch of this complete monstrosity of a life she was attempting to push through. Every time she felt things could not get worse: life had a way of reminding her that it was always possible to get worse.

She found herself in the inside of the Nott home, not shocked that Joseph had not changed the wards from what they were when she was a teenager with him. Though the place had changed a bit aside from the wards and the home felt similarly to the Malfoy Manor now. Cold and dark, just as her old friend had changed in the same way.

Freya examined the large glass display cabinet on the side wall before pointing her wand at it and watching it shatter, the loud sound of glass exploding filling the mansion. She blocked the shards from hitting her just before they cut her skin, waiting calmly for the man of the house to come and inspect the noise.

"Hmm. Your entrances always were lovely, Freya. Though I have to inform you: it is possible to act like a normal person and simply ask for me," Joseph said from behind her, a false kindness in his voice.

She turned around, meeting Joseph's angry gaze, and resentment for the man she used to care so deeply for burned in her throat.
"Oh, but my way is so much more satisfying, love," she told him, a tight smile on her face. "We have serious matters to discuss."

"We haven't discussed any matters for long enough that I don't believe that's true. I'm sure we can go much, much longer without any speaking. I'd prefer it that way, really."

Freya tsked, shaking her head pitifully. "I would respect that but," she broke off, looking away from him and laughing quietly, almost madly. "But now you've gone after my child, and you've made her cry. Does it feel good? Making a young girl cry? Now I must make yours cry, as it's only fair."

Joseph shook his head, looking at her as if she was completely mental. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Freya. I don't go near your children, and I don't care to make them cry or whatever nonsense you're claiming."

"No? Your son tells my daughter differently. She was just here actually, did you see her?"

"I just got home, Freya," he ground out, looking frustrated.

"Aw, cute. Still around fucking whores then. Let's find little Theo, yes? Your lovely wife too. You both need to see your child suffer as I've seen mine," she told him brightly, pushing passed him to make her way up the stairs. She turned to him again, sensing his advances, pointing her wand in return to his pointed at her. "Now, that's not fair," she scolded. "You ought not curse someone with their back turned. No need to show me up, I know this house probably better than your own wife."

"You won't go near my son," he said darkly, stepping towards her.

"I won't? Are you going to stop me? I recall the last time you attempted to fight me. It didn't end well for you."

"Didn't end well for you either, Freya. Now let us talk about this calmly as adults, as I sincerely don't know what you're talking about."

"Your son seduced my daughter," she hissed, lowering her wand and walking towards him again. "He seduced her because your wife told him to."

Joseph closed his eyes, dropping his head back.

"And now her heart is broken and she's cheated on her husband."

Joseph said nothing for a while, not opening his eyes or lifting his head. "Freya," he said finally, his voice even. "I swear to you. I was not aware of this, and I have warned her against these things."

"I can't believe anything you say anymore. You lost the right to my trust," she spat, turning again.

"You truly need a fucking translator because I never know what the fuck you're talking about as you're either speaking in riddles or plainly making shit up. I never lied to you."

"Or perhaps the problem is that you don't know how to listen. You never lied to me? That's interesting, as I recall you setting my own brother on me after you assured me that you'd never do that."

Confusion fell over his face before understanding erased it and he began to shake his head in disbelief. "That.. That is what this is all about. Everything.. Everything you have done, everything that has happened between us. Are you fucking joking me, you crazy bitch?" He asked in almost a choke, laughing in bewilderment. "You sold out my family, my parents who adored you, you ruined me.. Because I informed your brother of you being a fucking idiot?"

"You don't know anything, Nott," she replied coldly, nearly shaking in anger at his words, words that belittled what he had done, what was his fault. "Nothing."

"You betrayed me over that petty bullshit. I can't believe you. This has to be a joke," he went on, still in shock.

"You betrayed me. I returned the favor."

"The favor was not evenly returned!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "For fuck's sake, Freya. It was what was best for you."

Freya started laughing quite hard at that. What was best for her? Why did men always defend their wrongs with such an excuse? Who was he to decide what had been best for her?

"Thank you so much, Joseph. Thank you for letting my horrible sibling take care of me to make sure I wouldn't be a 'fucking idiot' any longer. Truly, what a good friend you are."

"I knew you wouldn't listen to me, so I had to tell him, but you're right. It was mistake."

"A mistake," she repeated. "A mistake? Yes, men are allowed their fair share of mistakes, aren't they? Though when you've made enough of them and we lose our sanity: we're suddenly 'crazy bitches'."

"I'm sorry for snitching on you, love," he sneered. "I truly deserved your exorbitant amount of revenge."

"Glad we can agree," she said through her teeth, resisting the urge to lift her wand to him.

"I'd like you to leave. I will speak to both my son and wife. Nothing else will happen to your family because of mine again."

"The damage is done, darling, and my husband will surely not be pleased to hear of this."

Joseph stiffened, a slight panic filling his eyes but he held his composure for the most part. "Freya. Please," he said calmly.

"Aw, more scared of my husband than me?" She pouted, pushing out her lower lip mockingly. "I'm hurt."

"I'm begging you," Joseph said, ignoring her mocking as his shoulders fell, looking slightly defeated.

She was sure he was quite fed up with his misfortunes. Tired, as was she.

"Begging? Will you get on your knees too? You're good at that, I know."

"Freya," he said again, his eyes tired. "Please don't hurt my son. He's my child."

"And Astoria is my child," she replied angrily, her voice coming out oddly weak as she hadn't realized she had become emotional. "And for some reason I can't fucking seem to get anything right when it comes to my children, and I can't protect them, I can't protect them from the nightmare I brought them into. My son-"

"The boy was a disgusting blood traitor. Nothing to do about that, and absolutely no reason to still address him as your own. It's degrading to yourself and to your family to keep claiming a blood traitor as your own."

"Speak of my son that way again," she said softly, feeling herself burn with fury and protectiveness. "I dare you."

Joseph blinked at her like she was stupid, shaking his head. "The boy was a blood traitor," he repeated, though without the rest of the offenses this time of course.

"Oh no!" She cried dramatically. "Not a blood traitor! Anything but that, they're horrible! Filthy! Not us though, of course. We are pure. Clean. Aren't we, Joseph?"

"Mmm."

"Pure," she said again. "Though I feel so filthy with sin I can't seem to comprehend the thought of being clean."

"Sin," he scoffed oddly. "A religious concept, no? Have you left your old witch ideals behind, Freya?"

Freya ignored him, her gaze becoming unfocused. "We pride ourselves on being pure, being the best, yet here we are. At the top. Miserable. We're all fucking miserable. Yet they, the 'filthy', are out there living well enough to attract our own to their side. Why? Because they aren't miserable like us, but somehow we are still shocked when people on our side wish to leave, but is it truly shocking?"

"Dangerous thoughts you're having. I'd be worried about such words falling into the wrong ears," he told her stiffly, watching her intently.

"And I suppose your ears are the right ones?"

"No. Which is why I'm not sure why you're saying the things you are, as well as addressing the boy as if he's still yours."

As if he was still hers.

As if the child she had birthed could ever not be her own, the child she raised, the child that somehow came out good and decent.

"And of the children that are mine? The ones who I showed my love to by closing my eyes and covering my ears to all of the disgusting-" She cut off, controlling her voice. "I'm just as fucking terrible as every person that ever wronged me, that ever wronged the people around me, that ever wronged anyone with our terrible ways that we for some reason accept under the excuse of purity. I'm just as terrible as every person I absolutely despised growing up. No, 'the boy' made the best decision he could have ever made, and if he could make it again I hope he would. I hope he would make the decision to get far away from this, us, me again. I could have stopped him, as he was still there when I got to him after my husband left with Astoria. Crying, hesitating. Crying because he was scared, hesitating because he didn't want to abandon me or his sisters. But I wouldn't even look at him and I told him to leave, told him not to not come back. I made him believe he was dead to me before he actually left because I wanted him to get out. He deserved to get out. Now go ahead and expose my little confession, Joseph. Do you think you can do much worse to my life? I just told my little girl that if she looked pretty enough maybe her husband wouldn't beat her as hard. What," she broke off again, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. She pressed her fingers against the sides of her head in frustration and bewilderment. "What kind of fucking mother says that? Leaves her daughter alone with that? Please. Expose me. Put me out of my misery, because I am so fucking tired, Nott. But wait, it wouldn't matter. Nothing would change, as my husband would never allow any sort of scandal to fall over the family. You would just fall yourself for attempting to expose me, and I would still remain. Stuck."

She heard him sigh and saw him reach for her in her blurred vision, reminding her of what he used to be to her. She tilted her head, offering him a hand. "Go on and touch me, darling. Aldrich has made sure our magical binding is quite strong, and he will know immediately."

Joseph dropped his hand and stepped away. Freya laughed through her tears. "Don't worry about your precious little boy, Joseph. I haven't seen my husband in a couple weeks anyway. Oh and," she held out her hands in a presenting manner, looking around the empty mansion before dropping them at her sides. "Enjoy the top, enjoy your purity. I can tell by the shadows on your face and the coldness in your eyes that you're very, very happy."

With that, she was gone from his home before he could say anything else.

Draco sat on the edge of his bed, grinding his teeth relentlessly as he fought to control the rage that coursed through him.

Nott had won.

He had touched his wife, that he knew for sure, and surely it was more than just a simple touch as Draco had not made many efforts to strengthen their bonds enough to recognize the smaller things.

She had allowed him to touch her, he knew that as well. She had wanted him to touch her. She loved him.

Draco felt a fresh wave of fury wash over him as he sneered the words in his head.

Love.

She was a stupid, unfaithful whore who had no right to be in his home and no right to bear his name. She wasn't good enough for him.

He wasn't good enough for her.

Hurt filled him now, pushing the anger aside though not replacing it. He had been trying, he had been trying and yet again he had found himself not good enough. Not even for his own wife.

He cursed himself for never actually changing the wards to force her prisoner in the Manor. He had thought it unsafe in case she was ever trapped when he wasn't there should someone actually manage to get into the home. He had trusted her not to actually attempt to leave to check his claims of imprisonment.
He obviously had put his trusts in the wrong person.

He felt a bitterness for his mother, forcing this girl on him, pushing him to attempt to care for her, care for the woman who had just cheated on him with his friend.

Friend. Nott wasn't his friend, but he had been around him enough to be near as much. Despite the fact they did not favor each other, this still felt like a betrayal on his part as well.

He thought of her confession of love to Nott again, thought of their kissing again, thought of their exchanges again. He couldn't handle them, they tormented him.

The way she had attacked Nott that night had made him aware of her feelings. She was so angry, angry in her passion. It wasn't hatred, it wasn't dismissal as it should have been. If she had truly hated Nott over taking her memories she would have left through room and allowed Draco to handle it. No, she was angry that he left her, not just that he had taken from her mind against her will. She was angry that he had left her to marry Draco, who she did not love.

Actually, based on her memories she didn't like Draco at all, but she had always favored Nott, hadn't she? Yet she had married him, used him for his name, just as he always knew. That was all he was to her, and all he would ever be.

Draco shouldn't have left her alone in the first place after the scene with Nott, but he was too disgusted, too furious to stay there any longer. He didn't want to hurt her in his show of temper, and in return she hurt him in the worst way.

Now he did want to hurt her. He wanted to leave his room and truly harm her, make her cry for forgiveness. He wouldn't forgive her, not after this. He also knew that violence wouldn't truly hurt her anyway, as physical pain only hurt so much. He also knew that the sight of her weakened him, and he doubted he'd get very far in revenge if he tried to face her. The sweetness of her face contrasted what she really was, and the appearance of innocence made him weak.

No, if it wasn't him she wanted then fine. She didn't have to have anyone.

She could have her loneliness that she feared so much.