Heeeello! As always, I'm up late writing this so excuse me if I miss any questions or anything! Thank you for the support on the last chapter, you're all amazing and loyal and beautiful and perfect. If I DO end up writing Scorpius at some point I can assure you it will be no Cursed Child mess and he certainly won't be best friends with Harry Potter's son (sigh). My best friend is home for Spring Break, so I'm excited for that! What are you all doing for Spring Break? As always, leave your thoughts. I'm hungry for them.

I don't own anything from Harry Potter.

Draco approached Astoria slowly where she stood on his balcony staring out at the dark gardens. Her body was rigid and strands from from her blonde hair that was tucked into a bun broke loose in the wind and he watched her shiver slightly, her shoulders bare in her nightgown. She didn't move as he came towards her, she usually didn't, and he stopped just behind her.

He wasn't sure what to say at the moment. He knew she didn't like thinking of her brother, they weren't meant to speak of the disowned as it was, and he wasn't sure which memory she had been most disturbed by.

The fact that her mother had destroyed such an old, pure-blood family home in itself was incredibly shocking, and for a woman let alone a woman of the family that owned the home to do it was even more shocking.

Still, Draco strangely understood. Watching Freya Greengrass, Krat at the time, destroy the place that had held such terror for her was oddly satisfactory. Somehow he was sure he understood the woman even more than her own daughter before him. His own mother had not suffered nearly as much at the hands of his father as Freya and her mother did her own father, but even so just the sliver of familiarity of seeing his mother-in-law hiding away, listening to her mother in pain related him to the woman.

It was odd, understanding and feeling sympathy for another woman other than his mother to him, but he felt as if he knew Freya from the amount of time he had spent with the Pensieve, observing her in it. Draco was not a fan of watching someone die at the end of the killing curse, but when that Auror had received his fate Draco had felt a sense of justice. Freya's life surely would have been completely different had her father gone to prison as he should have for everything he had brought upon the women he was meant to care for.

Draco's eyes refocused on his wife and a cold chill ran through him as he watched her, remembering his own words as well as his own actions.

"It would be too easy to let you die. Just another poor, depressed housewife that couldn't take the loneliness of having all of the luxuries in the world without any work to do whatsoever. So she decided to end her own life."

He had threatened Astoria, threatened her that he would kill her and frame it as a suicide, yet here he was repulsed by a man who had done exactly that to his own wife.

He wouldn't have done it though. No, he was just angry. He hadn't spent time with Astoria, known the importance of her, known how irreplaceable she was.

Draco thought of his closest friend, Blaise, and what his wife's father had done. Blaise had said nothing after the truth of his father's death had been revealed to him, and Draco hadn't known how to react. Blaise had never spoken on the matter of his father much before, and the community had always assumed that Evelyn had killed all of her husband's, Blaise's father included. It's not as if the woman had attempted to deny it really, just simply accepted the fortunes they left behind. He guessed Aldrich didn't have reason to kill the ones after Nero, so he was sure Evelyn was responsible for the rest.

He supposed having a child slip a man poison would be much easier to do than an adult, as Nero Zabini had been known for being quite mad and a strange character of sorts.

What had Nero known?

He imagined he'd eventually find out, as the Pensieve hadn't seemed to be holding anything back from him. He thought of Joseph's warning, how he claimed it was a threat that the Pensieve had shown them such a scene. The Pensieve did seem to have a certain pattern of what it showed related to the topic of conversation. However, Draco hadn't figured out how to command it to show him certain things. He would attempt to give it a direction of memories to reveal, but it would do nothing in response. He supposed perhaps he should be nervous of Aldrich now on the possibility of him finding out that he knew some of his family's secrets, but he couldn't imagine the man sabotaging his daughter's husband in that way. If he fell, so would his daughter and so far Astoria had done the best out of his children.

Draco didn't know what to say to his wife, so instead he placed his hands on her unmoving shoulders, sliding his hands down to her arms and to her waist. Her skin was cold from the chilled wind, and the fabric of her short nightgown was thin enough that he could feel her goosebump covered skin beneath it. An urge to bury her in his chest and arms to shield her from the wind as well as warm her from the cold prickled at him, but the bitter taste of resentment for the witch still hadn't left his tongue, no matter how his instincts told him to comfort the small girl.

"You'll get sick," he told her, pulling back against her hips slightly as to indicate her to go inside.

He watched her head nod stiffly before she followed his guiding hands and turned to go back into his bedroom, moving to crawl onto his bed silently. Draco watched her, keeping his expression neutral as she pulled up the blankets slowly over her lap, staring towards the edge of the bed.

"May we talk about something else? Please?"

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly at this. He had questions for her, and he didn't necessarily feel like she had room to be making such requests considering the terms they were on as well as the fact her own father had murdered his best mate's father. He turned his attention away from her to undress and pull on pants to sleep in, considering what she had asked of him. He turned back to her, opening his mouth to respond before stopping at the appearance of his bed, squinting at the ruffled state is own side was in.

"What is this," he said flatly.

"Ah.. Um. Well," she responded, her voice turning sheepish.

He let out an irritated breath through his nose and stalked over to the bed, getting into it before grimacing at the traces of another woman's scent covering his space.

This was why he didn't want the bitch in his bedroom.

"Switch with me," he snapped irritably, pulling his wife over him impatiently to move to her side, settling away from the evidence of her older sister and into the more comfortable sweetness of his own witch. The house-elf would change out the bedding the next day at least.

She frowned, shifting to make herself comfortable in his place. "I'm sorry. She did it only to annoy you I think."

Draco gave her a dull look. Of course she had done it to irritate him. "I'm aware, Astoria."

"Why does it bother you? Surely you are fine with women in your bed."
"Not my personal bed."

"But I'm okay?"

"You're my wife."

"I'm special," she concluded, her previously disturbed face lifting slightly.

Yes, but he wasn't. Not to her.

"Mmm," he responded, touching her neck where her glamour charms were. "Remove them."

"My wand is beside you."

He rolled his eyes impatiently, taking his own wand to do it himself, satisfied once her skin was visibly claimed by him once more.

"No reason for such charms."

Astoria scowled, touching her neck. "I can't very well leave love bites on my neck for all to see. That would make me look cheap. I'm not a common whore."

"You can in front of irrelevant visitors such as Aurors. Or when your little boyfriend ends up back at my home once I'm finally able to refrain from slaughtering him."

"Draco," she protested, looking thoroughly bothered by this as she covered her neck uncomfortably as she thought it over.

"Don't argue," he snapped. "You're lucky I'm even allowing you back by my side."

Her lips pushed out ever so slightly in a subdued, unintentional pout and she took his pillow to curl around it. He recalled wondering how the child version of herself he had witnessed was the same as the girl he had married, but recently he had been seeing traces of her more and more. He was surprised to see her recover so quickly from the state she was in when he had taken her from her room, but he was sure she was making an effort to act as unaffected as possible in front of him. Her eyes were still duller than before and her expression still settled into something distant when relaxed. Especially now after the night they had had, and the things they had seen. She was like him, doing anything she could to push aside the things that haunted her, and in that relation he didn't want to interfere too much out of his own understanding.

"How is your mother?"

"She is.. Lonely," he said, his voice quiet.

"Did you tell her?"

"Yes."

Astoria's face fell and she turned away from him. "Why? She will hate me now. What if she tells your father..?"

"She won't tell my father," he said shortly. "She doesn't share with him such things, and no, she doesn't hate you. Though she ought to, but she seems to have a soft spot for you that I don't understand."

".. Don't you?"

"Don't I what, Astoria," he said, his voice flat again.

"Don't you understand?"

Draco said nothing, his eyebrows twitching at her boldness.

"Most men would have reacted worse to what I did.."

"Would you have preferred that?" He nearly snarled. Did the girl want him to be reminded of how weak he was when it came to her? Encourage him to correct himself?

"No.. But.. You seem to have a soft spot for me," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

Draco grit his teeth and turned over onto his side, unsure of how to react to her words. Of course he had a fucking soft spot for her. She was patient with him, she craved his attention. She appeared so innocent and her voice was so calming in that he felt able to breathe in her presence. He didn't feel alone with her, alone with his insecurities and unhappiness.

He winced when he felt her hand touch his back, her fingers gentle and soft as he felt the bed move slightly as she moved closer to him. She was pushing him now. She was getting into his space when he desperately needed a bit of distance from her, needed to clear his head of the good and remind himself of the snake she could be. Now he only had further proof, now that he had seen the types of things Greengrass had his children do. She was manipulative and knew her advantages.

His flood of negative thoughts paused when he felt her arm slide around his chest and her lips place a soft kiss on his shoulder.

Fuck her.

"I hope the schoolgirl romance was worth it," Joseph snapped coldly as he strode by his son who was lounging in their sitting room.

"You've already lectured me about this, father. Let's be done with it, yeah?"

Joseph stopped, his eyes narrowing on his son as hot anger burned through him. The absolute insolence of the boy.

"We will be done with it," he started slowly, his voice venomous. "When I decide to be done with it. If you speak to me that way again I will be done with you entirely and you can escort yourself out of my home without returning. Feel free to take your worthless mother with you."

"You wouldn't disown me, father. I'm your only heir," he told him, looking up at him coldly.

Joseph chuckled darkly and he approached his son, cold humor filling his eyes. "For now. Do you think it would be very hard for me to find a younger, much more capable wife to bare me more children should I choose to do so? I've more than enough reason to throw your mother to the dogs of alleyways. Don't push me, Theodore."

"You wouldn't do that to her. You aren't that cruel. Not to your own family."

"She's not my family," he hissed. "She's a burden who has put you in danger."

His son shook his head, looking away from him. "I fancied Astoria before she put me up to anything."

"Oh you fancied her," Joseph sneered. "How adorable. Of all the girls to fancy."

"She comes from a good family."

"Good family," Joseph scoffed, removing his cloak angrily.

"Mhm. Just because you have this feud with Freya Greengrass doesn't change the fact. It's not as if families never marry their children to those with parents they dislike."

"There are factors that go beyond my 'feud' with Freya that add to why Astoria would have never been married into this family. Now she's married into another, she belongs to another, and you've disrespected that instead of moving on like you should have if you had any sense at all. Her father is not likely to take that lightly and he's one of the men in our community to be cautious of." As if Joseph wanted Greengrass any closer to his family than absolutely necessary, but no. He lived with idiots.

"She came to me," Theodore snapped, "I did not force her here."

"Tell that to Greengrass, my brilliant son. I'm sure he will be quite understanding."

Ophelia had distanced herself from Edric, staying quiet during class and keeping to her work. She knew she was probably just being ridiculous, but she hadn't been able to help how spooked she had gotten from both the boy who had looked at her with such hatred as well as Edric and his lack of denial of murder of all things. She had to stop seeing him as her friend or someone who didn't have complete disgust for her very existence. She had to stop fancying a boy who she would never have a chance with. Not even that she wouldn't have a chance, he'd probably spit at the thought of being with someone like her.

A poor, bastard mudblood.

He was interesting and charming, yes, just as well as he was polite, but he had been trained to act that way. Just as his little sister had said in the bookshop: they were not to say mudblood in public.

No, she would not become the brunt of his jokes with his nasty friends who held looks for her as that boy did or hatred like Charlotte Blythe did. Those were all his people, people he understood and got along with. Besides, it's not as if he seemed to mind when she had stopped speaking with him as much. She was sure he was very relieved actually.

Why was she thinking about this so much? She was sure he didn't think twice about her.

Which is why she had to let her little fascination for the Slytherin die and start seeing Samue; a Gryffindor boy in her year that had asked her to Hogsmeade one trip and had been talking to her more and more ever since. She did like him, he was very fun. Though, he was a bit cocky, and had a way of puffing out his chest at times in a rather pompous way. She did not find that attractive much, but she supposed she shouldn't be too picky. A good man was a good man, and he showed a lot of promise to be someone she could continue with after Hogwarts.

He was a decent kisser, which is what they were doing then in the hallways that night in-between their common rooms. He was a bit hands-on and careless as well as clumsy when touching her while they snogged, but it was still enjoyable. She felt his hands shove up her sweater and froze when she heard the sound of a throat clearing in front of them.

What time was it?
She pushed Samuel away from her to look to the source of the interrupting noise, nearly dying at the sight. Of course it was him. Why wouldn't it be him? When did she not have such luck?

"It's after hours. Did you realize?" The Head Boy asked, his tone polite as it usually was, but the cold pleasantness of it took her off slightly and she stepped back a bit to press herself slightly into the wall, feeling intimidated and embarrassed.

"Right then, sorry 'bout that. Didn't realize. It can't be more than a few minutes past though, yeah? We'll be on our way then. Night, 'Phelia."

A low chuckle came from Edric and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Unfortunately, you're five minutes past actually, as well as being so openly intimate in the halls. I'd say that's worth.. Ten points for each minute, as well as one detention for each minute of your inappropriate relations that you deemed necessary to make so public."

Ophelia's mouth opened in shock, staring at the boy in front of her as Samuel began to protest loudly.

"I'd suggest you stop arguing and get to bed before I add more," he responded calmly, watching them until they separated themselves, both heading to their own common rooms.

"Goodnight, 'Phelia," she heard Edric tell her back mockingly and she paused for a moment, considering turning around to tell him off before she resumed her pace, furious.

In class the next night Ophelia waited for it to end in agitation so she could confront her partner about his ridiculous punishment for such a minor offense. Once they had walked to their usual spot, a bit far from the castle itself, she threw her books down loudly, whirling on him and throwing her hands up, looking to his scowling face in response to her small tantrum.

"Well?" She demanded.

"Well what? Is there a problem with the books my mother paid for?"

Ophelia took a step back, feeling slightly dizzied with that cruel comment. He had never gone in that direction before.

"Come along, love. We don't have all night," he told her, raising an infuriating eyebrow at her.

"You know what I'm getting out," she grit out, looking away from him.

"Hmm. I do not."

"That exorbitant amount of punishment you-"

"Exorbitant? Be careful with those words. I'm not sure if your boyfriend is able to understand them."

Ophelia stared at him, realization coming over her at his behavior, his particularly rude statements towards her.

"If I didn't know any better, Edric," she said slowly. "I would say that you were jealous."

Humor touched his eyes and suddenly Ophelia was doubting her conclusion. What if he wasn't jealous at all and she had just made a total idiot of herself?

"Well I suppose it's a good thing you know better then, isn't it?"

"It's a figure of speech," she said shortly. "I think you are jealous."

"Oh? I have to comment on your new show of bravery. Perhaps it's your Gryffindor idiot rubbing off on you. However, like a Gryffindor, your burst of confidence only makes you look a fool. Please tell me what he has that would warrant envy from me," he said smoothly, his icy eyes watching her intently.

She hesitated, suddenly quite insecure with him there, staring her down and telling her she appeared foolish.

"Speak up then. Where is the boldness that you had only a moment ago gone?"

She said nothing before she turned to pick up her books.

"You believe that I'm jealous because of you, no? That I'm envious of the fact that he has a mudblood to fornicate with?"

She froze, feeling her face crumble into hurt as he called her that word, that word she knew he used but it was much different hearing him actually use it against her. She turned to him, not caring that her face betrayed her feelings towards his comment.

"What is it? You don't like when I act like the mean pure-blood you've convinced yourself that I am? Hmm?" He asked, his tone light as he stepped towards her.

What did he mean by that? Act like? That's exactly what he was, and he was proving it.

"You're terribly transparent, I hope you know. First, you shuffle around me like a shy schoolgirl, blushing and hiding your face, and now you've decided that I'm much too frightening for you and you must try to get over your little obsession by distracting yourself with someone well below you," he went on, something new filling his eyes as he stepped towards her again.

"Below me? Are you truly saying that Samuel is below me? A, as you just stated, mudblood? Please. As if you don't already view me as below a stray dog. You couldn't even stand it when I had touched you that day I had been startled!" She tried to snap the words, but her voice grew thick and she feared she may cry.

"You have no idea what I think or view you as, Ophelia. Do not try to tell me what's in my own head."

"So you deny being disgusted when I touched you?" She asked, shaking her head.

"That not what I said."

She closed her eyes, frustrated and pained by this humiliating game he was playing with her.

"Come here," he said simply, standing still.

"What?" She asked, nearly huffing in her exasperation.

"I won't repeat myself again. You believe I can't stand to touch you. Come here then."

Her stomach rolled in on itself at his words and a weird pulse of adrenaline came through her, causing her to shiver. She looked down at the small amount of distance between them, not sure what "here" meant. She stepped forward against her better judgement, closing most of the gap between them. Still, he waited, unmoving and seemingly not even breathing. She set her jaw and stepped forward again until their bodies were only inches apart and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

"No, I'm not jealous of him, Ophelia. But I don't share."

Ophelia opened her mouth to answer with her confusion when his hand came into her hair and his mouth came down on her parted lips, kissing her languidly. Her eyes widened before they fluttered closed as his lips possessed hers, careful yet hungry in their deliberate movements. She drew in a shuddering breath before she wrapped her arms around his neck eagerly, pushing herself closer to him and moving her lips compliantly against his. She felt his hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the nearby cluster of trees and out of sight as their kisses grew more feverish, urgent.

He pushed her roughly against one of the trees, grabbing her by her hips and pulling her slightly upwards so she'd wrap her legs around his waist. He hummed his approval when her legs were where he had silently directed her to put them and deepened their kiss again, tasting her as she tasted him, and God did she taste him. She felt his hands skim along the bottom of her sweater, his fingers moving along her bare skin there causing her to shiver and push slightly against his hands, wanting him to touch more of her. He was too good, much better than any other boy she had briefly dated in the past. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Ophelia silently mourned her satisfaction that she was receiving now that she'd likely never receive quite in the same way again with any other man. His hands brushed against her ribs now and she sighed against his lips before he broke from them as they moved to press just below her ear.

"Do you still believe that I can't stand to touch you?" He murmured against her skin and she shivered hard, drawing a chuckle from him before he placed an open mouthed kiss against the spot. She felt his teeth graze there lightly as her flesh was slightly pulled into his mouth. She felt her throat vibrate as she sounded her quiet approval before pulling her arms from his neck to run her hands up his chest, wanting to study every inch of him.

Before she realized it their clothes were being pushed aside and his hand was somewhere no man had ever been allowed to touch before, probing and invading. She moaned quietly and gripped onto his shoulders when his fingers rubbed against the most sensitive part of her, causing her to roll her hips against his hand. When he shifted himself and pulled his hand away once satisfied with her body's readiness to position himself in front of her he stopped, spotting the nervous anticipation on her face and slight stiffness of her body.

"You didn't tell me you were a virgin," he said gently, his tone almost remorseful.

She felt her face burn and she tried to gather her voice to respond, stopping when she saw the flash of possession in his eyes and she felt herself being moved from the tree. He laid her down slowly, pushing his cloak that she still wore outside with him off of her shoulders before dragging her down slightly so her head was resting on the fabric of the cloak and not the ground. When he kissed her again his mouth was soft, nearly sweet against hers now and she felt him tug her sweater off, unclothing her completely before covering her with his own body that somehow was also bare in the lengthy amount of time he had spent on her. Oddly, she didn't feel self conscious or exposed to the world as the whole time he was practically shielding her with his own cloak that draped over the sides of them as he settled over her.

Was she truly about to give her first time to this boy in such a way? He was about to screw her into the ground, the ground where his own felt she belonged, where he would likely leave her when he was done with her. Somehow, shamefully, this thought only burned her desire for him more and her arms went around his shoulders as she caught his lower lip between her teeth, urging him to give her more. His kisses turned from gentle to rough in response and she whimpered as his hips pushed down against hers, feeling the length of him against her flesh which burned in response of her need for him.

Once inside her he was still, having pulled his lips from hers to pepper kisses along her chest and collarbones. Her eyes moved up to the moon above them, her eyelids heavy before she closed them and arched her back, gasping as this urged him to rock forward slowly, beginning their rhythm. His fingers found that responsive place again and a much louder moan escaped her lips which he quieted with a kiss. She could feel the amused set of his mouth as he kissed her and she heard him cast a silencing spell over them when he broke away before quickening his pace considerably, their movements becoming more urgent as her body began to practically sing praises for him in its pleasure.

Yes, it was good he had covered their sounds as he was drawing quite noisy ones from her as they came closer to their peak. When she did reach her end she felt her body shake as she desperately pulled at his shoulders, her nails clawing into his skin before she cried his name, her head falling back and his lips ran across her pulse as she trembled beneath him.

Even after he himself was finished he continued to caress her as her body began to cool and relax, kissing her again for a while before he finally pulled away. She closed her eyes and waited for him, half expecting him to dress himself and leave her there to return to the castle alone. Instead, he slowly helped her dress first before himself, helping her up off of the ground and pulling the cloak back around her properly before quietly leading her back to the castle, neither of them speaking as he left her near her common room before returning to his own.

She stared forward, her mind pulling in a million directions before she forced herself into her common room, finding her friend waiting for her.

"Where have you been?! It's five minutes after hours! Didn't you just get in trouble for - Oh. Oh no," Violet cut off, assessing the state she was in before rushing in front of her, an excited glint in her eye. "You did not have sex tonight. With Samuel? Sorry, but I can't imagine that being very good, but you look like you had a thorough fu.. Wait. You're with Greengrass tonight after class. You had time to meet up with your boyfriend after that?"

Ophelia stared at her, sure she looked like a complete and utter mess as she looked at her friend with wide eyes, mortified and confused at what had gotten into both her and her Astronomy partner.

"Wait.." Violet said slowly, backing up a step before a slow build of giggles began. "You didn't.. I was just kidding! I didn't think you'd actually.. That he'd actually. Holy shit!" Violet clapped her hands loudly, practically jumping all around and Ophelia caught her hands roughly, hissing at her to shut up.

"Cheating on your boyfriend with a pure-blood, prejudice Slytherin? Wow, I can't believe we are talking about you and not me!"

"I.. I didn't cheat," Ophelia managed miserably, an immense amount of guilt filling her at her friend's words. "We never confirmed our relationship status really.."

"Oh, no! No no. You cheated," her friend purred. "Don't play that innocent, you cold bitch. My sweet Ophelia is growing up, breaking hearts and all. Wait, did you honestly just lose your virginity outside?"