Secrets and Masks

49. Nightmare? Or vision?

1st January

Although no one could deny that the information Astoria had gotten from Crouch Jr was invaluable, it came at a high cost, one which Astoria had been forced to pay herself. The spells she'd cast to erase their interaction from Crouch's mind - and the few she'd used to wipe Amycus's memory and banish the blood she'd vomited - had taken a toll on her, and for the three days that followed the Gala, she did nothing but sleep and vomit blood.

Blaise was furious with her for taking such a risk. He was angry that she hadn't called Theo to pull her out sooner and he was seething that she'd been alone with Crouch in the first place, but mostly, he was distraught that he hadn't been there to protect her when she'd really needed him to.

Over the days that followed, Hermione helped Blaise care for Astoria where she could. She brought him blood replenishing potions and extra strong Pepperup potions, and brewed dozens more to store away for emergencies, but Blaise hardly needed the help.

It was incredibly sweet, to see the way Blaise cared for Astoria. Every time she fell ill, it was always the same thing. Although Blaise was a lot more tactful than Theo and Malfoy were - shunning away the use of grotesque spells that decapitated his enemies, choosing more sophisticated methods of torture - Hermione knew he could be just as ruthless as his friends, and yet, whenever Astoria was taken ill, that ruthlessness in him was stripped away.

Every time her blood curse flared up, it was as though their life had jumped forward sixty years. Blaise was no longer a Gold Mask and Astoria was no longer the glamorous witch that strutted about the manor in heels. They became an elderly couple, Astoria lying in bed, not a single glamour charm insight, while her husband sat on a stool beside her bed and spoon-fed her potions and broths, hoping it would give her strength to see another day. In those moments, they were like old souls trapped in the bodies of their younger selves, and it was an incredible thing to see, the way someone so fragile could make even the most ruthless death eater into someone soft and tender.

Romy took Astoria's illness almost as hard as Blaise did. He barely left her bedside, bless his little heart. He brought her every potato based dish he could think of, fluffed her pillows and insisted - absolutely insisted - on brushing Astoria's hair each morning and evening, even though she was asleep.

"Miss would not like us to see her like this, with her hair all messy," the tiny elf would chirp as he ran the brush oh so softly through Astoria's silky blonde hair. "She would still want to look nice, even whens she is sleeping. Miss always has to look her best, and Romy does not mind making Miss look her best. If Miss looks nice, then she will get better. Romy knows it."

By the end of the third day, Blaise had managed to get her coughing fits under control through potions and enchantments, and although she wasn't vomiting blood every time she dry heaved anymore, she was still exhausted and struggling to lift her head off the pillow.

While her illness bound her to her bed, Blaise never left her side, and with Astoria so ill, no one was in the mood to celebrate Christmas, so they spent the usually happy day separated. Instead of showering his wife with gifts, like he did each year, Blaise spent the day at her bedside, holding back tears and trying to nurse her back to health. Instead of spending the day getting drunk with his sister-in-law, like he usually did, Theo drowned in whiskey and kept to himself, sitting cross-legged in front of Daphne's grave and laying his gifts to her at the empty rocks feet like an alter.

And instead of locking herself in her bedroom and spending the day in isolation, like she had the previous year, Hermione spent it with Malfoy.

They spent hours dissecting every ounce of the information Astoria had gathered from Crouch Jr, huddled over a table in Malfoy's family library with books scattered below them. They went over maps of Nottinghamshire to try and find a way into Newstead Abbey, and they poured over defensive spells and possible enchantments Crouch could have used to booby trap the area well into the early hours of the morning, and when they were finished, Malfoy knocked all the books off the table with one sharp swipe of his arm, laid Hermione on top of it, and fucked her until she saw stars.