Malediction: the love and life of Astoria Malfoy

Chapter Fifteen

We were both quiet for the rest of that night, already mourning my predestined fate.

It wasn't until the next day that he interrogated me with a million questions.

Is it painful? Is it getting worse? What are the symptoms? The worst being, How long until --. . . . Until I died.

There was a dimness to his cool, clear eyes. A noticeable deflation as I answered his questions.

When Pansy saw us again in the Great Hall, she asked in her sweetest voice, "Have a nice chat last night, did you?"

"Shut up, Pansy," Draco said. He said it so sharply, so forcefully, even I was taken aback.

But when the day was over, and the next dawned, he acted as though nothing was wrong, like nothing had changed.

I couldn't understand -- I was dying, and I'd lied to him about it (well, omitted it from him), and yet he was totally normal.

I didn't question it.

Yes, yes. I was well aware of my selfish intentions. I was dying, it was going to happen. Why keep this up, if it can only end with him heart broken (assuming it goes further than a school relationship)?

I knew this. I knew I would end things before anything could get worse; I wouldn't marry him or anything just so I could die.

No, no way. But, what was the harm of dating him now? We were both still in school, I wasn't dead yet; all was well.

I heard the holes in my plan, saw them, but I didn't care. My inconsideration had the better of me, and I didn't want to let him go yet. And it was made all the worse when Draco opened a letter from his father one May morning.

He had shut his eyes tightly and sighed after he'd read it, letting it plop onto the table.

"What?" I asked, swallowing a fork full of eggs.

He shook his head, handing me the letter.

Draco,

Seeing as your nineteenth birthday is coming up in June, your mother and I have been discussing the importance of your future, our future. The Malfoy line. It is imperative we, as a family, ensure the security of our bloodline. There are many viable options, however, in light of the past year we've had as a family, certain complications have arisen. I think it better if we discuss it in person. I'm sure you understand our situation. Together, we may guarantee honorable prospects for our family name.

-L. Malfoy

"Your father signs his letters to you as L. Malfoy?" I said.

"You know what this means right?" he asked, apparently not in the mood for humor.

I sighed. "Yes, he wants to auction you off," I said calmly. He rested his cheek in his palm.

"What am I gonna do?" He was asking himself more than me.

I ate another bite of eggs before continuing. "Just tell him we're together"-- a sip of pumpkin juice, -- "I'm a Greengrass. I'm sure that'll be fine with him."

He nodded, but he didn't look convinced, with a distant haze in his eyes.

Five days later, Draco received another distressful letter, copying his mannerisms from last time.

"What now?" I asked nervously.

He was quiet for a moment, then turned to me, a sort of sympathetic scrunch in his nose. "They want to have you over for dinner," he said.

I nodded. "Okay. No big deal, I mean, you had dinner with my parents, and I'm sure that was far more awkward then what this one will be." I tried to say it as reassuring as possible, still confused by his anguish.

Of course, being me, I had a few theories as to the cause.

One, being my sickness. The fact that I may not be able to have a child, thus the Malfoy line dying. I had a few thoughts on this. On the basis of believing that this was in fact his train of thought then, first, I was flattered by his already thinking that far into the future, a future with me; but that was beside the point.

Then, of course, there was the crushing idea of probably not being able to have a child. I'd come to terms with that years ago, but now, vaguely talking about marriage, being so close to the idea of it, it was rather devastating. But, afterall, I had no intention of actually marrying him -- I wasn't evil.

That's when my second theory surfaced. Perhaps his anxiety was stemming from an aversion to marriage, either to me or anyone. If it was marriage on a whole, I couldn't help him there, and the whole situation was probably worrying him. However, if it was marriage to me specifically that was troubling him, then this meant a few things.

First, I wasn't alone in realizing the future implications of anyone's getting close to me. He saw it too, or at least I think he did, after all, this was all theoretical. It also meant that, if he was seeing this, perhaps I should tell him my opinions on it. Tell him that there was a whole other layer to the plan that he wasn't in the know of.

I would break up with him before marriage or anything of the sort. So, he'll show his parents he has a pure-blooded girlfriend, we'll break up eventually, and he doesn't have to end up nineteen and already married.

But, if I did make this clear, it would be possible we would break up, now, for he would have to begin his, no, his father's search for a perfect future wife. I wasn't sure if he wanted that or not.

Two options. Do the right thing. Tell him. Tell him I know where this ends, that he could never have the future he deserves with me.

Or, don't.

Be selfish. Be in love now, be happy, and later, break it off with him before his life is ruined for good.

Or worse, much worse, marry him. Marry him, ensnare him in the false ideals of a happy life, then leave him -- not by my own account of course, but by my preordained, inescapable death.

Decisions, decisions.

If you love something, you let it go. Right?

I loved him. I loved him -- so I had to do what was good for him, right?

"Are you sure you want to go?" He asked.

"Yes," I said with a smile.

I meant no. I meant no -- no because I wanted him to have a future, to have a wife he could grow old with. A child. A real life. I wanted him to be happy. But I couldn't get my lips to form the words to tell him. So I stayed quiet for the rest of breakfast.