Malediction: the love and life of Astoria Malfoy

Chapter Twenty One

Romance always seemed stupid to me. Cheesy, and awkward. My take was: you pine after someone, they throw you a bone, suddenly you're in love, and eventually the ecstasy of it all wears off and you realize long walks on the beach and friday night dinner dates don't actually equate to anything meaningful.

I never really believed in love because I was thinking of the incorrect thing. Love isn't even a thing, no physical, tangible object or memory or event. It's not witty quips and flirts sprinkled in here and there, going out on adventures and romantic endeavors.

It's when you somehow find someone you're genuinely willing to do anything for, even though you know they would never ask it of you. Finding someone who, with the lightest, smallest touch of their skin, you're grounded, you're safe. It's not about your pain disappearing when you look into their eyes, but knowing they're there with you to survive through it.

It's not fragile. The most ravenous waves and raging flames couldn't destroy it. Sure, it may become tarnished and frayed in some spots, but you patch it together. It's not about always having something to say, but finding each other in the silence.

Love is when you accept everything a person is. Their faults, their broken pieces. You see them, really see them, all their cracks and marks. You're not blind to them. You don't try to fix them, and you don't forget them; you kiss them softly and move on.

We both had irreparable damage. His, haunting from the past, mine lingering in the future. But that was why it was so all encompassing -- because somehow, an unspoken pact was made between us, binding us together with invisible cables: we loved each other with those demons, not despite them.

Months tallied up, turning to passing seasons. A year had passed since the day on the steps, a few months after that, and yet how I felt didn't fade, or chip, or subside in any sense. In ways, it was stronger. The more I knew him, and the longer for, the more I wanted to know him, wanted to spend more time with him.

In mid-October, Draco was trying out again for the Appleby Arrows. I never considered myself a particular fan of Quidditch, but I knew the game enough to understand what he was talking about.

I wasn't sure if I should come, is that something people usually go to? I decided against it, and told him I'd meet him there after and we'd go to the Three Broomsticks.

The autumn air was warm, feeling more like a late august day than anything else. I popped a chocolate frog into my mouth as I waited, the card stained with melted chocolate from the heat. Rowena Ravenclaw was staring back at me from the card, her name smudged from the sweets.

Then, my breath caught, and the card dropped from my grip. A wash of nausea curled over me, paired with a sudden dry and pounding headache. I was taken aback from the abrupt change of feeling. As if on cue, my heart beat began to race, and my head swam in dizziness.

These were common symptoms. Anemia. That's what the muggles called it. Really, just my body desperately trying to expel the blood poisoning it. But the quick onset of all the many facets wasn't normal.

My whole body felt like lead and feathers simultaneously. Then, a cough erupted from my throat. I clutched my forearm to my mouth and stumbled back at the sight. 

Red splattered like paint stained my arm. I lifted my finger to my lips, looking at my hand. Blood dripped down my finger tips.

Anemic symptoms? Okay, fine. Weakness and frailness? Sure. But coughing up blood? It'd never happened before, and I wasn't eager to see what it entailed, though I had a hunch; it was getting worse.

"Hey," Draco said, rounding the corner to meet me. I immediately wiped my lip with my other arm, tucking them both behind my back.

"Hi," I said in a shaky voice, trying to act normal. I was fine, everything was fine. No worries here.

He didn't buy it. His head listed to the side, his eyes studying. "What's wrong?" He said, his tone changing rapidly.

"Noth --" but before I could finish, another cough ripped through my throat, unwarranted and unwanted, but despite my weak efforts I couldn't stop it. I felt more blood meet my arm, Draco's eyes widening.

In an instant, I felt as though I was burning up, the heat suddenly unbearable. My knees were that of a ragdoll. Draco's voice faded from my mind as the world went black.

* * *

"Oop, there you are, dearie," a kind, sweet voice said with growing volume as I opened my eyes. I squinted up at the bright light, and jolted back when I saw great, green beady eyes staring down at me. Once I realized I was looking at a person, my shoulders relaxed a bit. 

"Where am I?" I said quickly.

"St. Mungo's, you had quite a scare, you did," she said, backing away a bit. My heart jolted when I felt someone take my other hand, my head snapping to the left. It was just Draco, still in his Quidditch robes

He looked a wreck, his hair all messy, his expression tired, worry slowly subsiding in his eyes. I was quiet for a moment, trying to remember what had happened.

"How long was I --"

"A few hours, dear," said the healer, now scribbling on a piece of parchment beside the bed. I sank back down into the pillow, flushed with embarrassment. 

"I -- fainted?" I said, my nose scrunched up. Draco nodded, an expression I couldn't read on his face. I'd fainted. It was ridiculously humiliating. I couldn't even go to a Quidditch pitch without making another obnoxious reminder of my. . . condition.

The healer made a final distinct mark on her sheet, and turned to me, eyes cheery and bright despite the subject of the visit. "Seeing as how there's nothing we can quite do, my best advice would be to rest up for the time being. And no over excretion." She smiled down like a grandmother would over a fresh baked batch of cookies. "Other than that, it seems you're alright to leave whenever you please." She smiled again, and made toward the doors.

"Thank you," I said, as her robes swished through the door.

I looked at Draco, still unable to decipher his expression. There was hesitation, irresolution wavering in his eyes. My mind jumped to the first conclusion I could draw. A conclusion I'd been dreading.

It was time. He's finally realized this'll never work. He's finally realized, truly, with irrefutable proof, realized I'm not normal.

He made to say something, but I clamped my hand down on his, silencing him.

"I get it," I said, nodding. "I understand. You don't have to feel bad -- I mean, it's not fair for you to throw your life away on" -- I motioned around the room, -- "this."

"What?" he said, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. I sat up a bit straighter.

"You're breaking up with me. I understand, okay?" I tried softening my eyes as much as possible.

A pause. He was looking at my hand over his. He looked up, his eyes, now graced with resolve, finding mine.

"Marry me, Astoria."

I felt my jaw fall open. My head quirked back automatically. "Wha--" was all I could manage.

"Marry me." He was now smiling broadly, his eyes clear and certain. His voice was light and sure.

I was quiet as my lips parted, my brain furiously working together what I was hearing. Then, my mind slowed, flattening into peace. A smile spread on my lips, my head nodding. "Yes, yes, I'll marry you!"

He kissed me. I kissed him back. 

I was getting married. 

He still wanted to marry me, despite it all.