Malediction: the love and life of Astoria Malfoy

Chapter Thirty Five

It was early in the morning. Probably too early to be up and awake. That grayish morning haze, juxtaposed and shattered by a few golden slats of sun floating in through the window. The dust motes above my head were illuminated in their sedated, swirling, floating motions.

I gave into the prying morning and got up, dragging my feet over to the bathroom. My hand, outstretched toward my toothbrush, got snagged by gravity when my eyes flitted to the mirror. I had to do a double take. "WHAT?!" I said, apparently out loud, because Draco stirred between the sheets.

Taking my hair between my fingers, I scrutinized the mirror. Lacing in between the ashy brown, were a few strands of peeking silver.

"What's wrong?" Draco said in the midst of a yawn, and I started, not realizing he was standing in the doorway.

"Look!" I said, pointing to my scalp.

His eyes were heavy with sleep, as he tried to study my hair.

He shook his head slightly and shrugged. "Am I supposed to be seeing something, or. . . ."

"Gray! There's gray in my hair," I moaned, returning to picking through the strands before the mirror. My mouth was open a little, and my brows were sloped in mild alarm, possibly mild disgust.

"First, I get all skinny and bony, I somehow pale even more, and now I'm going gray?"

He rolled his eyes and smirked. "You're ridiculous."

"Easy for you to say," I gripped his cheeks in my hand and pulled him into the mirror's view. I gave him a look that did the talking for me.

"I am pretty handsome, aren't I?" He said, grinning. I shook my head at him, smirking, with a glare in my eyes, and nudged him with my elbow.

After a moment, he looked at me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He sighed. "Astoria, you're beautiful, and no amount of gray hair is going to change that." He said it like I was being totally ridiculous.

"Thanks," I said, and even after fourteen years of marriage, I was blushing a little.

He kissed me on the cheek, and turned out of the bathroom, before reappearing in the doorway, and with a very amused smirk on, said, "Even if not as pretty as all this." He propped his chin on his hands and batted his eyelashes like he was posing for a picture.

"Well, I can dream, can't I?"

He nodded, still grinning.

I laughed and threw the hand towel beside me at him, where it landed weakly to his feet, and said, "Stop smiling like that, it's creeping me out."

* * *

It was sometime in April, and Draco had gone to Diagon Alley for something -- he'd told me when I was still dozing off and I 'mhhm-ed' groggily in response.

The Daily Prophet arrived, and I was downstairs for sometime, getting just as vexed as ever while reading it, when Scorpius meandered down.

"Good morning," I said, setting the paper down.

"Good morning -- anything good going on?" he asked, glancing at the picture of Hermione Granger-Weasley looking most irritated, tucking a strand of hair back into her tight bun.

"No, Minister Granger is having some issues with Centaur negotiations at the moment, but other than that, it's all very dull today." We talked about the centaurs for some time until he got up to use the bathroom, and I asked, "You want some toast? I'm just about to make some for myself."

"Oh, yes please. Thanks."

I got up to fetch some jelly (because, honestly, what is toast without jelly?) and as I walked back to the counter, absently opened the lid.

Or, tried to open the lid.

I stared perplexed at the jar in my hands, and tried at it again.

Nothing.

Logically, I could've just grabbed my wand and used magic to open the jar. But it was the principle -- why couldn't I get the thing to open?

I kept trying, and pretty soon, I was getting increasingly more frustrated. I blew a strand of hair out of my face as I propped it against my stomach for more leverage.

Never in my life had I not been able to do something so menial.

I angled it on the counter top, now.

I was never strong, that was for certain, but this?

Tilting it sideways in my hands.

Was I really that weak?

Twisting the jar instead of the lid.

Just this, this mild, miniscule exertion, was causing me to pale and huff, already physically drained.

Gripping the lid under my nails.

Never was I drained so easily. So quickly. It was getting worse. I was getting worse.

Just twisting it regularly now, just with extra force.

I was getting worse, and weaker. I was dying. A phrase I had repeated to myself a thousand times, but now it was thundering against my skull, reverberating through my mind.

My elbows jutted out, the jar clenched in my hands, my muscles straining as hard as they could, my teeth gritted.

I was dying and I would miss it all. I would never see the day that Draco found gray in his hair. The day Scorpius graduated from Hogwarts. His whole life. I wouldn't see it.

Maybe if I could just do this one thing, this one thing, an act of defiance, proving I could overcome this, I could last longer, I could see it all --

The jar slipped from my brittle grip and landed with a resounding crash on the stone floor.

I huffed, exasperated, a frustrated tear falling down my cheek. Cupping my face in my hands, the thoughts came more violently now, pounding against me. I wouldn't see any of that. I wasn't strong enough. Why wasn't I strong enough? Why --

"Mum?"

My eyes shot open, and before me stood Scorpius. His mouth was parted slightly, as he took in the shattered glass and splattered jelly on the floor, the tears on my cheeks.

I wiped them away with the back of my hand quickly, like that'd make a difference, and stood, unsure of what to say.

Before I could find something, some way to explain this away, he was already kneeling on the floor, gingerly picking up the bits of glass.

I was frozen to the spot for a moment, before I joined him on the floor, finding all the shattered pieces.

"Scorpius, you don't have to --" but he was already half way done.

Neither of us said anything, but when all of the glass was stacked carefully in each of our palms, he looked up at me. A small, sad smile on his face. I wondered how much he had seen, but I didn't need to think very hard. It was a lot. He'd seen a lot.

I smiled back, even smaller, and tears started to pool at the bottom of my eyes. I looked down before they had a chance to come to fruition. It was a useless notion, probably making even more obvious.

Neither of us said much for a while.