❝ Why can't we be more than friends, Draco?
-Why can't we be more than friends? Merlin Astoria, figure it out. I am fucking social pariah. Your friends, your family, your fucking parents who adore you, would never approve. ❞
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" I ' M S O R R Y . "
Draco Malfoy's garden of fear had twisted in his stomach, rising up in his throat so the words had no choice but to tumble from his lips.
Astoria frowned. "Why are you apologizing?"
Draco shifted uncomfortably in the small space. They were pushed into a long-forgotten coat closet, and for the Ministry of Magic being riddled with magic, it lacked luster and in Draco's opinion, not well maintained. There were cobwebs in every corner of the closet, the only light dangling next to Draco's head in the form of an ancient lightbulb. It flickered periodically, which annoyed Draco.
He had caught her arm and steered her out of the courtroom seconds after Rabastan was convicted, seconds before there was a burst of conversation and questions pointed at him and Astoria. He remembered shoving someone in this closet years ago, when he was a different person with different beliefs.
But he was Astoria's now. And she was his.
Draco returned Astoria's frown. "You were tortured...because of me. You were in St. Mungo's and wearing that awful hospital robe because of me."
Though she seemed so small in court, she now stood tall and glared at Draco, "That hardly had anything to do with you. That had everything to do with hate born long before you or I ever set foot in Malfoy Manor."
Draco blinked hard. He found it hard to conceptualize how willingly she'd walk into her demise. Those emotions must've been apparent on his face, because she spoke again.
"We all make our choices, Draco," her voice was gentler this time. "You chose to play in the snow with me on Christmas Eve. I chose to help your mother when you needed me. Andromeda chose to forgive her sister for her role in the War. Had we made any different choices, things would've ended up so differently. Your mother might've been dead sooner. You might've been dead. Or maybe I might've been dating Percy Parkinson and you dating my sister. But these are the choices we make, and to be honest Draco, I wouldn't want it any other way."
The dust clouded in his eyes and he felt them water. He brushed the tears away and said angrily, "You would've dated Parkinson over my dead fucking body."
Astoria smiled, and all his worries, all his fears, melted away.
"Yeah? You think you would've still been interested in me even if I never dared you to a snowball fight?"
"It'd be impossible for me to not be interested in you, Astoria."
He had said it with such sincerity, her cheeks burned red. Draco raised his hand to gently brush at her skin.
"However long forever is with you, I'm yours."
Astoria's eyes, which were so typically full of light and love cast down to the floor, nothing more than a dull green haze. She pulled his hand away from her skin, as though to put distance between them.
