Helloooo! Sorry it's been a minute since an update. I'm visiting family this week, and on top of that its my last week of school so I'm super busy. And then I'm going camping next weekend :0 [[I know, me in the outdoors? what???]] but I'm planning on posting another chapter this week to make up for that. So let's go!
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I discovered over the next week that Astoria was what we referred to in the hospital as a PITA: a pain in the ass.
She used our emergency link whenever she pleased. Every time I was summoned, I would drop what I was doing and rush to the portkey, fearing that she was on the brink of death- only to arrive and discover that she just needed more Sleeping Draughts. Because Astoria had spent a lot of her life being chronically ill, she was used to people doting on her every whim.
Today was such a day that I was summoned at an inconvenient time. I just happened to be in the middle of grocery shopping, and arrived in the Chateau holding a loaf of bread and two packages of raw meat.
After checking that Astoria was all set with medicines that she needed and identifying that the quote "stabbing pain" in her back was just a loose feather from her pillow, Draco asked for my assistance with Scorpius.
I followed him to the nursery. It was a cloudy evening, and the room's drapes were partially drawn, casting the room in a dreamy blue light.
"What's the issue?" I asked him. I was extremely concerned; it was unusual for Draco to ask me about Scorpius.
Draco stood over the bassinet with crossed arms. "He keeps making strange noises."
Scorpius gurgled, which made Draco very alarmed. "That!" he exclaimed, looking at me for answers. "What does that mean?"
I laughed and picked up Scorpius. "Babies make lots of noise," I said. "It doesn't mean anything."
"I see," Draco said, still slightly perturbed. He watched as I swayed back and forth with Scorpius.
"You aren't in uniform today," he remarked.
I looked down at my knee-length skirt and long cream colored coat. "Oh. I did not have time to put on my Healer robes. Sorry."
"It's fine," he said gruffly. "But you are my employee, and should dress accordingly."
"Well, Astoria summoned me when I was at the market," I replied. I tried to hide my annoyance, but it was practically written on my face.
"...I apologize for her constant calls," Draco muttered. "I believe she's... bored."
I can't believe it, a woman with a newborn who says she's bored! I scoffed lightly, patting Scorpius's back. "Well, does Astoria have any hobbies?"
Draco thought for a moment. "I don't think so."
"Well, what of that painting in the north wing?" I inquired. "If Astoria enjoys art, perhaps she could begin an art collection. Merlin knows this house needs some decoration-"
Draco dismissed that idea immediately. "Astoria hates art."
I stopped swaying. If Astoria hated art, that would mean the painting I saw belonged to Draco. Under what circumstances would Draco obtain a piece of art?
A memory occurred to me, then, of when Gregory Goyle begged me to do his Muggle Art assignment. So I made a simple willow tree painting, and then passed it off to Draco to give to him-
"You took the painting I made?" I blurted out suddenly, which made Draco glare.
"Please don't yell next to my child."
I lowered my voice, but fury still burned within my chest like hot coals. "I made that painting so Gregory wouldn't fail his art class," I hissed.
"He was going to fail that class anyway," Draco replied coolly. He looked at the ground and added, "...Astoria does not know you're the artist. Please do not mention it."
I began to simmer down. I bit my lower lip, not sure what to think. I noticed Scorpius had fallen asleep on my shoulder. Slowly, I set him down in his cradle.
"Draco," I sighed, placing my hands on my hips, "I...I don't know what to make of all this. We broke up seven years ago, and yet you held onto the Ring of Ataraxy, and my painting. It just doesn't make sense to keep these mementos around when we don't love each other anymore." I bit my lower lip.
"I...," I continued, "I don't keep anything around that reminds me of you. Or Hogwarts, for that matter. It's- it's a reminder of things I wish to forget."
There was a prolonged beat of silence, and I wondered if perhaps what I was saying meant nothing to him at all, and I was foolishly reading into things.
Then, Draco stepped towards me, hands in the pockets of his fine black trousers. My heartbeat quickened against my will- usually I kept my distance from him, and now there his face was, looking down at me, leaving me without chance of escape.
"You were my lover, yes, but you were also a friend," he said, honest and deep, "One of the few I had during one of the darkest times of my life. Therefore, these items still hold significance. To me, at least."
I flattened my lips, feeling a conglomeration of feelings that I couldn't quite explain.
"How is Gregory?" I muttered, wanting to get onto another topic.
Draco let loose of a heavy sigh, and the already dark room suddenly felt much darker.
"He died during the Battle of Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement."
"Oh," I could feel ice spread through my veins. "I'm sorry."
Whenever The Battle of Hogwarts was brought up, a feeling of intense guilt returned to me. The knowledge that I was able to escape Hogwarts before the Battle had weighed on me heavily all these years. Countless lives were lost- people I had personally known; people I had healed in the hospital wing. When I lie in bed at night I think about how if I had stayed, perhaps I would have perished in place of someone else. Sometimes I catch myself wishing that I had.
"It was a time of great loss," Draco said. "We all lost something. Yourself included."
I didn't know what to say. I had known quite a few Hogwarts students, but surely, whatever losses I endured paled in comparison to Draco's.
"I'm sorry about your uncle, Malachi," Draco added solemnly.
My eyes widened, and my lungs let in an involuntary gasp. "O-oh." My uncle; Malachi Sloan, was a Death Eater that protected me and my Squib father. I always hoped he would come to America after the war was over. But my parents and I never heard from him. We waited and waited, but there was very little information coming into America during the Wizarding War, especially regarding fatalities on the Death Eater side. We had resigned ourselves to the reality that Malachi likely perished in the war, but a part of us always hoped that he would turn up.
I supposed now I had my answer. Deep down I had already known that my uncle was dead, but it nevertheless stung to have it confirmed.
Draco studied my unsettled expression. "Did you not know?"
"I-I had a feeling," I replied, realizing that my voice was shaking. "No one ever told us for certain, so..."
A water droplet fell onto the sleeve of my coat, and I recoiled in embarrassment, turning to face the wall. "I'm sorry," I trembled, "I-I need a moment."
It was incredibly humiliating to fall to pieces while Draco watched. It felt a lot like being 16 years old again. But this time, I wasn't expecting him to hold me, or give me comforting words. I was an adult, and had to ride the waves of emotion on my own. So I pressed my hands against the wall of the nursery, controlling my cries and swallowing every sob, just trying to wait out the grief as it came and went and I was able to walk again.
I felt a warm hand on my back. Draco was at my side, saying nothing. My initial instinct was to shove him off, but I craved the reassurance. He, of all people, understood the guilt. So I let him rest a hand on my back while I clung to calming breaths.
I realized then that I had been so focused on my own resentment of the past that I never considered what Draco thought about the time we spent together. Even though Draco didn't think of me as a lover anymore, he was clearly still fond of the time we spent together. And I suppose underneath my spite, I was still fond of him too- otherwise I would not feel so calmed by his touch.
After a few minutes I finally straightened myself, glancing sheepishly at the tall man beside me. He returned his hand stiffly to his side.
Did Draco just... comfort me? I don't think I have ever seen him do that to anyone. Not even to Astoria.
"...Thank you," I muttered. "....You were a friend to me as well, Draco."
He gave me a curt nod, watching me with wary eyes.
I quickly gathered my things and took the portkey back to New York. But even long after I arrived in the cold winter night, I couldn't shake the warm feeling of Draco's hand on my back.