Title: Alpha and Omega
Author: 
thesamanthahope
Team: AU
Prompt: 21. A butterbeer a day keeps the mediwizard away.
Wordcount: ~8000
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-graphic sex, angst, character death (not Draco or Harry)
Summary: Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end ("Closing Time" by Semisonic)
Author's Note: I shouldn't be surprised that I ended up loving my pinch hit fic more than my original submission. Such is life. I would still be a slobbering mess crying in frustation on the floor if it weren't for my ljbff lotus_lizzymrdavismdjoanwilder
Alpha and Omega
"How long?"
Although the man had shed his white lab coat when the couple had entered his office, he was never able to completely shed his "serious Healer" look. His eyes were kind and sympathetic. Somehow that did not help.
"Maybe a year," he stated quietly.
"Maybe? What does maybe mean? Maybe less? Maybe more?" The man's low voice was suddenly sharp and angry. Healer Michaels closed his eyes before he responded.
"Up to a year. Probably less. The placement of the tumor and its advanced state remove surgery as an option. I'm afraid there is not much we can do at this point."
The man's voice rose slightly. "Not much you can do? How is that an acceptable response? With countless medical advancements, magical and Muggle, there is 'not much' you can do? I am supposed to accept that?" He gestured wildly to the woman sitting quietly next to him. "My wife is supposed to accept that? We are expected to sit around, say our goodbyes, and wait for her to die? That is the answer we've waited all this time to hear?" Although he was not shouting, his words were cold and intended to cut deeply. He showed no sign of tears; instead he seemed more content to rage.
Draco's wife calmly placed a hand on her agitated husband's knee. The effect was immediate; the calm seemed to inexplicably flow from wife to husband. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, but unwavering. There was still no sign of tears.
"I apologize, Healer. I didn't mean to criticize your methods or ability. As you can imagine, I am having a hard time understanding how there is absolutely no solution." Draco attempted an apologetic smile and a slight shrug. He looked at his wife and clasped her hand. "I appreciate your candor, however. I'm so sick of healers beating around the bush."
"Not a problem, Mr. Malfoy. I understand your frustration. I do wish there was something more I can could do." At that, the healer stood and extended his hand to Astoria. "Mrs. Malfoy, if there is anything else I can do for you, please let me know."
"I was thinking of cooking pasta for dinner, what do you think? I haven't cooked in a while," said Draco with a smile once they walked out of the Floo at their home.
"Draco, I think we need to talk about this," Astoria stated.
Draco gave the slightest shake of his head, and charged on. "We already have some garlic bread, but I don't think we have any sauce, we should send Dinky to the market."
They had reached the sitting room, and Astoria seized her husband's arm gently. "Draco, we have to talk about this. There are decisions to make, people to tell."
With that, Draco's calm façade faded and the smile disappeared. He stared hard at some fixed point just over Astoria's left shoulder. "No, there are no decisions. We don't have a decision. We don't have a choice! We have nothing! 'Maybe a year,' that's what we have! There is no choice in any of this. We have no choice but to sit around and watch you die. How is that a decision?"
Astoria went to put her arms around her husband, but he pushed her away. "No! You will not comfort me! You are dying! I should be comforting you!" With that, Draco's shoulders finally slumped and he hung his head. "I am a wretched husband. I'm awful. I'm sorry."
Draco cupped his wife's face and kissed her lightly. "I'm so sorry, I am so, so sorry." He wound his arms around Astoria's waist and pulled her close. He knew Astoria could feel his tears on her neck. He had finally broken down.
Astoria stroked his back with one hand and ran the fingers of her other hand through Draco's platinum hair. "Oh yeah, you are such a wretched husband. Luckily I only have to put up with you for another year or so."
Astoria felt Draco gulp a laugh against her neck, then he looked at her, horrified. "We're making jokes already? We haven't made it to dinner yet, and you're already making death jokes?" His face broke into a teary smile.
Astoria placed a kiss on her husband's lips before she pulled away to remove her cloak. "I figured there is no time like the present. Apparently, I have limited time to find the perfect death joke. I'm just dying to get started."
Draco laughed. "That was a pathetic attempt at a death joke."
Astoria shrugged and gave a gentle smile. "Yeah well, when you're dying, you can make all the stupid death jokes you want. It's a rule. I read it somewhere." The smile faded. "We do need to discuss this."
"I can't, Tor. Not tonight. Please? First thing in the morning, we'll discuss. But tonight, I just want to have dinner, go to bed, make love, and pretend everything is fine. Just tonight."
Draco sighed in resignation, knowing his wife was right. She was always right, and much too good for him. Merlin, this was a mess. But for her, his wife, his better half in every way, he would follow her advice. "Sounds like a plan."
Draco sat in the uncomfortable office chair, waiting for Healer Michaels. It was an office he'd been in many times, at least twice a month since Astoria had been diagnosed six months before, but Draco realized he'd never really looked at the knick-knacks and odds and ends that told of the healer's private life. Draco stared at a picture of Healer Michaels and what must have been his wife and daughter as the healer came into the office.
"Mr. Malfoy, it's good to see you," said the healer as he shook Draco's hand.
"Hello, Healer Michaels. I'm sorry to show up without an appointment, but I'll try not to take up much of your time."
"Don't worry about it. How is Mrs. Malfoy? I have her scheduled for an appointment next week."
"That's actually why I'm here, Healer. Astoria seems to have taken quite a turn in the past week or so. We've discussed it, and I'm afraid the time has come to discuss our options for the rest of her…that is to say, how we should handle…" Draco began to stumble over the words in his attempt to avoid saying 'death.'
Fortunately, the healer rescued him. "You would like to discuss options for the care of Astoria for the duration of her life, correct?"
Draco let out a shaky breath. "Yes. We have managed fine so far between the house-elves and me, and I think we would be fine for the 'duration,' as you say. However, Astoria believes that we should go ahead and make arrangements. She said it would 'ease my burden.' As if that were possible."
The healer gave Draco a sympathetic smile. "I can't imagine what you must be going through, Mr. Malfoy. However, I am inclined to agree with Mrs. Malfoy on this issue. In my experience with other patients, bringing in a hospice aide to care for the more unpleasant aspects of Mrs. Malfoy's care, gives you an opportunity to spend quality time with your wife without having to be completely responsible for her hygiene and medical needs. I can provide a list for you of available aides."
Draco nodded. "I would like someone who is highly recommended, with references I could check."
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. I might also suggest you hire an aide with some Healer qualifications; a medi- witch or wizard perhaps. Your wife will need considerable help as time goes on. However, that does significantly decrease the number of available aides. There are perhaps two that I can think of offhand with those qualifications." The healer scribbled on a piece of parchment and handed it to Draco.
"Thank you, Healer Michaels. I will contact these aides and hopefully have hired one by the time we see you next week."
"Please send Mrs. Malfoy my regards, and I'll see you both next week. If there is anything else you need, please feel free to stop by or send an owl."
Draco shook the healer's hand, then left the office and headed toward the lifts. His mind was already forming a list of things to do in preparation for hiring an aide. He looked down to the list the healer had given him. He wanted to interview both aides and see which one would be a better fit for Astoria. The first name on this list was unfamiliar, but it looked French. Draco skimmed over the contact information to the second name. Then with a snarl, he rolled his eyes heavenward and cursed every deity he could name.
Harry Potter.
Draco found Astoria lounging on a chaise in the sunroom when he returned home.
"Hello, darling. How did it go with Healer Michaels?"
Draco felt his heart clench when he heard her voice. It sounded so weak, almost raspy. In the months since her diagnosis, or her death sentence as she jokingly referred to it, Astoria had been able to maintain much of her strength. This had enabled her to remain active in the community, and continue to serve on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. For a while, it had been almost too easy to pretend as if nothing were wrong.
However, over only the past couple of weeks, it had become evident that Astoria was fighting a losing battle. She became easily fatigued, sometimes not even attempting to get out of bed. This week, she had resigned her position on the Board of Governors, and finally talked Draco into hiring an aide.
Through it all, Astoria's voice had remained strong. Draco had never met anyone with a voice like Astoria's. It was at once both dainty and commanding. Some people heard Astoria's voice and underestimated her, thinking her merely a social butterfly with no real mind. However, when her voice took on the commanding tone, though never raised, people took notice.
Now, that voice that Draco so loved was too soft, and marred by heavy breathing. Draco sat in a chair across from Astoria and took a moment to gather his composure before he replied to her greeting.
"Hey Tor," said Draco, giving her a small kiss on the cheek. "Healer Michaels agrees with you. He thinks we should go ahead and hire an aide."
"See? I told you so."
"He also thinks we should hire someone with Healer qualifications because apparently he thinks we will need the extra help…later on. He gave me two names."
"Great. So you'll owl them and set up an interview time?"
"Maybe. I'm not too sure about one of the names."
"Anyone I know?"
"Harry Potter."
Astoria smiled. "Ah. I thought that we might have this conversation."
"Why did you think that?"
Exasperated, Astoria looked at her husband "Do I need to remind you who the Chairperson for the Board of Governors is, dear?"
Oh. Draco had forgotten that. "Granger."
"Yes, well it's Weasley now. She's been married to Charlie Weasley for over four years now. Anyway, she came for tea yesterday, after I sent her the owl to resign. She told me that Harry was a mediwizard working as a hospice aide. Quite a good one, according to Hermione."
"Yes. Healer Michaels recommended him as well. I didn't recognize the other name, a woman. It's French. Maybe she attended Beauxbatons."
"Perhaps." Astoria paused for a moment before she spoke again. "Draco, I would like to hire Harry. I think that I would feel more comfortable with someone familiar, and honestly, I think we need someone that can handle you."
Draco snorted. "Handle me?"
"Yes. You and I both know how you react to pain and uncertainty in those you love. You lash out, you scream and curse and throw things. The idea of hiring an aide is as much to help you as it is to help me. We are going to need someone who can understand your reactions, and handle them without hating you. I spoke to Hermione about it, and I think Harry can do it."
"Potter already hates me. We won't be able to be in the same room together five minutes before hexes start to fly."
Astoria closed her eyes and laid her head back against the chaise. Draco moved from his chair and to sit beside Astoria, lifting her feet into his lap. He began to massage her foot, and a smile appeared on her face, but she didn't open her eyes.
Draco sighed. "Tor, you are rarely wrong. If you think Potter is what we need, then I'll owl him. I'll even try to get along with him. I just want to know that you're sure."
Astoria lifted her head to look at Draco, then moved her hand to his head, running her fingers through his hair. "Hermione said that he's changed. He took two years after his mediwizard training to travel the world, learning about alternative Healing techniques and pain management. He looks at this as his calling, as a way that he can genuinely help other people. I think he's the best option for us."
This time it was Draco who laid his head back and closed his eyes.
"I'll owl him tonight."
Potter,
I received your name from Healer Davis Michaels, with a glowing recommendation. My wife and I would like a meeting to speak with you about the possibility of you working for us. You may have heard about my wife's illness. My wife, Astoria, also heard good things about your work from Hermione Weasley. Could you come to the Manor this Friday at 2:00? Our owl will wait for your reply.
Respectfully yours,
Draco Malfoy
Malfoy,
Hermione mentioned your wife's illness, but did not go into detail. Friday at 2:00 is fine.
See you then,
H.P.
Friday afternoon, Draco paced from one end of the sunroom to the other. Astoria, seated on her favorite chaise, shook her head and reached for her husband.
"Draco, calm down. There is no reason to be nervous. We are interviewing him, not the other way around."
"I'm not nervous," denied Draco immediately. "I just hate that we even need to ask him here at all. I am still confident that I can care for you no matter what, Tor."
Astoria gave a slight smile, although Draco could tell it was forced. "This is no longer up for discussion. I'm sorry that you don't like it, but this was my decision. I will not have your last memories of me tarnished by sickness, vomit, and waste. I want the last of our time together to be of good quality; I want you to remember why you loved me, long after I'm gone."
Draco sat next to Astoria and ran the back of his hand across her cheek. "There is no threat of me forgetting why I love you. It won't happen."
Astoria started to reply, but was interrupted by a house-elf informing them of Potter's arrival. Soon after, Harry Potter strode into the room.
It had been six years or so since Draco had last seen Harry Potter, and Draco had to admit that the years had been good to the man. Instead of the slouching, scrawny teenager Draco had last seen, there was a confident, fit young man who seemed to exude a powerful and calming influence.
Potter's hair was just as unruly as it had always been, but he kept it longer than he had in school, and that seemed to tame some of the unruliness. His glasses were gone, allowing his brilliant green eyes to shine uninhibited. He was gorgeous.
Then Potter smiled. Draco could not stop a tiny gasp at the sight. The smile was small, gentle, and tentative, but the effect was remarkable. Draco knew he was staring, but he could not bring himself to look away.
"Malfoy," said Harry cordially.
Draco nodded. "Potter. We're glad you could make it."
Harry turned to Astoria. "Mrs. Malfoy, it's good to see you."
"It's good to see you as well, Harry. I wish it were under different circumstances. Please have a seat."
Harry sat, and after Astoria had instructed the house-elf to bring tea, he spoke again.
"I was very sorry to hear about your illness, Mrs. Malfoy. Hermione tells me you've been a huge help to her on the Board of Governors. She was very upset when you had to resign," Harry said, his voice genuine. Astoria gave a wan smile.
"Call me Astoria. I was very sad to have to do it. I had hoped to at least complete the school year, but I have lost a lot of the energy that I used to have."
"May I ask what treatments you've tried for your condition?"
Astoria leaned her head back slightly and closed her eyes. "Everything, Harry. I have a tumor on my brain stem. It's inoperable. We've tried every possible potion. I've even had Muggle chemotherapy and radiation. The tumor has proven resistant to everything we've tried."
Draco leaned forward and smoothed his hand across Astoria's hair. "About six months ago, Healer Michaels said we had up to a year. But now it seems…that is to say…"
"We don't think I'll have that long," interjected Astoria. "Draco thinks that he can handle my care, and it's not that I don't think he's capable, but I don't want him to have to deal with that. That's where you come in."
Harry slowly placed his teacup on the table before he spoke. "I can't tell you how sorry I am that you even need me here."
"Granger said that you did some traveling after you mediwizard training," Draco prompted.
"Well, I technically didn't finish my training," said Harry. "I was a few classes shy of my certification when I decided to spend a term abroad in the United States. I joined a program that was researching an integration of Muggle and magical methods for pain management. The majority of the patients we worked with were terminal, and we were working to make them more comfortable. When the time came to come back home, I found I wasn't ready to leave. I ended up staying another two years. After that, I spent some time in Japan and India learning alternative methods for managing pain."
"While pain will be a problem we will have to deal with, for the most part I just don't want Draco to have to deal with the more unpleasant aspects of what is coming." Draco noticed Astoria's avoidance of the word 'death.'
Harry nodded. "That is difficult to deal with. Why don't I start coming in and helping out during the day while Draco is at work, and then we'll change the plan as we go; how does that sound?"
They agreed that Harry would start work the following Monday, and Draco saw Harry to the Floo. When he returned to Astoria, she gave him a tired smile.
"Who would have believed while we were in school that one day Harry Potter would be wiping my arse?"
Draco's mouth dropped open at the crass statement from his normally proper wife. The tired smile was still in place, but Astoria's eyes had filled with tears. Draco wrapped his arms around his wife as she finally succumbed to the tears she had apparently held back for months.
Draco automatically handed his cloak and gloves over to the silent house-elf, and walked toward the sunroom, where he was sure he would find his wife. The sound of Astoria's tinkling laughter met him in the hallway, and he entered the doorway to find Astoria sitting in her favorite chair with a blanket tucked around her legs, and Harry Potter in the middle of what must have been a fanciful story, complete with huge arm gestures.
"—so I shot off a Patronus, and got back to the game. Turns out, the 'dementor' was actually Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, dressed in huge black robes and trying to scare me! My Patronus actually gave them a fright instead and they got caught all tangled up in the robes!"
As he watched Astoria throw her head back and laugh, Draco couldn't suppress a smile of his own. In the weeks since they had hired Potter, it seemed that Astoria had grown weaker much faster than Draco had expected, and he had to admit that Astoria had been right, yet again, in her decision to hire help when they had.
And Potter was a pleasant surprise. Draco hadn't been sure what to expect from Potter, but he had been impressed by Potter's quiet professionalism, as well as his sensitivity in his dealings with Astoria and Draco. And he could make Astoria laugh, which Draco knew that few people could manage. That fact in itself was worth Potter's salary. Astoria's smiles were becoming a rare occurrence.
Astoria noticed Draco lingering in the doorway and held a hand out to him. Draco stepped forward and grasped it, then gave Astoria a small kiss and a nod to Potter.
"Why do I get the funny feeling that Potter is telling stories that will end up embarrassing me?" Draco asked.
Potter shrugged. "Astoria wanted to hear a story from when we were kids. The dementor story was actually one of the tamer ones I could think of."
"Draco, I'm not sure I ever really noticed what a prat you were in school," said Astoria.
Draco turned confused eyes to his wife. "Tor, I've told you that dementor story at least ten times."
Draco watched as Astoria's eyes shuttered and Potter's shoulders stiffened. When she spoke, Astoria's voice was light, but Draco could tell it was forced. "Draco darling, you've never told me that story. You must be confused."
With that, she stood on visibly shaky legs and moved toward the door. "I'm very tired, so I think I will retire early. Goodnight, Harry, Draco."
Astoria gave Draco a polite kiss on the cheek, then left the room. Draco stood for a moment, lost in thought. He knew he had told Astoria that story. He could remember one time in particular, early in their courtship, that his wife had teased him for telling it.
"I've never seen someone so proud of their past bratty behavior," Astoria had said at the time, and she and Draco had laughed together and shared stories for hours.
"What just happened?" Draco asked, more to himself than to anyone in particular.
"She is losing her memories. It's due to the placement of the tumor. I'd say that she doesn't want to admit it yet."
Draco was startled to realize that Potter was still in the room. "How long has she been like this?"
"This is the first I've noticed it; although I wouldn't have noticed anything if you hadn't been here. I don't know her well, and didn't know her in school, so I have no idea what memories she should have or not. I would guess that it is a recent discovery, seeing as she is still in denial about it."
Draco walked to the bar and poured two fingers of whiskey. He silently handed one to Potter, who looked for a moment as if he would refuse, but simply accepted the offering and took a small sip.
"Have you worked with patients who have brain tumors before?" At Potter's nod, Draco asked, "What else should I expect?"
Harry was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, he kept his voice professional and matter of fact, which Draco was grateful for. "More memory loss. Mood swings. Loss of balance. Eventually, loss of bowel control. I won't lie to you. There will be times when she will be very hard to deal with. She is angry, and she has every right to be, but she will take it out on the person she trusts, which is you. So you need to prepare yourself for that. I've seen many patients say horrible things to their loved ones, then be almost instantly regretful. She doesn't mean what she says, but that doesn't make it any easier to hear."
Harry drained his glass, then moved to Draco. He placed a hand on Draco's forearm and gently squeezed. "I'm going to check on Astoria before I leave. I know I'm here to help Astoria, but if you need to talk, I'm here." Harry squeezed once more before he left the room.
"Do you ever sleep?"
Draco looked up as Harry dropped into the chair next to him. Draco pushed the bottle of whiskey toward him, but Harry just shook his head and placed the stopper on the top of the bottle.
"I could ask the same of you," Harry said. "I saw the light on and decided to check on you. Astoria asleep?"
Draco nodded. "She kicked me out of the bedroom."
Harry made a little 'O' with his mouth.
"She said she doesn't want me to have to deal with her sweaty, ugly, disgusting body. That's what she said. Like I would ever consider her disgusting." Draco put his elbows on the table and rested his head against his hands. Suddenly he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder.
"She doesn't mean it," Harry said simply.
Draco sighed. "I know she doesn't. She'll probably apologize in the morning, or not even remember what happened."
The hand slid down his back in a comforting motion. "That doesn't mean it doesn't still suck."
Draco looked up at the frank words and met Harry's eyes. He saw the sympathy he had expected to see, but there was also kindness, camaraderie, what Draco could have sworn was desire. Harry looked away, a slight blush to his face, and ducked his head. He gave an awkward chuckle and cleared his throat.
"Are you going to be okay?"
Nodding, Draco stood. "I'll be fine. I'm going to kip on the living room sofa."
"Why don't you sleep in one of the bedrooms?"
"None of the rooms actually have much furniture. You are set up in the guest room, but we keep most of the other rooms closed off since we don't use them that much. It's too late to try to drag out some furniture; I can do that tomorrow. I just want to get some sleep."
Harry grasped Draco's arm and pulled him toward the door. "Come on, you can bunk in my room."
Draco's eyes widened. Harry hurried to explain. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."
Hearing Harry's explanation, Draco began to feel a bit silly. "There's no reason we can't share the bed. It's plenty large enough."
Harry blushed again and led Draco down the hall and to the guest room. Harry had taken to sleeping in the guest room for the past few weeks, as Astoria seemed to be more uncomfortable and need more assistance in the night. At some point, and Draco couldn't be sure that anyone could pinpoint the exact date, Harry had just moved some personal items to the room and now slept there every night. Draco couldn't remember the last time Harry had mentioned even visiting his flat.
Harry scrambled to pick up a couple of items that were scattered across the floor and piled them on the chair.
"Sorry about the mess."
Draco waved a hand to dismiss the mess, and walked straight to the bed. Suddenly he was very weary and wanted nothing but sleep. Then he paused. "What side do you sleep on?"
"Huh?"
"Do you have a side of the bed that you prefer?" Draco clarified.
"Oh, um. Not really. Maybe the right side."
Draco smiled. "Perfect. I'm a left side person." With that, Draco pulled the covers back and slipped into bed. "Goodnight, Potter."
Draco felt Harry climb into bed beside him and settle himself. "G'night, Malfoy."
Draco woke, well-rested from the best sleep he could remember having in weeks. He pressed his nose to the hair of the body he was wrapped around, and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of the person in his arms. It was only then, when he smelled the pleasant yet distinctly male scent of his bed-partner that he realized he wasn't sharing a bed with Astoria. Instead, he had the lithe, fit body of Harry Potter nestled against his own.
Harry stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. This gave Draco the opportunity to extract himself from the bed without Harry's knowledge. Draco really didn't want to have to deal with the awkward morning conversation if Harry had awoken to Draco cuddling him.
Draco walked down to the sunroom to see Astoria supervising as the house-elf set out breakfast. She smiled as he entered.
"Good morning, Draco. Did you sleep well?"
Draco leaned down and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. "Good morning, Tor. I slept well, thank you. How are you feeling this morning?"
"Quite well. I feel better than I have in days, I think."
Draco gave her a genuine smile. "That's great. I'm really glad. After last night, I was worried about you."
Astoria had a slight frown. "Draco, I'm sorry for last night, but I honestly don't remember what happened." She shook her head and smiled beatifically. "But it doesn't matter. I feel brilliant today."
Draco returned her smile and started serving himself breakfast. His hands froze as Astoria spoke, her voice coy and teasing.
"I stuck my head in to tell Harry good morning, and imagine what I saw," said Astoria, a gentle smile on her face.
Draco set his fork down and looked at his wife. "I just bunked up with Harry last night. Nothing happened!"
Astoria laughed and patted Draco's hand. "Draco, I'm not accusing you of anything. The two of you were cute all cuddled up together."
Draco felt his face heat. "I actually think I was the one doing most of the cuddling. I was pretty embarrassed when I woke up this morning. Harry will probably think I was trying to molest him in his sleep."
"I'm not entirely sure he'd mind all that much," said Astoria with a dismissive wave.
"What?"
"Oh, Draco, please. You haven't noticed Harry's little crush?"
"Crush? On who?"
Astoria rolled her eyes. "On who? On you of course! The way Harry stammers when he speaks to you, or flushes bright red, or gets nervous with sweaty palms whenever you're around?"
"You're lying," said Draco. "You don't know what you're talking about. I haven't noticed any of those things. "
"You've been rather preoccupied, haven't you? As I'm the one dying, I don't have as much on my mind. It gives me time to notice things. Such as the way you've been eyeing Harry as well."
"Now I know you're delusional, Tor," Draco stated. "If I didn't even notice what you think you noticed about Har—Potter, how can you presume to say that I have returned the attention?"
"I didn't say you returned the attention. I simply said that the two of you pay close attention to each other. I'm not sure how you manage to pay so much attention to each other without noticing that you're attracted to each other, but you are both extraordinary men. In this case, you're both extraordinarily oblivious."
Draco shook his head and grasped Astoria's hands. "I don't know what you're saying! I love you! How could you even think I'd be attracted to anyone else when I have you?"
Draco's wife squeezed his hands and smiled softly. "You won't always have me, love. And the living must go on. Remember that." She gave him a saucy wink. "And watch Harry. I think you'll be surprised."
So Draco watched Harry. He had to admit that Astoria might have a small point, about both Harry and himself. As the weeks passed, and Astoria's condition worsened, Harry became an even firmer presence in the couple's lives. As confusing as that was for Draco, he couldn't help but feel soothed by Harry's ability to determine exactly what he needed.
The day Healer Michaels came to visit and, after examining Astoria, said that it was probably just a matter of time, Harry found Draco in a disused hallway, staring sightlessly at a portrait on the wall.
"This is my great-uncle Driver Malfoy, and his wife Helena," said Draco, without looking at Harry as he approached. "They were married for seventy-eight years. Can you imagine being married to the same person for seventy-eight years? Spending day after day with the same person for almost a lifetime?"
Harry stood next to Draco and examined the portrait. Driver and Helena stood tall and proud, obviously posing for their audience, but every so often Draco noticed that they would look at each other with a private smile, like they knew a secret that Draco could only hope to ever learn.
Harry spoke, "They were incredibly fortunate to have had the time they had together."
"True. That's assuming that they were happy. Divorce wasn't as common then as it is now. What if they spent seventy-eight years wishing things were different? Seventy-eight years of lost opportunities and regrets."
Draco watched as Driver Malfoy placed a kiss on Helena's hand and made a gallant bow. "At least I'll never have to wonder 'what if' with Astoria. We've been married six years, and they've been good years. We have always been happy, and in love. There are no regrets there."
"She asked me to take care of you, after," Harry suddenly blurted.
Draco turned to Harry and watched as he blushed and stared at his feet. Draco reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Harry's shoulder, with his thumb brushing over Harry's collarbone. Harry lifted his chin to look into Draco's eyes.
"Astoria can be like a dog with a bone once she gets an idea in her head," said Draco, and Harry nodded vigorously, though Draco noticed that his eyes were suspiciously bright. "Thing is, in all the years I've known her, and witnessed her many ideas, she has never been wrong."
Harry smiled and nodded again. Then, as if shaking himself out of his thoughts, he bumped his shoulder against Draco's.
"Come on," said Harry as he began to walk back toward the main part of the house. "You and I are going flying."
"Flying?"
"That's right. It's been far too long since I've flown, and Astoria said she can't even remember the last time she saw you on a broom. I thought it would be a good way to take your mind off of...everything that happened today." Harry gestured toward the wall where two brooms were propped. "So let's go."
Draco reached for the broom, already excited about being in the air again, when a thought occurred to him.
"What about Astoria?"
"Don't worry." Harry pulled what looked like a Galleon from his pocket. "I've instructed Mippy to keep an eye on her, and if she should need us for anything, Mippy can contact me through this."
Reassured, Draco grasped the broom and shot Harry a sly look. "Think you're out of shape, Potter?"
Harry smiled. "You wish."
Flying was even better than he remembered it. Draco knew that it had been years since he'd been on a broom, and he realized that he appreciated the freedom that flying afforded, even more now than he had as a child. And flying with Harry instead of against Harry was a very pleasant experience as well. They flew high and made lazy loops, each taking a turn in the lead. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling more relaxed than he had since Astoria's diagnosis.
When he opened his eyes, he looked at Harry to see him staring back at him with a familiar look in his eyes. Draco cleared his throat, nervous and unused to being caressed by a simple glance, and Harry immediately shuttered his eyes and locked the emotion away. Draco ignored the pang he felt at its loss.
"We've been out here a while; you think it's time to go back inside?" Draco called, and Harry nodded and steered his broom in the direction of the house.
After they had landed and stowed their brooms away, Draco said, "Thank you. That was exactly what I needed. How did you know that?"
"Oh you know, it's one of those old adages. Flying eases stress. Not quite as catchy as A butterbeer a day keeps the mediwizard away, but just as useful."
Draco spoke without thinking. "You probably shouldn't share the butterbeer one very much; their value would plummet. Who wouldn't want you around?"
Draco was instantly mortified, but Harry just smiled, though his attractive blush returned in full force. "Thanks. Now why don't we go check on our girl?"
Astoria was sitting up in bed when they arrived and she laughed at their windswept appearance. "You two look happy. Have a good time flying?"
"It was great. Just what the mediwizard ordered," Draco replied with a chuckle.
"I'm glad. Draco, love, I asked the house-elves to prepare a special meal just for us tonight." Astoria turned to Harry. "I hope you won't think me rude, Harry; I just have a few things to discuss with Draco and I'd like to spend a little time with him. Do you mind dining on your own tonight?"
"Not at all. Have a great dinner, and feel free to call me if you need me." With that, Harry left.
Astoria had gone all out in the preparations for dinner. She had instructed the house-elves to make all of Draco's favorite dishes, including his favorite chocolate éclairs for dessert. Astoria made almost idle conversation throughout dinner; though Draco could tell that she had something important to say, he knew she would only say it in her own time. So he played along, feigning a spontaneous casual dinner in bed rather than a last meal with his dying, bedridden wife.
For that was what Draco soon realized was happening. Astoria had planned this as a last meal. She must have read this on his face because she finally put down her fork and said, "Love, don't be angry."
"How can you ask me that? This is all rather morbid, don't you think?"
"Draco, I am going to die."
"I know that, Tor! But why do you have to act like tonight is the night? Like we'll never have another meal, or another conversation?" Draco threw his hands in the air, prepared to rant some more, when he was halted by his wife's next words.
"Because it is, Draco."
Draco stared with his mouth hanging open as Astoria continued.
"I felt it as soon as I woke up this morning. This is it, love. I'm certain. And I have so many things that I want to tell you, and I want to hold you and kiss you and I don't want to fight with you. And I want to be angry, and bitter that this is happening to me because it's not fair! It's not fair that I have to die, that I have to leave you and that you have to hurt and move on and love someone else, because it was supposed to be us. Forever!"
Astoria sat back against the pillows, as if suddenly all the fight had left her. Her next words were soft. "But it's not us forever. And there's no point being bitter and angry. I don't want to waste my last night on earth raging and cursing the gods for doing this to us."
She extended her arms, and Draco didn't hesitate to lie next to her on the bed and wrap her up in his arms. She settled her head against his chest and sighed. "I want you to promise me that you'll move on. I know it's cliché, but promise me."
"I promise, Tor."
"And I know it's selfish, but I want you to hold me. The only way I can be okay with dying is if I die in your arms."
Draco tightened his arms around her and stroked her hair. "I'm here."
He felt moisture on his shirt as Astoria cried in his arms. The knowledge was too much to bear, and Draco's eyes filled with tears. His hold had tightened to the point where he knew he must be squeezing Astoria uncomfortably, but he couldn't make his arms let go.
"I love you so much, Tor."
There was a sniffle, then a tired voice replied, "Draco, love you."
Draco held Astoria for an hour after she passed. He rocked her, stroked her hair, and cried silently. When he finally realized that Harry was in the room, he could tell that the mediwizard had been present for quite a while.
"How did you know?"
"Mippy came to get me. I didn't want to intrude on your time together."
"I'm not sure I can let her go. I'm not sure I can make my arms move, Harry."
Harry approached the bed, and sat on the other side of Astoria. He touched Draco's hand. "She's gone, Draco. You can stay here and hold her a while if you need to, but I need to call Healer Michaels and the funeral home. Have you—did the two of you make arrangements?"
Draco nodded dumbly, arms still wound around Astoria. Harry shifted off the bed and made for the door. "Just stay there, Draco. I'll take care of it."
The next few days were a blur, with Draco moving, numb and mechanical, through the motions of the funeral and burial of his wife. Draco couldn't conjure the energy to speak; he was too focused on the simple process of forcing his limbs to move. As the last guest left the house, Draco stared at the closed front door, at a complete loss as to what to do.
He couldn't be sure how long he stood there before Harry found him. As he heard the footsteps approach, he turned to look at Harry. Staring into Harry's eyes, the finality hit him, and he felt his knees crumble beneath him. Somehow he knew that Harry would catch him.
Harry carried Draco upstairs, avoiding Draco and Astoria's bedroom and entering the guest room. He laid Draco gently down on the bed, then moved to Draco's feet and removed his shoes. Draco let Harry undress him, but when Harry moved to pull the covers over him and leave, Draco grasped Harry's arm and pulled him back.
"Harry, please... I can't feel anything. It's just... empty. There's nothing."
Harry moved back to the bed and sat down. Draco reached for Harry, running his hands over every part of Harry that he could, as if acquainting himself with touch all over again. He lifted his hands and ran them over Harry's face, then grasped the back of Harry's neck and pulled his face down, millimeters from his own.
"Please, Harry. Please," cried Draco. Harry quieted the cries by brushing his lips across Draco's.
The kiss was fevered yet soothing. Harry gave comfort with it, and Draco took comfort from it. Their bodies moved together, and clothing was slowly pulled away to allow for the slide of skin against skin.
Draco watched as Harry's lips moved over his chest, pulling breathless whimpers from Draco as he moved his hands across Harry's shoulders and into his black hair.
As Harry accepted Draco into his body, Draco was torn between squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation or staring deep into Harry's green eyes for as long as possible. Draco could feel the tears begin to fall, and when he looked at Harry, he could see tears reflected back in Harry's eyes. Draco and Harry moved with each other in a continuous flow of hands and lips and sweat and skin. Draco's whispered chant of, "Harry, Harry, Harry," pushed them both over the edge, and they collapsed into a pile of limbs and tears.
Draco woke some time later, wrapped around Harry in much the same way as he had been the last time they'd shared a bed. Draco smiled at the thought of it, and the memory of his conversation with Astoria that had happened the morning after. The smile wavered a bit, but did not completely fade.
Draco moved gently from Harry's hold and found his trousers and shirt. He dressed quickly, and walked through the house and out the front door.
He Apparated to the cemetery, and walked toward the fresh mound of earth that marked Astoria's grave. Draco dropped to his knees in front of the grave, and sat in silence. For all of the things that Draco thought he would have to say to Astoria, he found that the need to say them was suddenly gone. He sat a while longer, in a content quiet that brought him a peace he had never expected to feel.
He had no idea how long he'd been at Astoria's grave, but when he finally stood, he simply said, "I'll always love you, Tor," before he Apparated back home.
Draco heard the sound of drawers opening and closing as he approached Harry's room, and as he walked through the doorway, he observed Harry removing his clothes from the bureau and packing them into a small bag.
"You're leaving?"
Harry jumped, then spun to face Draco. For an instant, Draco saw devastation flash in Harry's eyes.
"I think it's best if I go. There's no real reason for me to stay, not now that... Well, anyway, it's probably time that I go back to my flat."
Draco suddenly felt wretched that he had left without telling Harry where he was going. He couldn't imagine how he would have felt if the roles had been reversed.
"I went to see Astoria," he blurted.
Harry did not pause in his packing. "You did?"
"I did. I thought I needed to say goodbye. I thought that I had all of these things that I had forgotten to say to her, that I had to get out before I could move on. But I figured out that I didn't."
"Oh?"
Draco finally moved to Harry and placed his arms around Harry's torso, restraining Harry's arms from their packing. Harry stilled, but said nothing.
"I felt guilty. I thought I needed to apologize to her for what happened between us last night. Apologize for the way I feel about you. But I couldn't do it. Because I'm not sorry."
Draco realized that Harry was holding his breath. "I figured out that I felt guilty because I didn't feel guilty. I thought I should feel bad, like I had betrayed Astoria by caring for you. But Tor knew. She knew how we felt, even before we knew ourselves. And she knew that the love I have for you is completely different than the love I have for her. She knew that those two loves didn't have to compete with each other; they could both exist within me. She knew that you could help me heal, and she wanted it."
Draco turned Harry around so he could see Harry's face. Harry had tear tracks down each cheek, and his green eyes were brimming with tears. Draco gently wiped Harry's cheeks and kissed each one.
"I can't promise to jump into a relationship with you, and I can't promise that I'll be easy to live with in the near future. But I want to try."
As Harry smiled through his tears, he moved to give Draco a chaste kiss. "I've never expected anything about you to be easy, Draco. But I'm glad you want to try." He breathed into the hair at Draco's ear. "Because so do I."
--fin--