"I'm worried about her," Draco says suddenly, his eyes trained on the inside of his cup of coffee. Harry looks up from his hunched position on his desk, wild hair sticking up at the back and looks so ridiculous, Draco can't help but snort. Harry rolls his eyes before answering, "Worried about who?"

Draco looks downcast again, takes a sip of his coffee. "Tori."

"Mmm. Have the healers had a look at her recently?" Harry asks, dropping his quill. Draco nods, his eyes far away.

"She just...she doesn't talk to me anymore. She's usually awake before I am, sitting in that damn chair and staring out the window. Sometimes she doesn't even respond when I greet her, like she can't hear me." Draco shakes his head as Harry listens, fingers folded in his lap. He's a good listener, with his wide eyes and sloped smile. Over the course of Draco's employment with The Ministry, and a few hard drinks and even harder apologies were made, he and Potter had become sort of friends. Not to mention that their desks were three feet from one another.

"Sorry," Draco exhales, placing his mug on his desk. "I didn't mean to dump all this on you."

Harry stands and crosses the small distance between them, and leans against the edge of Dracos desk. "Come off it, mate. How many times have I asked for advice about Pansy?"

Draco inhales sharply. "That's because you so happened to marry my ex-girlfriend, we have a shared experience."

"Please, I need no reminders of that." Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and Draco chuckled darkly.

"I still can't believe she married you and became a healer."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, black hair falling in front of his eyes, ignoring Dracos attempt at deflection. "Have you considered grief counseling?"

It was no secret that Astoria was sick. Fragile all her life, it wasn't really a surprise that she'd fallen ill. She wasn't near death though, she was very much alive and breathing. But sometimes it felt like he lived with a ghost.

"She isn't dead, Potter." Draco said, keeping his voice tame because Harry didn't deserve to be at the end of his short temper. "You only grieve the dead."

Harry nodded knowingly. "True, but maybe that's why she's so distant. Maybe...she feels like she's already died."

Draco flicked his eyes at him, wondering how such an idiot from school had gained any sort of word wisdom. He appreciated Potter's crassness, telling him exactly what he thought instead of treading around on eggshells.

"I just...you're not wrong." Draco relented, looking anywhere but at Harry. "I've seen it bad before. I've seen her slip away from me, but I've always been able to coax her back. I've never really worried that she would..."

His voice traces off, and Draco pauses. He swallows and flexes his fingers. Beside him Harry is silent, watching with green eyes as Draco composes himself.

"She won't let me in. Won't let me touch her, hold her. And when I speak, I don't know if she's listening."

Draco never struggled with words, but with everything he's tried he can't seem to reach his wife. He just wishes she would hear him, let him explain that he loves her, that they'll be ok. That she'll be ok. He needs her like he needs air but he can't even say that, doesn't want her to think he's being needy and irrational while she's the one who's physically sick.

"Malfoy, all you can really do is be there for her," Harry replied, nodding slowly. "Just let her know you're there, and always will be."

"How can she not know that?" Draco heaved, clenching his fists.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe she does, or maybe she needs a reminder." Harry pats him on the shoulder once more, standing before he settles back on his side of the room.

Draco inhales slowly, willing his heart to stop beating so fast as Harry picks up his quill and resumes his writing. He decides that the Boy Who Lived is probably right, having helped Draco with his own demons after he was released from Azkaban. Astoria and Harry had been there for him for months, so maybe he wasn't far off in any advice he gave.

Astoria is in the garden when he gets back from the office. She's quiet, her back pressed against the metal wiring of the picnic chairs as her silent tears cloud her vision. Her hands are clasped tightly, lips slightly raw from chewing and picking.

She wasn't dead, but she felt it. The healers told her she had a few years left, but honestly what was the point? She would die, and Draco would be alone. Their large mansion would become dusty, her normally bright and stoic husband would begin to decay along with it, and she knew it would be her fault. Her fault for being unhealthy. And while she had no control over it, she still blamed herself. Hated that she couldn't be the wife he deserved.

She hears him before she sees him, his dragonhide boots padding gently towards her. He stops moving a few feet away from her, and she shuts her eyes. Normally, she would stand the moment he entered the room, sprint across whatever distance was between them and race into his arms. Now she sits silently, praying that he leaves her alone so she can cry in solitude.

"Hello, darling." He says softly, and she bristles at his voice. There's a sound of footsteps then he's in front of her, kneeling down next to her chair. She glances at him, grips the cloth of her dress. He's still so handsome. Six years of marriage later and he still dazzles her, still makes her breath catch when he smiles.

Now he's looking up at her, jaw tight and eyes soft. "Have you eaten today?" she blinks, but doesn't respond, does not trust her voice not to crack when she speaks. He reaches for her hand, fingers brushing her knuckles and she jerks away, afraid of the attachment that physical contact creates between the two of them. Her heart twists when his expression falls, hurt lacing his eyes.

"You don't have to say anything." He whispers, eyes now on her hands because it hurt too much to look at her face, so void of emotion for him. "I just want you to know I'm here."

He stands, straightening his jacket before walking back the way he had come. She listens intently as his footsteps retreat, and when she can no longer hear them, she raises her hand to her face and weeps.

It's well past supper time when Astoria finally comes inside. Draco feels the ability to breathe easy return as she closes the glass door behind her, watching from their bedroom door. He moves, striding to the window that overlooks their garden, where he had been sitting for the better part of the evening so he could watch her, make sure she didn't need him. Astoria enters their bedroom, and jumps slightly when she sees him. His heart hurts but he tries to smile, tucking his hands into his night clothing.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I can have the elves make you something." Astoria looks at him, and it's like a punch to the gut. He can't help his expression, can't help how his throat constricts.

Please, please just talk to me.

She opens her mouth, her hands wringing, but nothing comes out, the silence stretching between them, before she shuts her jaw and paces to their bed. With her back to him, she climbs in, curling around herself.

"Tori..." Draco sighs, coming around the edge of the bed and kneeling in front of her line of sight. "Please talk to me, love. What hurts?"

He's aware of her body aches, aware that her sickness makes her nauseous, makes her limbs and muscles sore. But he can't begin to understand what it does to her mind and heart.

She doesn't respond, stares at him blankly and he looks away, tensing his jaw before standing. "I'll be here when you're ready, Astoria." He whispers. He thinks about telling her he loves her, that he can't breathe without her, but bites his tongue. She isn't a burden and he doesn't want his emotions to make her feel like she is. He tucks his hands back into his pockets and exits their bedroom, returning to the plush green couch in their living room that he'd been calling his bed for the past few weeks to give her space.

He leans into the couch, racking his hands into his hair. He considers calling his mother, but quickly waves the thought away. Astoria wouldn't want to bother Narcissa, always viewing her as a surrogate mother since hers was so vile. Immediately he seethes at the thought of her family.

Draco had had his own emotional trauma by the hands of his family but Astoria was different. Draco had always had his mother to lean on when his father was harsh. Astoria had no one but her sister, and her sister was just a child herself. No one had protected them from the back of their fathers hand, or the venom of their mothers words, and from the little Draco was privy to, it made his insides boil with rage.

Inhaling deeply, he presses the palm of his hand to his forehead, willing himself to calm as he lays on his back.

He wonders if he should write to Daphne. The eldest Greengrass was now living in Romania with Blaise, celebrating their recent marriage. Would she know how to reach her sister when she's buried so deeply within herself?

The sound of wood creaking catches his attention, and Draco peels his eyes, to find his wife leaning against the frame of the door, staring at him.

**

She misses him the moment he's out of the door. Scrunching her eyes closed, Astoria pulls her aching limbs to her chest, curls herself as tightly as she could. Her chest heaves from the effort of holding back tears, her ears ringing from silence.

It was times like these she wished she could forgive her mother. If she could, she would have someone to lean on, someone that was supposed to take care of her. She wasn't meant to be Draco's burden, but her mother? Mothers are supposed to carry the weight of their children, help them through it, guide them.

But she had never forgiven her. She couldn't; what kind of parent idly stood by as the other one hurt their children?

Astoria pressed her face into the pillow, full knowing this was Merlin punishing her for being unforgiving. Maybe if she was kinder, more understanding, her mother would have loved her the way she was supposed to, be there the way she should have been.

But...Draco was there. He had said so.

Slowly, her aching body screaming in protest, she sits up and wipes her eyes. The room was still empty, and she slowly made her way out of bed, dragging the blanket with her before pushing the door open and leaning against the frame.

He's lying on his back, a palm pressed to his forehead. A familiar guilt washes over her like cold rain. He looked so alone. She never meant to hurt him, nor anyone, with her depression, but that's all she seemed to do. His downcast expression flashes to the forefront of her mind and she bites the inside of her cheek.

His head turns, eyes open and there's so much love there she nearly toppers over. Gathering the comforter around her shoulders she approaches him, not sure what to say. She slumps down to the floor, leaning against the couch. Draco doesn't move, watching her intently.

"Draco," she whispers, hating the way her voice cracks, hand reaching out to touch his arm lightly.

"I'm here, sweetheart." He says, quickly turning on his side.

"May I lay with you?"

Surprise shoots through him like electricity but he nods quickly, opening his arms and she slides into his hold. Once settled against his chest, Draco wraps his arms around her waist, bringing her closer, inhaling her scent before kissing the top of her head. He lets her squish into him as close as possible, cheek pressed just below his collarbone and he wraps the blanket around them.

He tries not to enjoy it, tries not to love the way she feels in his arms because he doesn't know how long it will last. Doesn't know how long it will be until she pulls away from him again but he can't help it. It's been weeks since he's been this close to her, weeks since she's allowed him to touch her.

"I was worried you couldn't sleep out here," she whispered against his chest suddenly, startling him but he listens intently. "I know you hate the open ceiling."

His hand drifts to the curve of her hip and he squeezes gently. "You're right, I do hate the open ceiling."

They fall quiet, Draco's fingers circling small patterns on her hip. She wills herself not to cry. He didn't need to hear her tears, the Ministry had him stressed enough; she didn't want to add to it.

Don't make yourself such a burden, Astoria! You're difficult enough as it is, you'll never gain a husband at this rate.

But she had secured a husband. An amazing one at that. Her father had been wrong about so many things, but he'd been the most wrong about her husband.

Her cheeks are damp and she sniffles softly. Draco sighs, hand stopping its movement and instead his fingers splay out over her clothed hip. "Tori..."

"Dont, draco." Astoria warns, but her resolve fails her and her voice wobbles, cracks horribly. "Stop it."

"Sweetheart, please." Draco says and she flinches at his tone. "You're giving up. I can feel it–and I can't stand it. I can't just stand by and watch as you fade away from me. Please, I just want to help you through this but don't give up. Please?"

The tears well and fall from her cheeks, staining his shirt. If he feels them he doesn't show it, just kisses the crown of her head and strokes her hip, fingers reaching towards her back and he draws circles there too.

He didn't deserve this, a dying wife. He didn't deserve any of it.

Eventually she pulls back enough to see his face, and he wipes at her damp cheeks. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replies, thumb stroking just beneath her eye. "So much."

She swallows, nodding sadly. "That's just the problem."

Draco gives her a quizzical look, his hands splayed across her back protectively, and she sniffs again.

"I'm dying, Draco. There's no question whether it's happening or not." He stiffens against her, and she tries to ignore the ache it causes her. "it's easy to feel like...like you'd be better off if I just...wasn't around. I'm not going to last anyway so what's the point?" Draco holds back tears as he listens because she's finally opening up to him and he doesn't want to scare her off but she is so terribly wrong, he wouldn't be better off. "I love you, but my time with you is so short. I-I can't even give you children—"

"That is not your fault." Draco cut in, unable to contain his rage. Not at her but at the real perpetrator of her infertility. "What that man did to you was unfair and horrible and entirely not your fault."

At this Astorias eyes shine and she tries to smile, reaching her fingers up to his neck lightly. "I know, you're right."

"You're father tortured you, do you understand that? Under the guises of science, he had you believe he was being progressive. Someone who loves you wouldn't do that," Draco seethes. He's nearly shaking with rage, but then he hears her sniffle and his anger gives way to grief. "You didn't deserve that, my love."

They fall silent again, Astoria leaning her forehead against his chin and he rubs her back until he can't take it anymore. "Please talk to me, Tori."

Tears wet his neck as she begins to cry, and he cradles her small frame to him, his hand cupping the back of her neck.

A sob hitches her throat. "I don't want to leave you. I'm not afraid of dying but I still want so much with you. I want...more time. I want more fucking time."

"Oh, Tori," Draco shushes her gently. "I'm right here. We can do whatever you want. Ask for the world and it'll be yours tomorrow."

"You can't buy time, Draco." She sobs, and he nods knowingly, trying to keep his composer because he can't let her see just how much that little fact kills him.

"You're always taking care of me,'' Draco murmurs, fingers threading into her hair. She looks up at him, eyes red rimmed and wide. "You and Potter helped me when I first got out of Azkaban, remember? And I was horrendous, pushing you away but you fought for me."

She blinks, her chin wobbles as she nods, before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Let me take care of you now, sweetheart." He murmurs against her hair, pushing back the strands. "Hmm? Just like you've done for me countless times."

Astoria nods slowly. "Alright." She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment before she flicks her eyes to his. "Can we visit Scorpious tomorrow?"

Draco exhales but nods, presses a kiss to her forehead. "Of course we can."