1990

—

For the fifth night in a row, Astoria wakes up in a pool of sweat.

It's not like the occasional nights on which she gets nightmares, because she can't remember why she's jolted awake. She certainly isn't overly well-rested; in fact, it's the opposite.

For the fifth night in a row, she has not been able to stay asleep until the sun comes streaming through her window.

She flips onto her right side, hoping the repositioning will help. Instead, she feels an intense pain in her muscles, forcing her onto her back this time. Astoria notices every single bit of discomfort — the mattress is too hard and the heater is too loud, her leg is too sore and her nose is too congested.

Perhaps it's time to tell her parents. She's usually told to toughen up when she has a cold, but Astoria can tell this is no regular cold. Something deep within her tiny body, flowing through her, urges her that she isn't supposed to feel like this. She resolves to wait until morning, so she doesn't have to wake anyone up. If she had a wand, she could at least fill a glass with water to cool her down. Instead, she flips her pillow and tries to move to a different spot on her bed, but nothing helps.

She lays in bed for three hours and twenty-one minutes before she hears stirring in the hallway and the voices of her parents.

As she stands up, she realizes how much her body aches. It could be from the uncomfortable bed, which used to be her safe haven. Still, the joints in her legs feel sticky as she barely manages to open her window, and she doesn't recall ever having to use this much energy to walk to her bureau that sits in the far corner of her room. Even as the frigid October air — soon to be November air — comes waltzing into her bedroom, she still feels the burning inside of her. Daphne is probably picking out a long sweater and pants in her own room, but Astoria can barely find comfort in the medium-length skirt and short-sleeved top patterned with horseshoes that she puts on.

Slowly, she makes her way down the stairs, feeling even more weary once she reaches the bottom. There's a steady pounding beat, and she can't figure out if it's the big grandfather clock in the sitting room or her own heart knocking to be let out of the small cage of her chest.

"Astoria! Go put on a jacket; it's freezing out!" Priscilla exclaims as she sees her younger daughter reach the table. She hands her a glass of hot tea, to which Astoria shakes her head.

"I'm not cold, Mother," Astoria says, slightly whining. "I was sweating all night and my bones feel like they've caught fire." She leans her head into her hand before her father taps at the elbow that rests on the mahogany table.

"Perhaps you wore too much to bed," Daphne pitches in as she reaches for the orange marmalade.

Astoria frowns. "That's what I thought, the first time this happened. I already changed into my summer nightgown three nights ago."

"I'm sure it will pass, Astoria. Now, eat your toast," her father says as he cuts into his egg. The world inside of the Greengrass kitchen is otherwise peaceful, with the sounds of the kettle boiling hot water and marmalade spreading on toast filling the air.

Astoria stares down at her plate, her toast never looking as unappealing as it does today. "I've never been sick this long before," she whispers.

Priscilla sighs before she speaks, her gaze switching between her husband and her younger daughter. "I'm going to run some errands by St. Mungo's today. I can bring her to see a Healer." She turns around to find the nearest house elf, who happens to be vigorously scrubbing a bowl that previously contained porridge. "Tooksy, make a bowl of chicken noodle soup for Daphne's lunch today. Astoria and I will not be home; have dinner for the four of us ready at six o'clock sharp."

"Yes, Mistress Priscilla," the elf responds immediately, his rapid polishing never reaching a stop.

Astoria takes small nibbles of her toast. Even though she's spread extra marmalade on today, it tastes bland. Every piece she chews feels dry, and creates a chalky feeling as it goes down her throat. She pours herself a glass of juice, hoping it will soothe her. Thankfully, the cold rush gives her body a little relief, as she tries her best to finish her meal. Despite her shrinking appetite, she's appreciative that her mother is taking her to see a Healer; she'd rather not draw any more attention towards herself, hoping to avoid anything that might set her father off.

Luckily for her, Mordred looks over at the copper grandfather clock and gets up quickly. He doesn't need to say anything for the whole household to know he's running on a tight schedule to get to his job at the Ministry of Magic. Astoria isn't confident she knows what he does, because every time she's heard him explain it, it doesn't sound like something anybody should want to spend the rest of their lives doing. Ministry jobs are a whole lot of gruesome regulation and chaotic secrecy from the rest of the world.

Daphne quickly asks to be excused momentarily, and Tooksy promptly clears her plate and mug. Astoria has no idea what could be so urgent for a ten year old, but her face lights up when she sees her sister gracefully bounding back down the stairs, something soft in her hands.

"You can have him today," she says cheerfully, placing the plush in her younger sister's hands. Astoria immediately recognizes Daphne's favorite stuffed animal, a kneazle named Knailo. She runs her hand across his polyester fur, fluffing up his tail.

Priscilla gushes, "how kind of you, Daphne!" She strokes her daughter's cheek before turning to the other girl. "What do you say back, Astoria?" Her tone is neither stern nor gentle.

"Thank you, Fifi," Astoria says, giving her sister a loose hug with her open arm. Daphne holds onto her longer before skipping back up to her room, mumbling something about finishing a chapter she's reading.

Astoria sinks back into her chair as she runs her thumb over Knailo's ear. He smells softly of Daphne and her room, like fresh linens and a slight rose scent that Astoria assumes is from the lotion their mother gave her. She watches as Tooksy clears her mother's spot at the table after Priscilla gets up, finishing her morning routine before she's ready to take Astoria to St. Mungo's.

Astoria suddenly becomes very conscious of how rough the seat feels against her small, bony frame, so she goes up to her room to grab a small cardigan before walking in circles in the grand foyer, never letting go of her sister's stuffed animal.

—

Holding each others' hands, Priscilla and Astoria reach a store called Purge and Dowse, Ltd., a plain-looking building whose exterior is covered in red bricks. Priscilla doesn't hesitate when they reach it; meanwhile, Astoria stops momentarily in her tracks to look around at the towering architecture. Before she realizes it, Astoria is being pulled through the brick wall. She's entirely shocked at first, but remembers hearing older family friends talking about how they got on the train to go to Hogwarts. The entrance to St. Mungo's is the same, and she soon finds herself blinded by the bright lights of the hospital.

Astoria isn't tall enough to see over the desk, but the Welcome Witch tilts her head down to give her a grim look as Priscilla explains their situation and receives some paperwork. Grabbing her daughter's hand again, Priscilla walks the two towards a couple of wobbly wooden chairs.

Astoria looks around, intimidated by the peculiar ailments she sees around her. Healers dressed in lime green rush in and out, calling for patients and traveling from floor to floor. To her left, there is a man whose skin is tinged purple with a small plant growing from his scalp. On the other side of her mother, a woman has bubbles floating out of her nose every time she exhales.

She swings her legs back and forth as she waits, concentrating on the scratching noise of her mother's scrawling so she doesn't have to listen to the man in the corner who is currently hacking up tiny green frogs. Astoria regrets ever thinking her bed and dining room chair were uncomfortable, as the rickety chair beneath her sounds like it's threatening to break any second. She leans her head back against the wall, the hard surface cool against her burning body.

"Norman Polliwog," a Healer calls as she walks in, staring around the room with a disinterested gaze through her glasses. As the man gets up, another frog the same shade as the Healer's robes falls from his mouth and leaps away.

Astoria sniffles through her congested nose, bracing for an apathetic or peeved Healer to listen half-heartedly to her explaining how she can't sleep. For a young girl whose life has been surrounded by adults disregarding her thoughts, there's not much else she can expect.

Priscilla rises briefly to hand her stack of parchment back to the Welcome Witch, who looks even more dull than she was just ten minutes ago. Astoria made a note to herself that she did not want to be a Welcome Witch when she grew up. She rubs her chapped lips together and realizes how dry her mouth is.

"Mother?" Astoria says quietly, hoping not to disturb the older woman. "May I have some water, please?"

Wordlessly, Priscilla pulls a small glass bottle out of her enchanted purse. "Aguamenti," she says, and Astoria watches as the vial fills to the top.

She takes it gently from her mother's hand and downs it swiftly, immediately just as thirsty as she was before.

Before she can decide if she should ask for more, another lime-clad Healer walks into the reception area.

"Astoria Greengrass," the Healer says as she looks up from the beige folder in her hands. Her voice is slick and silvery, and a large clip that must be charmed in some way holds together the pieces of her thick, dark hair.

The mother and daughter get up, this time Astoria walking in front as she boldly steps right behind the Healer, eager to get to the bottom of her ailments. As they pass through hallways lined in white, a particular odor of countless elixirs wafts through the air. None of them are familiar to Astoria, but she guesses none of them taste pleasant. At the end of the hall stands three silver-gated elevators, one of which the Healer leads them into. There are six buttons lined up on the side, and the Healer presses the one indicating the second floor. Astoria feels the slight pressure against her head as they quickly rise.

There's a big sign also lined in silver that hangs high upon the wall outside of the elevator that reads, "Magical Bugs Ward." Astoria giggles to herself, an image of insects lying in hospital beds intruding into her head. She thinks she would be a ladybug, or perhaps a dragonfly.

The Healer leads them into the third room around the left corner, which is painted a dull blue-gray color. Astoria immediately squints at the brightness of the lights in the ceiling, to which the Healer casts a quick darkening charm. She gestures towards the bed, which looks more like a table with a hard mattress on top, and Astoria obediently hops up and situates herself above it. Priscilla seats herself at one of the chairs lined up against the opposite wall.

The Healer holds out her hand, first shaking Astoria's and then Priscilla's. "My name is Dorothea Griffith, and I'll be your Healer today."

Priscilla looks up at the woman with a pensive look. "I'm Priscilla Greengrass, and this is my daughter Astoria." With little thought or hesitation, she asks, "is that a Muggle surname?"

Astoria freezes uncomfortably, unsure of how the Healer will react and what her mother is thinking of doing.

Dorothea laughs heartily. "Yes, both my parents are Muggles. But rest assured, I received O's on all the necessary coursework to become a Healer and graduated in the top three of my year. If my bloodline is an issue to you, you're welcome to request another Healer, but my prediction is that you'd be waiting for another few hours before someone of your preference can see your daughter."

Priscilla huffs loudly before sitting back in her chair as Astoria swings her legs back and forth.

Dorothea pulls out a few pieces of parchment and places them on top of the beige folder. "What brings you in today, dear?"

Astoria smiles weakly before answering. "For the last five nights, I haven't been able to sleep through the night. I always jolt awake and can't fall asleep again. Everything is too hot, my whole body hurts, and I have no energy."

Dorothea nods continuously as she begins scribbling down what Astoria tells her. Priscilla still stares intently at Dorothea, as if hoping to turn her to stone.

"I'm going to bring you an elixir to drink," Dorothea says as she stands up. "It will make the tests I'm running on you easier." She turns around to the mirror by the door, which Astoria soon realizes is a cabinet. Dorothea pulls out a vial with a lilac-colored fluid inside and hands it to Astoria.

Despite the lovely shade, the elixir oddly tastes like nothing, although it leaves a strange scent in her nose after she's finished. The inside of her mouth feels gritty, but she immediately feels her body relax and soften.

For the next half hour, Dorothea silently casts a number of spells over Astoria from head to toe. Astoria is much too young to know what any of them do, but she reckons even if she had been to school, these spells would still be too specialized for her to need to know. She feels countless sensations throughout her body during the examination, sometimes a light pressure against her forearm and at other times a sharp tingling in her neck. At one point, small sparks fly out of Dorothea's wand, but she assures Astoria there is nothing to be afraid of and she will not have any pain inflicted on her. This proves to be correct, and Astoria feels as if she is floating. Priscilla stares intensely at her daughter and the Healer, but eventually becomes disinterested and picks up a Witch Weekly magazine that's sitting in a pile on a small triangular table.

After delicately pricking Astoria's finger and giving her a chocolate frog, Dorothea exits the room, saying she'll return in ten minutes. But, ten minutes pass, and another ten, and yet another ten, until Astoria isn't sure how long they've been waiting.

When the Healer returns, she has an alarmed look on her face, and she asks to speak to Priscilla outside the room. Priscilla reluctantly stands, but quickly walks out when she sees Dorothea's expression. Astoria tries to make out their conversation beyond the door, but it's all unintelligible.

Even though her patience is able to withstand more than most children her age can, Astoria is riddled with anxiety as she waits, unsure of what she can expect. She stares ahead at the wall across from her, which has flyers and posters advertising for new potions and elixirs that can be purchased to ward away and cure various ailments. She focuses on the photo of a child whose skin has turned purple, but only before drinking a big glass bottle.

Finally, her mother reenters the room, quickly walking over to Astoria with a solemn look across her face. "Your father and Daphne are on their way over," was all she said before sitting back down, trying her best not to shake her leg up and down in front of her daughter.

—

There seems to only be partial validity to Priscilla's previous statement, because when Dorothea knocks on Astoria's hospital room, she walks in with only Mordred beside her.

"Due to her young age and the various contagions within St. Mungo's, your sister will not be allowed inside," Dorothea says with an apologetic smile.

Mordred takes a seat on one of the open chairs next to his wife as Dorothea sits back down in the Healers' stool. Astoria sits up straighter, adjusting her posture. During the last hour as she's waited, Astoria has taken to relaxing as much as her mother would allow, slumping down and resting her fatigued frame.

Dorothea takes out a few new pieces of parchment before beginning her inquiry. "Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass, a few peculiar observations came to my attention when I was examining your daughter, and as per Healer protocol, there are a few things I need to ask you as a family."

All three Greengrasses in the room shift uncomfortably, but Astoria can tell by her parents' expression that there is a stirring beginning inside their heads.

"Is there any chance you know about any blood curses that may run in your genealogy?" Dorothea asks slowly, anticipating to be treading in deep waters.

Mordred lets out a rough sigh as he and his wife exchange a glance, but while Priscilla looks tormented, he looks agitated. "My great great aunt was a maledictus. Her name was Marjorie Silverthorn, and she was the first person in our family with a blood curse, but to our knowledge, the curse has yet to be inherited."

This is the first time Astoria has heard about this ancestor. She wonders if Daphne knows, but figures Daphne would have told her if she did.

Dorothea nods. "Blood malediction is known to skip generations and reoccur without a clear pattern. Based on the tests I ran on your daughter today, I'm led to believe she has inherited the malediction."

Astoria freezes from her perch on top of the hospital bed. She doesn't understand what this means for herself — she's never even heard of blood malediction until today.

"Usually, blood malediction does not begin manifesting until the patient has reached anywhere between their teen years and early adulthood. However, every blood curse is different, and each patient is different. Sometimes patients can begin experiencing symptoms during childhood, and in some cases malediction does not occur until well into adulthood. There are instances in which certain life events that may or may not have relations with the circumstances of the initial blood curse will have an effect and catalyze the onset of malediction."

These are just meaningless words to Astoria and she tries to piece together what she hears with no success. She would usually resolve to ask her parents about it one day when she can understand, despite the fact that she will undeniably worry about it every day until then. However, something tells her this is a much more sinister topic that her parents may not be as open to talking about with her.

"In Astoria's case, the malediction fortunately has not begun manifesting itself yet. However, due to circumstances that examinations cannot tell us, the blood curse has already weakened her immune system. It is reasonable that during these colder months, she is more prone to illness. The ailments currently in her body are typical to the average magic folk, but her immune system will just need more time than most children her age do in order to heal. She doesn't need to worry about the malediction affecting her for another several years, but you're welcome to come in whenever she gets sick and we can run some similar assessments to analyze the state of her illness."

"Can we discuss this with you outside?" Mordred asks the Healer. "I'm afraid Astoria is simply too young to hear some of this."

This baffles Astoria, considering she's the one here who's ill.

The three adults exit the room, once again leaving her in her lonesome. She traces the horseshoes that splatter across her shirt, her finger moving back and forth along the curve of the shoe.

Astoria hears a tapping against the glass window, but figures it's just a malfunction in the archaic walls. The tapping slows down, and then picks its pace back up. Some beats are heavier than others, and some are more shrill than others.

Finally, she gets up, walking towards the window to search for the source of the drumming. Looking down at the pavement below, she sees a tiny Daphne Greengrass, who appears to be tossing small pebbles up at her window. Astoria doesn't know how she knew it was her room or that her parents weren't inside, but she gives a small wave to her sister, who smiles back up and waves her hand that doesn't hold a small pile of stones.

She wishes Daphne were in the room with her. Her sister has always been a source of comfort to her, even if their parents do not approve of her actions. Astoria doubts the older girl would be able to explain any of this, but simply having her company would be enough.

Her parents and the Healer walk back into the room, with Mordred collecting his work briefcase and Priscilla picking up her long jacket as Dorothea turns to stand in front of the young girl.

"Hopefully I won't have to see you any time soon, but I will be here whenever you need me," she says as she lightly shakes Astoria's hand and helps her down from the mattress.

She hands a piece of parchment with a few lines scrawled down over to Priscilla, which Mordred immediately takes a look at. Dorothea says, "here is a list of draughts I would advise you to pick up from the apothecary. These will help to soothe the aches in her muscles and bring her body temperature down. She should take these once in the morning and once in the evening, but I've also written down a lozenge for fatigue which can be taken as needed."

"Thank you," Priscilla says curtly to the Healer.

Mordred places a stiff hand against his daughter's back as he leads her out of the room. Dorothea takes them back into the elevator, bringing them to the ground floor and guiding them towards the exit. Astoria gives her a warm smile as she leaves; although she doesn't understand the answers she's been given, she's immensely grateful for the Healer's kindness towards her throughout the day.

Astoria skips as they approach her sister, who wraps her in a tight hug. The family walks together towards the apparition point, nobody speaking as the fatigue that now sits in all of their bodies settling in.

"Father, what did Marjorie Silverthorn do that made someone curse her?" Astoria says, feeling as if she will burst if she does not ask a single question soon.

Her father looks stoically ahead as her mother wraps an arm around each daughter.

"She married a man whose father was a Muggleborn."

—

leave your brain juice here : )

i mentioned this on my instagram (which you should follow if you don't already; my handle there is also citruspotter), but i will normally be posting corresponding chapters back to back like i did with chapters one and two. however, i'm moving over the long weekend, and am not sure how much time i'll have to write and post. i'm starting my summer course on tuesday and didn't want to leave y'all high and dry, so i hope it's okay that chapter four may not come tomorrow night! of course i will try my best but i'm not good at predicting the future.

sorry for no draco in this chapter but he'll be in chapter four a lot.

qotd: do you/did you have any stuffed animals? if so, tell me about them!

aotd: i loved stuffed animals growing up and still do to this day (yes i'm 21 and there's nothing wrong with that). my favorite growing up was a sheep whose name was just the chinese word for sheep (he was named the day after i was born so don't blame me for that) and my favorite now is eeyore! he was a gift i made my high school boyfriend give me so i guess eeyore is a child of divorce now. i've taken him everywhere i've lived for the last seven years and i decided last week that his middle name is scorpius.

don't forget to vote!

enjoy the rest of your day/night!