tw // mentions of v*miting in the past

2004

—

Halloween is typically a day of festivities in the Wizarding World, but Astoria is spending it alone in her darkened room.

It's not that she doesn't want to be out at a party celebrating. She's certain that given the choice, she would be with Willow and Ivy in their penthouse, decorating cookies and watching the old muggle films their mother had given them. But here she is instead, laying in bed with a gruesome migraine that cannot be fixed with any draught.

Astoria wishes that on this specific night she could have a break, that tomorrow the harsh autumn air could resume its bidding on her body. The sound of the rain against her window is comforting, something nice to concentrate on, but she knows the changing weather will only continue to weaken her immune system. She half-wishes she hadn't urged Daphne to go to a party instead of coming over to take care of her.

You would think after years of being plagued by migraines Astoria would have gotten some sort of routine nailed down, but truth be told, she's pretty sure every headache is worse than the last. She's already gotten up to vomit once, and nausea continues to wade around in her stomach. Combined with the pressure against her eyes, she knows she's in for a long night.

Her nightstand is littered with tissues and bottles of draughts in various colors. Normally, she'd keep them organized, but it's a miracle she's even managed to keep them from falling onto the floor.

Astoria mutters her thanks to Godric Gryffindor that at the very least, she knows spells and charms. In the midst of her affliction, she is still able to cast heating and cooling charms, as well as summoning charms if there's anything else she needs. Even then, it's undeniably difficult to be sick when living alone. She's learned to be very independent, but the true state of her loneliness is revealed on nights like these, where she has to be her own source of comfort, not only emotionally, but physically. During her years at Hogwarts when her malediction first began manifesting, she was allowed to stay in the Hospital Wing for as long as she needed, sometimes weeks on end. Her friends were allowed to visit, although hours were limited. Nonetheless, Madame Pomfrey was always compassionate towards her and made good company.

Another wave of nausea hits her, and she mumbles a weak accio before a small vial of indigo liquid hits the inside of her hand. She tosses the draught back, unsure of how much more queasiness she can handle before she has to make another run for her bathroom. It settles in her stomach, neither soothing nor aggravating. Astoria supposes neutrality is good, but if she's going to let her small dinner fly up, she'd rather it be sooner than later.

Many nights, she cries from the pain. She's glad she managed to find an flat on her own, because she can't imagine the fits her mother and father would be in hearing all that noise from her, even if it was uncontrollable. Tonight, she's determined to push through, although Astoria isn't quite sure what she'd even be proving to herself — that she can handle the pain of a century old curse that was inflicted because of pure passionate anger over sheer sacrificial love?

She's grateful Daphne had left her some chicken noodle soup before going to Pansy's, but feels a twinge of guilt every time she realizes she isn't going to be able to drink it for fear of sending it back up the way it came.

The rain continues its pattering against the window behind her, but a new tapping noise is added to the symphony outside. It's a steady but strong beat, and at first Astoria tells herself it's just the migraine knocking against her eyes. Still, it seems to be louder and she can feel the tapping is coming from outside of her own body. She doesn't think she can muster up the strength to go check and see if a screw in her window is loose, but she reckons her migraine will only worsen with the rhythm.

She lays for an eternity, or perhaps just a few minutes, willing her body to move. Astoria isn't sure if the physical aspect of getting up or the mental training she has to do is harder. Eventually, she finds herself turning her body around and peering out of the window to look at the rest of Surrey. Down below, she finds someone standing in the pouring rain.

She thinks it's Daphne, as she sees light hair peeking out of the hat that sits on their head, but in the moonlit glow she can see it's a much brighter tone.

Below her window stands Draco Malfoy, the remnants of his cowboy costume soaked.

Instinctively, Astoria opens the window, not wanting him to catch a cold. Ironically, she realizes a few seconds later that letting the bitter air in is only going to worsen her illness. He looks up into her third-floor flat as soon as he sees her, doing his best to give her a cheeky smile while the rain keeps pouring down on him.

"Draco, what are you doing down there?" "Can you let me up, Astoria?"

Her voice is hoarse while his is strangled. She nods dramatically to show Draco his message has been received. She grabs the key in her bedside drawer and hands it to the fluffy gray and white cat who was curled up at the foot of her bed but now stands alert, and she stumbles over to the door of her unit and lets him out. Rubbing her temples, she makes her way back to bed, where she bundles herself under the covers, seeking the burning warmth.

She can't think of any logical reason why Draco would be standing outside of her flat on a Wednesday night, not to mention on Halloween of all nights. She can think of a million more entertaining ways to spend the evening than with a woman who is bedriddenly sick.

She hears the jingling of her key followed by the turning of her doorknob, and soon both Draco and Po are inside, the latter sitting down to lick the pads of his paws. Draco wipes the bottoms of his shoes against the doormat before taking the boots off.

Astoria doesn't think she's ever been so shocked at a sight before her eyes. "Draco, what are you doing in my flat?" She hopes she doesn't sound rude, because she certainly doesn't mean to, but she simply must ask because she is incapable of curating any answers on her own.

His white shirt is pressed tight against his chest and arms, the dampened fabric perfectly outlining the shape of his sculpted body. Astoria doesn't mean to stare, but who could help themselves? He chuckles to himself as he takes the cowboy hat off his head, setting it down on top of his boots. Now, she can see that his hair wasn't just glistening in the moonlight; tonight it shone to near silver tones like a reflecting pool whose one job was to summon the waves in his eyes. Whenever she looked at herself and her sister, she saw dawn in Daphne's radiant blonde hair and dazzling eyes and she saw dusk in her own brown hair and tired eyes. But here, as she looked — truly looked — at Draco, she saw he was all the stars littered across the midnight sky. Whoever named him must have been connected to the Inner Eye, because as Astoria stared across at him, she saw a grand constellation, and he was looking back down at her on earth.

He interrupts her thoughts as they reach a near philosophical point, a blush creeping up to her cheeks as she realizes. "There were too many people at Pansy's party, and Blaise and Theo ran upstairs together. As soon as Inez started undressing me with her eyes, I made my way to the door, but not before your sister stopped me. She told me that if I had nowhere else to be tonight, I could do her a favor by stopping by your place and making sure you were okay. She gave me the address and I paid a visit to my mother's garden on the way over so I could brew you some herbal tea."

Astoria blinks back at him, not sure which part of his story she's most surprised by. "That party must have been really terrible for you to decide you'd rather spend the evening visiting a girl who could barely get out of bed to have her cat let you in."

At the mention of him, Po comes strolling back to Astoria's bed, leaping gracefully up to where her feet lay under the duvet.

"You underestimate yourself, Astoria." He leaves his response at that as he empties the contents of his pockets, holding a small plant in the palm of his hands. "I can brew you a tea for nausea that my mother used to send whenever someone we knew was experiencing morning sickness. It's made from a rare Chinese herb, and most apothecaries in England don't have it."

He walks over to the small tiled kitchen, starting to brew some water. He paces around her living room as he waits to hear the sharp whistling of the kettle, which is his cue to soak the herb inside a Heidelberg Harriers mug.

Astoria leans her head back into her pillow. "You don't have to do all this for me, Draco."

"As you so astutely pointed out yourself, you don't even have enough energy to walk to your door. By the way, your cat is very smart; I'm sure you know that since you're probably the one who trained him, but I've just never seen a cat behave like this before. He's not an animagus is he?" Draco's eyes dart back and forth in pensive thought, wondering if she has a male roommate who's been taking care of her.

"Po is half-kneazle; that's why he's so intelligent." She reaches down to pet the gray spots on his head. "Isn't that right?" She coos at the feline, who purrs into her hand.

Draco slowly walks over to her, careful not to get his rain-soaked clothes on any furniture. "However, if you are so adamant to return a favor of some sort," he looks over to where she's hid the rest of her body under the covers. "I would appreciate it a lot if I could take a nice hot shower. Your flat is much farther from the apparition point than Daphne had described."

Astoria meets his eyes, and points to the room on the right of the door. "The bathroom is in there, and hot water is on the left."

Before he heads in to wash himself up and dry his clothes, he hands the mug of hot tea to her, casting a quick charm to bring down the temperature of the ceramic.

He certainly wasn't lying about the rarity of the herb; through years and years of suffering from malediction, she could have sworn she's tried everything to alleviate the pain. Yet, a new flavor dances around in her mouth. It's not a bad taste, but she also wouldn't consider it to be a good one either. Usually herbs taste bitter, especially ones used to treat nausea, but this one is tangy, and it leaves the faintest whisper of a sweet aftertaste in her mouth.

She places the mug on her nightstand and lets her head fall back on the thick pillow, the cushion adjusting to her body as it comes up to scoop around her.

It both surprises and doesn't surprise Astoria that her sister sent someone to visit her. Daphne has always been particularly empathetic when it came to her malediction, but on the other hand, sending Draco completely out of his way seemed out of the ordinary — not just for her sister, but for him as well. On Halloween of all nights, she did not expect to be joined by a very popular wizard who certainly had first pick of who could join him as company. Yet here he was, waltzing into her flat as if this was a regular evening activity.

Astoria hears the turning of a doorknob, and out steps Draco. He had cast a drying charm on his clothes, but now leaves much of the top half of his shirt unbuttoned, and his corduroy pants have been rolled up a little, exposing his ankles. He shakes his hair a little before placing his hat back on and smiles over at Astoria when he steps into the hall.

"I didn't expect you to live in a studio flat," Draco says as he walks over to the bed, pulling over a chair from the dining table to sit beside her. "With all that Greengrass money I would've thought you'd pay for something more extravagant."

"I don't need much," she says. "It's nice having everything close by and there's less doors to have to open for myself or for Po. My body is only going to get weaker throughout my life, and valuing ease and convenience is much wiser than splurging when you're ill. Plus, the hospital bills can rack up quickly."

"All fair points," he says as he hands her the cup of tea.

"I also rarely ever have guests here," she says quietly between sips. The hot tea sits comfortably inside her aching body.

"Why don't you invite Daphne over more?" He leans his forearms down on his thighs, nearly his whole chest coming into view.

Astoria tilts her head over to meet his eyes. "I don't want to trouble her. Besides, I've had to be independent for so long that I'm used to it. I'm going to have to learn to take care of myself for the few decades I have left."

"There's nothing wrong with having some company, Astoria. You're not charity work," he replies as she closes her eyes, shielding herself from the bits of light coming in from the kitchen.

"I still don't know why you're choosing to be here," she says quietly, partially hoping he won't hear.

Draco lets out something between a sigh and a chuckle. "I care about you, Astoria. I know we hadn't seen each other in years before your sister's birthday, but that doesn't mean your existence was just erased from my memory. Just because you're a maledictus doesn't mean you deserve to be in pain every moment of your life."

"My father would likely disagree with you," she says. She drapes her forearm across her face, covering her eyes.

"I think anybody who agrees with your father lacks moral judgement. Not that I should be one to speak on morality, but your father has never been the most pleasant man in a room." He gives her cup a stir before holding it up to her lips.

"You should give yourself more credit too, Draco." She usually would take the mug into her own hands, but for once she lets him hold it for her. "You aren't the same schoolboy either."

He lets out a breath before asking, "is there anything that would help ease you in your affliction right now?"

"Maybe a cool towel for my forehead," she responds, massaging her temples.

At her suggestion, Draco immediately gets up, finding a spare towel in the bathroom cabinet and running it under cold water. He wrings out the extra water before bringing it back to her spot on the bed, where he gingerly plates the towel at the top of her head, just below her hairline. Her body immediately relaxes at the cool sensation, and she mutters her quiet thanks.

"Have you eaten anything tonight?" He gently brushes the hair that's fallen over her eyes out of the way, delicately picking up the pieces that have plastered themselves against the dampened towel.

"I tried to drink some of Daphne's chicken noodle soup, but I started throwing it back up."

"Are you hungry?" He brushes the towel down on either side of her eyes.

"A little, but I don't know if I can get up and heat the bowl myself," she says as she sinks a little further into the plush of her pillow.

He laughs softly as he gets up. "That's what I'm here for," he says as he grabs the soup from the refrigerator and casts a few heating spells.

He brings the bowl back with him to her bedside. Carefully, he helps her prop the pillow up against the wall and guides her to sit up with her back on the softness. He spoons a small bit of soup and places it in her mouth, holding the bowl beneath to catch anything that falls out. The soup is warm and hearty on her tongue, and she realizes how much she misses simply being taken care of. He continues slowly offering her more soup, waiting to make sure her stomach has nothing bad to say about it. She tries to thank him between bites, and every time he stops her, reassuring her that this is no burden on him.

Po comes up and nuzzles himself next to Draco. Astoria smiles down at the cat, thinking for the nth time this evening that this is the furthest from the way she would've imagined the night unfolding.

"Thank you, Draco. For stopping by even though it was raining, for brewing me tea with a rare herb from your mother's garden, for spoon-feeding me soup while I'm bedridden." The small voice in the back of her head still whines at her, saying that he has some ulterior motive or that he's just doing this for Daphne. But in this moment, she begs it to shut up so she can simply appreciate what he's doing.

Draco laughs as he sets the emptied bowl down beside the mug before reassuring her. "You deserve to be cared for, Astoria. Especially when you can hardly get out of bed. I'm assuming from the hundreds of times you've thanked me and tried to stop me, and from your upbringing, that nobody has told you that before." He picks up the kneazle stuffed animal that sits on her bedside table, fiddling with his limbs before placing him back down.

Astoria lets out a breathy laugh, the first in a long time.

Draco leans down towards her, but she puts her hand on his shoulder.

"Blood malediction isn't contagious, Astoria," he stares into her eyes, a deep chocolate fountain that he finds himself lost inside.

"It does, however, tend to ruin everything in its wake," she says with sorrow in her voice.

Draco smiles back at her, placing his cowboy hat on her head in efforts to see her mouth curve up into a smile. "Then let me preserve just one moment of joy."

He leans in and touches his lips down, softly kissing hers with pure tenderness. Even though she knows he's kissed many girls before her, it feels innocent, and for a few seconds, she forgets anything is even wrong. Her lips are chapped and she's far from the picture of beauty with her hair a mess and her skin sallow, but from the way he takes her lips on his, she would never guess so.

His hand comes up to cup her cheek, his thumb running across her burning skin. It's not a forceful hold, yet she feels the surge of confidence running through his veins. His calloused hands tell a million stories of unthinkable pain, but she throws it all away in juxtaposition of his gentle touch on her. He tastes like a familiar tang she recognizes as her sister's lemonade recipe, slightly sour but lingering sweet.

"I've dreamed of doing that for a long time now," he smiles against her mouth, his other hand intertwining with her own.

"You've thought about kissing me?" She realizes she sounds like a fool as soon as the words leave her mouth, but it's been so long since anybody has paid her any attention.

"Who wouldn't?" He says as he places the bend of his pointer finger below her chin, lightly tilting her lips back up to meet his own.

She kisses him back more firmly than the first time, knowing he won't back away in distaste. They find their own rhythm, their lips pressing against each other in flawless sync. All doubt and fear leaving her body, she places her open hand on the back of his head to bring him closer.

"They say chicken soup is healing for the soul, but I think kissing you did the trick," she laughs as she leans his forehead down on her own.

"I'll take the liberty of doing that many more times then, if you'd like," he whispers close to her, looking up at her and watching for a reaction.

She nods with a surge of energy she hasn't had all week, and that's exactly what they do the rest of the night.

—

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! those are my thoughts; leave me yours : )

so yea i know i said yesterday that i probably wouldn't be able to update soon but then i just couldn't focus on anything else so i wrote until 3 and then woke up at 9 and kept writing. i literally have never written so fast before but i was itching to get to the kiss scene omg. thank you nyx-malfoy for keeping me company last night and this morning; go wish her luck on her last final!

as i said yesterday, i'm starting my summer course on tuesday so i don't know what updates will look like then. i'm going to try to alternate between two chapters of fearless and one chapter of verity, my post-war draco x oc fic which you should totally check out, but i'm not sure how often i'll get to write.

qotd: what are some comforting things you like to do when you're ill?

aotd: drink soup, watch tv, and take SO many vitamins. i'm actually quite good at healing myself.

#COWBOYDRACOSUPREMACY

also if you don't already, you should totally follow my instagram. the handle is also citruspotter and i post teasers and supplementary content and story games.

don't forget to vote!

enjoy your weekend comrades