Malfoy Mausoleum

Her resolve to not fret over the wedding’s location ended up lasting less than a week. Astoria found herself meeting two Gryffindors and an elf in the garden the afternoon it happened. The wedding planner was some chirpy girl that had been in Draco’s year. She wondered if she was half blood or something, as her beauty charms could use some real improvement. They were laid on top of one another in a most unflattering way and cast so poorly they looked textured. She was so glad her mother and finishing school had taught her properly. 

The florist was a male Gryffindor, less chirpy, but somewhat twitchy. She remembered him being the target of some teasing at school, but he was at least pureblood from what she could remember. The elf that did the gardening, Wordsworth, was here too. She hadn’t asked him to come, perhaps Draco had so he could report back on her progress. It was so sweet that he was taking an interest in the details, even if he couldn’t be here in person. He was dreadfully busy, always hidden away in his study.

This meeting had been called for discussing what kind of flowers would need to be brought from the manor and what would be sourced elsewhere. The manor had some of the most rare flowers in abundance, and Astoria felt this would be an excellent way to bring a piece of the manor wedding she had been dreaming of to the hotel. Pointing at the English shrub roses, she made known she wanted as many of those roses as possible without harming the integrity of the plants, of course. She loved those roses the most, since Draco tended them personally. She supposed it had to do with his mother, this had been her rose garden after all, and found it incredibly sweet. He even tended them by hand, not using his wand to even trim off dead blooms. He was normally so stiff and formal, but it was heartwarming to see him with dirty patches on the knees of his trousers after, and with mud caked under his usually pristine nails. It made him so, human. It reminded her that somewhere under all that formality and pomp, there was a man that she would spend her life with. A man that had been through unspeakable things and had come out the other side mostly in tact. 

The gardener boy looked nervous at Astoria’s request, and told her they would need to ask Draco about the use of the roses. Astoria understood, since they obviously meant a great deal to him. She hoped one day she would get the story of why Draco cared so much about these particular roses. She pictured a young Draco running around while Narcissa tended them by hand, the way Draco did now. She was smiling from her small daydream when Wordsworth apparrated back with Draco not far behind. Her smile fell when she saw the look on Draco’s face. How could she have let this happen? She should have made sure the elf didn’t bother him. He had more important things to do than deal with wedding details. Shame burned her from the inside out and she felt her cheeks heat. Thank goodness she had impeccable beauty charms on. 

“I apologize for Wordsworth bothering you, darling. We were discussing the wedding. I shall try to keep a better hold on the elves from now on.”

Wordsworth flinched at Draco’s side, and moved to cower behind his leg. She hadn’t meant she would strike him, but he seemed terrified. Draco crouched down to him to speak. With a large, graceful hand on Wordsworth’s small shoulder, he spoke to the elf, but maintained eye contact with her as he said, “You did nothing wrong, Wordie. In fact, you did the right thing. I’m glad you came to get me, thank you. Do not worry about Miss Greengrass. She does not and will never have the authority to punish you, or any elf for that matter.”

Astoria would never physically harm the elves, but she certainly would have the authority to ask them for things, and why was he calling her “Miss Greengrass” like that? Draco had an unfailing ability to make anything sound like an insult. And she was insulted. He was talking to the damned elf like he was precious. She was his fiancee and all she got was “Miss Greengrass” and an air of utter disappointment?

“Now, Draco, I beg your pardon…” Astoria started but was promptly cut off.

“What did you need approval for Astoria?” 

He crossed his arms over his chest and cut a rather imposing figure. He was so much broader, taller, and more muscular than he had ever been before. The way he was standing in the sun, he looked like nothing but a shadow or a statue. She could make out the outline and what he was generally doing with his body, but not the details. She guessed from his tone though, that he did not appreciate being interrupted, regardless of what he had told the elf. 

Wordsworth beat her to the broom. “Miss Greengrass wishes to use Master Draco’s roses for the wedding, sir. Wordsworth knows no one is to touch them. I check the wards daily sir, to ensure they are protected.” 

“That’s excellent, Wordsworth, thank you very much. Could you please take Lavender and Neville inside and see them to the floo? I apparently have some things to discuss with Miss Greengrass.”

“Yes, Master.” The elf snuck a glance at her and she got the feeling he felt bad. The elf was pitying her? Draco had his head turned to watch them enter the Manor, then turned on her. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Excuse…”

“I’m serious, Astoria, what the fuck is wrong with you? I have tried to be as nice as possible, I have given you free rein over this process to make is as painless as possible. What more do you fucking want from me? Are you trying to torture me? Torture yourself? Why are you throwing this in my face? They are all I have left of her here.”

Oh, of his mother? Her touches lingered everywhere in the manor, certainly this wasn't all he had left of Narcissa. 

“I don’t know what you mean. I just thought if the roses were special to you we should include them. I have seen you tending to them and thought…”

“This seems a little self flagellating, even for you Astoria.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Draco.”

“I MEAN, YOU CAN’T HAVE THE GODSDAMNED HERMIONE ROSES AT OUR FUCKING WEDDING!” His outline in the sun looked like it was on fire. 

Oh. Oh. Not Narcissa, then.

Draco raising his voice was much scarier now that he had filled out. She meant to stand still and hold her head high, but some things were too fresh for that kind of composure. She flinched and cowered slightly at his bellow. She was sure there were tears in her eyes. Hermione roses? 

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Draco apologized. “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I know neither of us asked for this. I suppose we should try to get along for the time being, yeah?”

When she didn’t answer, he began to turn around. He stopped dead when she said, much softer than usual, “you’re wrong. I did ask for this.”

Draco actually looked confused. “What? Why would you do that?”

“I have been told my whole life that my place is at your side, that I would be Lady Malfoy one day. I begged my father to finalize the betrothal so we could be together. I will do better. I can do this, Draco.” She attempted a reassuring smile, but was sure it fell flat. 

Draco’s rage was now ice. His voice, his words were so cold she was shocked she couldn’t see his breath when he replied, “Well, at least one of us is getting what we want. Too fucking bad no one bothered to ask what I wanted.”

What did he mean? He was a pureblood heir of two great and noble houses. How had he not seen their betrothal coming? She would have thought with his impeccable breeding his parents would have prepared him better. 

He was stalking off again when she decided if they were fighting today, there were some things she wanted to say as well. She was no wilting flower. It was a good thing she had trained on good posture so many years, because her spine had snapped back into its rigid position after embarrassingly cowering at Draco’s outburst. 

“Draco? Is that why we can’t get married here at the manor, just because of these roses? I know you must feel guilty about what happened to that Granger girl here, but that’s really not an adequate reason to deprive me of my dream of getting married here at the manor, is it?”

It was a shame what happened to that girl here, but did Draco really feel that badly about it? She could have rolled her eyes if the habit hadn't been broken at finishing school. 

“I don't particularly want those memories here." 

That was so sweet Astoria could have swooned. It was understandable, that he wanted to start fresh and begin their marriage without the taint of the war. She had been kept mostly at her family's own home but heard rumors of the awful things that Draco must have witnessed here. Poor darling. Draco had done more throughout the war than most, working as a Death Eater and as a spy for the order. He was a pureblood scion and a war hero. Respected and feared. Even after all he had been through, he was being so considerate. 

"The other factor is that the manor is extraordinarily old, centuries and centuries older than your family’s home. The magic is so old and pure, reaching back so far, that it requires a soul bond-and not the parlor trick the Ministry does. It is a hell of a lot more than a white rope and an incantation. I mean, a real bonding of actual soul mates. It is a ritual that can never be undone. The two bonded will never again be apart. They will leave this world together and reunite eternally. The pairs of souls that have been bonded here will return together over and over again just to find each other, to live out another lifetime of love.”

“I’m willing to do that, Draco. I can do this.” And she was certain she could. Her parents had been training her for this for as long as she could remember. If this was part of being who Draco needed her to be, she would do it.

“You can’t. You’re not my soulmate.” Draco’s tone was so dismissive. 

“I could be, who knows?” There was hope rising in her heart. She had trained for this. She was ready. She could do it.

“I know. I’ve met my soulmate. It isn’t you.” His earlier fire had faded. His ice had thawed. Draco looked utterly defeated. And he walked away, leaving her alone in the garden with the roses he kept for another woman.

She walked to one of her favorite places in the Manor grounds. Surely, it would seem morbid to outsiders, but one of her first duties as mistress-to-be of the Manor was to choose the final resting place for herself and Draco. She had already had a headstone commissioned and was awaiting delivery. It was the finest marble available, and fashioned into two hearts side by side. One side would someday be carved with her information upon her death, and one side would be for Draco. She had chosen it in the hopes it was a good omen for their future. Two hearts intertwined, nearly indestructible, surrounded by beauty. This marriage was already her second lease on life, and she was certain she wouldn't get a third.