Word Count: 1,735
Rating: R
Category: Drama, AU/AR
Notes: Written because of a conversation with Luvscharlie. Many thanks to Luvscharlie and Ayla Pascal for betaing, too!
Summary: Astoria never wanted Scorpius to take on that job . . .
Pairing: Astoria Greengrass/Charlie Weasley with minor Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy
Warnings: Dub-con, character death, infidelity, mental illnesses, spousal abuse, psychological trauma, bondage, candle wax play
Dedications: None
Completed Date: September 1, 2010
“I don’t want our son to become a dragon handler. I refuse.” Thinning her lips, Astoria’s blue eyes flared with unmitigated anger at her husband. Her eyes met her husband’s cold, grey eyes — eyes she never once saw as warm and inviting.
“That’s what he wants to do, Astoria. Scorpius is no longer a child. I refuse to coddle him the way you have all these years,” Draco retorted coldly.
“I’ve never coddled him. I just worry for his safety with those beasts. Is it wrong for me to worry? Or,” she continued, sneering, “was becoming a dragon handler something you’ve always wanted to do? And since you’ve never had the chance to do it, you’re supporting our son’s ambitions to do so? Are you trying to live through him?” Astoria clenched her hands by her sides; they were shaking with anger. How dare Draco undermine her authority as a mother? How dare he try to make up for his failures through her son?
“That’s enough!”
The slap didn’t hurt. Instead it only numbed her. She straightened herself up to her full height and said, “Have you no heart? I only worry for his safety. I’ll always be against this. I hope you pay the price if something happens to him.” Her face was an icy mask as she turned around smoothly and walked out, her footsteps echoing in the large room, a room that never gave her much love, a love she always had desired from her cold and unresponsive husband.
“Mother? What are you doing here in Romania?” Scorpius rushed over to where Astoria had waited for the last ten minutes. “I . . . I never thought you’d ever visit here . . . ”
Giving her son a loving smile, she reached up to give him a soft peck on his cheek. She knew why he was surprised. After all, she had voiced her opinions about Scorpius’ job choice, but she figured she’d give it a chance. Her son was a brilliant young man, after all, and what kind of a mother would she be to question his intelligence? Besides, she felt confined in that manor despite its grandness and vastness. She’d wanted out, and she’d decided to visit Scorpius at his current workplace. “Your owls have intrigued me, and it made me want to see this place for myself,” she answered calmly. “Also, I would like to meet your supervisor, to thank him for taking you in. Your supervisor is a certain Mr Weasley, yes? Remind me which one?”
“Charlie, Mother. Charlie Weasley.”
And when Scorpius introduced Charlie, Astoria felt something warm inside her, something that melted the iciness she’d been carrying for many years. Charlie Weasley looked nothing like she’d imagined. He was ruggedly handsome. His muscles looked strong and well-trained. His chest — well exposed through a low-cut shirt — was littered with scars — but it only made him look more rakish. Then there was that confident smile, which combined with his warm, lively brown eyes, gave him a friendly appearance.
Astoria couldn’t remember the last time she’d laid eyes on such a good looking specimen.
Maybe, just maybe, there was something good to come out of Scorpius becoming a dragon handler, despite all the risks involved.
“Mrs Malfoy? What can I do for you?”
Charlie’s warm and friendly smile made her heart flutter. She looked around the small office before clearing her throat. “I came by to visit Scorpius, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello.” She tilted her head to give him a small smile.
“Well,” Charlie said, spreading his arms out. “You’re invited any time.”
Discreetly, her eyes travelled all over Charlie’s muscular body, memorising everything about him, including the little mole she saw right under his right eye. Her eyes finished their wandering course, and they soon landed on Charlie’s face. The smile she saw earlier was still there, but when she locked eyes with him, she saw something deep in there that made her feel dominant. In his eyes, she saw discomfort.
Instead, her own smile grew, and she continued, “Thank you for your hospitality. And also, I’ve brought you some sweets, too. I wanted to thank you for taking good care of Scorpius.” She handed the package over to him, and she made sure their hands touched each other, and she purposely let her hand linger against his longer than necessary.
“Er, thank you, Mrs Malfoy.” His hand — the very hand she just touched — ran through his short hair, and she noticed the way he’d shifted.
“You’re welcome.” She gave him one last sweet smile before she turned around and left.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs Malfoy,” Charlie said. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t have prevented this terrible accident.”
Gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes shut, Astoria was glad her back was turned to him. She didn’t want to appear weak to him. Him . . . the man who’d invaded her dreams these past months. The man to whom she’d entrusted Scorpius. The man who had failed to keep her son safe. How could this man, braver than most, allow her son to die?
Deep down, Astoria knew it was she who had failed her son. She was the one who couldn’t keep him safe. She’d failed as a mother just like she’d failed as a wife. It was just easier to blame Charlie. He should have kept her son safe.
When she spoke next, she was glad to hear that her voice came out steady in its usual calm tone. “Have you told his father yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I shall tell him. I’d like for you to leave now.”
“Mrs Mal–”
“Please do not ever call me that again. If you’re going to call me anything, call me Astoria. Now, leave.”
When she heard the footsteps fade along the corridors, she collected herself once more and headed towards Draco’s study. At the door, after three abrupt consecutive raps, she let herself in to that room, a room she’d never felt welcome in, but that was to all change in the next few minutes.
With Draco falling into a shocked state that’d turned him into an empty shell, it was Astoria who took care of Scorpius’ funeral arrangements. She handled everything that needed to be handled, and through it all, she never once cried.
She had no tears to cry. There was no sadness inside of her. Even though she acted like her usual aloof self, inside, she felt more barren than she’d ever felt before.
When she’d met Mr Weasley, it was as though she’d rediscovered a part of herself that had been buried for years. But that little spark of light inside of her disappeared along with Scorpius. It made the void even more unbearable.
She needed to get rid of that nothingness inside of her. She had to.
She soon discovered the answer to her dilemma in a little dingy pub. There, she’d run into a very drunk Charlie Weasley. From his incoherent babbling, she understood that Charlie was still distressed from her son’s death. Fury bubbled deep inside of her, and she’d hit him, but he didn’t respond to it. Instead, she in turn felt strong — stronger than she’d ever felt in her life, and she craved that newfound power.
That was when she laughed — a strange high-pitched laugh she’d never heard from herself before. “Not going to fight back? Not going to argue?”
Lethargically, Charlie shook his head. “You can do whatever you please.”
The emptiness inside of her became full as she felt a myriad of emotions tumbling, piling, and fighting for dominance. She didn’t mind, though. She only welcomed the chance she finally had to feel alive again.
“Is it painful for you, Charlie?” Astoria crooned as she tilted the red candle slightly. Its wax dropped onto Charlie’s naked chest, covering up the scars that were on its broad expanse, contrasting beautifully — the red against the white, the red being the same shade as blood.
With a gag preventing Charlie from saying anything discernable, Astoria smiled lazily as she imagined Charlie hissing at each drop of the wax. She stepped back, wanting to admire her handiwork. Charlie was spread-eagle on his back, and his wrists and ankles were tied to each bed post with scarves that were spelled to be tear-resistant. Charlie’s brown eyes looked back up at her, and they were no longer filled with the fire and life as they were when she’d first seen him. They were dull, and they reflected the remorse and guilt that plagued him. Astoria knew it for sure; after all, it was entirely his fault that Scorpius had died and that Draco had become catatonic.
And it was only fair to punish those who deserved it, right?
At least, Astoria was merciful. Along with the appropriate punishment, she made sure Charlie also received the proper rewards.
Satisfied that the design on Charlie’s chest was done, she set the candle down on the nightstand before she climbed and straddled Charlie’s trouser-clad hips. Only wearing a loosely tied dressing gown herself, she bent over until her breasts pressed against Charlie’s broad chest. She snapped her fingers, and Charlie’s gag disappeared. “Are you ready, Charlie?” she asked, her manicured fingers tracing over his scorpion tattoo — a tattoo she’d requested herself — on Charlie’s left bicep.
“Mrs Mal–”
“Astoria. Call me Astoria. Don’t call me anything else.” She gripped Charlie’s shoulders, her long nails digging into the skin. “You’ve come this far. Don’t do anything that’ll set you back, darling.” She smiled prettily, something she only showed to him now. “Remember. This is all for Scorpius.”
It was always that phrase that would trap Charlie, and Astoria always said it when necessary. She’d already lost two men in her life. One was like the Tin Man who had no heart, so she had never really had him to begin with. Another was robbed of life too early in the game because the scarecrow hadn’t made a smarter choice for his future. Third time was the charm, and she could feel it with Charlie. After all, the brave lion had now become the cowardly lion, one with a tremendous amount of guilt.
And with easy acceptance, she’d chosen the lion over the other two.