fearless || d.m. x a.g.

04 - you were throwing pebbles (now)

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.