Light in the Darkness

Chapter Fourteen

The pain in his cheekbone was subsiding, and the shock was minimal, or at least it was the second time around. His father had backhanded him, hard, after the guests had left the party. And, of course, there was the residual sting from the slap Pansy had dealt him. But he either was too distracted to feel the ache of pain, or didn't care.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, tapping his heel incessantly on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees.

Pansy's last words to him were echoing in his ears, tying knots in his mind. How would the Augury react?

There was so much to think about -- so much he didn't even know to think about.

Would the Augury punish the Greengrasses for establishing a courtship with Theodore Nott while withholding such information? From what Draco could gather, whatever sickness they kept talking about was a curse in the Greengrasses blood. He doubted the Augury would care much for Nott, but he was sure they would question the Greengrasses 'disregard' for a new, perfect, pureblood generation.

Then, of course, there was the simple fact that Astoria's secret was now made painfully public and it was completely his fault. Some way or another, Pansy knew, and it was his fault she'd told everyone. It was his fault Astoria's whole family was disgraced. It was his fault that Astoria was probably horrified and scared and humiliated.

All. His. Fault.

He bit his lip, his fingers now tapping in step with his heel.

And yet, he was still compartmentalizing the revelation on a whole. She was cursed; she was sick; she was dying. The words had been thrown around so loosely the whole night and he hadn't yet given them clearance to sink in.

He exhaled, making the words appear in his head.

Okay.

She was cursed.

A curse in her blood. It's in her blood -- her tainted, jaded blood -- a curse that'll kill her, is what Pansy had said.

She was sick.

This he couldn't picture. She didn't look sick; she didn't act sick. What else had Pansy said? So every year, every day, she just gets more and more weak. He grit his teeth at the words. Astoria was many things, but weak was not one of them.

She was dying.

She was dying. His jaw relaxed and his shoulders slumped. She was dying and he had no idea how long she had to live or what he could do to stop it. If he felt this helpless after only knowing of her sickness for a few hours, he could only imagine how she felt after nineteen years.

But there was something he could do.

Something he could do to not feel so helpless. Something he could do to maybe make up for putting her and her family in possible danger.

He glanced at the clock opposite his bed. 3:09 A.M. Two hours and fifty one minutes until the Ministry of Magic opened.

Two hours and fifty one minutes in which he would have to finally come to terms with the world in which he lived. Two hours and fifty one minutes in which he would have to stop acting like a kid, and take on real responsibilities. No more hiding, no more escaping.

Two hours and fifty one minutes until he could try to set this right.