Prologue: Draco
~ Dissolution ~

This wasn't a surprise.

It wasn't a surprise because she never brought him coffee with two creams when she made hers with a spoon of sugar on lazy weekend mornings. Because when he left for work at 7 am, she never woke up long enough to say 'have a good day; and the only question he ever asked her when he returned for supper at 5 was the same one. Because when she muttered under her breath as she read the newspaper at the kitchen table, the habit was annoying, not adorable. Because she never comforted him at night when he woke up screaming from the nightmares, instead she sighed, then got up with little concern to get him a calming draught. Because when they were in the sheets together, her eyes never caught his with burning passion , with anything at all anymore. Because her nails never scratched his back, her lips never left any mark on his neck, he never held her in his arms after they fucked. There was no evidence to show that they had been together, to display any love took place within their entwined bodies.

And when pink suitcases were littered among the front door as Draco opened it one spring day, there was no sense of impending doom filling his insides as he made his way to the study. The place he had long ago learned she would be when she needed something.

The pleasantries and trite kisses they always exchanged were not given that evening as he confronted her straight in the olive armchair she favoured, the one that laid facing the bay window. Her gaze was heavy staring out at the setting sun, as his footsteps echoed onto the newly furnished oak floor. She didn't bat an eyelid nor turn her head to say it: "I can't do this anymore."

The admission should've echoed in and out of his very soul, should've created a fracture, even just a small one in his skin and bone. But all he replied with was:
"Can't do what?"

The tone was void of sadness. That factor didn't startle her, didn't startle him either.

"Pretend. Play this part," she clarified, toying the beautiful golden locks that curled to her waist with slim fingers.

"So you're leaving me?"

"Yes." It was final. "You know none of this was ever real. I mean, really real. I don't want to waste four more years of my life assuming a role I don't belong in. That we both don't want to be in."
Slowly rising, the light hitting her soft features emphasized the fact that her resolve was strong. It was apparent in the way her jaw was tight, her fists tense. The stack of parchment balled within them crisp, ready.

"Where are you going to go?"
It wasn't malicious, this inquiry, but there was a hidden question in that sentence. And he was much too formal to ask it forthright.

"Daphne told me I could stay with her and Adrian until I…get back on my feet. Find a new place."
Sauntering over to his frame, she dared to finally face him, only to notice his steely eyes were not full of hatred as she had expected. Her father-in-law was less than amicable, always had been, always would be. This union was, of course, put forth by the richest pureblood family he belonged to initially. A forced endeavour was their engagement; wealth exchanged for social stability.

Still, she expected his son, her husband - her ex husband- to react the same way Lucius would, to defend the honour she was 'bestowed' marrying into them. But instead, he was contemplating her figure. With that knot in his brow, the thin line that was his mouth, there was no fight or defense readymade in his mind.

So what she had planned, had intended to say next, was now rendered rude and unnecessary; quickly, she rewrote her speech in her head. An apology wasn't anything she would ever submit to, but he deserved something from this departure.
"You were good to me, Draco. Always kind. Someone else will come along, someone who appreciates you. That person just isn't me, and can't be me any longer. I hope you understand."

Looking at his feet in those dragon skinned shoes, she felt him clutch at the divorce papers she gripped in her hands, then released the for him to hold. Felt his stare calculating her up and down, wondering likely how long she had these prepared, how long she had started packing; how long it was that he failed to notice.

"I do. Goodbye, Astoria."
Air escaped his lungs, a sigh, and for the first time in forever he felt as if he could finally breathe. Though the atmosphere tasted bittersweet.

One last glance at him, a swift peck on his cheek, and she quickly averted her eyes. His demeanour was similar to when they were younger, in a much happier time. His back no longer appeared strained, the constant furrow in his forehead absent. And it was only then a small pain in her gut resonated from what she was doing, as she hesitated for a mere second when she passed his looming frame.

Astoria Greengrass had long ago made her bed though, and it was time to leave it for good. Gathering her things with a flick of her dainty wand, she creaked open up the entrance to their starter home, and left.

Draco Malfoy, still contained in it, was now all alone.
However, the black ink dripping from the old quill in his grasp was evidence that he couldn't care less, as he scrawled his name along the clean line to finalize the decision that wasn't his.