Hello! So, I recently just got back into fanfiction after years of going without. I'm not entirely sure how long I want to make this story, and I'm pretty rusty (not that I was ever great to begin with) so bear with me. I don't think this is an incredibly popular fanfiction pairing, but I really felt like writing about it! Which is weird, because I always read Dramione.

This story is not about Astoria and Draco's relationship from the Cursed Child, and has absolutely nothing to do with the Cursed Child. This is a bit of a dark story as well, and goes into a lot of depth into the flaws of the pure-blood world and the characters in it. This story will also occasionally spend time on other characters, and will focus on more than just romance.

I don't own anything from Harry Potter.

The scratching and pulling of a quill on parchment was usually a sound Astoria got lost in. Moments that were quiet and still enough that the small sound of writing and concentration filled the room, relaxing her, grounding her. It was such a recognizable and comfortable sound. It reminded her of when her father was in his study when she was a child and he allowed her in to sit by the window as long as she swore she wouldn't make a sound while he worked. The sound portrayed quietness, but not complete silence.

Astoria tried to focus on the slow drags of the quill while her heart thudded in her ears and her nerves and emotions caught painfully in her throat. She tried to remind herself to look calm and prepared. She was prepared.

She should be prepared.

She was having a hard time breathing properly as she was too conscious of the volume of her breathing, in fear that the sound would expose how not okay she was.

As if Draco Malfoy was paying attention to the sound of her breathing.

She focused her vision and forced herself to look at him. It took herself a couple of tries to actually look and focus on him as opposed to through him. She wanted to read him, understand his feelings on the matter. She wanted a bit of relief that she wasn't the only one feeling overwhelmed with the finality of everything. She held her breath so it wouldn't hitch with her tears when she found him to be completely calm.

Unreadable.

No, maybe he wasn't unreadable. Maybe there was just nothing to read. That was what was terrifying to her. This probably was just nothing to him.

It should be nothing to her.

Her eyes fell down to the table and she tried to distract herself with the details of it so she could breathe again and the tears creeping into her eyes would die down. She was so scared, so unbelievably scared. Why was she scared? She was raised knowing that this was what was to become of her, she was raised to be prepared for what was to become of her, she was raised wanting what was to become of her. All of the women around her all went through the same. So why must she be so afraid?

Astoria waited while Draco filled out the paperwork for their arranged marriage. Growing up, she and her family expected a wedding; big and extravagant, as they often had. The Malfoys of all families loved to put on a show. However, they weren't those Malfoys anymore at the moment. So much had changed with the Malfoys, along with many of the upperclass pureblood families in her community that had been involved with the Death Eaters, so much that now there was no attempt to try and cloak this arrangement with a disguise of something lovely and lavish.

This was purely a business arrangement.

No wedding would have changed that, no, but she wondered if it would have helped this incredibly cold feeling that creeped through her and settled in her insides. Astoria closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She would be fine, she would be fine, she would be fine.

She would be fine.

The rest of the proceedings went in a numb blur as Astoria couldn't allow herself to focus on anything, wouldn't let herself process anything. That would only make her fall apart in front of him, which she absolutely refused to do. The magical ceremony was over, and they were married. Husband and wife just like that, no feeling or much acknowledgment of each other at all.

The carriage moved suffocatingly slow and she was feeling completely tortured at this point. She needed desperately to be alone for a few minutes to process this by herself so she didn't make a scene in front of her new husband. It was her duty to be a good wife; perfect and obedient. She couldn't have an emotional fit only minutes after becoming Mrs. Malfoy.

Draco didn't speak.

Astoria didn't know if she was grateful for his lack of words or if it made it worse. Every moment more he proved how cold and quiet he was. He wasn't bitter or angry; he was indifferent, emotionless. The more he portrayed his indifferent demeanor, the more he confirmed that what she feared so much was unavoidable from this point on.

Loneliness.

Draco was nothing; a shell. Astoria loved people and company. She loved to listen. How could she listen to nothing? She bit into her tongue hard as they pulled into the Manor. She used to remember the Manor coming into view as a young girl and feeling so determined to obtain it in all of its glory and history. Parties so lavish and flourishing, tea in the gardens with a dozen other overdressed women and their young girls, and dinners with more courses than anyone ever needed always awaited her at the Manor, parties that easily rivaled many others of the families in their circle. She had wanted it to be hers, had hoped she'd be quiet and pretty enough for Narcissa to take a liking to her, to murmur to her husband of approvals of her. She had to somehow stand out amongst the other proper, practically carbon copies of herself in the pool of other pureblood daughters hoping to grow up to be arranged to the young Malfoy so they could make their parents and their family name proud.

It was her.

It was her who impressed Narcissa and Lucius, it was her who danced the most effortlessly at all of the dancing events, it was her who sat up just so straight and who ate just so properly. It was her who portrayed the best robotic, fake manners that she had perfected so well.

It was her who never had a hair out of line and never portrayed a shred of human personality.

But Astoria looked at the Manor now that was finally hers and it was just dark, a ghost of what it once was. Just like Draco: it was nothing.

Empty.

Astoria practically vomited during the short but torturous moments as Draco took his time moving around the carriage to open her door to let her out. She had to control her pace to not sprint ahead of him to the doors and instead walk next to him, slightly behind him. Just as she was always taught to do. Draco still didn't speak to her. He didn't seem to care to. Astoria's throat ached with an imprisoned sob as they walked up steps and down and around halls for what felt like hours.

"This is your room."

Astoria jumped at his smooth and certain voice cutting through the quiet air. She let out a sound in surprise which caused the sob she had been holding in to bubble over slightly and add to her first sound. It was too late to control and her tears slipped passed her eyelashes. She smacked a hand over her mouth, so angry at herself for failing at the very last moment. How could she be so fragile and unprepared. She was raised to do this. How would he want to be around her if she was such a mess? If he wasn't around her how would she survive? How would she not lose her mind? He was the only person here in this big empty place.

Draco studied the girl as she started to shake while trying to subside her cries. This was the first moment he really looked at her. Really looked at her. Even as children when he would come across her she was just another wealthy child being shoved in his parents faces to impress them. Astoria was nothing, a doll. Born to be a good wife to a wealthy man of status who didn't give a shit about her in order to keep up the family reputation. It was out of the ordinary for him to see her display raw emotion, especially now when they were older. Astoria had always faded in the background. She was quiet and too perfect.

Boring.

Boring, but impossibly striking. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. She had large, icy blue eyes and milky white skin that was unflawed and bright aside from some light freckles dusted across her small, every so slightly upturned nose and naturally flushed cheeks. She wore little makeup besides her darkened lashes and her eyebrows were a light brown that were full and kept but not fabricated. Her mouth was full and her lips were a natural shade of pink. She had feather soft white blonde hair that at the moment was done up in a tight, perfect french twist. This hair did not suit her gentle and youthful, heart shaped face. His eyes moved down her small frame. She was quite tiny but somehow her legs still seemed very long. The cream colored dress she was wearing clung to her in an appealing but modest way and the lace detailing revealed the skin of her neck and arms and he noticed some light freckles pecked across her shoulders as well. As Draco observed his new bride, hi eyes flashed with cold humor.

It was as if his mother had created her in a lab.

Describing Astoria in simple words would sound as if she shared the same features with his family, but she couldn't look more different. She had color to her cheeks, hope in her eyes, and brightness to her skin. She looked alive. He wondered if the colors in her would dull in time to match the grey of his world. To match him.

He watched her struggle to contain herself without reacting. Her crying betrayed her perfect image, and he could tell how much that killed her. She was ashamed, which he didn't care. He didn't care to comfort her nor did he care to be annoyed with her for being a blubbering mess instead of having a hold of herself which is what she was meant to be as his wife.

What she should be after coming out on top.

She beat all of those other girls exactly like her, including her sister whose chance was gone as soon as she decided to fuck him at school years ago against the cupboards in an empty classroom like a common whore. Now, that's definitely not what is considered proper wife material for a man of high status, for a man such as himself, which was why he was married to Astoria who would supposedly never act in such a way. However, blubbering in front of your new husband is not proper wife material either, and proper wife material was what Astoria was supposed to be.

"Collect yourself," he ordered her coldly, turning away from her to get on with the rest of his business.

Astoria went forward into the room quickly, turning around at the same time to apologize to him as both sides of her instincts controlled her at once. Draco was already walking away and she closed her mouth to avoid shouting out at him in her apologies. One humiliating mistake was enough for now. She closed the door as quietly as she could as her vision blurred and she stumbled to the bed in the room, her room, grabbing at one of the many decorative pillows that lay there cold to bury her face into it and sob quietly.

This was her life now.