[googlefont=Charmonman:400][googlefont=Open Sans:400]

[attr="class","stephtable"]

[attr="class","imagez"]

[attr="class","title-astoria"]End of All Days

[attr="class","subtitle-astoria"]The temples are now burning
Our faith caught up in flames

[attr="class","wordz-astoria"]
CW: REFERENCES TO SELF-HARM

Theodore had left. Where to, she was not certain, but she had . . .certain thoughts of where he might be. He had experiments enough to call him back, and she had little doubt the barriers would stop him. Still, she was his wife and he'd given her her son, so she might have owed something to him. At least enough to cover for him for some of his businesses, some of his contacts, and to pretend he had not left the country until he somehow returned. She also admittedly not quite certain as to how much of his family he had told, but she rather thought it was fairly few.

Him being gone was some stress off of her shoulders, though admittedly she regretted that he'd chose an inconvenient time to do so. It was, however, most like him. She wished. . .she wished that he had left while she'd had Tamara, but he'd left after Tamara did. Luckily, they'd seen each other few times during that break. Theodore had little interest in either herself or Tamara, and that was enough. There was only so much she could have done if he'd been interested in playing with Tamara. It was all too careful a line between convincing him she cared only about Tamara as an extension of her body, and being able to care for her as she ought to have.

She remembered all the times she'd been too numb to spend time with Tamara in the beginning. Not truly, admittedly-- the haze stuck around, and her more solid memories of her daughter started when Tamara was growing into a toddler, laughing in her father's arms. Tamara deserved that happiness, she knew. She'd been selfish enough to think that perhaps she could start over with her daughter, that her daughter would understand and they might reconnect in a way, be drawn together. All she'd done, however, was make Tamara more miserable, more confused. The nights where Tamara would find herself in the Hospital Wing for an overnight stay were growing fewer. She was stifling her daughter, and yet--

When she'd told Tamara she'd be seeing her father, her daughter had glowed. Tamara had been the happiest she'd seen her since the divorce, and it twisted her heart. She'd gone too far, perhaps. She ought to have waited before knotting herself in yet another marriage, before carrying another child, before even trying to find Tamara new friends. Anthony was more of a mother than she was to Tamara, and no amount of care now would change that. She couldn't quite figure out how to connect in a way that meant something. She was Hogwarts's matron, she'd been a Healer for years, she knew well how to smile and joke, how to be firm and loving, how to act like she cared, and what worked well for the students did not work for Tamara, who despised it all. It was only at night that Tamara might reach back, rather than turning her away.

Tamara had had every right to do so. She'd not been there as much as she should have been, and then tore her away from her father. And Tamara. . .there had perhaps been one constant for her mother, and that was that her mother had loved her father. She'd destroyed that, because Tamara was a child, and rationale could not overpower betrayal. She'd communicated with Anthony mostly through owls since then, and admittedly had only started responding more as the epidemic had broken out. She hadn't quite prepared for the sudden rush, sudden pull in her chest at the sight of Anthony's familiar blonde hair, at his hand holding Tamara's. Could I be so heartless to take this away from her again?

And yes, the answer was always yes. She was a mother, she was a Slytherin, and to protect her daughter and Anthony this was what she had to do. And Theodore's absence would work in her favor: the tide was turning once more, the ground unstable beneath her feet. But she could not turn her coat so quickly, not again. But if Theodore remained vanished. . .
No, she was tied to the Notts, at least partially. Her son might be the Greengrass heir, but her husband was a Nott. It would be simple enough to report the truth, that he left her, but. . .

Careful, she'd need to spread that careful and slow. She could not let emotions, the shiver of pleasure, the sudden fall of her daughter's face at the sight of her as Anthony let go of Tamara's hand. No, she wanted to say. I was wrong, keep her, I can't do this, I've been a horrible person to you, forgive me-- Astoria closed her eyes, and Asteria opened them.

"Suitable." She worked to press out any longing in her voice. "You enjoyed your time, I hope? Tamara was quite excited to spend the time with you, and judging by everything," she tried giving a smile to her daughter; Tamara pointedly looked away. "I hope she was not disappointed." She knew it was temporary, she knew that come the next few nights, she'd see her daughter in the Wing again, keeping her there for overnight care. What sort of Healer, what sort of mother was she that she was so resigned to this already? It was the only time Tamara might want her, as a poor replacement for Anthony.

She flicked her eyes down to her daughter's arms, and up to Anthony, letting the question be visible in her face. Tamara was still not looking at her-- Anthony could nod or shake his head, and he--

He would know how much of a failure she'd been. She'd failed with Hyperion, failed with Tamara, and Adonis would be half-Daphne's, another growing failure. No, he already knew, from their letters, from his time. She didn't need to hide that.

[attr="class","tags-astoria"]☆ @i'm so sorry , 978 words ☆

[attr="class","credz1"]❤fai

[newclass=".stephtable"]background-color:#000;width:420px;border:1px #323232;border-style:solid;padding:10px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".imagez"]max-width:120px;max-height:120px;margin-right:240px;margin-top:25px;outline:2px grey double;padding:5px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".title-astoria"]width:215px;font-family:Charmonman;border-bottom:5px double #323232;font-size:20px;text-align:center;color:#0d98ba;line-height:90%;padding-bottom:5px;margin-top:-110px;margin-left:150px;text-transform:none;[/newclass]
[newclass=".subtitle-astoria"]width:175px;height:70px;overflow:auto;margin-top:8px;line-height:100%;padding:5px;text-align:center;font-size:12px;font-family:Open Sans;color:#0d98ba;margin-left:150px;padding-bottom:2px;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass]
[newclass=".wordz-astoria"]text-align:justify;font-family:Georgia;font-size:11px;color:#dbdbdb;padding:10px;padding-top:15px;width:400px;letter-spacing:1px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".wordz-astoria b"]color:#0d98ba;font-size:12px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".tags-astoria"]width:400px;font-size:11px;font-family:Georgia;color:white;text-align:center;text-transform:uppercase;letter-spacing:3px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".credz1"]font-family:Oswald;text-align:right;width:420px;font-size:10px;[/newclass]

By now, after over a year of divorce, it shouldn’t disturb him this much to see her. There should be answers to the questions that were wildly tumbling over each other in his brain just from being opposite her. All he wanted was peace of mind — to know the truth. Or at least he wanted this to be true. That he wanted the final answer — for there was a part of him that was desperate not to question that he had spent half his life adoring a woman who might never… He couldn’t continue down this line of thought, it was too frightening. It was sort of funny that it was, out of all people, Astoria — no, not Astoria, just Astoria’s truth — who he was afraid of. It was a random memory to suddenly pop up, but hadn’t he talked with Astoria about cowardice on the very day that it had all started. Not “all”, only their relationship, though, looking at her it was easy to forget that there were other things in the world. What exactly had started then, anyway? His realisation that for some reason the little Greengrass was interested in keeping in contact with him? For some reason… after decades, he should have reached a more conclusive point. And maybe he would have if he were not far too cowardly to refuse to think of it. Because it couldn’t have been all a lie.

He had learnt not to think about her in circles in every free minute. And even during these few days with Tamara, if anything it had been easier than usual to pretend that everything was like it used to be. And it sort of was. It was normal to be alone with her. To dedicate all his free time to her like when she was little. When he had tried to be both a father and a mother at the same time because Astoria couldn’t. He had never questioned why she wasn’t able to cope with her grief enough to give Tamara the love she needed. He had silently accepted that she’d be the one mourning Hyperion while he had to take care of his little sister. The other child. Despite himself, he had found himself thinking this too. That she had come into this world like a replacement. But it of course didn’t work like that. Life didn’t repeat itself, it went on. And he hadn’t understood — and still didn’t — why Astoria had needed this long to accept it. With the baby, there just wasn’t an alternative but to cling on to this new hope as they — or rather only he — watched, a second time, how the child learnt to crawl and walk on two short legs, cried all night when teething, and how inarticulate sounds suddenly turned into an understandable word. “Dada” as far as he remembered. And this moment was when he fully realised how different Tamara’s babyhood was from her brother’s. Anthony hadn’t even been there to hear him say “mama” and only heard it from Astoria afterwards. And her new baby… he sometimes forgot about it. Her new marriage, new pregnancy, new connections. She just… Nott was not the sort of person anyone in their right mind would want to have within a five mile radius. It was so absurd — and made him worry about Tamara. About the new baby too, sort of, though it should be none of his business. He shouldn’t walk around convinced that only he knew how to be a dad when he had disappointed Tamara as much as he had.

Looking into Astoria’s neutral face, he couldn’t but feel ridiculous that he spent so much time speculating about her true feelings. She could just as well be on the moon and there would be no difference to the distance between them. Then again, indifference could mean so much, and indifference was what he tried to fake too. Right now. Whenever he interacted with Astoria. As if he hadn’t yearned to see her face again, and Tamara were the only reason why he was here. But Tamara was the only reason, and he wouldn't see her again for an unpredictable amount of time. “That’s what I hope too, right Tamara?” he said, looking down at his daughter but her head was turned away as if she didn’t want any part in the conversation. So maybe it was good that there was not that much time for talking. He wouldn’t be able anyway to say the words he wanted to say to Astoria now, nor in the foreseeable future, or maybe never. And what or if she wished to share anything with him… that was exactly the sort of question that he couldn’t ask. And Tamara just remained standing still like she was only here by accident. This was not a good way to let her go away. She had been so lively and spirited during the last two days that he had hardly recognized her. She had always been a serious child, almost like a little adult, and he had expected her to be reclusive and taciturn and full of resentment that he had suddenly disappeared out of her life. As uncommunicative as she was now that he had to leave her. Again.

He caught Astoria’s unspoken question and slowly shook his head. Judging from his daughter’s whole posture, the hope that she was past hurting herself evaporated quickly. As if the sight of her mother was enough to suck all happiness out of her. How had they reached the point where this thought sounded like the truth? “Are…” He swallowed down the attempt at a question. There was nothing he could say to Astoria. “Well, then, Tamara,” he instead addressed his daughter. “Until the next time.” His eyes darted to Astoria for a second before he could stop wondering whether there would be a next time. “Mum and I’ll write about your holidays.” He was glad for the few precious moments during which Tamara remained standing still. Now that it was time to let her go, there was something close to panic rising in him. She’d be safe. Hogwarts was safe. Once upon a time, this had been true.