Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/997722.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Lucius_Malfoy/_Narcissa_Malfoy, Draco_Malfoy/Bill_Weasley, Fleur
      Delacour/Bill_Weasley, Neville_Longbottom/Draco_Malfoy
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, OC_-_Character, Draco_Malfoy, Lucius_Malfoy, Narcissa
      Malfoy, Bill_Weasley, Fleur_Delacour
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Content, Warnings_May_Change, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Vulgar
      Language, Intelligent_Draco, Slash, Infidelity
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-09 Chapters: 1/? Words: 1075
****** Keep Holding On ******
by ashes_of_what_could_have_been
Summary
     Every time I look at you, my heart breaks. Every time I see you, it
     hurts like hell, because I don’t know if this’ll be the last time I
     ever see you. I love and savor every little moment I spend with you,
     because I know I’ll regret every single second you were alive and I
     wasn’t there, because I only have less than a decade to spend with
     you, and nearly half is up. I’m falling apart, sis. Keep holding on.
Notes
     Slash Version.
     Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy will be up soon.
See the end of the work for more notes
Every time I look at you, my heart breaks. Every time I see you, it hurts like
hell, because I don’t know if this’ll be the last time I ever see your happy
smile, your beautiful face, feel the warmth of your love, and tell you I love
you. I memorize your face, love and savor every little moment I spend with you,
because I know I’ll regret every single second you were alive and I wasn’t
there, because I only have less than a decade to spend with you, and nearly
half is up. I can’t stop holding you just because it hurts me. It’ll hurt too
much to regret later, not spending every second of your life letting you know
you were loved so, so much… I’m going to regret anyway. It hurts worse to be
away from you, so I hold you close and deal with the pain. I’ve learned to mask
my sadness, fear, and grief but it’s so hard to smile. I can’t manage a real
one anymore. I haven’t since I found out that you’ll die before you reach age
ten. That’s the longest you’ll live to, and even that isn’t clear because your
disease is advancing fast, the operation is failing faster, and you get more
and more sick. No one can tell you’re sick from the outside. You’re beautiful,
sis… you look healthy. Of course you’re pale: all of us have milk-white skin
that refuses to tan or burn, never has any acne. Your hair is mother’s blonde,
strong, glossy. You’re tiny, but so is mum, slender, and the only way anyone
could guess is how frail and fragile you are. I treat you like you’re made of
glass because I’m afraid I’ll find out something besides your heart and blood
is wrong, and that I’ll break you. I’m going to miss you so much… whenever I’m
away from you I’m in tears. I’m falling apart. I’d take your place if I could.
I love you, Amy. I always say it, but I want you to believe it. I want your
life to be as happy as possible and for you to never know what’ll happen. I
baby you because you’ll always be a child to me. I hate lying, I hate acting,
but how are you supposed to tell a four year old she’ll die before she has a
chance to live?
You protest when I hold you like a baby, but that’s all you are. You’re four.
You’ll die as a child. You’ll always be my little baby sister, even when you’re
in your grave. When I see you, I think of your funeral. I wish I was in your
place.
I don’t know how I’ll live without you. My depression is getting worse and
worse, and I’ll lose everything when I lose you, when the light leaves your
eyes, when you’re in your coffin and you’re lowered into the ground. I’m not
strong. I don’t think I’ll make it. There might be two funerals instead of one.
Keep holding on, sis. I love you.
… Five years earlier, Lucius’s POV:
I heard the doctor but couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be happening, not to
my daughter. Please, let them be wrong.
Draco was there, and if I had known I’d get this news, I would have had him
stay home. He’s crying now, and I see the pain in his eyes.
“She’ll die?” I ask. I want this to be a nightmare. Please let me wake up.
“She already has complications and she’s still in the womb. She might die
before she’s born. I am so, so sorry. If she makes it, she’ll need a new heart
and new blood right away. There is a chance that this might be her only
operation and she’ll be fine. We need to cut her open the Muggle way, and we
have a surgeon that will take her out of your hands right away. She won’t have
any scars.” The Healer says and I have a tiny bit of hope, but I don’t count on
it. I look at Draco, who doesn’t believe it. “We’ve got a heart from a
hospital. The surgery should be fine. We just have never seen this type of
illness. We’ll send the information to every major healing clinic we can.”
“How long will it take for her to recover?” I ask.
“A month. She needs to be in a care unit.” The Healer says.
For the first time since I was a child, I cried.
…
They were wrong. A year after Amy got a new heart and blood, we noticed she was
sick and rushed her to the hospital, then got another surgery. It happened over
and over again, until the Healer finally told us the truth.
“I’m sorry… she might not live past ten. We’re doing everything we can, but the
disease is advancing.” He tells us.
That night, I found Draco carving himself up. I rushed him to a hospital, then
took him to a mental health hospital, where he spent three months in recovery.
He was diagnosed with severe clinical depression and put on six medications. I
visited every day… my family is falling apart.
“You should have let me die.” Draco tells me every time for the first month. I
cry too.
Narcissa had lost so much weight, and I had to force her to eat.
The disease took a toll on Narcissa too. She needed comfort constantly, like
me, like Draco, and Draco spent time in our bed, despite the fact he was
nearing age eleven. I would let him stay as long as he needed to. It seemed to
make him calm, and though he cried every night, the depression wasn’t as bad.
He didn’t try any more suicide attempts. He did act up and got anger issues. We
took him to therapy twice a week, and we got progress reports.
Draco began pouring over ancient medical books, putting everything he had into
his studies so he could become a healer. Every free second was spent with his
sister.
“Dad, I don’t want to go to Hogwarts… I want to be with Amy.” Draco pleads when
he gets his letter.
“Hogwarts would be a better distraction. It’ll make you happy again. Try one
year.” I tell him.
Draco came home weekends and nights. I knew my child was breaking.
Keep holding on, Amy, for Draco’s sake.
End Notes
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