This is my first fanfiction is a really long time, so it'd be nice if y'all went easy on me.

I wrote this for the one word prompt from the hpfanfictionprompts blog on tumblr: Tattoo. I guess you could say Draco's a bit OOC in this fic; I just call it a little angsty. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters affiliated with the series. I only own this particular piece of fiction featuring said characters.

Astoria watches her husband from their bed as he undresses for the night. He is such a good man, she thinks. He works so hard for Scorpius and I. No wonder his favorite time of day is bedtime.

Draco stands in front of the mirror, shrugging off his shirt, and in its reflection, Astoria sees it. The tattoo over his heart; the mysterious design that has taunted her for years. A green dragon wraps itself around a crescent moon colored light blue. The design stands out on his pale skin. There are times, when he is shirtless, that it's all Astoria can look at. It frustrates the both of them so.

He has never told her what it means. He only says that it was the result of a drunken impulse. But, of course, she doesn't believe him. How can she? One doesn't get such a beautiful design on a drunken impulse. It has to mean something.

When Draco is finished undressing, he pulls on sweatpants and heads to the bathroom (leaving a pile of clothes in his wake, which the house elf will have to clean up in the morning, as always; he never was very good at cleaning up after himself). He does not meet his wife's eyes, and she knows he knows. He can always feel when she's been staring at it, and though she is aware that it makes him uncomfortable, it never stops her.

He shuts the door behind him and Astoria sighs, sinking into a comfortable position under the covers. She wishes he wasn't so secretive. She wishes he would tell her the truth about it. But then, at the same time, she doesn't. She fears that what she suspects is true; that the tattoo does have a meaning. A special meaning.

Too special.

She was looking at it again. Draco hates when she does that. It makes him quiver as he brushes his teeth, frowning at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Astoria, if nothing else, is a jealous and quite sensitive partner. Should she ever know the truth, it would break her fragile heart. It would break anyone's heart to know that their significant other bore the mark of another.

And even more so to know that their significant other still thought about that certain "another" daily.

Yes, it's true. The ink on his chest is far from a drunken mistake. He remembers the why they got them. Every memory of her is so clear in his mind, any of them could've happened just hours ago, rather than over two decades.

She was so beautiful, his girl. Draco is sure that she still is. He still has yet to meet any woman that even comes close to being as lovely as her. Her, with her bright, blue eyes and long, light brown curls. They weren't always brown, though. He remembers when they were a dishwater blonde. He'd tried to convince her to leave the color alone, but she was so adventurous and spontaneous; once she decided something, there was no stopping her. That's what ended up leading to the matching tattoos.

Her, with her sweet smile that always made him melt, even on his worst days. Her voice, when she sang to him at night, when he couldn't sleep. Her soft, gentle touch; if ever he would get angry, all she had to do was place a hand on his cheek, and he couldn't help but calm down. She brought out the best in him like no one else could.

It was his father that had ruined them. Draco had known that he would not take their engagement well. What he had not expected was to be threatened with disownment. Lucius swore that, if he were to marry her, his inheritance would be nullified, due to her only being a half-blood (by the time Draco had figured this out, it had ceased to matter); a union that was, obviously, very much looked down upon and considered an abomination by his family. His father also made it clear that, should this union take place, Draco would have no further contact with either of his parents.

She knew, of course, why he had begun to reconsider. She understood that he loved her, but could not leave his mother behind; even confessed that, had she been in the same situation, she might have hesitated as well.

In the end, it was her that called it off. "Family comes first," she told him. But he knew she wished he would stay.

He wishes he would've stayed.

His father arranged a marriage for him. "If an arranged marriage was good enough for your mother and I, it'll be good enough for you." Draco couldn't help but notice how particularly unhappy Narcissa looked when he'd said that.

Make no mistake, Astoria is strikingly beautiful, but not in the same way as his girl. Astoria is a wonderful wife and mother, but not in the same way his girl would've been. Astoria clearly loves him, and he loves her. But not in the same way. She's just so… different. She isn't impulsive or silly. She doesn't make him chocolate chip pancakes shaped like hearts in the morning. Doesn't believe in things only she dares to believe in. Doesn't run and slide down the hallway in socks like the actor from one of her favorite movies. And she most certainly never drags him outside in the middle of a storm to dance in the rain. Draco sighs deeply. He misses that. Misses her.

Oh, God, how he loved her.

How he loves her.

Draco rinses his mouth and spits into the sink. He looks at the design and wonders. He wonders where she is; what she's doing; if there is a man in her life now; if she has children. He wonders if she thinks of him. Does she still have the matching ink? Did she have it removed?

Did she know she is still the love of his life?

He shakes his head and runs a hand over his tattoo. He has to stop thinking now, or he'll never get to sleep. He wants to sleep. Needs to.

His dreams are the only place he can be with her anymore.

She still feels him. She knows when Draco is thinking of her because her heart begins to hurt. Not physically, of course; then she might think something was wrong with her. But deep, deep in her heart, she feels it. She feels him aching for her, and she aches for him in return. Even now, as she lies next to her husband, she aches for him.

Her fingers venture under the top of her night shirt, brushing over her tattoo. She remembers why they got that specific design. He told her once that she had him wrapped around her finger. It only seemed appropriate that the dragon should be wrapped around the moon.

Her husband's arm lay across her stomach. It doesn't feel right, lying with him. It never has. Draco held her differently; both arms around her, his face buried in her neck. Sometimes the only way she could sleep was with him holding her like that. She doesn't like to compare her husband to him, but she can't help it. She accepted, long ago, after many years of trying to move on from Draco, that she had settled for the man she married, and though it makes her sad, knowing she can never love her husband the way he deserves, it is a cold, hard fact that she cannot change.

She knows that Draco still loves her. She knows that she still loves him.

Luna wishes knowing was enough.

I am so happy to have this uploaded. I literally just finished it, and it's the first one I've finished in forever. Okay, so, I hope you liked it, and if you did, a review or favorite would be greatly appreciated!