However, one of the fragments had visibly chipped Astoria's tombstone. Scorpius resented it and growled in anger before remembering that soon even that piece of stone would no longer matter. It was just a perpetual reminder of his pain, of the years he had spent as a child crying in front of his mother's name inscribed in the marble, pierced by guilt and the need he had for her, to smell her scent, to cuddle with her before going to bed.