"WHY ARE YOU IN BED, NAKED, with my sister?" wondered Draco, horrified.
"I'm not naked," responded Theo. "I'm shirtless."
"Shut up," demanded Celestia, burrowing further into the boy beneath her. "I want to sleep."
"He's naked!" cried Draco.
Theo's chest vibrated with a laugh beneath her head. "I assure you, I have my pants on."
Sighing, she tried to quench her headache by sheer will. Which only served to make it worse. She must have winced into his chest because the thumb resting on her hip began to move soothingly, and goosebumps ran up her side.
His hand moved down over her hip, trailing over the goosebumps with his fingers as his hand slipped under her shirt. Their bodies were covered mostly covered by her quilt, which hid his touch from Draco. She almost felt oddly guilty, even though the touch was innocent.
"Sleep, please," she muttered.
Sleep hadn't so much eluded her than she had eluded it. She knew the moment she closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep; the nightmares would come. So, the entire night she had been stuck in the weird limbo between being awake and unconsciousness.
She doubted Theo had slept either, but they hadn't spoken at all, so he may have dozed off a couple times and she'd have been none the wiser. Somehow, she wasn't exactly tired but the yearn for sleep was still present.
"Get up. Breakfast is being made," said Draco.
Knowing there was no way to get out of this, she pressed her head further into Theo's chest and continued to speak into him again. "Okay. Fine. I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen."
Draco didn't leave though, and a second later, she heard the impatient sound of his foot tapping rhythmically against the floor. Finally, she looked up at her brother, keeping the side of her face pressed against Theo.
She couldn't help but wonder what a picture she and him made; both with tousled hair, sleepy eyes, his hand on her hip beneath the blanket, her hand on his chest, nearly skin-to-skin.
Her hand was pressed to his chest, and she wanted to memorise the faint presence of his abs until she had them memorised with her fingers, her mouth, her mind, her soul.
The sound of Draco's footsteps persisted, and she groaned. Beneath her hand, Theo's abs clenched. "Draco, we're not going to shag in the fifteen minutes you're not here."
"He's naked!" he repeated.
"This is it. I'm done. I give up. Kill me now," she announced.
Theo laughed again, and she loved being able to feel it originate straight from his chest. Fingers tightening, she dragged a nail along the line of his abs, and his laugh cut off with a sharp breath.
"I swear to Merlin, Dray, if you don't get out of my room in the next two seconds, I'm going to stab your eyes out," she threatened, pulling out a knife from underneath her pillows.
Looking not nearly alarmed as he should, Theo asked, "Has that been there the entire night?"
She smiled at him. "Yes."
"Fine. Fifteen minutes exactly. I'll be waiting," said Draco, pointing at his eyes then at Theo.
Reluctantly, her brother left the room. She moved to get up with a sigh, but Theo yanked her back down so that she was sprawled over him.
"Don't go yet. We can stay like this a little longer," he said.
"It takes me more than fifteen minutes to get ready; my time is cut short as it is," she said.
"But CeCe. . ." he begged, pulling out her old nickname.
The plea in his voice almost made her crack. Merlin, he really shouldn't have phrased it like that. Her thoughts were now filled with wanton fantasies; him beneath her, pleading for her to give him what he was so nicely asking for. And the fantasy shifted, and she wondered what it be like to hear that tone pulled out from her by him, his breath hot on her cheek—
His hand connected to her cheek, drawing her out of her daydream, and she blushed furiously. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," she replied, too quickly.
"Let me into your mind," he insisted, "I want to know what's going on in there."
She shook her head, and his hand slipped from her face to rest on her neck. "Nothing important," she said. "I was wondering how long it would take for someone to die after skinning them alive."
He stared at her unblinkingly for a moment, and then he burst out laugh again. The sound washed over her, enveloping her like a warm blanket. Heat sizzled in her veins, but it was different to what she'd felt earlier. Love.
And it made her feel so alive, so fucking alive she burned. She loved him. Loved him so much it hurt. Why hadn't someone told her how painful it could be?
The way he made her feel . . . she wanted to burrow herself in his heart, thread her veins with his, crawl beneath his skin, interweave their blood, make his soul her home. Wanted to go through every excruciating moment until they were melded as one.
"Your mind terrifies me," he admitted, "I love it."
Love.
I love you, she wanted to say. An admittance that she knew would one day have to come to light, but one she wasn't quite ready to impart. There was no way she'd say it now, though. This wasn't romantic at all.
She wanted him to slide his hand from the side of her neck to her nape, to pull her down and take her lips with his, to ravage her. He didn't.
"I can't really tell if that's a compliment or not," she said.
"A compliment, darling, don't worry," he assured.
She slapped his chest. "Okay. Well, I need to shower, so have fun laying in my bed alone."
Before he could come up with some scheme to trap her in her bed, she jumped out and headed for her walk-in closet. She went through the motions of picking a comfortable outfit, settling on a surprisingly cosy pair of jeans.
Turning around, she intended to pick out a slightly flashier for her top and found Theo. He was holding a shirt. One of his. She blinked at him, and when she didn't take it, he threw it at her face.
It dropped down from her face and onto her folded over arms. She stared at him, unimpressed. The shirt was actually an old one of his Quidditch jerseys from their time at Hogwarts; the name Nott written at the top, the number 8 just below it. She never knew what the eight was significant for.
"I wanted to wear something cuter," she informed him.
"Wear the jersey," he said. "It's cute."
"Then, I'll just wear my one. It fits better."
Jaw set, he approached her quickly. He plucked the shirt from her arms and pulled it over her head before she could blink. Since he hadn't pulled it properly over her, nor allowed her to put her arms through, all it served to do was obstruct her vision.
"The clothes were for after my shower, dimwit," she said.
Giving him a droll look he couldn't see, she yanked the shirt from her head. There was a grin on his face, because he knew that she was going to wear it. Flipping him off, she headed for her bathroom.
After her shower and changing, she found that Theo was in her room, but he'd clearly showered and changed in his own room. His hair was still damp. She rolled her eyes. He could've simply met her downstairs, but he hadn't.
Seconds away from berating him, Draco burst into the room. He gasped, sounding so horrified you would think he'd stumbled across them in the middle of sex.
"You two showered together?" he practically screamed.
"How can you be so fucking stupid?" she replied, hardly holding back a laugh.
Pointing between both of their wet hair, his mouth was wide enough to catch flies. She slapped a hand to her forehead, sharing a look with Theo. Looking equally amused, he winked at her — and Draco caught sight of it.
"Oh Merlin," Draco whimpered, pressing his fingers to his eyes as he turned his nose up. "My best friend is fucking my sister. Is this really happening? How long has this been happening? Why didn't you tell me? Who else knows? I swear, if my mum knows before me—"
"Draco! I am not fucking your sister," interjected Theo.
"Oh, yeah, we're totally shagging all the time," countered Celestia, lying through her teeth.
Draco looked between the two of them, completely confused and extremely horrified. Both her and Theo's gazes clashed again, his eyes amused and alight with heat. They spoke again, this time simultaneously.
"We weren't shagging," she admitted.
"I fucked your sister," he said.
A shriek came from Draco. The crass way Theo had said it, sounding so truthful, felt like a cold finger up her spine. Then she looked at Draco's mortified face again, and she couldn't help but descend into laughter.
"Did you or did you guys not shag?" her brother demanded.
Something soft caressed against her mind; Theo wanted to tell her something. It had become a habit of all of theirs, considering that when they were walking through the woods, they didn't want to talk in case they happened to stumble across the Gryffindors or anyone else.
Not everyone could do it, but somehow, all four of them, were powerful enough Legilimens with strong Occlumency walls. There was always something so exciting about being able to talk mind-to-mind and that people around them would be none the wiser.
Letting Theo into her mind was a reflex, one she had always possessed since they began using Legilimency. It was as if her mind recognised his in an utterly primitive way.
You're going to kill him, said Theo into her mind.
Their minds melded as one as she prodded his mind back, wanting to respond. It was always such an intoxicating feeling, like their minds were perfectly made to slot within one another.
We, she replied. We're going to kill him.
We, he echoed, as if trying out the word.
She grinned. Yes, my little parrot. We. Us. Do I need to say it in French? Oui.
That is . . . not how French works.
Another mind brushed against hers, though it was nothing like the soft caress of Theo's. The mind trying to get through her mind was angry and insistent. Undoubtedly, it was Draco.
"For the love of Merlin, please stop ignoring me and talking in your minds," cried Draco when they didn't let him in.
"Dray, we didn't have sex. If Theo and I were together, you'd know," she assured him.
As she slipped out of Theo's mind, Draco asked, "You're telling the truth?"
"Not that you have any right to police my sex life, but yes, I'm telling the truth," she said. "Can we please stop talking about sex and go eat breakfast?"
"Okay, yes. I'm sorry for ever bringing it up. I made myself want to throw up. Let's go," he said.
Spinning around, Draco couldn't leave the room fast enough. A grin sported on her lips, she turned to face Theo, wanting to share the joy of teasing her brother with him. Instead of finding him with an identical grin, he was looking at her with an indescribable look.
She frowned, wondering if she had made him uncomfortable. If she'd known insinuating that they'd had sex would make him distressed, she wouldn't have done it.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you—" she said.
He shook his head, silencing her with the simple action. "You didn't. I was just . . ." Shrugging, he dragged a hand through his hair. "It was nice teasing Draco like that again. We haven't done anything like that in close to a year. I was half expecting Pansy and Blaise to pop out and claim we had a foursome."
There was truth in his second statement, though she knew that hadn't been what he'd originally intended to say. Still, a small smile pulled on her lips as she thought about their other two friends and what they'd say now.
"Come on, let's go."
The two of them trailed after Draco before the latter could start crying about them having sex again. Malfoy Manor was surprising silent, so quiet that their footsteps alone seemed to echo throughout the entire estate.
A part of her was surprised that Death Eaters weren't running around the place after Potter's near-capture, but she knows why they're not. No one wants to face the wrath of the Dark Lord. Except, no matter how much they try to avoid it, there's still the meeting he'd called tonight.
Breakfast was set up in the kitchen; it had been years since they had eaten a meal in the dining room, probably since before they had begun attending Hogwarts. Now, the dining room was nothing more than a glorified meeting place.
The three of them were so used to beans on toast — which they loved, but Merlin did it get so repetitive after so many months — that the sight of the meal before them nearly made them salivate.
One moment they were prone in the doorway, and the next they were descending upon breakfast like starved lions. Growing up, they'd all been groomed to act with perfect manners; those finely refined manners flew out the window with their first bite of food.
"And here I was, thinking I raised you both better than this," teased a soft voice from the kitchen doorway.
Pausing with the best slice of French toast she'd ever had halfway to her mouth, she glanced up to see her aunt. Narcissa smiled softly, staring at her and Draco.
Straightening, she wiped off her mouth with a serviette — she did have some decorum after all. Then, she smiled back at her. Since they'd gotten back yesterday, she hadn't seen her after Dobby destroyed the chandelier and injured Draco.
"Morning, Cissy," she greeted.
She stuffed her face unceremoniously, finishing off her plate as Narcissa approached. Shaking her head in faux disappointment, her aunt came to a stop beside her chair.
The moment she jumped down off her chair, she was pulled into a tight hug. Narcissa swayed them from side to side, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek in the way all relatives tended to do.
"How have you been? What has been happening?" she implored. "I only got to talk to Draco a little last night, and he didn't give me many details."
It was the tip of her tongue to mention Regulus; not because she wanted to expose his secret, but simply because it had become as simple as breathing to talk of him.
Melancholy hit her life a wave, missing her uncle more than she thought she would. Perhaps she hadn't yet fully accepted him, but all she wanted to do was leave the manor and meet up with him again; when before, all she had wanted to do was return here.
"Capturing Potter was the first drama we've really experienced. Nothing else has been anything to write home about." Unspoken, they all knew they couldn't have written home if anything had been exciting enough.
There was no use mentioning the werewolf attack; all it would serve to do would be to worry Narcissa. The two women had pulled away from each other at that point, though her aunt had moved to grasp her face as if to assure herself she was really there.
"Everything's truly okay?" she asked hesitantly.
Narcissa had raised her; she had to know that there was something she wasn't telling her. Still, she seemed to trust her enough to believe that she wouldn't keep something big from her. Guilt nagged at the edge of her conscience, but she shoved it to the side for now.
"Everything's okay," she assured.
"Tell me all about it, anyway. These past couple months . . . I have missed you three terribly, is all. I would like to know what has been going on, however mundane."
There was no way for Celestia to deny her. They settled in around the kitchen counter, and they told her only the mundane. How they drank so much tea; the old journal they'd found of hers in the tent; the gorgeous views they had got to witness; the towns they had visited.
And all the while, that guilt she had tried to shove away, came back with a vengeance. It curdled in her stomach, tied around her heart and pulled taut before crawling up her throat, becoming a nasty obstruction that she struggled to speak around.
Everything she wasn't telling her aunt rested heavily on her shoulders. It wasn't like she'd always told Narcissa every single thing, except now it somehow felt like a betrayal.
It was as they all spoke that more things began to occupy her mind, filling her with more of the feeling of wrongfulness. What had she done yesterday?
It hit her with the force of a train. She had fucking tortured someone. The fact that the person she tortured had been Hermione should've dulled some of the contriteness; wasn't this woman her enemy? Hadn't she threatened Theo's life? She had saved her from worse torture, right?
None of those thoughts did, though. The fact was, Hermione was a person. A person entirely at the mercy of another. Hadn't she been in that position with Moody once upon a time? Isn't that one thing she had vowed to never do?
Thoughts after thoughts, realisation after realisation barrelled down on her. Her mind, it was whirling, and yet words still came out of her mouth when expected; she still participated in the conversation, and nobody was none the wiser on what was going on in her mind.
Her mind. For only a minute, she wanted it to be quiet, wanted it all to stop—
A hand settled on her knee, and though her mind did not silence, it seemed to muffle. All her thoughts sounded like they were underwater. There was only one person who could do that to her, and the feel of rings through her jeans confirmed it for her.
Theo's thumb caressed up her leg, drawing nonsensical shapes in an effort to distract her. It had taken him a second, but in that way of his, he had sensed something was going on — and he pulled her out of it. Like he always did.
Finally centring into the moment, she became fully conscious of what exactly they were talking about. Narcissa was laughing and looked positively relieved. She had been calming down Narcissa while she had been spiralling out of control.
"Well, I'm not sure there's much I can do about birds defecating all over the tent and Draco's head, but I can give you some more tea before you leave." Narcissa sobered then, and hesitated to ask, "When are you leaving?"
The three teenagers shared an uneasy glance, not wanting to upset Narcissa. And there was an almost pleading look in Draco's eyes, beseeching them to stay here longer. The look of a young boy missing his mother.
In the end, Celestia ended up shrugging. "We're not sure." It wasn't a total lie; they hadn't discussed. But they all knew they wouldn't be staying here long. "Would we be wusses if we snuck out before the meeting tonight?"
The question had been half a joke, half serious. Her aunt answers entirely serious, though. "He'd think you helped Potter escape, so it wouldn't be the smartest idea to disappear before he can interrogate you."
"I don't want to go," Celestia whined, sounding much like a child.
There was a sympathetic look from Narcissa then. There was absolutely no way for them to predict how Voldemort was going to react tonight; to know if he would still be angry, or if he'd blame the three teens for capturing them and subsequently losing them.
People feared the Dark Lord mostly for his brutality and remorselessness, but those closest to him feared his impulsivity and irrationality. He would come up with a new plan and expect it prepared at a drop of a hat, and when that plan failed, it was their fault for executing it.
Going in there tonight . . . it was a complete wildcard. And they couldn't skip it no matter how much they wanted to; the meeting was inevitable. No one had to say it aloud, it was simply an unspoken fact.
Before she could make another comment to soothe the sudden tension, she saw the way Narcissa's gaze darted towards Draco. She wanted to spend time with her son.
Draco's eyes met Celestia's, and he looked at her in question. They had spent all their time in close quarters for the past couple months, and despite how much they complained about it, it was natural. It was survival, because leaving each other's back could lead to potential death.
Though Malfoy Manor wasn't the safest place, less so ever since it had become Voldemort's headquarters, they didn't need to constantly be at each other's sides anymore. She titled her chin down, and she didn't even need to mouth to word Go before he turned to his mother.
"Mum . . . could we, uh, talk?" It was awkward. No one wanted to admit that they wanted to spend time with their parents, even when they really, really wanted to.
Narcissa beamed though, and it was so like the smile Regulus had given her when she finally began to accept him that her breath caught in her throat.
"Of course. I was actually going through storage the other day, and I found some old pictures of you and. . ." Narcissa had been making her way out of the room, but she trailed off and turned back, "Celestia? Would you like to join us?"
Already shaking her head, she levitated her now-empty plate to the sink. "I was going to go through my books. I've read through all the books I took with me. I did a while ago, actually, so I need more for when we leave."
"Okay. You know where we'll be if you want to join. You're going to be missing out on all the pictures of the two of you bathing as children," said Narcissa, as if this would persuade her to join.
"Mum," Draco groaned at the same time Celestia cried, "Cissy!"
"That was a horrible point in my life. Why would you mention it?" she added.
"Oh hush," chastised Narcissa, exiting the kitchen.
Draco followed after her, his complaints falling on deaf ears. Now both her and Theo were alone, she thought she'd get away with him not mentioning that weird mood she briefly fell in.
She didn't want to talk about it. Those thoughts were still swirling through her mind, and she wasn't ready to talk to him while reeling. It was hardly unsurprisingly when he didn't let it go.
"Okay, what was that?" he asked.
"You're not even going to butter me up before we dive right in?" she sighed, pulling herself to sit up on the counter while she continued to use wandless magic to clean their plates.
"Why would I need to?" he remarked. "You knew it was coming; the anticipation ought to have primed you to know I would slide right in. Are you going to give any resistance, CeCe?"
His voice didn't lower, his eyelids didn't hood, and yet it felt like they were talking about anything but the gruelling conversation they were about to have.
Those few words were enough to temporarily silence the war storm in her head, and they were replaced by much more carnal notions. She imagined it — they were alone in this room, the only sound between them was dishes being washed, and anybody could walk in and interrupt them.
Him pushing apart her knees to stand between them, hands trailing up slowly from her knees and over her thighs because Merlin knows this man would be a tease. His hands would clasp around her hips and pull her flush against him, all his hardness pressed to her softness, making her sit at the edge of the counter. He would hardly have to move to his fingers to unbutton her jeans, and the sound of her zipper would be lost beneath the rushing water.
"Stop looking at me like that," demanded Theo, his nostrils flaring.
Refusing to admit she was looking at him any way, she tilted her chin up and raised an eyebrow. "Like I want to learn how long it takes someone to die after you skin them alive, and I want you to be my test-subject?"
In very real time, he pushed apart her knees to stand between them. There was still a large amount of space between them, they'd been closer than this before, and yet it felt utterly different.
"I've seen your bloodthirsty look, darling, and it wasn't that."
"So sure of my facial expressions, are you? And yet you claim to not know what is worrying me."
He grasped her chin between two fingers, and she barely restrained a gasp. "I know exactly what is worrying you, but I'm going to let you talk it out. And I'm not doing that run-around where I hound you to speak to me either. I know, to you, you need that reassurance that I actually want to hear your problems but I'm not doing that bullshit this time. You should know I always want to listen by this point."
She licked her lips, and her tongue touched against the tip of his thumb. It hadn't been intentional, simply a reflex. Theo's eyes darkened, and his thumb moved up a smidge before he pulled away.
Well, he didn't physically step away. He still stood between her knees, but now he stood straight, making no move to touch her. His hands splayed against the counter beside her as if he had to restrain himself from touching her.
"Don't make me talk about this now," she whispered, tone beseeching. "Let me feel. Yes, I need that run-around to make sure I'm not just burdening you. But it's not about that this time. I can't speak of this yet, and you won't like what I have to say, anyway."
The scandalous ideas vanished, and all she wanted was for him to curl his arms around her waist and burrow his head into her neck; to whisper assurances into her skin. Instead of doing that, he shook his head, jaw ticking.
"I swear to you, Celestia, if this was any other time, I would agree. I don't know how to explain it, but what you were feeling during breakfast . . . that wasn't any old sadness. Fuck," his fist connected with the slab she sat on, biting out his next words, "I wish I could explain how I could practically taste the twist of your emotions on my tongue, but I can't. I feel like such an arse pushing you this time, but I'm not going to let up."
She pulled in a deep gust of air, her chest expanding with its force, and told him simply, "I'm tired."
"That's not it—"
"I'm tired. I am so, so fucking tired, okay? I am tired of wishing to be everywhere but inside of my own head."
His brow furrowed, his mind obviously working overtime to make her words make sense. She continued speaking despite his inner turmoil.
"Do you know what it's like to hate everything that you are, everything that you have become, one moment and then relish in it the next?" she asked. "Because I was ready to kill Granger for the way she threatened you, was excited to do it. I would have done it if she had actually hurt you. I didn't even feel guilty when I held a blade to her skin, but the very moment she was no longer in my grasp, that was when it started."
Even after offering him an explanation, he still did not embrace her. She shivered, feeling so lonely. There could've been a hundred people in the room at that moment, but Theo's rejection stung sharp enough that she felt as if she'd been stranded in a blizzard.
The thoughts that had been coming back with a vengeance, soared. She liked to think that when she was confident in nothing else, she knew him—knew them.
Never before had she doubted them. Except now. Had what she said been too much? The pure bloodlust in her voice, had it disgusted him? The rate of her breathing picked up, and she tried to shift back on the counter.
His hand shot out and he gripped her thigh, yanking her towards him. Instinctively, her legs curled loosely around him. Cupping her head, his fingers danced on the sides of her neck as they trembled faintly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
That simple, reverent touch made her eyes water. A tear slipped from her eye. That tear rolled down over her cheek before it reached his palm, where it fell down his wrist.
When the next one came, he kissed it away and it was as if he was saying: I hear you. The following one. I see you. The final. I am with you.
"Baby," he said shakily, grabbing her hand and placing it on his chest. "Do you feel this?"
Beneath her palm, his heart beat frantically. The speed at which it was thrashing against his chest, it was as if it was trying to crash through his lungs, his bones, his skin just to reach her.
Fisting the fabric of his shirt, she tugged him closer. He bent his head a little, pressing his temple to hers. His breathe puffed out against her ear. She was trembling now, no longer crying.
Suddenly feeling ashamed, she apologised nonsensically, cutting off whatever he had been intending to say, "I'm sorry, I—I don't know what came over me."
He pulled back, handing her a glass of water. It was only then that she realised her raspy her voice had been. She chugged it down, wiping her hand over wet lips when she was finished.
"Can I tell you something? I don't want to seem like I'm trying to make it about me . . . but I'd like to tell you something. To explain. To let you know that these feelings? You're not alone, darling," he said.
She blinked at him. Of course she wanted to hear whatever he had to say, and she couldn't deny that it wouldn't be a good distraction.
"Tell me anything," she said. "Always."
Reaching out, his fingers curled a loose strand of her hair. "My mother died when I was eight. You know this."
She straightened, surprised that he was bringing up his mum. They scarcely talked about her. Most of the times that he did, it had been late night talks where their faces were nearly indistinguishable from the shadows.
"You also know that she left me an inheritance so large that even the Queen would be jealous, and my father resented me for it. He hardly gave me a Galleon growing because of it, even knowing I wouldn't have access to that money until I was eighteen. I've told you about this in the past, but not the extent of it. Of how cruel he was," he said. "But I don't want to go on about that now. If you want to talk about it more in the future, ask me, but for now. . ."
"I hate my father. He abandoned me my entire childhood to search out the Dark Lord. He tortured and killed, all in the name of You-Know-Who. For, what was at that time, a delusion. From the moment I realised how fucked it all was, I vowed that I'd never be like him. I would never harm someone. I would never kill someone. I would never torture someone. "
He continued before the words could settle with her. "Then you came along, and you fucked that all up. Moody, the werewolf, whoever the fuck else there has been . . . I killed them for you. And I'd do it again. For you, I'd do it repeatedly. I don't regret a thing. I don't blame you at all. But do you understand how much this all fucks with me? I never wanted to be like him. Yet, here I stand."
There was an inkling of worry, of guilt and self-blame that began to descend upon her. And then Theo tugged on that strand of hair he was still holding, and something in her . . . jolted.
There was nothing that she could say that would dissuade him from killing for in the future. The guilt he felt was for him to deal with, and him alone.
And there was this feeling that settled over her. This righteousness that this . . . this is exactly where Theo was meant to be, what he was meant to being doing. Her protector. Her guardian angel but bathed in blood. Defiled and rotten, and entirely for her—unequivocally hers.
"What we feel may differ slightly, but I understand you better than I understand myself. And I know it's the same for you, for me. If you think my feelings are valid, then by consequent so are yours." She couldn't argue that logic. "Whenever you feel like this, I want you to come to me." He rushed to add, "Not to talk, not unless you want to, but I'd like to be there for you, okay?"
"Okay," she whispered, and because she couldn't help it, she added, "I'm sorry."
He rolled his eyes without malice. "I'll let you say it just this once. Don't think about saying it again, though."
If it had been any other topic, she might've made some type of joke. Instead, she held out her arms in an expectant motion. He swooped in, arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her tightly against him.
Her own arms went up around his shoulders, tilting her head to the side to bury her face against the side of his. It wasn't a position she got to be in often due to their height difference, usually she only reached his neck, but she loved it.
Nose resting just above his ear, the soft curls of his hair tickled her. She smiled, and she knew he could feel the imprint of it against him. The moment she relaxed fully, Theo tightened his hold on her.
Fingers sliding across her back, they slipped beneath the hem of the jersey she was wearing, and she felt the cold press of his rings against the small of her back. She shivered and it was her turn to feel his mouth pull into a teasing smile against her skin.
"Dick," she whispered, lips brushing his ear.
He groaned, tucking her closer against him. "It would be in your best interest not to murmur shit like that when you're right against me."
There was a response resting on the tip of her tongue, but then there was another presence in the room. It was not the familiar presence of Draco, and it wasn't the comforting one of Narcissa. That alone was enough to make her stiffen, but it was the voice that truly got her.
"Well, son, it looks like you've finally got yourself a girlfriend," mocked the man.
Theo straightened so quickly that if she hadn't known him for as long as she had, she might've been offended. Except she knew that he'd shifted into a protective position, and when she looked to the doorway and her saw his father she knew exactly why.
They hadn't seen his father since . . . Merlin, she couldn't even remember when. It had to be at some Death Eater meeting before they left, though the exact time eluded her entirely.
"Father," greeted Theo tersely. "It's been a while."
The older Nott ignored his son completely. "Hello Celestia, treating my boy well, are you?" Though, he didn't sound as if he actually cared.
This would be the time to deny that they were dating. But all she found herself wanting to say was that he was not his boy, that he had no claim to him. Except, she didn't want to speak that thought aloud — not certain how Theo would react.
Before she could decide on the least snarky response to give to him, Theo was answering for her. Or rather, he ignored the previous statement. "What are you doing here?"
His father gives him a look that conveys how stupid he finds the question, or maybe his son. The look is enough for Celestia to lean forward and grip Theo's forearm, tightening her hold so that she doesn't do something stupid.
"There's a meeting tonight. Only an imbecile would miss it with how angry the Dark Lord was when he called it." Then, with a tone of underlying hostility that no parent should possess when talking to a child, he added, "Let's hope the punishment he doles out isn't too severe. It'd be unfortunate for the sole heir to the Nott's to die before producing a heir of his own."
Unable to hold it in any longer, she moved his hand up to the collar of his shirt, tugging him the small distance so that she could whisper in his ear. "I'm going to kill your dad."
With the slow way he turned his head to look at her, she didn't know what to expect. Perhaps a reprimand or a go-ahead. All she knew was that she did not expect him to laugh; which he did, and loudly.
The sound only shocked her for a moment before she was smiling wildly at him. Any of the murderous impulses that she had felt, disappeared with his laugh.
"Maybe next time," he promised, laughter still in his voice.
She placed her wrists on his shoulders, hands dangling over his back. "Promise?"
Dipping his head, he pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose. The move shocked her, and she was unsure if he had done it because he wanted to or because his father believed they were dating and was keeping the ruse up. "Promise."
There was no way to forget that his father stood a couple feet away, yet Theo had a way of making her feel like the only one on earth. One of his hands moved to rest on her nape, and without looking away from her, spoke to his father.
"I'll see you at the meeting, then," he said, dismissing him.
Clearly insulted, his father scoffed. "Excuse me—?"
"Come on, CeCe. Let's get those books from your room, hmm?" continued Theo as if his father hadn't spoken at all.
He took a step away to allow her to slip off the counter, but not far enough that when she did slip off, her entire body pressed against his. His arm curled around her waist, and before she could even feign being polite, Theo was leading her out of the room and away from his father.
They were halfway back to her room before he released her from his hold. Neither one of them mentioned how he had lingered.
"Are we going to talk about that?" she asked.
"No," he snorted. Then, realising he sounded a little hypocritical amended his answer to, "At least, not right now."
"Okay," she said, grabbing his hand and properly pulling him into her room. "Then, you're going to have to help me pick out what book to bring with me when I leave. I wasn't lying about that."
Groaning half-heartedly, he threw his head back as he complained, "Do I have to?"
"Stop acting like you don't love snooping through my books."
☆
No one died.
Or was seriously injured.
That was a surprising feat in its own, considering how explosive Voldemort's temper had been when the meeting had started.
Most meetings usually consisted of multiple topics, but this one had only been about one topic: Potter's capture and escape. Bellatrix had mostly led the recap of events, with the three teenagers occasionally and reluctantly chiming in.
It was when Bellatrix mentioned the sword that the Dark Lord went deathly silent. Whatever importance that the Sword of Gryffindor carried to him, it was extremely important — possibly it was a Horcrux, though she doubted it.
There had been a pause in the room when his anger hit, something that could only be described as supernatural, utterly foreboding.
People had jumped back from the dining table, aiming for the back of the room, the furthest point away from their Lord. Narcissa grabbed Draco, and Lucius had jumped for his wife.
Unable to disrupt the unspoken seating plan, Theo had been sitting opposite her and beside his father. There was no way to describe what had happened next.
One moment, she had been sitting and the next, her only thought had been Theo. Perhaps he had jumped for her, or she had jumped for him, but then they were flattened against the window as a roar of flames erupted from the fireplace behind the Dark Lord and engulfed half the room.
Fire singed her clothes, the heat, however brief, caused a sweat to break out on her brow. She was pressed against Theo's chest, holding him against the wall with all her might.
There was a scramble of commotion, and she realised why a second later. Everyone was fleeing the room. And Voldemort wasn't making any move to stop them.
That was all the permission Theo needed. His hand intertwined with hers, and he pulled her from the room. Neither one of them had been injured, but that didn't stop them from checking each other over for wounds until Draco interrupted.
That had been two days ago.
The instant she'd arrived at the Malfoy Manor, she had wanted to leave. There was one simple reason she had stayed behind: Draco. She loved Narcissa, but there was no way to deny the way her heart yearned to be reunited with Regulus.
She'd only gotten to talk about the address Regulus had given her with him for a short conversation. All he had said was that if things were to turn badly, he'd meet her at the address in a couple days.
How long were a couple days? Two? Three? Four? Five? She wasn't sure. Though, when she had woken this morning, she had known in some inconceivable way that she wanted to leave that day.
The sit down with Draco had been . . . painful, to say the least. Draco clearly didn't want to leave his mother. But he would. He spent most of the day with his mother, and when the afternoon came, her aunt was in tears to see them go.
Both Draco and Celestia spent long minutes embracing before their departure. Theo and her aunt had shared a short but sweet hug, and Narcissa had whispered something to him before they Apparated away.
Arriving at the location written on the parchment had taken two long Apparition trips, but when they arrived, it was to a small Muggle town not far from Cheddar.
Traversing through the village was odd. They had seen their fair share of Muggles and their oddities these past couple months, but this was like nothing they'd seen before.
"Are you sure this is the right address?" asked Draco as they finally arrived at the home.
"Yes, I'm sure. I basically have the address memorised," she said.
"This place is so weird," muttered Theo.
"Both of you, be quiet."
Heart thumping steadily in her chest, she crinkled up the paper with the address and stuffed it into her pocket. The cottage in front of her was not what she was expecting.
Walking up the pebbled path, the boys followed cautiously behind her. It may have been the smart thing to pull out her wand or sword, but she wanted the owner to know that they had come in peace.
Each step closer to the house kicked her heartrate up a notch. The name written beneath the address repeated in her mind like a broken record.
When she reached the door, she only hesitated for a bat of an eye before raising her hand and knocking. Faintly, they could hear the sounds of someone moving through the house, making their way to the front door.
The click and slide of the lock seemed to last an eternity. But then there was someone cautiously opening the door, and there was no way to deny that when her gaze darted down, they were holding a wand.
Mentally, she had been preparing herself for having the door slammed in her face, or something of that sort. It was the staggered breath that told her that this would not be the case.
And she hadn't been expecting the words that came out next, though maybe she should have.
"You look just like your mother."
Celestia tilted her head up and regarded the woman in front of her. She looked older than in her pictures, which was hardly surprising considering it had been twenty years since they had last been taken. Nonetheless, there was no denying who this woman was.
Mary Macdonald.
AUTHORS NOTE
hi. cliffhanger? kind of. surprise! well, it's not a plot twist or anything but i wanted to include mary so. . . i didn't actually intend for this to be a "cliffhanger" so my bad.
sorry if the ending is a little rushed. its 5am and i'm super tired and the past two weeks have been full of exams and assignments and i am fundamentally Burning Out. i am exhausted. but i wanted to post anyway.
also question: is celestia being too emotional for you guys?? i feel like i haven't been able to properly portray how she feels and i don't want to keep making her break down if you guys are thinking its getting too annoying. i'm just a sucker for emotional hurt/comfort, alright?
anyways, i hope you all enjoyed!! thank you all so so much for your support. i don't think i can ever explain how much your comments and messages on both here and tiktok mean to me. have an amazing day/night!
yours,
beth.