AN: This is an AU in which Daphne marries Theodore Nott and the former passes from the same curse as her sister. Also, there is implied Dramione. I'm just going to say that Ronmione was never a thing for the sake of convenience.

House : Slytherin
Prompt : [First Line] The flowers died three weeks ago.
Category: Themed
Word Count: 2044

The flowers died three weeks ago. Their faded petals were mere ghosts of their former selves; they had held their vibrant colors for years, but now they were falling to the ground like teardrops, sad, wilted, and lonely. Papery petals drifted on the dirt, a portend of winter to come, a reminder that this was a time for things to wither and die. They sat under his kitchen window, their leaves yellowing and drooping, a reminder that this was now the abode of Death.

Theodore Nott watched the flowers slowly disintegrate, feeling the waves of sorrow wash over him. After the war, Daphne had taken to gardening, nurturing each individual flower till it bloomed. And now, these flowers were dying. But they weren't the only flowers he had lost. His most precious flower had been stolen from him, cruelly snatched before her time. He had lost his Daphne.

At the thought of her, Theo felt himself begin to tremble, his vision blurring in pain. Even nearly a month after her death, his grief still threatened to consume him. The waves of loss flowed over him, like he was a pebble lost in a raging flood. The glass he held in his hand dropped and crashed to the ground, where it shattered into a thousand pieces, the broken shards lodging themselves into his bare feet. Yet, he barely registered the bursts of pain and spurts of blood as he felt his consciousness slipping.

Everything went black.

.oOo.

When he drifted to the verge consciousness, he could hear what seemed to be a muffled voice, but it seemed far away, as though he were underwater. His limbs felt like lead, and even his thoughts were sluggish. Someone laid a hand on his, and he faintly registered the touch; in response, he tried to open his eyes, but the bright lights above him were blinding, and the darkness bliss. Letting his eyes fall shut, he allowed himself to slip unconscious once again. He didn't want to be awake, alone in a world without her.

When he came to, he vaguely noted that he was no longer lying on cold tile, but was instead in his own warm bed. A small part of him was disappointed to have woken up at all, when all he wanted was to be with her. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see a fire blazing in the fireplace, and comfortable-looking red and gold armchair had been placed beside his bed. Sitting up, he saw who his mysterious nurse had been: a frizzy-haired witch stood in the window, looking out at the grey sky. Hermione. He coughed gently, and she turned around immediately, wand at the ready. Growing up in a war, there were some reflexes you never lost.

"Theo!" she cried, relief evident in her voice as she stored her wand. In three quick steps, she was standing beside him. "Do you need anything? Water, tea, cof-"

"I'm fine," he said curtly. He wasn't a bloody child. He didn't need a babysitter, or some well-meaning nursemaid.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, arching an eyebrow for good measure. "Really? Because you don't seem fine to me."

Theo's eyes flashed. He said, his voice shaking, "My bloody wife just died, Granger. She is dead. What do you expect?"

"I expect you to stop pretending you're managing and let us help. Draco - "

"- wouldn't understand."

"-is here for you. I am, too." Hermione regarded him with that infuriating mix of pity and sorrow that Theo had come to expect from every one of his acquaintances who had heard of Daphne's death, and it disgusted him. He was sick of being treated like an invalid, and he was sick of people apologizing for Daphne's death, as though it had somehow been their fault. It had nothing to do with any of them, and he wished they'd just sod off and leave him to his grief.

"I know!" Theo exploded. "Saint-bloody-Granger, defender of House-Elves and orphaned children, always there to help. I'm not a pity project," he sneered, taking a perverse, vicious pleasure in how her flinched at his words, and how she swallowed hard before speaking again.

"Theo," Hermione said softly. "You're not a 'project'. You're Daphne's husband, and she made me promise to keep an eye on you." Seeing Theo's eyes begin to water, Hermione sighed, then turned to leave, wiping tears from her own eyes. "I'll get you something to drink."

When she returned, Theo was sitting up in bed and staring into nothingness. The anger had leached away, shoulders slumped in resignation. "I'm sorry," he mumbled as she sat down in that comfortable red-gold armchair and handed him a steaming mug of Earl Grey.

"Don't be," Hermione replied. "It's understandable. You're entitled to be angry and sad and anything else you want to feel." She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, willing him to understand the empathy she had for him. "Just know that I'm here for you, Theo, even if you just want to talk."

"Hermione, you wouldn't get it." Theo took a sip of his tea, noting that it was prepared just how he liked it, with exactly a tablespoon of milk and a pinch of sugar. Daphne had always made his tea like this. "Where did you get the tea?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "Your House Elf made it. And Theo, I would understand much more than you think."

Theo shook his head. "You and Daphne were incredibly close, but I've known her my whole life. It's just not the same… it was a different kind of love, and now it's a different kind of sorrow." He took a deep, measured breath to try and keep some control of himself.

"I know." As she uttered those two words, Hermione's entire demeanor shifted. Where before there had sat the self-assured, comforting friend, there now sat a sad, lonely woman. Right now, Hermione seemed more vulnerable than Theo had ever seen her before. She normally appeared so strong, a force of nature, but now she seemed made of glass, ready to shatter under the slightest touch.

"Hermione, what do you mean?" he said gently, sensing that there was much more to the woman's words than he had thought.

She took a deep, shuddering breath before answering. "Do you remember Fred Weasley?"

"What about him?" Theo squinted at Hermione, unsure where she was going. "Didn't he die in the Final Battle? That was years ago, what does that have to do with - oh."

"It was him. It was always him. We were going to - " Hermione's voice began to break, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "We were going to - to buy a little flat together. Af-After the war. We were going to tell everyone. But - but..." The words seemed to stick in her throat.

"But he never made it," Theo whispered, his words filling the room with a quiet finality. Save for Hermione's quiet sobs, it was as silent as a tomb.

Hermione nodded, unable to speak. Finally, she wiped away the tears and said, her voice strong but still quivering, "I've healed though, and we're not here to talk about my pain." She took a deep breath. "Theo, I just want you to know that I do understand."

He nodded in reply, reaching out to take her hand. "Thank you for telling me," he said. "Does Draco know?" Fully aware of the jealous nature of his friend, Theo was frightened that such a secret, if discovered, could destroy Hermione's improbable relationship with Draco.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "We love each other dearly, but as I understand that Astoria was the one for him, he knows that Fred will always hold a special place in my heart."

"What do you mean?" Theo asked. "He always has seemed enamoured with you! I mean, he dated Pansy at school, but that meant nothing, and though he got engaged to Astoria, a little over a year after she passed, you were the only thing on his mind; day and night, he only talked of you. I'm pretty sure he loves you more than he has loved any other girl before you."

Hermione gave Theo a small, meek smile. "One does not forget their first true love, especially when they are taken so soon, and so suddenly. Draco would understand what you're going through as well. Him more than me, more than anyone else... How much did you know about Daphne's condition?"

"Not much. I know it was a rare blood disease, impossible to cure and always fatal. Daphne didn't want to talk about it, and I respected her wishes." Without more information, there had been little he could do after all. He'd felt worse than useless in the end.

She took a deep breath. "Theo… There is more to know. The disease runs in the Greengrass family. It was the result of an ancient curse on one of Daphne and Astoria's ancestors. I believe he stole one of the Selwyn's goats. The curse resurfaces periodically in his descendants, and both Daphne and Astoria were unfortunate enough to fall victims to it."

"Astoria died from it, too?"

Hermione nodded. "She did. Draco told me that she first discovered she was dying only months after the war ended. They had planned out their entire future, but then, in a puff of smoke, it was gone. He had really wanted to get married before she passed, but Astoria refused. Do not marry a dead-girl-walking, she said. You have suffered enough. Draco was heartbroken, and he stayed by her side till the end, ignoring her urgings for him to move on."

"Merlin," Theo breathed. He'd had no idea, and he realized just how much Draco had hidden from them all in those months.

"That is why I say that Draco would understand your pain. I know what it feels like, but he understands better than anyone what you're going through. We're here for you, Theo." Her eyes and tone seemed to will him to understand.

Theo swallowed hard and took another sip of tea. "Thank you." He leaned back on the pillows, looking up at the canopy and thinking of all the times he had lain here with Daphne and just marvelled at how lucky he was to be living and loving her. She had been a wonderful wife, and Theo felt a sudden pang of pity for Draco and Hermione: neither had been able to experience the bliss of marriage. "Why don't you come back this evening?" he said suddenly. "I have something I need to attend to."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, unsure whether it was safe to leave him alone.

"I am sure." He gave her a reassuring smile, letting her know that the crisis had passed for the moment.

"Then I'll see you tonight." Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand gently, before standing. She left the room, vanishing the red and gold armchair and casting a discreet charm on Theo that would alert her if he injured himself again.

Theo lay back in bed, remembering Daphne. He remembered the way she smelled, like fresh rain on a balmy summer afternoon. He remembered the way she tasted, like peaches on a warm spring day. He remembered how soft her hair was, and the sound of her laugh as it drifted through their living room. How they had wished for children. How they had delighted in decorating the house. How they had played together in the Black Lake as students. Their first kiss on the night of the Yule Ball, so many moons ago. That magical moment when he first realized he was in love with her. The earth-shattering realisation that she loved him back.

Then he got out of bed and went outside, sitting in the grass in front of the dead flowers. A storm was brewing, and as the wind picked up, the last few petals blew away. Tears falling freely from his eyes once again, Theo thought of his flower, his Daphne. Nothing could bring her back, but for the first time he understood that nothing could truly take her away, either. She was eternal, living on in in the memory of those who loved her.