Unwrapped

TWO

What was I thinking?

The phrase blooming idiot passed in a fleeting manner through Theo's mind, especially when yet another elbow jabbed into his side as some excited third-year hurried to show his group of friends some blasted aquatic plant that lined the tables on the street.

Somehow, when advertising the Hogsmeade weekend trip, they'd forgotten to mention that the 73rd annual Magical Waterplants Festival would be occurring at the same time. Which was completely daft, really. Waterplants in winter? Clearly no one had a shred of common sense around there. Certainly none of them would be able to survive the harsh winter. And yet, there wizards and witches alike stood, showing any student passersby their flora and succulentsl some magical, some ordinary.

He knew Hogsmeade would be crowded, he wasn't clueless. It was their first official weekend of the new year and everyone was chomping at the bit to get some fresh air and get away from each other. The hallways of Hogwarts were drafty, the windows rattled and shook with each blow of the wind, and a few cracked panes even emitted high pitched whistles when a good gust came by.

Theo tended to take refuge in the library during winter weather like this but, after the war, after everything, he had to make a change of plans. All of the Slytherins did. Even the little first years, which he deemed unfair. They didn't do anything wrong. They weren't even at the school or knew anything of it when they were first brought in. And here the eleven-year-olds were, being treated as if they were scums of the earth just because they wore uniforms emblazoned with green and silver. Their own Scarlett Letter, as it were.

The irony wasn't lost on him. As the cold weather settled in, the Common Room had become crowded so it was no surprise that everyone took off running the first chance they had to leave. A part of him did think of the Slytherin first years who probably wandered the castle, huddled together to keep safety in numbers. But they were well protected. There were a few sixth and seventh years that kept an eye on them. Slytherins always kept an eye on each other.

Theo glanced at Draco out the corner of his eye. At his red stained cheeks and his windswept hair and his squinting silver eyes. If anyone needed a break away from the crowds, it was him. And so, a part of him, kicked himself for bringing his longtime friend to such a crowded space. But if Draco were uncomfortable by any margin, he didn't show it. It helped, perhaps, that everyone else seemed more focused on what they were doing and what interested them more than the two blokes shuffling through the snow-lined streets with silver and green scarves hung around their necks.

Draco turned in his direction, an eyebrow lifted with a shadow of a smile on his face (or was it a trick of the sun?) Theo had seen that look too many times to not know what he was implying. See something interesting? The only thing missing was the swagger and the actual vocalization of his inquiry. Otherwise, it was the same Draco he remembered running around the gardens with and talking about magic and what subject they'd concentrate on (potions, for both, of course.)

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Theo spoke aloud, shaking his head. Flakes of snow fell from his head and he brushed any remnants away. "There are far more interesting plants I'd like to take a closer look at than you." He waved his arm around himself, motioning to the lined up tables and the beckoning sellers. "Look at that. Shrivelfig."

Shifting on his heel, he changed direction and stopped in front of a table lined with shrivelfig pods and bounds of gillyweed. The man behind the table—an older gentleman with a foggy eye and a golden smile—moved as if to approach him. One hard look from Theo had him mumbling about needing to work with another customer and scurrying away. He picked up a purple blob, turning over in his hand. Whatever fertilizer was used had helped the pod ripen at the right moment. The stem attached was green as could be. A good sign.

A bump to his shoulder tore his eyes away from the plant. His eyes locked with Draco's curious stare before it was cast downward. Theo followed and spotted him holding out his notebook once again. Theo reached out for it. His fingers barely brushed against the surface of it when it was knocked out of Draco's hand. It landed in the snow, pages facing downwards. Theo's arm jerked forward from the brush of a heavy shoulder and Draco stumbled back from a push to the arm.

"Watch it!" Theo immediately barked, his eyes narrowing on a Gryffindor seventh year. Some bloke from that Weasley girl's year.

He grinned and walked backwards, keeping up the swagger in his pace. "Watch yourself, Nott. Don't you have some grass to hide in?"

"Clever. Took a lot of effort to rub together your two brain cells, did it?" Theo immediately shot back, his grip tightening on the shrivelfig.

The Gryffindor boy laughed. "Get over yourself. You think the rest of us will forget what your kind did?" He jerked his chin in Draco's direction. "Surprised they let traitors like him back. They should keep you in the cells where you belong."

Fire flickering in his stomach, Theo started forward, hand going straight for his wand when a tight grip on the sleeve of his robes stopped him. He whipped his head around, his glare settling on Draco's face. Draco shook his head once and mouthed words only to wince at the dry, light rasp that managed to come out of his mouth.

"Not worth it," he'd said.

It wasn't much but it did its job. Theo's shoulders lowered, his fire extinguished. Sniffing, he cast one more glance at the now retreating Gryffindor and then bent to pick up the discarded book. He shook out the journal, but the deed was done. The snow-soaked pages sat crinkled and wavy and the ink sat inside, smudged and bleeding from the excess water. Suer, a simple drying charm would set everything back to normal, but that wasn't the point.

"Git," Theo muttered. He pressed the book together and squeezed, as if that would push out any of the water in it. "Should've let me get him. Would've fired off a good stinging hex. Might have fixed his face. Maybe then even his mother'd love 'im. Look less like a troll."

He held the book out to Draco but he didn't take it right away. He merely stared back at him. Theo's fingers twitched by his sides and his toes wiggled in his shoes beneath the steel gaze. Much as he did in his youth, Theo wondered just what kind of magic Draco possessed to unsettle him with just one look. Grimacing, Theo shoved the journal into Draco's chest and then turned back to the seller who stood nearby, staring at him. He bristled. What was with everyone today? First Draco, now him. "Oi, you see somethin' interesting?" As the words left his mouth, he made a face, because there was nothing worse than emulating Draco's dramatics, especially at a time like this. He dug into his pocket and retrieved a few galleons, of which he shoved into the man's hand.

"You've made a good choice, lad," the man said, hastily scooping the golden coins into his shaking, bandage covered hands.

Theo held his tongue, deciding not to make a comment about how some of these people were selling what were very obviously not water plants, and shoved the pod into his bag. He knew his plants. He didn't need to be told he made a good choice. He didn't skimp on the quality of the items he was after, not when they were going to be used for something important.

"Come on," Theo said brusquely, moving away from the table. He squared his shoulders and lifted his head, pushing through the crowd, daring them with a sneer to say something about it. He didn't wait to see if Draco was following him; he needed a Butterbeer and he needed it now.

Truth be told, he had something of a sweet tooth. Some his age may choose to go for a hard hitter, such as mead or Firewhisky, but he liked the smooth, thick taste of a Butterbeer. Madam Rosmerta made a peppermint variation during the holidays, among others, but peppermint was his go-to choice. Something about the cooling affects combined with the alcohol content, though little, calmed his mind and his nerves. And with a large set of eyes on him at any given minute, he needed a reprieve.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, unsurprisingly, but it didn't slow Theo down as he strode through the door. He kept his chin up and his eyes on his destination when all sound in the pub seemed to stop altogether at the sight of the two by the door. Draco, an expert at playing a part, hardened his face as Theo knew he would.

It wasn't until they approached the lone table in the back of the pub did Draco allow his mask to crack. Theo slid into his seat, with a brief lift of his chin in greeting to the two other occupants. He dropped his bag between his feet, glanced around the pub, and then settled, stretching out his long limbs.

"Took your sweet time, Nott," Blaise commented, the rim of a chilled Butterbeer held by his mouth. "Time is money, as they say."

"Come off it, Zabini. I got him here, didn't I?" Theo ignored the withering look Draco shot his way. So what if Draco heard him? No skin off his nose. He got what he wanted in the end. He took a long swig of his own butterbeer. It swirled a white, frothy color rather than its amber cousin but he closed his eyes at the cooling sensation that slid down his throat.

Draco could be angry as he wanted; getting him away from the castle was for his own good. For all their good. After finding the letter amongst his things that were thrown out of his trunk in his haste to get his proper flying attire int their shared dormitory, Theo knew some plan had to be put into action. Before he did something stupid like dive-bombing straight into the ground. As much as seeing a Draco-sized hole with a tell-talle calling card of a Sleekeazy smudge left behind would amuse him.

"Draco, darling, come sit," Pansy said, patting the empty seat next to her. Draco dropped down into his seat, a very uncouth action that had once been groomed out of him, Theo knew, and accepted the Butterbeer Pansy had pushed towards him. He didn't move to drink it, nor did he stop her from running her fingers through his unkempt white-blond fringe. Theo's eye's followed her fingers until she spoke again. "Don't be mad at Theodore"—she ignored the grunt that slipped out of said friend across the table—"we all needed a break."

Draco's lip twitched. His fingers drummed against the table top and his eyes darted around. Theo knew what he was doing because he was trained to do it himself. Their fathers learned from the same place, it wasn't long before they were being taught tricks of the trade. Draco took the bait, Theo managed to escape. But some of the lessons still stuck: casing a location, checking for every exit, studying faces and body language to quickly deem threats and allies. Even in Hogsmeade, in the resulting climate, anything and everything could be a threat.

Still, beneath Pansy's touches and cooing, Draco's shoulders relaxed and he pulled his butterbeer closer to himself. The bags under his eyes appeared to lift. The dark circles lightened and he looked far less tired than he had been of late. Theo hummed. Draco had conceded far faster than he had anticipated; after all the holly-jolly atmosphere with sparkling lights, holly decorations, and the soft hum of Yuletide wrock music was enough to have even him on edge.

But the Three Broomsticks was neutral ground and the Slytherins didn't have much of it anymore so they could take what they could get. And, on top of that, Theo needed Draco to be distracted. Perhaps he should have attended the festival at a better hour but, well, Draco pushed his hand by going for a flight sooner than he had anticipated. No matter, his plans were still intact. Plus, he got Parkinson off his back so that was a win-win.

He tucked the bag between his feet further beneath his seat and tapped his mug against Blaise's glass bottle. Cheers. Soon enough all this would be worth it, and, maybe, Draco would be able to move on like the rest of the world wanted to.

Not that Theo cared.


And here's chapter two. I couldn't wait to get this up, so, here we are! It appears Theo has a plan and getting Draco out so he had a cover for attending the festival is part of it. What do you think his plan is?

Please read and review!