Hello, my Voidlings... I hope we're all able to breathe deeply and regularly (there are hyperventilating bags available upon request) despite the fact that Twins is suddenly less than 10K words long... It needed doing. You should know that I have missed your cyber faces and voices during my year away... I look forward to renewing all our conversations.

Content: Swearing

Disclaimer: Still Not Rowling, still don't own Harry Potter, still not crying over it. Let's move on.

July 1991

Theo stood stock still on the overstuffed little stool in the back corner of Madame Malkin's. Though he staunchly devoted himself to finding patterns in the silver tarnish on the ornate mirror, he couldn't ignore Draco pouting on his right. Theo rolled his eyes without actually moving them and tried to hone in on his twin sister.

A little bell tinkled somewhere behind him. Theo was too distracted by the excessive light from all the mirrors and shimmering sale advertisements abrading his retinas (not to mention his sister's bratty blond betrothed) to pay his surroundings any attention.

For the fifth time in the eons he'd spent getting his robes tailored and his ankles stabbed, Theo tried to shove past Hermione's unabashed glee. Father had set her loose on Flourish and Blotts, and her emotions were going to swallow him if she didn't calm down soon. Of course, getting swallowed by her glee and blowing a crater into the alley would be better than listening to Draco complain about the first year broom rule for the twelfth time in two hours. Twelve times, Theo mused, in roughly one hundred and twenty minutes averaged out to once every ten minutes, and that was twice as often as any reasonably patient person could be expected to endure.

Hermione's emotions rubbed against his mind, catlike and insistent, swelling so close he could feel the undercurrents. The suffocating sludge feeling of too much sugar in not enough time coated his throat and made his nose itch. He set his jaw and focused on his jealousy and impatience, even considering pouting for half a moment, to ward her off. It didn't help. He still felt like she was sitting on his shoulders driving his face into a pillow.

She was such a pain when she got smug.

The very last thing he needed was to lose rein on their emotion. She clearly had no intention of helping, so he had to keep himself separate. For the sake of all the helpless ignorants going about their drab shopping.

And, of course, it was Lughnasadh Eve so the environmental magic was already heightened and itching along their skin.

It was no use. He sheathed his dignity and forced himself to pout.

He was positive this was her not-so-subtle retribution for the fact he'd gotten their school books with Father the previous week. It wasn't like he regretted lording his special trip to Flourish and Blotts over her… He'd earned it. He'd had to endure a morning spent silently observing the Gringotts Board of Directors while Father... somehow made the economy do what their family wanted… It was his birthright as a Nott, so he had to learn everything. For both of them. It wasn't his fault the Goblins refused to deal with girls. If anything, their closed-mindedness validated the trip. He deserved a reward for his good behavior. Three new books for three hours. It was business. It was fair. Besides, it made sense for him and Father to get their textbooks too.

Efficiency saves time, time is money, and Notts understand money.

"Father says-"

"Draco." Theo cut across the blond more by reflex than anything else.

"What?" Theo shot him a look for the petulant tone.

His gaze slid past Draco's pointy, mutinous face to the pair of riveting green eyes over Draco's shoulder. They were huge despite the shaggy fringe of black hair attempting to obscure them. They also seemed engrossed in white-knuckling their way past the fight or flight response.

Madame Malkin chose that moment to bustle over, several basic black robes floating along after her. "Here we are, dear. Now, you'll be wanting at least five; I don't care what the supply list says. Robes get ruined so easily with all the nonsense students get up to between classes. Up on the stool, now! Oh puddle, I've forgotten my tape. Hang on!"

Hermione's glee spiked, sending the smile muscles in his face spasming. Theo focused harder on the green eyes stealing glances at him in the mirror behind him. They looked vaguely terrified. Theo forced himself to analyze and sympathize.

The boy didn't know them. Theo was stuck babysitting his future brother-in-law. The boy was alone. Theo'd probably lost far too much blood to the vengeful pins around his ankles. Some random matron had been brushing her hands all over the other boy. The other boy didn't like being touched. Theo didn't like being touched.

No one touched a Nott.

Draco poked him.

"Theo!"

Theo centered himself and inhaled for five seconds before glancing at the blond.

"What?"

Draco nodded to the stiff boy on the third stool. There was absolutely no subtlety in the gesture and the boy was blushing, studying his toes.

Theo forced his posture into unconcerned superiority after a quick glare at Draco. "We haven't been properly introduced," He declared, meeting the green eyes once more. He allowed Hermione's happiness to stretch his lips the barest amount. "I'm Theodore Nott, first son of Lord Thoros Nott. This one," he jerked his chin, "is Draco Malfoy, first son of Lord Lucius Malfoy. I'd bow but…" He gestured vaguely to the pins busily jabbing themselves into his hem. "Don't want to risk it.

"Hello," the boy replied awkwardly, but a telltale smile tugged the corner of his mouth. He dropped eye contact with incongruous speed, however, when Madame Malkin bustled back over.

"He hasn't got a broom and he doesn't play Quidditch," Draco supplied. Theo couldn't be sure, but it looked like the green-eyed boy reddened further.

"We're first years," Theo reminded as patiently as gritted teeth allowed. "That doesn't actually matter, Drake," Theo murmured pointedly.

Madam Malkin was too professional to notice their conversation, plowing on despite the other boy's obvious hesitance and embarrassment. "These two here are getting fitted for their winter wardrobes along with their uniforms. Are you sure I can't interest you in a nice set of Yule formals? Maybe a waistcoat or two?"

"Erm… No thanks. Just what's on the list is fine."

Madam Malkin tutted softly before sinking to the floor to handle the boy's hem personally. Theo was intrigued by the special treatment. Who was this boy that he merited the owner's personal attention when the heirs to the Houses of Nott and Malfoy were fit magically? He wished he could see more of the boy's reflection. "Are you a first year as well?" he asked, secretly hoping the boy would give him some sort of hint. Maybe Draco would behave better with competition for attention as well… He didn't dare get his hopes up though…

The green-eyed boy's reflection nodded shyly.

Theo controlled his mounting anticipation.

"Know what House you're going to be in yet?" Draco demanded, sensing and using the boy's weakness to wrest control of the conversation.

Theo winced at the heavy-handedness, his mind scrambling for ways to salvage the conversation short of gagging the Malfoy. "No one knows their House until they get there, Drake."

He glanced at the green-eyed boy, but the kid was studiously taking in the right side of the mirror's gilt frame.

Draco's retort stole his attention.

"Well, our entire families have been in Slytherin, and we will be, too. It's not an unreasonable question." Theo cocked his head in disapproval of the repeated petulance. Draco raised his chin and addressed the other boy without backing down his challenging stare. "Better than Hufflepuff. I'd leave if they put me there."

No answer was forthcoming.

Draco shot the boy an annoyed glance. "Wouldn't you?" he prompted.

Theo inhaled slowly through the nose. No rising to blatant challenges? Modest? Practically zero concern for intimidation through personal presentation? The boy likely came from a long, proud line of Hufflepuffs. Though Theo supposed that could also mean it wasn't completely idiotic and unfounded to seek validation, camaraderie, or, Hell, even a relatively impartial perspective from this boy.

Said boy shrugged.

Truly, he was a thrilling conversationalist.

A mannequin sporting an elaborate hat clattered to the floor, derailing the exchange and sending Madame Malkin scrambling toward the front of the shop. Theo got a peek of vast, mottled brown leather before she and an assistant chased what looked like a ginormous human back out onto the street.

"Who was that?" Draco breathed. Theo couldn't tell if the awestruck tone was good or bad, and he didn't bother to check.

"That's Hagrid." Theo glanced over, craning a bit really, at the boy's voice. It held a thread of fierce pride: incongruous with a Hufflepuff. A Hufflepuff would likely not be so open about impending revenge for a potentially slighted friend.

Perhaps he was still learning proper comportment.

"I've heard of him. He's like a servant, right?" Theo sighed. Draco Steam-Engine-of-Arrogance-and-Poor-Choices Malfoy had recovered. Fantastic.

"Gamekeeper." The correction was glacial.

"How fascinating," Theo replied, lacing his tone with earnest sincerity. If the boy ended up sorted into Hufflepuff and subsequently turned the entire House against them… Mordred's molars.

Hufflepuffs, when not on a rampage to avenge their friends, could be useful… and even then... "Do you know him? Has he told you much about the grounds? I've heard the Headmaster keeps blocking any legislation favoring the expansion of Hogsmeade due to relations with the centaurs." The green-eyed boy glanced at him again. It wasn't exactly approval, but it was better than getting disregarded as some idiot lackey of Draco's.

"Yeah? Well, I've heard he's a total savage. That he lives in some sort of hovel and he sets it on fire sometimes when he gets drunk and tries to do magic."

"I think he's brilliant."

Merlin above please don't let the boy become a Hufflepuff. Theo had invested a huge amount of time and personal inconvenience in Draco and starting fresh with a new best friend after the Malfoy's inexplicable and grotesque death would be quite vexing. Though, to be fair, he had intentionally pissed off a potential Hufflepuff.

The boy didn't seem to have much Slytherin in him, given he couldn't keep to his goals against simple baiting. The dismissal was rather well done (if not especially eviscerating). Of course, Draco was absurdly easy to manipulate... On the other hand, Draco had a gift for reading the weakness in others to best thwart them. If the boy had any loyalty to the Gamekeeper, and his tone implied that he did, then a Slytherin would have probably smiled while shutting Draco down… On the other hand, the boy was clearly someone important, and perhaps he shouldn't be trying to find hostilities that didn't exist…

Of course, the boy could also be a Ravenclaw (meaning he could still be a useful connection) or a Gryffindor (making him seven different kinds of useless).

Fascinated, Theo probed his new puzzle a bit further. "Is he a friend of your parents, then? Is that why he approached you while you're unaccompanied?"

"They're dead."

Theo pursed his lips. The boy seemed determined to make the conversation as difficult and awkward as possible, yet his body language, according to a reference text he and Hermione had read to try to understand Daphne's intentions with Theo, screamed he had no ulterior motives. He just genuinely wanted to be anywhere else.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. Even Draco was blessedly quiet, and the two assessed the black haired boy.

"But they were our kind, though, weren't they?"

Theo wanted to push his face through his palm.

Unless he actually wanted to push Draco's face through the tarnished mirror.

"They were a witch and wizard if that's what you mean."

Before he could maneuver the discussion away from that particular erumpent, Hermione's annoyance and regret spiked into him. It was a staggering change of pace from her nearly incoherent excitement and indecision from earlier. He had to blink a few times and catch his balance before he could center himself in the moment. His total, though subconscious, focus on counterbalancing her excitement waved its frayed ends around and across his senses. It felt a bit like trying to summon an object wandlessly, only to be zapped by magical backlash when said object shattered under the strain. He bit back a hiss and clenched his hands against the stabbing prickles under his skin. Hopefully, the mirror wouldn't crack. He concentrated on the spasming needle working its way through his boot into his flesh. Rooted, he cast a quick glance around.

The edges of his mirror were frosted; the green-eyed boy had left; and Draco was fuming.

He froze and so did the needle.

"Merlin, Morgana, and Mordred, Draco, what did you do?" Theo demanded.

He hid his wince.

Too much. Too obvious. Sure, he was barely gripping control and now had to entirely reshape his attitude to counterbalance Hermione's displeasure, which threatened to swallow him (again), but it was no excuse. Subtlety is the key by which Notts open all doors, after all.

Fortunately, Draco didn't seem to notice his gaffe.

"I didn't do anything! That kid was being a total git! I mean, he wouldn't even talk to me. Wouldn't look at me. Like I was beneath his notice or something. Me! What an arrogant little prick."

Theo stared at him for a few moments, willing the Malfoy heir to see the irony.

"... Mate… you insulted a friend of his family…"

"No, I didn't! I was offering my information as a counterpoint to yours. It's called conversing."

"And it didn't occur to you to-"

The emotions from Hermione shifted again. Resigned impatience. She usually saved that for Malfoys… He felt outward, searching for the beacon of her magic.

"Crap. Your mother's done. She, Father, and Hermione are outside."

"So?" Draco grumbled, but he shifted his gaze to the black leather tips of his boots, effectively backing down and agreeing to behave. Theo relaxed a fraction.

"So, we can talk about this later. I promise. The boy probably won't even get sorted in with us. I bet we hardly see him." Draco muttered mutinously for a second or two, and Theo lost a few more grains of patience to Hermione. He hated being separated from his twin. It made dealing with their magic while playing 'normal' so much harder. Alone in Nott Manor, it didn't matter if the intensity of their emotions grew exponentially. Something would blow up and the house would fix itself. He took a deeper breath than socially acceptable. "Just play nicely with Hermione for a few minutes, and everyone goes home happy."

The little bell on the door tinkled.

Draco sent him one more sulky glare before smoothing his face into beatific confidence and ease. "I still say the guy was being a dick on purpose."

"Language," Theo corrected, his eyes searching amid the racks and milling adults.

"No one can hear me," Draco muttered mutinously.

Theo ignored him, melting into Hermione's subdued desperation to get back to the manor library. No more compensating. For now.

Draco sulked at his reflection. Theo's annoyance faded into the undercurrents of his mind as quickly as it appeared. His eyes zeroed in on the occasional flashes of the dark pile of curls weaving toward them.

"Just be a gentleman. It won't kill you."

Draco's head snapped up; his silver eyes were ablaze with affronted dignity. Before he could retort, though, Hermione asked, "what won't kill whom?"

A tiny, frigid hand slipped into his. Theo grinned at the wave of calm and his baby sister's superior expression. The frost had been reduced to a vague fog shadowing the silver by the gilt frame joint between the mirrors.

"Your brother was graciously reminding me that I won't shrivel and die without your radiant smile." The sarcasm could have choked a hydra.

Hermione offered the blond an angelic, adoring smile. "That sounds like such a wretched fate. I don't think I could wish it on anyone... even you." Her tone cut.

"I hang on your good opinion as much as on our conversations," Draco retorted.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Claws away, you two. You know what happened last time."

The fluttering voice of the stores' proprietress grew louder, escorting Father's low, carefully measured replies.

"I maintain Draco started it," Hermione murmured, her smile never faltering.

~*TNT*~

August 31st, 1991

Thoros knew he was probably overdoing it. Theo's posture was perfect, of course, but Hermione was slowly melting off her seat, an expression of protracted agony across her face.

"This is precisely why we are having this conversation," he lectured, halting his pacing to lean against the edge of his desk. He raised a challenging eyebrow at his daughter. "I appreciate the fact you are able to control your expression in public, but you must understand that everywhere is public once at Hogwarts!"

"Yes, Papa," Theo replied.

"Papaaaa," Hermione moaned. He felt his lips twitch entirely without his permission. She was so much like her mother. "It's not like we're going to be living in a den of legilimency masters! And the sun's going to go down! I have been waiting for birthday flan all day."

"You will be living in the den of two of the most skilled legilimens this country has ever seen. One of whom is by far the nosiest." It might have been a snap. He might have snapped at his daughter. Chagrin might be choking him, making him defensive.

"What I think Hermione is trying to say, Papa…" Thoros silenced his son with a look. He knew what she was trying to say. He didn't need to be soothed.

The boy subsided and studied his knees. More chagrin choked him.

"Don't draw attention to ourselves; don't make eye contact with professors for longer than necessary; don't be alone with Professor Snape; don't argue or discuss fallacies with classmates or professors; don't point out the bias and inferiority of the curriculum," his daughter's voice rose like a phoenix from chaos in support of her brother. Thank Samhain they'd grown out of jumping forward and baring their teeth when they came to each other's defense. "Be as meek and sheeplike as possible." She bared her teeth at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This attitude was from the Trastamaras. No Nott concluded arguments or challenged magical superiors with overt sarcasm. "Papaaa…" Her wheedling tone returned. "You promised we'd be done before Tibby calls birthday dinner, and you promised we could open Mama's letters before sunset!"

Nevermind that it wasn't even six o'clock yet.

"We'll be fine, Papa," Theo agreed with a soft smile.

Thoros unleashed a lengthy sigh and retreated to his chair to survey them over his desk. "You remember what I told you about boredom?"

"It will be inescapable," the twins chorused. "Our greatest challenge will be occupying ourselves." Hermione dragged herself straighter, her dark eyes glinting with hope.

"Students with promising intellect or power?"

"Study from afar, never outshine them."

"And if they approach you?"

"Parrot the Ministry in every exchange no matter the provocation."

"Do you know easier ways than the basics?"

"No."

They were positively coiled in their seats with excitement.

"Harry Potter?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked in challenge.

The twins darted covert glances at each other. "Will be Gryffindor. Naturally. But how exciting to get to be in his year and have classes with the Savior of the Wizarding World?"

Something within him unclenched a fraction. "Wouldn't nonverbals be faster?"

They grinned. "That's sixth year magic."

He didn't try to suppress his affection for them and summoned both the letterbox and Calladora's gold letter opener with a smile and a shake of his head.

Hermione squealed and bounced forward. "Then after this the Night ceremony!"

"No, we agreed that will be after dinner, my daughter."

She paid him no attention, too busy reminding her brother it was her year to extinguish all the candles in the library and bedrooms. Theodore had taken hold of the carved wooden box with delicate designs and patterns in gold flake, calmly ignoring his sister. She didn't seem to notice this and snatched the letter opener from him, gesturing with it, while dictating where he ought to place the offerings to the family magic to best channel the celebration once the moon reached its zenith. Theo disarmed her after she had nearly sliced through his cheek and drew it across his palm. Hermione squawked in protest when she finally realized what he was doing, but Theodore had already placed his hand on the twining vines surrounding his carved visage and inserted the letter opener into the keyhole. The box flashed and opened to reveal a pale gold envelope resting in the blood red velvet interior.

Hermione accepted the letter opener for her turn with poor grace.

~*TNT*~

Hermione tried and failed to contain her grimace as yet another muggle passed within mere feet of her. They all had a sort of glazed look… the muggles. As if they were totally unaware of their surroundings. Theo huddled closer to her, still pushing their luggage trolley.

"Why couldn't we side along or floo to the village?" Hermione practically whimpered, dropping her gaze hastily from a leering muggle with stubbled cheeks, a grubby overcoat, and repulsive teeth.

Papa's arm flexed under her clutching fingers. "Tradition," He replied in Nott Gaelic. His tone was quite clear about his feelings on the subject.

The little family navigated begrudgingly around a squawking clump of sports enthusiasts (judging by their clothing).

"It's impressive that they were able to make this, though," Theo commented, gesturing vaguely to the glass ceiling so far above.

"It's impressive they've only had one catastrophic plague," Hermione quipped, eyeing the grungy looking floor and overflowing bins. An obnoxious sneeze followed by a fit of hacking coughs drew the Notts' attention to a fat, pasty guard lounging against one of the brick and steel arches. Hermione couldn't make out the spiky white graffiti just above the man's right shoulder, but it seemed crass.

"Great Morgana's ghost… Is that…? Surely they didn't…" Hermione followed her father's incredulous gaze to a scruffy black haired boy eyeing the guard apprehensively while standing with his trolley in the middle of the flow of humanity.

"He was at Madame Malkins with Draco and me last month," Theo whispered, perking up. Hermione shot him a judging glance for his sudden flash of interest.

"And you didn't think to mention…!? Nevermind," Father bit out, cutting Theo's confused gaze off before it could lead to questions. "Go retrieve him. I cannot believe the Ministry isn't supervising… Nevermind. Go."

Hermione watched Theo slip away, their mutual curiosity building and mutating in their bond until she had to ask.

"Who is he, Papa? Why should the Ministry be supervising him?"

She kept her eyes wide and guileless when Papa glanced down at her. His jaw was working and his eyes were flashing. She poured on the innocence. "That," he finally snapped, "is possibly the single most powerful wizard alive." Hermione glanced over to her brother, her lip caught between her teeth. He and the scruffy boy were shaking hands. "That," Papa continued, "is the person who survived an Avada as a toddler."

"Harry Potter!?" she yelped, yanking her head around to study the boy more closely.

"In a muggle transportation hub without a full complement of Aurors, no less. Yet the Prophet still has the unmitigated gall to praise the Ministry's effectiveness."

"Sweet Circe," she breathed.

Her brother towed the boy over.

"Father, may I present Mr. Harry Potter? Harry, my father, Lord Thoros Nott, Earl of Strath Nidh and Ghàidhealaibh."

"Hello." Potter couldn't seem to decide whether or not to bow. He settled on an awkward jerk that probably strained his neck. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm sure."

Awkwardness lurked around the edges of the growing silence. Hermione cast a glance at her brother, demanding and concerned (not desperate). He shrugged minutely. Hermione dismissed him and rifled her memories of their research into techniques for easing the flow of conversation. "We were just about to enter the platform- fascinating magic, you know- would you care to join us? Unless you're waiting for someone else, of course," she tacked on so she didn't seem presumptuous.

Obvious relief flooded the boy's face. "No, yeah. That would be great. I'm not waiting for anyone, no."

She waited a beat, decided that was an affirmative, and replied, "Excellent. It's this way." He hadn't offered his arm, and she was trying not to overanalyze that fact as she struggled to herd him without seeming to herd him.

"The door is actually spelled to recognize magical signatures and intent. Ingenius, really. Even if a muggle knew the Platform was there, they couldn't pass the barrier without a magical signature." She kept her lecture quiet, conscious of her father's gaze and the sea of muggles far too close for comfort. She had never been in an open room with so many people in her life, and she was coming to the inescapable conclusion that she hated crowds.

A strident voice cut across the din like a Bombarda. "Every year packed with muggles! Come on you lot! Through the barrier! Percy first!"

Father jerked her back, along with Harry Potter, to avoid the ginger hoard seemingly unaware of their presence. Next to her, Potter flinched.

Papa dropped his hands but she could feel him growing still and forbidding at her back. His magic thundered over the black wool coat they'd transfigured from her traveling cloak.

She didn't have to look to know his jaw was working back and forth again as the last of the ginger family disappeared through the barrier.

~*TNT*~

"It's almost eleven…" Tracey fretted, her knee bouncing and her fingers fidgeting with a lock of her blonde hair. Auntie had curled it for her first day.

"I know!" The spritely, pale blonde girl gushed. "I can't believe we're finally going!" Auntie had said her name was Daphne and that she would take care of her. Make sure she behaved and everything.

"You're Tracey, right? The Davis girl?" drawled a pug-faced brunette perched on the opposite bench. Tracey felt her cheeks warm. The blonde girl, Daphne, grabbed one of her hands and squeezed.

Tracey glanced at her, but Daphne wasn't looking. She was flashing her teeth in a demure smile at the pug-faced brunette. "Right? I barely recognized her when she came back from her family's trip to Italy!" Tracey had never been to Italy.

A lithe, dark-skinned boy looked up from his magazine with interest. Tracey tried not to squirm under the attention. Daphne ignored him in favor of the brunette, who'd turned back to the window.

"Is Draco still saying goodbye to his parents, Pansy?" Daphne asked innocently.

Her reflection in the train's window stiffened, though her posture remained a disinterested lounge. She made an indiscriminate sound in response, refusing to turn back toward them.

"Who?" Tracey asked Daphne in a cautious undertone.

"Draco Malfoy. Prince of Purebloods and Heir to Basically Everything Worth Having," The dark-skinned boy replied, helping himself to the seat on Tracey's other side. He tried to wink, but both inky black eyes closed.

"Oh."

"Blaise Zabini," the boy stuck out a long-fingered hand. "Embodiment of charm and dream come true." He brushed a kiss across her knuckles without breaking eye contact. Tracey felt her face flame.

"You'll be happier if you don't listen to a word he says," Daphne remarked primly.

"The Notts are here," said another brunette across the train car. Baby fat encased her face and hands, but the effect was lessened given the two hulking boys next to her. Her blunt bangs highlighted her blunt jaw rather than shaping her face. "Who's that with them?"

Tracey, Daphne, and Blaise piled onto the bench between the brunettes.

The crowded platform below the window had gone eerily silent and still, parting before an austere dark-haired man with a well-groomed beard shadowing his jaw. The hair by his temples flashed silver. A girl, her mass of nearly black curls falling loose from a high chignon, strode along on the man's right arm. A dark-haired boy followed a step or two behind on the man's left. He pushed a trolley with two trunks and a little grey owl. The boy's curls bounced against his eyebrows with each step. From her angle, Tracey couldn't make out much of the fourth person. All she could see were snatches of a snowy owl, straight dark hair, pale skin, and light catching on glasses.

"Why is everyone staring-"

"Tracey, mia bella, clearly you were born under a rock, which is fine, we all have our little flaws, but those are the Notts, and they just showed up with someone in tow."

Daphne swooped in before Tacey could retort. "No, no, he's right. The Notts are… Well, they don't exactly invite… camaraderie..." The brunette with the bad bangs snorted expressively.

The little family had stopped beside the train, giving no indication they even noticed the effect their entrance had on the crowd jostling for a better view.

"They seem…"

"Theodore and Hermione are all right," Daphne allowed. "Kind of aloof. Sometimes awkward. They keep to themselves, you understand. But… It's best not to mess with them. The family is… Well, no one's really sure, of course, but they're…"

"Darker than a Hebridean Black Dragon and thrice as good with gold," Blaise finished.

The dark haired man gripped the shoulders of the curly-haired boy for a moment before pressing a kiss to his forehead. Tracey could see the actual ripples as people in the crowd turned to whisper to each other and point. The girl cast a glance around the platform before she stepped forward for her forehead kiss.

"Yeah, yeah, ooh the Notts. So scary. Seriously, though. Who is that messy kid with them?" Pansy demanded.

The little family turned to the second boy, who stood fidgeting while his gaze darted about the platform every few seconds. The man offered his hand.

"Holy shite," the chubby brunette breathed.

No one bothered to correct her. The man levitated the three trunks onto the train. Tracey's cheekbone twinged as she pressed her face closer to the glass.

"Where is Draco!? Are the Malfoys seeing this!?" Pansy's voice had gotten a bit shrill.

"We'll find out in a moment. Who saw them last?" Daphne demanded. Her head snapped to her right. "You two! What do you know about this?" The two boys shrank back slightly and shrugged.

"Millicent!"

"He wasn't at the summer thing last month. And Draco was escorting Hermione around as usual!"

"Wait! There they are." All eyes snapped back to the platform.

A tall blond man exchanged handshakes with Lord Nott.

"So does this mean…"

"What are you all staring at?" came an imperious voice from the end of the carriage. The curly haired girl from the platform stood framed in the doorway. Her brow was furrowed and a frown tugged on her lips.

~*TNT*~

"Sooo…" Theo breathed deeply through his nose. He felt Hermione stiffen at the saccharine tone of Pansy's voice. "Where's your new friend?" Walking across the platform with Harry Potter had been nothing but trouble. He'd never seen Father so tense.

Draco's head whipped around from the next booth. A little trail of smoke wafted over his shoulder from the rousing game of exploding snap he was playing with his lackeys and Zabini. "What new friend?"

"The one they were with when they got onto the platform," Pansy supplied with obvious relish. Daphne and the blonde girl next to her watched carefully from the bench across the aisle.

"He's hardly our friend. We only just met him," Hermione muttered. Theo nudged her, but it was too late. Pansy leaned closer across the table, her eyes flashing.

"Is that why he's not sitting with us?"

So much for rising above the gossip and not adding to the rumors. Then again, Hermione hardly ever listened to Father.

"Vince, your sleeve's on fire," Zabini stated.

"AAARRRRGGHH!" Crabbe lurched to his feet, shoved the Italian unceremoniously to the floor, and flapped his flaming sleeve about wildly. Goyle leaped up to tackle the other boy.

Hermione snickered.

"You should probably change…" Daphne offered, observing the chaos down the bridge of her narrow, slightly scrunched nose. The blonde on her right's eyes darted between the thrashing boys and her seatmate, clearly terrified by the fluent swearing coming from the rich, burgundy carpeting.

Politely disdainful silence fell as the shorter boy finally shoved Greg off. He stumbled into Blaise, who was bent over to dust off his slacks, and nearly knocked the Italian over. Crabbe ignored the compartment at large; yanked his black, silver-banded trunk off the luggage rack; and proceeded to rip the neat contents apart for a second shirt. Each girl demurred when a pair of black boxer briefs tumbled over the side along with several pairs of grey socks. The Bulstrode girl at the far end of the compartment did glance over curiously from behind the fringe of her hair when Crabbe stormed out to change in the train car bathroom.

Silence.

"What new friend?" Draco demanded again.

Theo sighed, made eye contact with Goyle, and flicked his eyes to Crabbe's still overflowing trunk.

"Walking together does not imply friendship, Draco," Hermione retorted.

"You never walk with people!"

"Well, that's ludicrously inaccurate." Theo gave her shoulder another 'drop it' nudge.

"Alright, fine. You never walk with other people!"

She enjoyed taunting Draco far too much to listen to reason. "Other is a rather non-specific qualifier, don't you think? Other than whom? And anyway your initial premise is flawed given that I walk with any number of people fairly regularly."

The door at the end of the compartment slid back open, and a harried older woman with gray hair fraying out of its bun hustled in. She dragged an empty trolley along behind her. The hands which had jumped to pockets and purses paused.

The woman noticed and smiled apologetically. "Sorry dears, a boy a few compartments back wiped me clean out. I should be back through once I restock!"

The woman disappeared through the other door when a squeak at the end of the compartment drew everyone's attention.

"Clean out!?" Crabbe wailed, his slightly charred dress shirt crumpled in his fist.

Draco leaped to his feet, their debate momentarily forgotten. "Seems a bit selfish if you ask me... Shall we go find this ponce and see if he'll share?" The blond strode away, Goyle falling mutely into step behind him.

Theo watched them go, his lips thin.

Barging off to confront an unknown enemy? He'd thought he'd had a stronger influence on the Malfoy heir.

"He's got Crabbe and Goyle," Hermione offered in an undertone.

"Do you suppose this means I win by default?" the Italian asked no one in particular. He eyed the small pile of coins amid the ashes of their card game.

"I honestly rather doubt he'll notice," Hermione replied. Theo poked her. It was bad enough she'd used 'whom' properly; they did not need to draw any more attention to themselves.

"Yes… He's not terribly observant, our fair prince…" Zabini replied, drifting closer to lean a hip and elbow against the back of the seat across the table from the twins. He flashed an encouraging smile despite Theo's frown.

"Though he would notice a new addition to our circle," Pansy cut in. Zabini winced delicately and glanced away. Behind Pansy, Daphne smiled thinly with narrowed eyes.

"Would he?" Theo replied, wrapping a repressive arm around his annoyed sister.

"Well, Draco clearly didn't recognize him," Pansy insisted, fishing.

Theo hummed in response, turning to gaze disinterestedly out the window over Hermione's head.

"What I'm sure Pansy means to say is we're all a little taken aback by a potential new addition to our acquaintance… They would have to be interesting, after all," Daphne coaxed. Neither twin replied.

"Just tell us!" the blonde next to Daphne burst out from across the aisle. As soon as she did so her eyes flew wide and darted to the floor.

Hermione sighed, ignoring Theo's displeasure. "Fine. It was Harry Potter."

The far door slammed open with a small explosion of irate, breathless Malfoy. "YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO CLEANED OUT THE TROLLEY!"

As you can see, I did not leave you forever. Just part of forever. But it's ok because I'm back now, and you can stop pretending that your life doesn't revolve around every word from my keyboard... And I can stop pretending that I can live without reviews...

Speaking of reviews... I need them. I crave them. I may die without them, and then I really would leave you forever. Which we agreed you don't want... Speaking of things you don't want...

QUIZ TIME!

Admit it. You missed the quizzes more than me...

I (the reader) will now:

A) REVEIW because a year was way too long and ~A. Slytherin must remain alive until my fic needs have been satiated.

B) REVEIW because ~A. Slytherin require a pseudo-roll call of readers still present, and there is no other way to accomplish this

C) REVEIW because if I do ~A. Slytherin will write me a beautiful note in response and her sass is the sun to my theoretical chloroplasts

D) REVEIW because I don't really know how I feel about my sudden loss of over 100 thousand words of content... and I have so many feelings that need to be expressed right now...