Disclaimer: I definitely don't own Harry Potter. I'd sob at this fact, but...I think J.K Rowling did a better job than I ever would~

AN: Well, this turned out to be a little harder to write than I would have thought, but this is wonderfully looked over by GetWithIt.

"What you doing?" Theo whines, peering up at me over my bed. He grabs the edges and pulls himself up. I move over just a little so that he can plop down and lay on the giant pillow beside me. He rubs at his eyes and curls up next to me.

"Are." I correct him, absently.

"What are you doing?" He repeats, reaching out to turn the page of the book.

"Reading."

"Read to me," Theo commands.

I do. The funny thing is that wizarding tales are extremely similar to their muggle counterparts. Father would lock me in my room if I ever said that out loud, but they are. I've come to notice this as Mama tucks us each into bed. Despite having all of the left wing to ourselves, Theo and I share a room. We didn't when we were younger - Mama would have Vaniel try to separate us - but we snuck to each other's room so often that Mama grew tired of panicking after not finding one of us where we were supposed to be. Now, she's given up on keeping us apart.

I tell him the story of the Sleeping Witch. He doesn't roll his eyes at the part where the good pureblood prince is dancing around the forest with the pureblood princess, but I can feel the annoyance radiating off of him. He's more interested in the part where the prince saves the princess from the evil mudblood witch. He doesn't make it to that part of the story. I barely get there when I find my eyes getting heavier. Theo's head drops onto my shoulder. I shut the book and shove it to the side, carefully ignoring how the size of the book is bigger than my lap is. I try to pull myself up and gently move his head away from me and onto the pillow, but I wince. His hand has somehow tangled itself up in my hair.

I sigh in resignation and reach over to grasp his shirt. Mama doesn't let Theo's hair grow out, so I can't tangle my fingers up in it like he does to me, but I do cling to him. I'm pretty sure I had siblings in my first life. I remember a boy and a girl, both older than me. We weren't that close. They were a lot older than I was. Maybe that was why it is both weird and endearing that Theo and I do almost everything together. Even if we don't always hold hands, we're always together. If I'm not right behind him, he looks around the villa until he can find me.

I can't explain it, but I don't like to be separated from Theo, either. I don't feel right when he's not close to me. I'm more prone to...accidents. Accidental magic, that is. When Theo isn't around to keep me stabilized, things have a bad habit of flying across the room. It drives Vaniel crazy, and I'm sure that Sidhien isn't too fond of me, either. I need Theo beside me, he's my measuring stick and my friend. I'm much better at the lessons, but I'm not nearly as good socially as he is. According to Mama, my etiquette is atrocious.

Kyrios Kosta - Mister Kosta, that is - is the tutor that Mama hired to fix that. Each lesson, we sit at two incredibly cute desks that he's conjured up. Every time I see it, I'm more and more enthralled by magic. There is nothing like it. Even though mine is accidental, the euphoria that hits me when it catches me off guard is better than any alcohol or adderall I used to take. When he's not performing feats of magic, Kyrios Kosta is very boring, all things considered. Or, maybe, it's what I'm doing that's boring. I already know how to write. I already know how to form grammatically correct sentences. I know how to add, subtract, multiply and divide. Reading things aloud is difficult with my clumsy tongue, and turning the pages is annoying with stout fingers. It's harder to hold a quill than it is to hold a pencil or a pen. The amount of ink stains that Theo and I have is ridiculous.

"The magical community is very separate from the Muggle one." Kyrios Kosta starts, crossing in front of the two of us.

We're each seated at a desk, staring up at our tutor very intently, quills in hand. Mama had to go leave, once, and bring bag a different quill and inkwell for Theo. His handwriting improved significantly afterwards. (It still kind of looked bad, but mine did, too.)

"This is due mainly to the fact that muggles cannot be trusted with the knowledge of magic. Can either of you tell me why?"

The two of us glance at each other before Theo nods and turns back to face him, blank faced.

"They aren't worthy." I say matter of factly, like I'm telling him that the sky is blue. "They don't see magic for it's power. They think it's evil and have tried to kill us because of it..."

"Only," Theo continues, picking up where I left off. "We're too powerful. Their aff-efforts? were useless..."

"Muggle children have been burned at the stake and drowned, accused of being magical."

"In fact, the only magical beings they ever succeeded in killing were muggleborn children who'd done accidental magic in front of them."

"In some cases, the Muggles tried to use us for our strength."

Theo and I are taught a great number of things: English and grammar, maths, biased magical history, art, singing, and reading music, as well as Greek and some Latin. I was never much of a singer in my past life, so it's weird to me that Mama requires both Theo and I to be familiar with some of the older, classical songs. Not only that, but we are required to play at least two instruments. Theo is instructed on the cello and the piano by Kyrios Kosta, while I focused on the clarinet and violin.

We are terrible. Whoever thought that teaching children to play instruments was a good idea, they were idiots. Theo's fingers can't quite reach all the keys, so he is more prone to hitting the wrong note and slamming his fists down on the keys if he can't get it to sound just right. Not only that, but his frustration has his magic popping all the strings from his cello. I'm definitely not much better. You'd think being about 21 would help me control my own emotions, but that is definitely not the case. I know I should be patient. I know I shouldn't blow a gasket, but when my clarinet doesn't stop squeaking, I try to find extremely clever places to hide the stupid thing so I don't have to practice it.

Sidhien does not get enough credit, really. Father smacks him around all the time and tells Sidhien to punish himself for the littlest of mistakes, but that stupid house elf always manages to find my hiding places.

Mama thinks so as well because she normally tells us after our lesson. She tells us to be more patient - that it is undignified for "good little children" like us to take away from our intelligence by having ink smudges everywhere or hiding our instruments. I like when she does that - when she explains things to us rather than scolding us. Father isn't like that in the slightest, and I'm embarrassed to admit the amount of times I've cried in Mama's arms when he pinches my upper arm and scolds me for doing something that brings him embarrassment.

In my defense, I still have trouble controlling myself. I'm used to taking steps that are much bigger and reaching for things that should be in reach. I didn't mean to drop the cup when Vaniel handed it to me.

I used to love to play around. I would play soccer and roll around in the dirt. There was nothing that made me feel better then running down the field with my teammates and have my hair up in a sweaty knot - to not have to wear makeup and worry about what other people thought of me. It is so different, now. Mama and Father expect nothing but the best from us. I'm not allowed to play outside. If I didn't have a playdate with one of the other pureblood children, then I read a book or studied something Kyrios Kosta left for us.

Another thing that had changed drastically is how we eat. I used to grab whatever was convenient, or stuff whatever food was at home in my mouth before rushing off. Here, we are expected to dress to impress, even if it was just Mama and Father. (Usually, it's just Mama.) Theo and I have to be careful about going down the stairs. They're constantly polished by Sidhien, which means that we had to walk extremely slowly or risk falling down. (That was something Mama had told Kyrios Kosta - apparently, the Macmillan boy had magicked their own staircase into a sort of slide. She considered it extremely scandalous, especially because they had guests over at the time.)

Dinner is a very formal occasion, at any point. Vaniel irons our robes and make sure we have our baths. She dresses us quickly. Theo's ready by that point, but the house elf has to do something about my hair. I can't quite remember what it used to look like, but I know that, now, it is a wavy dark brown. I don't know who I got it from, especially since because both of my parents have dark hair. I do know, however, that Theo and I share more features with Mama than we do with Papa, and it is not something he particularly likes.

Not if his snide little comments give us any indication.

When Father is in, he sits at the very end of the table. Mama sits to his right and is always much more subdued than when he's not around. I like these dinners, though, because I get to sit right next to Theo, and, even though we don't really get to see each other's facial expressions, we can still understand what the other is feeling. Neither of us have an easy time sitting down. I manage it better than he does. We're both at a normal height, according to the healers Mama takes us to, but we're still short.

Today is one of the days that Father is here, and he doesn't look happy. Sidhien sets the table as Vaniel comes around and serves Mama, me, Theo and Father in that order. Father is given a soup today, and my stomach turns because of it. I don't mind Cream of Artichoke, but Theo's never liked it. He hates the smell and loathes the taste of it even more. He gets a salad, like me and Mama. Sidhien grabs the plates almost as soon as we're done with them, and then Vaniel comes with the course: Chorizo stuffed leg of lamb.

"Your tutor tells me you're both progressing quickly." Father says minutes into the meal.

I feel a sort of panic surge in my stomach and snap my head up at him quickly.

"Yes, Father." Theo answers dutifully, giving me a look out of the corner of his eye.

"Dorothea, he also says that you have been having some interesting discussions."

It's not a question, and I'm not entirely sure what he's asking, but I give him a slight nod and lowered my head just a little. "We've, uhm, been recently speaking about why muggles aren't worthy of magic."

His eyes narrow a fraction as he leans forward, looking at me carefully. I try very hard not to gnaw on the corner of my mouth and smile as best I can. It matters very little that my father and I are about the same age, mentally. The fact is that he is much bigger than I am and much more powerful. He nods, supposedly satisfied.

He sits back, looking wholeheartedly bored with us all over again.

Father doesn't interact with us much, although he does speak to Theo more than to me. He doesn't like me much. I've heard him call me 'the spare' to Mama several times. As far as I can tell, he doesn't like many things. He hates being embarrassed, which is why Mama, Theo and myself stay inside the Villa more than we go to anywhere. He is very serious and very sarcastic, at least to us. I imagine he's charismatic outside, seeing as he leaves to 'pay a visit' to his friends often. He's an elitist who sneers whenever "new money" tries to get in with him. That's why, I assume, he disappears when Kyrios Kosta is instructing us; that's why he was looking for our response.

Mama, on the other hand, is the opposite. Since she doesn't go out much, she talks mostly to Theo and I. Occasionally, she'll squabble with Vaniel and Sidhien. She is very open, and doesn't mind when she does something silly in front of us. It's true that she's pretty tough and expects a lot from us, but she doesn't mind when we mess up. As opposed to father, who would pinch us or punish us, she laughs and tells us not to do it again. She smiles, laughs, and sings for us. She helps us with our homework if Kyrios Kosta assigns it - and, often, he does.

That's why it made everything so much harder.

AN: Alright, let me know what you guys think. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Title of this chapter means: "Do this, not that."