A/N: The two chapters after this had already been written, but this one got rearranged and put before them which is kind of amusing because there shouldn't really be any 'order' to a non-linear story. But hey, I felt it worked better.

Also, thank you so much to all who have reviewed so far. It's a massive boost and has encouraged me to pump out lots of chapters. Well, enjoy!

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October, 1999
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The Cruciatus Curse is addictive. Theo knows this not from experience, but from what he has seen it do to the people around him. Bellatrix Lestrange uses it so regularly that it's almost second nature to her and, consequently, her wand has twisted unnaturally with the disturbing character of the spells she forces through it.

The first and only time he uses it, it's an automatic reaction – one that surprises him as much as it does his victim, deserving though the man is of the pain. He decides then to never use it unless absolutely necessary – to draw on it as Bella does will be to court insanity, to encourage the hunger of the dark.

The decision doesn't appease Pettigrew, still writhing in pain as the remnants of the curse fade, but the rat is untrustworthy, a traitor to both sides, scum of the Wizarding world and not worth Theo's thoughts so he ignores him and walks away, calm and composed. When he reaches his room Hermione is humming quietly in the corner and he can't – won't – stop the tears that fall silently down his cheeks.

When Hermione, bewitched as she is, comes and sits beside him on the bed, gently placing her palm on his forearm, he loses it completely. The coolness of her hand rests directly over his dark mark and it doubles his determination, makes him even more fervent to organise the munity successfully.

They will defeat the Dark Lord, this year or in fifty.

Whatever it takes.

"Pucey is on our side," Blaise tells him one evening. They are in Wales. It's grey and wet and Theo, who hates being away from Hermione at the best of times, just wants to go home to the cell that he shares with the Imperiused muggleborn. "And I made contact with somebody who might be able to help us."

This is real news, something that can aid them in becoming a real threat to Voldemort when they come clean with their rebellion.

"Go on," Theo encourages tersely.

"George Weasley is willing to provide us with a variety of ammunitions," Blaise says slowly, "but he refuses to do so unless he can meet with – his words – 'the illustrious leader of the revolution'. On his terms."

"He's a bright fellow."

"He's given me a portkey that will activate on the twenty-sixth of October at exactly eleven-twenty."

"Then that gives me a week to prepare a winning argument," Theo says conclusively and Blaise raises a questioning eyebrow.

"So you're going? You'll risk the wrath of the Dark Lord finding out?"

"I haven't got any other options, do I?" Theo points out waspishly. "We need him, Zabini. If we're to put up a real fight, we'll need all the help we can get."

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