Two days ago, June 23rd, I realised how addicted I am to . I had the hardest time not logging in! Weird, considering that I usually go for five days without it and only have access to it on weekend.

You may, or not, enjoy this chapter. I suppose it depends on whether you've had enough of Theo already or not! But, rest assured, there is some Draco.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Thank you, Rowling.

Chapter 37

Don't Say That Word

3rd February, 1998

"Theo..." Draco said suddenly. "Do you hate me now?"

Draco was lounging in the common room for the first time in over a week. He hadn't shown his face here for days. He had been too busy trying to get Granger to talk to him and had only just realised it was a lost cause. Now he sulked on a couch, resting his chin on his hands, his expression closed and uninviting. The temperature had shot up a few degrees now that it was February, but the common room was still chilly and most of the Slytherins chose places near the fire. This corner of the common room was practically deserted. Pansy sat beside Draco, her own expression unreadable, but Theo thought he knew her thoughts. In many ways, they were very alike, Pansy and him. So attached to Draco fucking Malfoy... What was it about him? He drew people close to him only to throw them away when he was bored, and they came back anyway when he needed them again. What was the sense in that? What had Draco ever done to deserve their loyalty?

"I don't hate you," Theo said finally, because even though his relationship with Draco had always confused him, he was sure of that at least.

Draco was a Slytherin. His only loyalty was to himself. Theo hadn't really minded at first; he had known it from the start. He had been friends with a boy who only accepted him because he couldn't shun him. When they had arrived at Hogwarts, he had been tossed away, then taken back when Draco once more had need of him. It had stung, but the ache had faded over time.

Theo had grown up with a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong and a black-and-white view of the outside world. Draco had, too, but Theo's black was his white. He had done all the wrong things, thinking they were right until he got in too far to back out. He had joined the Death Eaters and stained his hands with blood. And Draco was the one whose father had walked away from the Ministry unharmed except for a few weeks in Azkaban while Theo's father rotted away in prison.

Still, Theo couldn't hate his oldest friend. He knew Draco wasn't all bad. Take Pansy for example. At first, Theo had thought she annoyed him, but in truth, Pansy held a special place in Draco's heart. She could get away with saying things to him that no one else could, on either end of the spectrum – I love you or Draco Malfoy, you are a complete and utter moron. Draco had always cared for her, probably – certainly – more than he had ever liked Theo. Her presence helped him be proud and domineering or alternatively, calm and gentle. Her loyalty was unfaltering, her friendship solid and constant. Unlike mine, Theo thought bitterly, but then, Draco hadn't been very constant either, had he?

"You have more reason to hate me than Granger does," Draco said, looking listlessly into the distance.

So that was it. Theo felt a stab of irritation that Draco's attention was, once more, not focused on him. He supposed he should be glad that Draco could worry about one person this much, like he did about Pansy; it meant he was still human.

"I've never really hurt her. Not physically."

Theo's hand jumped to his throat. Would he ever be able to forget it? Pansy's piercing eyes caught the movement and she shot him a sharp glance. Draco didn't tell Pansy everything, but she knew everything about him just the same. Theo tried to look innocent and scratched the side of his neck in what he hoped was a convincing absent manner.

"She still isn't talking to you, then?" he said, keeping his voice level.

"No, she isn't. She won't even look at me."

Pansy was quiet, uncharacteristically quiet. If it had been about anyone else, she would have reached out, touched Draco's arm, and said something encouraging; but at the name Granger she had stiffened. Theo understood her animosity toward the girl, but he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't some jealousy thrown into the mix as well.

"Well," he said, trying to sound casual, "it's not every day you find out your friend is a murderer."

Draco's eyes snapped to his. "Are you sure you don't hate me?"

"I'm sorry."

"I thought she knew," Draco said. "I mean, who doesn't know? It wasn't even a secret."

Pansy couldn't hold it in anymore. "You tried to keep it secret," she burst in. "In sixth year, you wouldn't –"

"Yes, but since then," Draco said impatiently. "Everyone knows, right?"

It was the first time Theo had ever seen Draco interrupt Pansy.

"Well, it was kind of hard not to guess," Pansy said stiffly, obviously offended. "What with the Carrows fawning over you and people somehow ending up all bloodied up whenever they crossed your path."

Again, Theo started involuntarily and again, Pansy caught the sudden movement. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"So she didn't know," Theo said, to draw her attention away from his hand – and his throat. "And so now she does. So what, Draco? She wasn't really your friend." Not the way he and Pansy were.

"That much is obvious, at least," Draco said. "You know what, Theo? You're right. I don't know why I'm getting so worked up about it, but I am." He shrugged. "She just made me feel... worthy, somehow. Probably because she didn't know what I'd done." He shook his head and gave a bitter laugh. "Stupid, really."

"Really."

"I do wish she would just talk to me, though," he went on. "This way, it's like she's not even angry at me. More like scared out of her mind. If she would just look me in the eye and tell me she hated me, then that would be fine. I could live with it. Like you said, we've never been friends. I wouldn't mind. I could probably hate her if I tried to. But she won't even look at me."

"I know the feeling," Pansy and Theo said simultaneously.

He knew they didn't mean anything by it, didn't mean to guilt-trip him. But the calm way they spoke the words, in perfect unison, caused a stab of pain deep within. There had been a time when he could look at both of them and have to fight back a smile; now he had to force himself to meet their gazes. In a way, it only made it worse that they didn't blame him, didn't accuse him of anything; it made him feel more worthless, more unworthy of them. He had never felt like this before. Pansy had been his friend forever, and he had been hers, and he had always felt they deserved each other. Theo was standoffish and independent. He had dated and been best friends with a girl who despised Draco. Draco had never worried about not deserving Theo, because Theo knew how to make his own decisions. Now, though, he wondered at his friend. This wasn't about decisions anymore, it was about reason. Theo had all the reasons in the world to hate him, and yet he didn't.

"I know the feeling." What did they mean by that? Had he truly ignored them that much over the years? With Theo, the implication was clear. He had completely pushed him away during their first couple of years at Hogwarts. But Pansy... Pansy was the one who had thrown Draco away. Granted, he deserved it after treating her the way he had, but he had never ignored her. Never. Unless...

"In sixth year, you wouldn't –" He hadn't let her finish her sentence, but now it came back to him. What had she been about to say? "You wouldn't talk to me." That had been true. He had kept her at arm's length that year, but it had been for her sake, hadn't it? She didn't have to have a role in the mess he had got himself in. He wanted to keep her clean, pure, perfect. Innocent.

"I am not your doll, Draco," she had told him once during their first seventh year. "You don't protect me. We protect each other." He hadn't respected that, that was for sure.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, looking up at his friends.

"I know," they said in unison.

He smiled a little. It was kind of funny.

"Look, Draco," Theo said gently. "We know who you are and we're still your friends. Stop thinking about the girl. She doesn't matter."

If it hadn't been for Duce, Draco might have eventually given in and accepted that as a fact. Theo could be very convincing. Unfortunately for them, Duce was listening in on their conversation. Duce was a fifth-year who thought he was all that and who got on everyone's nerves, never a good thing when you had to share your dorm and common room with a group of Slytherins. He was good at making himself unseen when he wanted to, though, and that was what he had just done, settling silently into an armchair near the trio. He had already got into a fair number of fights this year, over stupid reasons, and he was itching to pick a new one. The kid loved teasing and bullying, but he was lousy when it came to actual fighting. He had ended up in the Hospital Wings three times already this year.

"Who's 'she'?" Duce asked.

"Only the girl he's been going on about since the beginning of the year," Pansy said.

"Oh, I've heard of that."

Salazar, did everyone know?

"You mean the Mudblood," Duce went on in an offhand manner that chilled Draco's blood.

His reaction was instinctive and a hundred times more revealing than it had been on the Hogwarts Express. He stood up and in a flash, his hand had shot out to grab the front of the fifth-year's tie. He roughly drew him closer, until they were almost nose-to-nose.

"Don't say that word," he spat, pulling his fist back.

"Draco, no!" Pansy cried, rushing forward.

He saw the terror in the kid's wide eyes before the punch landed on his cheek with a satisfying crack and drew his hand back again. Duce cried out and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for another blow.

It never came.

Draco turned his neck to look at Theo, whose slender fingers were forcefully wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from moving his arm. His expression was as blank as usual, but Draco knew better. He knew how to read him. He could see in his friend's eyes a hint of the same terror that Ducehad betrayed.

"Let me go," he hissed.

"Lay off him, Draco," Theo said. "He's just a kid. He doesn't –"

"Let me go!" Draco repeated, trying to pull away.

Pain flickered in Theo's expression. "No," he said flatly.

And began to twist Draco's arm behind his back.

It was the kind of low move that older brothers might use when brawling with their younger siblings. It worked, of course. The pain in his shoulder and arm forced Draco to let go of Duce and turn around to untwist his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bastard scurry away. Theo immediately let go and stepped back from him.

And Draco lunged forward and slammed him into the wall behind him. "Why did you do that?"

Theo looked up calmly into his eyes. It was the thing that had always unnerved Draco, that had, when they were six, made him decide he was an equal. Where Draco easily lost control and became violent when he was angry, Theo never lost his temper. Not even when Draco's hands were roughly squeezing his shoulders and pinning him to a stone wall which had to hurt like a bitch when you were slammed into it. He felt a shadow of guilt and quickly pushed it away when he thought of the pain in his wrist.

"What would you have done to him?" Theo asked softly, his voice too low for anyone else in the common room to hear. And then, "I've never known you to resort to Muggle duelling. You know so many Dark Spells..."

And Theo would have first-hand knowledge of that, Draco thought, the guilt traitorously creeping back. He almost subconsciously loosened his hold on Theo's slight shoulders.

"What were you going to do?" Theo repeated.

Hurt him, something inside Draco whispered. He'd wanted, needed to hurt the kid badly for repeating the lies he had grown up around, for repeating a single word that Draco himself had casually bandied about for years. His hands fell to his sides and he stepped back from Theo.

He looked around the common room, meeting the eyes of the few who had chosen to stay after his outburst. Only his fellow seventh-years, predictably. Pansy and Goyle. In both of their expressions, the aversion and shock were plain. Even Blaise, cool, calm Blaise, even he looked unsettled. Draco looked back at Theo and was disgusted by the pity in his eyes.

He turned on his heel and left the common room.

He couldn't go to the library. Hermione might be there; and even if she weren't, he wouldn't be able to think there. He would look up every time someone opened the door and wonder if it was her. So he went to the Room of Requirement. The room where he had very nearly died, and the room Crabbe had died in after setting fire to it. Draco hadn't set foot there since the Battle. He hadn't felt the need to. The Room of Requirement had never been a place he liked; he had come to know it better than most during his sixth year, but he had hated it. Hated the secrets, the lies, the plots.

The door appeared the second time he walked past it, and he practically dove in.

Sorry for the very long back story. This is what I meant by summing up Theo's part! I actually like this; but then, I'm the one who wrote it. I can only hope you're still awake after going through that.

So... review if you almost fell asleep! :) And if you liked it. And for whatever reason, really.

Next chapter is a quick, sweet return to Alicia (remember her?) on Thursday. And then a Draco-Hermione chapter on Sunday - remember they're not speaking anymore? Well, I think that one is one of my favorite chapters.

I have one more thing to say, and a ton of links to give. The first: "We are many, we are endless, we are tireless, we are anonymous, we are Legion, and we will not be ignored or defeated."

The rest (sorry, I had to be creative to get these links to show up... remove spaces, and the dashes in the nets and coms):

www .fanfiction . n-e-t / topic /78623/31298368/1/

www. fanfiction . n-e-t / topic/78623/29505225/43/

www. tumblr . c-o-m / tagged/ critics-united

www. fanfiction . n-e-t / topic/61196/16967487/1/ – I quote: "Flam request: Seen a shit!fic? Read a poorly written story that made you want to use bleach to clean your brain and eyes? Then post the link here and we shall look on to the story." Do you realise what that means? People are literally actively trying to discourage people from writing. React! To arms, readers! I can't think of a single worse thing to do to aspriring writers. When I first started out here, I was a terrible writer. I received encouragement which allowed me to progress - the type of "critique" given by these people would have destroyed me: media. tumblr . c-o-m / tumblr_m63bjd40mY1ql1ly8 .jpg

Thank you for listening to me. Have a good day/evening/night.