A/N: Hello all! So glad you enjoyed the last chapter. This one is shorter, however, it's one of my faves! I will be posting another chapter this week, since you've all been patiently waiting for some Draco/Hermione interaction, and that will be coming up next :) Enjoy!

October 26th, 1999 - Tuesday Early Afternoon

Theodore Nott had begged to be sorted into Slytherin.

It's not that he particularly liked the house, or even really knew much about it. The hat sat on his head, halfway obscuring his vision, and it has whispered into his ear like the caress of a lover, 'hmmm, what have we here. A Nott. You're a Ravenclaw through and through, my boy, it's easy to tell but… hmmm… the Nott's are always Slytherins.'

And Theodore Nott, old and musty hat on his head, realized that if he were to come home a Ravenclaw at Christmas holidays, he'd be signing his own death warrant. His father — he would — well.

The Nott's were always Slytherins.

So Theo had begged, and the Sorting Hat had obliged, and a green-tied Theodore Nott had buried that memory so deeply that leglimency could never find it. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, safe in his Hogwarts bed, he would think about it. Think about what it would have meant to escape to Ravenclaw.

He actually liked being in Slytherin — it wasn't the house he wanted to escape from. His housemates were clever and calculating, and Theo was smart. He played their games easily and never batted an eye.

But he… he wondered what it would have been like to be called 'intelligent' instead of 'conniving'. Wondered if perhaps he could have escaped his father's hold years earlier and missed out on lifetimes of pain.

He told no one the Sorting Hat's words, not even after his father had gone and died and Theo could have said anything to anyone with no consequences. As far as the entire Wizarding World was concerned, Theodore Nott is the same as every other Nott that had ever been born: a Slytherin.

Which is why he had nearly fallen over in shock when on the first meeting with Luna Lovegood she had stared at him with her too-wide blue eyes, tilted her head, and frowned.

"You should have been in Ravenclaw," Luna says, "with me. It's easy to tell — how did the hat miss it?"

Theo had stuttered for an explanation, a cover, anything to make the witch stop analyzing him when it had hit him like a bolt of lightning. Luna Lovegood wasn't crazy — she saw everything. His first instinct upon her words was to cut her down, belittle her intelligence, call her mad. He can't have been the first.

So instead of doing any of those things, Theo sucked in a breath and nodded. "It didn't."

The corner of her mouth curled up, a secret smile Theo had never seen before, and she had asked nothing further on the topic.

The exchange had taught him two very important things about Luna Lovegood. First, she was smart — smarter than him, definitely; and perhaps, most rare of all, she was kind.

Theo had spent the following days piecing together everything he knew of Luna, distracted from every task he set out to do — which is exactly where he finds himself on Tuesday afternoon, staring at his bookshelf from behind his desk instead of working on the Nott accounts.

A sharp crack startles him and reveals a small house-elf with surprisingly yellow eyes, wringing her wrinkled hands nervously.

"Hello, Thelma," Theo greets, "what's wrong?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Master Nott," Thelma says, "but Lady Lovegood is standing outside of the front entrance."

Theo stands abruptly, apparating to his front door without warning Thelma. He feels bad for a moment, but his guilt dissipates when he hears a gentle knock at the front door.

He rushes to swing open the great door, letting in the sunshine and cool autumn air. Luna Lovegood certainly is standing on his front step, her hair tied into a disarray of confusing knots and braids, and overly large dragon earrings hanging from her lobes.

"Miss Lovegood," Theo greets, "what a pleasant surprise. Would you like to come in?"

Luna tilts her head and thrusts out a small plant. "Yes, thank you. I brought you this fern."

"Fern?" Theo repeats, grabbing what appears to be some sort of leafy bush from her hands. "I've never heard of a fern."

Luna claps her now free hands and brushes past him into his foyer, "oh yes, I expect you haven't. It's a muggle plant, actually."

Theo stares down at the leaves as though they will bite him. Though he knows most people wouldn't believe him, he has nothing against Muggles. His entire life his father had taught him — trained him — that Muggles and half-bloods and muggle-borns were worse than the dirt on his shoes, but…

Well, Theo had realized shortly after the death of his mother that his father had been wrong about so many things. So why would he be right about Muggles?

Still, Theo doesn't know much of Muggles — he is ignorant of their world, their attitudes, and most definitely their plants.

"Is it… safe?"

Luna laughs, the sound like ringing bells in the halls of his home. He turns to face her and shuts his door. Even though the sunlight disappears behind the wood, the entryway remains dappled in bright spotlights. Theo frowns at the dancing spots until he realizes that Luna is wearing a dress that appears to be made of hundreds of tiny mirrors.

"It's perfectly safe, Theodore Nott," Luna answers, "and I told you before you may call me Luna."

"…Luna," Theo starts, the name far too intimate on his tongue, "what are… I mean… well, I like your dress."

Luna's lips curl up into that secret smile she had shown him a few days prior. Theo thinks if he had seen the expression on anyone else, he might believe they were laughing at him. She's not, though, he can tell.

"Don't lie, Theo," she admonishes, still smiling, "you think my dress is silly."

Theo stares at her, once again stunned into silence. He was lying — the dress is absolutely mad. She looks like a lampshade made of a broken mirror, and her hair is flying in every other direction. Smoke puffs out of her dragon earrings.

"Okay," Theo allows, "I won't. You look lovely."

Luna grins, and this time she doesn't tell him he was lying. He wasn't.

"The fern is harmless. Muggles like them to look at. They like the sun and some water."

Theo stares at the apparently useless fern he had forgotten he was holding. It has… no function.

"I suppose I'll put it in the living room, then?" Theo says, almost asking.

Luna shrugs daintily, "Hermione told me once that ferns are good oxygen plants — she said they help clear the air. I thought of your Manor."

Theo frowns, glancing around. The Manor, although dark, is immaculate. The front entrance is made of mahogany wood panelling and a fireplace that extends two storeys up. The rest of the Manor is similarly resplendent, and Thelma ensures that not a speck of dust settles for more than a minute. As far as Theo can see, Nott Manor would be considered one of Britain's most beautiful homes.

"Is the air… not clean?" Theo asks hesitantly.

Luna is staring around aimlessly as if taking in the same things he had just looked at. Every time she moves, spots of light dance around on the walls.

Her blue eyes find his again and she steps closer, "oh. I see. I've been rude. Your house is lovely, Theo. I only meant that I can feel the air here — you must feel it. It's… heavy. Dark."

Theo swallows. "I… don't know how to fix that, Luna."

Luna reaches out and places a hand on his forearm, soft on the dark navy shirtsleeve. He wonders if she knows that she put her fingers unerringly over the Dark Mark branded into the skin below; he's not sure whether to rip her away from it, or press her fingers deeper — the first gentle thing he's felt in years.

"You already are fixing it," Luna says, "I can feel it all around me. The house — it likes me."

Theo raises his eyebrows at her, lost for words. His silence doesn't seem to bother her though, and instead, she turns around and walks deeper into the Manor without an invitation. The first time she had been to Nott Manor, only a few days prior, she had only seen the entranceway before they had gone to the gardens out back. The gardens are perhaps the most beautiful part of the property, and Theo had only wanted her to see beauty.

Now, though, he is helpless to do anything except follow her.

Luna Lovegood walks as though she knows exactly where she's going — unerringly, skipping straight over the parts of the house that Theo himself avoids, and ending up in front of the door to his study, where he had been before her arrival.

"This," she says, resting a fingertip on the door, "this is where you should put the fern."

Theo nods, "okay. It's my study. I spend a lot of time here."

"Of course," Luna agrees, "it's the warmest room in the house."

Theo decides he won't question her, though he knows the house is all the same temperature due to a constant warming stasis charm.

He pushes open the door and Luna follows him in. He places the fern on the windowsill, arranging it so it receives the best sunlight. Luna is sitting in the same chair that Draco Malfoy had sat in only three days prior, her legs crossed primly. The sunlight dances over her mirrors and Theo realizes abruptly that he has tiny spots of light and rainbows all over his dark shirt.

"Thelma," he blurts, and neither he nor Luna startles at the house-elf's instant arrival after his call.

"Hello, Master Nott," Thelma greets, then turns and curtsies at Luna, "Lady Lovegood."

Luna smiles serenely, "Hello, Thelma. How are you?"

Thelma startles and glances at Theo, as though judging whether he will allow her to answer the question. It stings a little that she thinks she must ask, but Theo nods all the same.

"Thelma is very good, Lady Lovegood," Thelma answers politely, "She hopes you are well, too."

Luna lights up and beams at the house-elf. "I am, thank you. Theo is letting me stay for a bit and visit."

Theo frowns at her, wondering at her word choice. He is letting her stay? Does she not understand she is welcome? She is to be his wife, and though it wasn't a choice they were allowed to make, he would hardly begrudge her the freedom to come and go as she wished.

"Master Nott," Thelma's voice drags him from his thoughts, "shall I bring up some tea?"

"Tea would be great," Theo answers, "Luna?"

Luna nods serenely, and Thelma disappears as fast as she arrived.

The silence between them is suddenly endless, and Theo summons courage he didn't realize he possessed.

"Luna," he says, "you can stay as long as you want. And you are allowed to come here whenever you want. Even if I'm not here. The Manor… Thelma will let you in."

Luna tilts her head at him, silent questions in her gaze. Her eyes are unfathomably blue and Theo is gone.

"Alright," Luna agrees, "is this because the Ministry is forcing you to marry me?"

Theo sometimes wonders at her bravery; if despite her intelligence, if Luna was a Gryffindor in Ravenclaw colours.

"No, it's… I mean," he chokes, "I wouldn't say…"

Luna's laugh distracts him from trying to force out any words to make this situation seem acceptable. She's got her secret smile on, and her blue eyes are dreamy.

"The Ministry is forcing you to marry me, Theodore Nott," she tells him, "even if you've realized I might not be so terrible to marry."

Theo feels himself going red — he hasn't blushed since the third year in Hogwarts when he'd been so distracted by Katie Bell's skirt riding up that he'd blown up his potion in his face like a bloody idiot.

This time, however, his choked silence goes on longer, and he watches as Luna's expression falls. He's known of Luna Lovegood for years, though he's only known her personally for three days, and yet… he's never seen her look unsure.

"I mean," she murmurs, "perhaps I'm not… people don't always like — "

Theo finally gets his act together and snaps, "No."

Luna's face flickers in surprise, but Theo grabs at the courage he had somehow found and plows on.

"You're fine," he mutters, "you're good. It's not… well — the Ministry is forcing you to marry me, too, you know."

Luna frowns darkly, "The Ministry has no hold over me."

"Oh, so you're tying yourself to a Death Eater for fun, then?"

Theo regrets his words the moment they leave his mouth, poison on his tongue. He wonders now how they had navigated their evening together three days prior so successfully — no mention of the war, or their impending marriage. It had been easy and sweet. It had been hopeful.

Still, despite his vicious tone and snappy words, Luna looks serene once again. She is a placid pool, and Theo envies her ability to control her emotions.

"You're no Death Eater," she tells him.

Theo reaches as though to rip his shirt up, exposing the brand that will prove her wrong, so wrong, once and for all, but Luna is moving before he is, and suddenly she is sitting on his desk in front of him, legs in between his. He can see her calves, pale and soft skin leading down into socks with pumpkins on them.

"Stop," Luna says, and once again her fingers are gentle on his forearm. "I know what you want to show me, Theodore Nott, and it's nothing I haven't seen before. I have known Death Eaters. I have watched them laugh as I scream, watched them lock me away in the dark. I have killed them."

Theo swallows and his hand that had been fisting at his cuff softens, finds hers on his forearm and presses her gently to his skin like he had wanted to at the front entrance.

"Are you going to torture me, Theo? Will you trap me in your dungeons and let me forget the sun?" Luna asks bluntly.

He feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, despite the stupid fern sitting on his windowsill.

"No," he breathes, "No, I won't."

Luna's blue eyes smile at him, "You're no Death Eater."

He lunges forward, unaware he had given command for his body to move, and the next thing he knows he is holding Luna Lovegood against his body. She is smaller than he thought — more delicate than he ever could have imagined, and she fits underneath his chin like some sort of snap together jig-saw puzzle piece.

He is shaking — trembling the way he had done so often in the war, and Luna's arms have snaked around his rib cage to hold him steady. He can feel her ridiculous knots tangle against his collarbone, and a thousand tiny mirror pieces press into any exposed skin he has.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, "I'm so, so fucking sorry, Luna."

Luna sniffs, "You weren't there, Theo. It's not your fault."

He holds her, even though he feels he has no right to. Even though he barely knows her at all.

"Will you marry me?"

Her voice is small and scared, and Theo hates, hates, hates that he has made her sound that way. He pulls his head back to stare at her, and her worried blue eyes. She is chewing on her bottom lip, and it occurs to Theodore for the very first time that he could lean down and kiss her if he wanted to.

He realizes he does want to.

"I thought I already was," he answers.

Luna scrunches up her nose as if she's not sure if she's going to laugh or cry. Instead, like always, she is brave. "The Ministry cannot force me to do anything I don't want to do, Theo. I'm not like the others — I have nothing they can take."

Theo stills — she means she can leave — Luna can run from the WPG and nothing will happen to her. He recalls her saying her house had burned in the war, and though they still own the Quibbler, her father isn't in Britain any longer. He writes from abroad. Theo imagines this means that any galleons they have are stashed away, out of the Ministry's reach.

Luna doesn't have to marry him.

"So why?"

Luna shrugs, "I want a home. I don't want to be alone anymore."

She's so honest — so bloody honest, that something in Theo's chest cracks.

"Luna," he whispers, "you don't have to marry me. You can stay here — you can have a home. I won't trap you in marriage."

She smiles up at him, her arms still around his waist, "I know I'm not what you would choose, Theo. But you're what I would choose."

Theo's breath leaves him at her words. He's never been chosen. He wonders at the absurdity of this — he's known her three bloody days and already he thinks he'd go to war again for her. It's not even that he loves her —

Though he wonders — does he love her? Can he love her? —

It's just that she's gentle and kind and soft, and the most beautiful thing Theo has laid eyes on maybe ever.

"You're wrong," he chokes, "you're what I would choose. If I could choose — I would choose you."

Luna's smile lights up the room more than her dress, and he lifts a trembling hand to rest on her cheek.

Her voice is far away and dreamy. "So you'll marry me?"

"Yeah," he says, "I will."

He kisses her then, surprising himself. It's only him craning his neck down and pressing his lips gently into hers, barely a whisper of pressure before he pulls back.

She looks startled, and her fingers leave her back to reach for her mouth, fingertips tracing the cupid's bow of her lips.

"I've never been kissed before," she tells him, matter-of-fact.

Theo fights down a surge of possession at her words and schools his expression. "I should have asked."

Luna nods, "it's only polite. Could you ask now?"

Theo frowns, bemused, "Umm, could I kiss you?"

Luna pulls her fingers away from her lips, "yes, please."

And this time, when he reaches, she meets him on her tip-toes and presses her lips back into his, winding her free arm around his neck to hold him closer. He loses himself in kissing her, gentle chaste kisses that he's never imagined could feel like this. Like lightning striking the same place twice.

She opens her mouth suddenly, and he is drowning in her — she is soft, even in this, and Theo clings to her with all the strength he has. He can't remember the last time someone touched him gently before Luna.

He pulls away after moments or eternity and presses his forehead into hers.

"That was a very good first kiss," Luna informs him.

Theo laughs, "I thought so as well."

"You…" Luna's voice is hesitant, "haven't kissed anyone else?"

Theo pulls back and stares at her, "No."

She says nothing, but her fingers are suddenly at his cheekbone, tracing his jaw. Theo lets her feel him — he'd let her touch him forever. His skin sings at the contact, and he tries to remember the last time he's felt this happy.

"I dreamt of you," Luna murmurs, her voice a song, "in the dark, in the cold. I dreamt of you, and what you'd be like."

Theo closes his eyes so he doesn't have to imagine her face locked away. He wants to find anyone who ever made her feel fearful and crucio them until they are no longer a person. He wants to become the part of him that is his father and hunt them to the ends of the earth.

"What did you dream of?" he asks, raspy.

Luna's fingers stop on his lips, and he breathes gently on them.

"Warmth," she answers, "mostly I dreamt about how you'd be warm."

Theo opens his eyes to find her watching him.

"I don't know if I know how to be what you need, Luna," he tells her.

She shrugs. "You are what you are, Theo. You need not be more."

Thelma reappears with a crack, and Theo's arms tighten instinctively, but Luna doesn't even flinch. Large yellow eyes meet Theo's, and Thelma gently sets the tea tray on the edge of his desk.

"Sorry to interrupt Lord Nott, Lady Lovegood," Thelma squeaks, terror entering her face.

Theo watches her and realizes that perhaps he didn't do enough after the war. He had offered the house-elves that had remained at Nott manor the chance to work for Hogwarts instead of stay at the Nott estate — to help the school rebuild. Two of the three had taken him up on the offer, but Thelma had stayed. Secretly, Theo had been grateful. He hadn't wanted to live in the Manor alone, and Thelma had been around since he had been a boy.

But now he watches the house-elf stare at him as though she expects him to sprout another head and throw her down the stairs.

He looks like his father — he knows it. He sees it every time he looks in a mirror. Thelma knows it, too. He wonders despairingly if Luna knows it.

"Thank you, Thelma," he says, "you are a wonderful help."

Her eyes fill with crocodile tears, and she bows low to hide them, "you are too kind, Master Nott."

He wants to refute her words — kind is not something he's familiar with — but Luna's head presses more deeply into his collarbone and he releases his argument.

"Thelma," he says instead, "you might as well be the first to know. Lady Lovegood will be the new Lady Nott."

Thelma snaps to attention and stares straight at Luna, with her mirror ball dress and tangly braids and odd vacant expression. Theo wonders if Thelma can imagine the words his father would have said if he was alive as clearly as he can.

"This is the most wonderful news," Thelma almost whispers, "this is the best news Thelma has heard since the last Lady Nott told Thelma she was having a baby. This is light."

Theo gapes for a moment — he hadn't known that Thelma had been around when his mother had been pregnant with him, but there had only been one Lady Nott in the last twenty years. He doesn't have a chance to ask about it, though, because Luna's head has craned to look at Thelma.

"Thelma, you're right," Luna agrees, "this is light."