"Well...I suppose you better come in, then."

A great tidal wave of relief and gratitude washed over Draco then as he stepped over the threshold into Nott Hall. "Thanks."

Theo grunted in response and walked towards the bifurcated staircase. "You hungry? I was just about to have some dinner."

"I'm fine."

"Suit yourself," Theo shrugged, climbing the stairs. He came to a stop on the first landing and looked up at the large portrait of a beautiful, dark-haired woman that dominated the entrance hall. She was humming to herself as she arranged a bouquet of dark crimson roses. "Mother, Draco is paying us a visit this evening."

Theo's mother stopped humming and looked up at her son with a serene expression that didn't meet her eyes. "Oh, how lovely! It's been such a long time since we last had guests."

"Good evening, Mrs Nott," said Draco politely.

Mrs Nott's gaze drifted towards Draco. "Oh, we have a guest! How lovely…"

Draco drew Theo an inquisitive look but he just shook his head. "We'll be up in my room. If you need anything, just call on one of the house-elves."

"Alright dear," she replied dreamily, turning her attention back to her bouquet of roses. "Hopefully, your father will be home soon. His supper's getting cold."

"Yes, mother," Theo replied blankly before continuing his ascent. He waited until his mother's portrait was well out of earshot before speaking again. "She's been like that since Father got sent to Azkaban. She was never all there to begin with, but now she can barely hold a conversation."

"Have you considered taking her to an art restorer?" Draco suggested.

"It was the first thing that I did," said Theo tersely. "But he said that there was nothing that he could do. Seems like she'll be stuck like that indefinitely. I've tried explaining to her that Father isn't coming back, but that just distresses her until she forgets again and asks for him. The best that I can do is humour her and say that he'll be home soon."

Draco simply nodded and they continued to walk in silence. Portraits often had their benefits; they acted like interactive diaries for those long-departed. The best portraits were the ones who had spent a great amount of time observing their living counterparts, learning their mannerisms and memories. Some learned so much that they were almost indistinguishable from the person they were based on. This, however, was not always the case. If a portrait's counterpart died soon after the painting had been completed, then the personality and memories could be somewhat...limited. As was the case with the portrait of Desdemona Nott.

Theo's mother had died when he was still very young. He'd confided in Draco long ago that he couldn't recall anything of the woman herself, his only meaningful interactions with her were through the subpar portrait that hung on the stairwell. And now, with his father spending a life sentence in Azkaban, Theo was completely alone in Nott Hall. It crossed Draco's mind then that loneliness might have played a factor in why Theo had permitted him entry to his home, it was an awfully big house to be living in without anyone to talk to. Whatever his reasons, Draco was grateful to have a roof over his head, at least for one evening.

Despite his protestations, when a house-elf arrived with Theo's dinner, she'd brought a second plate of food for Draco. The pair of childhood friends sat cross-legged on Theo's bed as they picked away at their meals.

"Love the hair, by the way," Theo joked before popping a forkful of spaghetti carbonara in his mouth.

Draco tutted and roughly ran his fingers through his hair to muss up the slicked-back style. Theo smirked and turned his attention back to his plate. "I'm assuming things are really bad at home if you came here. Well, worse than usual."

"The worst," said Draco miserably.

"I thought you'd have gone to Potter before speaking to me."

"He's staying with the Weasleys...but I don't know where they live," he admitted, aimlessly twirling pasta around his fork before mumbling, "I doubt I'd be welcome there anyway."

"But you figured that you'd be welcome here?"

Draco hesitated. "Like I said, I had nowhere else to go."

"Such a vote of confidence," Theo gibed.

"You know what? If having me here is such an inconvenience, then I'll just see myself out," Draco grumbled, dumping his dinner plate on the bed and rising to his feet.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin— sit down, will you?" said Theo, rolling his eyes. "I'm only pulling your leg."

Draco pursed his lips. He was still in two minds about whether coming here had been a good idea, but he finally sat back down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not in the mood for your jokes tonight."

"Evidently," Theo muttered. "Well, are you going to sit there and make me guess or are you going to tell me what happened? I'm assuming it has something to do with Potter."

"Surprisingly, no. Well, not entirely."

Theo discarded his half-eaten meal on the bedside table, leant back against the headboard and crossed his arms. "Well, colour me intrigued. Go on, then. Tell me what happened."

Draco sighed wearily and began to recount the evening's events. He told Theo about Aline, and how the winter ball was little more than an elaborate front for his parents to secure him a bride. Theo listened intently, his expression unchanging as Draco recounted the unpleasant confrontation with his parents, and his mother's disappointing reaction to her son finally coming clean about his sexuality. The whole situation sounded so much worse when he said it aloud, but Theo was doing a remarkably good job of not reacting.

"As fortune would have it, my parents have trained the house-elves to be multilingual," Draco continued. "It's come in handy over the years—guests don't think twice about talking candidly in front of servants, particularly when they assume that they can only speak English. If I hadn't thought to ask Blinken to translate what Aline was saying, I doubt my parents would have told me about the arrangement until they were marching me down the bloody aisle."

When Draco finally stopped to take a breath, Theo shook his head. "Wow, that is...really shitty of your parents. Although, after some of the stunts that they've pulled in the past, I can't say that I'm surprised."

"I suppose I shouldn't be either," said Draco glumly. "They're always coming up with ridiculous schemes like this. I rather naively thought that once I came of age, they'd stop doing that sort of thing."

"I think it's fairly evident that isn't the case."

"No," said Draco quietly. "I don't think that they can help themselves."

"Whatever their reasoning, I, for one, am glad that you finally stood up to them. It's been a long time coming."

Draco smiled weakly at Theo. "Yes, I suppose it has."

"What are you going to do now?"

Draco shrugged. "I haven't thought that far ahead, I just needed to get out of there."

Theo chewed on his lip for a minute before giving a careless shrug. "Well, there's plenty of room here. You're welcome to stay for the holidays, if you like."

"Really?" asked Draco hopefully.

"Yes, really," he replied briskly. "May I remind you that I was the one who tried to extend the olive branch to you a few weeks back?"

Draco glowered at Theo. He knew that this was going to get brought up at some point but not five minutes after he'd walked through the door. "Considering you're the one who's been ignoring me for months, can you really blame me for how I reacted?"

"I suppose not," Theo admitted coolly, bowing his head. "I should have come and spoken to you sooner."

"Yeah, you should have," said Draco bitterly. "I could really have done with your friendship on the train to Hogwarts but then you made it perfectly clear that we weren't friends anymore. I would really have appreciated your support right about the time I got bubotuber pus sent to me in the post."

"You weren't the only one getting harassed by Creevey and his merry band of vigilantes," Theo reminded him hotly. "We couldn't step out of the Slytherin common room without worrying someone was going to spike our food or hex us behind our backs!"

"But you weren't alone!" Draco countered. "You, Goyle—everyone—had each other's backs, whereas I had to deal with it by myself. You had plenty of opportunities to reach out to me, but no, you were so bloody stubborn that you couldn't even come see me when I was admitted to the hospital wing."

"I did."

Draco frowned. "What? No, you didn't!"

"I did, actually," Theo admitted, looking sheepish. "After the first period, I went up to the hospital wing to see you, but then I saw you with Potter. You were laughing and joking together..." Theo shrugged. "I didn't want to interrupt."

"You mean that you were jealous," Draco corrected him.

Theo blushed. "Maybe a little bit."

"Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"Because I was still angry with you," he said before adding, "And you're right— I'm incredibly stubborn."

Draco's shoulders sagged. "Yes, well...that makes two of us."

Theo stared at his feet as he spoke. "I'm sorry for the way that I behaved. I was angry at my father for leaving me, and I was angry because despite everything that your father had done, you got to keep yours. It wasn't fair." Theo looked up at Draco. "I know that it wasn't your doing, but I took it out on you anyway. I know that I haven't been a very good friend to you lately."

The furious indignation that had sparked inside of Draco was immediately extinguished. It was so unlike Theo to admit that he had made a mistake that Draco didn't quite know how to react. His instinct was to throw the apology in Theo's face, but the vindictive feeling disappeared as quickly as it had arisen. The truth was, he missed his friend. If a little humility would win him back, then it was a small price to pay to have Theo back in his life.

"You were right to be angry with me," Draco replied. "I should have reached out to you after the trial but I didn't— I just couldn't face you. Truth be told, I was ashamed— about my father getting a free pass when yours didn't. And for keeping things from you, like the mission the Dark Lord set me, and for...well, for everything, really. If anyone's been a poor friend, it's me. The last couple of years, I've been completely absorbed by my own problems and I haven't spared a thought for you or anyone else."

Draco grimaced as he spoke. Apologies still felt foreign on his tongue, and he was loathe to make a habit of it. But as uncomfortable as it had been, it seemed to have the desired effect; the tension in Theo's face eased and he nodded.

"Well, you did have quite a lot on your plate," Theo offered. "I don't suppose there's much time for friends and Quidditch when you have the Dark Lord living under your roof."

"True." With their awkward apologies done and dusted, Draco decided to change the subject. "So...you and Weasley."

Theo grinned. "Yeah, who'd have thought?"

"I'd have thought she had better taste," Draco teased.

"So did I," he laughed. "Although, I could say the same for Potter. Picking you over Ginny Weasley? Clearly, he's been knocked on the head by a bludger one too many times."

"I'll have you know that I make for excellent company," Draco smirked. "And he didn't pick me over her, their relationship was long finished before we started— you know…"

"I don't, actually," said Theo. "Ginny hasn't told me a damn thing about you and Potter— she's loyal to a fault, if you ask me."

"A common affliction amongst Gryffindors," Draco nodded.

"Since you're not denying it, can I assume that the rumours about you and Potter are true, then?" he asked. "That you're more than friends?"

Draco pulled a face. "Don't pretend like you didn't already know."

"Of course I knew!" he chuckled. "I've known you my whole life, Draco. You might be able to hide your true feelings and intentions behind your snarky comments, but to me, you are an open book. I just wanted to hear it from the Abraxan's mouth. Well—this thing between you and Potter—how long has it been going on for?"

"A while," he replied evasively.

"Since that day in the hospital wing?" Theo pressed.

"Why do you care?"

"I'm nosy," he confessed unabashedly. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I don't know, maybe a month after the term started?"

"A whole month?" Theo teased. "Merlin, it took you long enough."

"Very funny."

"Can't say that I'm surprised, though," said Theo smugly. "You were either going to kill one another or fuck each other—one of those two outcomes was bound to happen at some point."

Draco frowned. "What are you on about?"

"Don't play coy with me, you two have been fixated on each other for years."

"It's called hatred, Theo," Draco insisted. "We couldn't stand the sight of each other."

"You hated each other so much that you're now bumping uglies? Spare me." Rolling his eyes at the scandalised expression on Draco's face, he sighed, "Call it what you will, the point is that you've been dancing around each other since practically the day you met. I'm just glad that you both finally got your heads out of your arses and did something about it. So tell me, how serious is it between you two?"

Draco blushed furiously and didn't reply. The weight of his silence made Theo's eyes widen with surprise. "Wow, you really like him, don't you?"

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped taking the piss," Draco warned. "Not everything is a joke, you know."

"I'm not laughing at you," Theo insisted. "I'd just assumed that it was some shortlived hatefuckery that you both needed to get out of your systems. I didn't think that you were both...well, whatever it is that you are. So, is he your boyfriend?"

"Well...yes, I suppose he is."

Theo snorted and shook his head. "Merlin, I can only imagine what your father would say—his son and Harry Potter, an item. He'd be having kittens! Well, I suppose he'll find out at some point or another. Oh, I'd pay good money to see the look on his face when he finds out. Actually, while we're on the subject, I'm curious: what does Potter say about your parents? I mean, it's not like they're on the best of terms."

Draco's stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought. He had a good idea of how his father would react, hence why he'd intended to have graduated and have put a great physical distance between them before breaking the news. Clearing his throat, Draco rose to his feet. He'd had more than enough of Theo's interrogation for one evening. "If you don't mind, I think I'll turn in for the night."

Theo looked reluctant to end the conversation so abruptly, but he gave a careless shrug. "Alright. Just pick whatever room takes your fancy."

"Thank you." Draco hesitated before adding, "And thank you, for letting me stay."

"It's fine." Theo drew him a wry smile. "I must admit that it's nice having some company around here again, even if it is you."

Draco huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "The same can't be said for you. Sleeping rough still might be more preferable at this rate."

"Oh, how you wound me," Theo joked, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Draco waved him off before exiting the room. He and Theo had always ribbed each other like this, and Merlin, how he'd missed it. Things between them were still a little rocky, but at least they still felt comfortable enough to tease one another.

He slipped into one of the many guest rooms just down the corridor from Theo's room and closed the door behind him. Exhaustion and the weight of the evening's events seemed to hit him then, and it took a tremendous amount of mental and physical effort to shuffle the short distance from the door to the bed. He collapsed back onto the mattress in a heap, bouncing slightly before sinking into the soft bed. He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath, wondering what the hell was he going to do now.

For better or worse, Draco had always had his parents telling what to do, what to say, what to think. They had smothered him with security all his life, but tonight he had finally taken the first step towards being his own person and making his own choices. The prospect of being alone was equal parts liberating and terrifying.

Despite his worries, sleep took Draco within seconds into a dreamless slumber. When he finally stirred hours later, he peaked out of his sleep-encrusted eyes and watched the dull morning light of a new day creep along the ceiling. Despite sleeping through the night, his brain felt sluggish and his muscles ached when he tried to sit upright. He thought about his parents and wondered if they were sticking to their routine and having breakfast without him this morning. He wondered what they would talk about, whether they would discuss the events of the previous evening. Did they feel any guilt or remorse for what they had done? Would they be desperately trying to figure out how they were going to apologise to Draco for lying to him and manipulating him?

It was a lovely thought, but a highly unlikely one. It was more likely that his mother and father were sitting at the kitchen table, buttering their toast while trying to strategise ways of bringing Draco back into the fold. He felt a stab of annoyance as he pictured the scene in his head and roughly wiped the sleep from his eyes as though that would erase the image from his head.

He hadn't held out much hope that his father would be accepting of his sexuality. He was a staunch traditionalist and in pure-blood families, it just wasn't a subject that was discussed or abided. But he had hoped that his mother would be more understanding. In truth, her dismissal of his feelings hurt more than what his father had done. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and tried not to cry.

Draco's next thought, of course, was of Harry. He so desperately wanted to talk to him, but he had no quick or direct means of communication at his disposal. He could borrow one of Theo's owls, but that would take too long for his liking. He had a better idea.

"Blinken," he croaked. He brushed the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat, speaking more clearly this time. "Blinken!"

A loud crack signalled the arrival of the Malfoy's oldest house-elf and he appeared at Draco's feet. "You called, sir?"

Draco let out a small sigh of relief. If the house-elves were responding to his summons, his parents hadn't outright disowned him—yet. It was best to take advantage of that for however long it lasted. Knowing his father, he'd want to cut Draco off from finances and aid as much as possible in an effort to lure his son back home.

"Blinken, I'll be spending the remainder of Christmas break at Nott Hall," he explained. "I need you to gather my belongings and bring them to me. That includes everything that I'll need for school."

Blinken bowed so low that his nose pressed against the embroidered rug beneath his bare feet. "Right away, sir."

Blinken vanished again and Draco took the time to have a shower to help wake himself up. He wasn't sure what his next move would be after that, but he knew that he'd need more than just the clothes on his back. At least now that he was of age, he had unlimited access to his inheritance in Gringotts. That would keep him ticking over until he managed to sort things out with his parents.

And if that didn't happen?

The thought made Draco feel queasy.

By the time he returned from the bathroom, feeling decidedly more human again, his school trunk was pushed to the bottom of the guest bed. Throwing open the lid, he grabbed some clean clothes and pulled them on before rummaging through it again for the two-way mirror. He sunk his hand into the bottom of the case and pulled out the play script (subtly disguised as an old copy of Seeker Weekly) and flipped it open to the centre page to where he kept the two-way mirror hidden.

Draco froze.

The mirror wasn't there.

Trying to quell the sharp stab of panic rising in him, Draco told himself that it had probably fallen out of the magazine. Plunging his hand into the trunk, he searched the bottom blindly for the small, handheld mirror, but found nothing. He began pulling out the contents, tossing clothes, school books and quills over his shoulder without a second glance. Everything was accounted for. Even the ridiculous poster of Prince William was in here. Everything—except for the mirror.

Kneeling back on his haunches, Draco gritted his teeth and snapped, "Blinken!"

The obedient house-elf reappeared a moment later and bowed deeply to him. "You called, sir?"

"Blinken, where is the mirror that I keep in my trunk?"

The house-elf didn't immediately answer. He blinked a couple of times before slowly rising to an upright position and said carefully, "Blinken...does not have it, sir."

"That's not what I asked," Draco hissed. "The mirror—you know the one that I'm talking about—where is it? Did you forget to bring it?" Slowly, Blinken shook his head and Draco felt a wave of cold, sickening fear crash over him then. "Has someone taken it from my room?" Blinken lowered his gaze and nodded. Draco's heart was pounding hard in his chest now.

"Who?" Draco whispered, afraid of what the answer would be. "Who took it?"