The Weasley Wedding

Draco stood perfectly straight while his girlfriend trained her wand on his face. As comfortable as he was with Hermione's control over magic- she had, on a number of occasions pointed her wand to various locations of his body- Draco really didn't need her fucking up this glamour.

Besides, he was far too preoccupied with battling the dread solidifying in his stomach. He wanted desperately to chalk it up to the mere fact that he hadn't stepped foot out of the Tonks' household in 15 weeks… but Draco turned in the sweet bliss of ignorance for a moral compass and that fucking thing was pointing straight at imminent danger.

Hermione's face swam into his field of vision, toffee eyes lit with mischief. Tilting her head as she studied him, the lithe column of her neck became exposed, invitingly arched thanks to the muggle style of dress she had opted to wear.

Unwillingly, Draco's eyes drifted down to take in the whole effect, from the 'V' neck halter neckline to the gently flaring lavender fabric at her waist, til it approached her knee.

She shone like twilight and Draco wanted to bask under the view of her.

Preferably naked. Most definitely in this bedroom.

But the dread pulsed protest, tapped truth. He would not get what he wanted tonight.

"So," Hermione cut in, oblivious to the chaos occurring inside of him, "I was thinking glasses. I've always loved a studious sort."

Draco merely arched an eyebrow as she conjured a pair of silver, wire rimmed spectacles. A full blown smirk cut across her face when he refused to take them.

"Ah. Then red head? You know my type…"

Draco's face contorted in horror and he immediately shielded his hair.

"Don't. You. Dare."

She giggled, the sound soft and sweet and searing. She pulled away his hands to reveal his hair once more; then she closed her eyes, murmuring the spell to change the color.

Draco gripped her wand and conjured a mirror to find that she darkened the strands to a chestnut brown shot through with his actual pale gold hue.

He could live with that.

"What about my eyes?" Draco asked, knowing the steel gray to be too conspicuous. Hermione whirled away from him, a blur of bronze and lilac, and then she was back chest-to-chest as she placed the wretched spectacles on his nose. Her fingers delicately curled around the shells of his ears, the pads stroking the sensitive skin there.

Draco refused to shiver. The brush of pleasure jarred strangely against the persistent sense of foreboding, like an out-of-tune piano. He instead scowled at her, the expression both demand and inquiry.

"They reflect whatever eye color of the person you are interacting with. So in the event something happens and they're looking for a description of a tall, dashing brunet, they wouldn't be able to agree on one."

The smugness in Hermione's tone was embedded so deep that Draco indelibly knew that his swot of a girlfriend was spending too much time with Malfoys, for it was the only logical reason for her voice to take on such an infuriatingly arrogant pitch.

She continued. "Plus there are your plain black robes. Every Pureblood snob will be wearing them."

The quip didn't penetrate past Draco's mounting anxiety. It merely bounced off the inflexibly carved solemnity in Draco's stare as he watched Hermione realize humor would no longer serve as a distraction.

Her fingers stroked again in an absent sort of rhythm- their physical contact so regular now that Draco sometimes hardly knew where he ended and she began- before in a soothing tone she said, "It's going to be okay."

He struggled with the platitude that ultimately ran false in his gut.

"I don't think it is," he managed to say. Hermione's hands dropped away from him and the fingers curled slowly into her palms, like she could keep hold of the empty pretenses and save them for later. With effort, she brought a reassuring smile to her face and attempted another distraction.

"You only say that because you have to see Harry and Ron again."

At the somewhat successful attempt, the infamous tic indented his right cheek once, and then twice, for the dimwit duo. Even so, his hand brushed the runes that rose prominently from his skin, like they were the barest of finger holds on a sheer cliffside.

He attempted to match her teasing tone. "Any time spent with those twats is never okay."

Hermione shoved him playfully and then arranged herself next to him, preparing for disapparition. As she moved to grip his hand, Draco uttered fiercely into the quiet, "Don't leave my sight."

Time stopped alongside Hermione who paused before taking his hand. The urgently uttered demand wove around them, pulling the tension tight, and then she was breaking it with her self-assured movements.

Hands gripped, Hermione spun Draco to her, kissed him hard, and disapparated.

oOo

Theo was certain there was no etiquette lesson that prepared for how to approach the current vision that assaulted him. Luna had just descended the stairs in a dress so yellow that it's as if she somehow drained the sun of its hue.

No, not the sun. More like the absurdly bold yellow of sunflowers as the fabric of her bell-shaped dress exactly matched the aforementioned flower which was woven into her hair. The blooms made a half crown that stretched ear to ear.

After a few rapid blinks, Theo's vision adjusted to the unexpected and yet totally reasonable dress choice. And taking in her whole figure- from flaxen, flowing curls that even from a distance perfumed the air gardenia, to her delicate feet strapped in gold sandals- Theo felt a bit awed.

Because she was beautiful. Wildly so.

He opened his mouth to tell her.

"You're looking very… yellow." Huh. Not my finest articulation.

Theo swallowed nervously, intent on trying again and actually conveying the correct combination of words, but she spun off the last step to land right in front of him.

"Daddy says yellow is a more appropriate color for weddings because it brings good luck. So, naturally the sunflowers made sense." She looked at him with an anticipatory air, as if he had an encyclopedic amount of knowledge on flowers and their assigned meanings.

The silence unbearably lengthened, wherein Theo couldn't seem to conjure a phrase any less plebeian than quite right, which made him feel like an utter sot… until Luna smiled.

The barely-there one, where just the ends curled with mischief.

Then he felt like a flaming sot.

"You're looking too much like yourself," she observed cheekily, eyes scanning him head-to-toe. He scrambled for equilibrium.

"You mean handsome," he rejoined with an insolent flick of his wrist. Don't you know who you're speaking to, it said.

Luna, unruffled, merely held up a potions vial.

"It's Polyjuice," she provided when he didn't move to take it. Theo eyed the golden liquid that looked strangely like the Felix Felicis from last year's potions class.

She waited, patiently and persistently, until Theo finally plucked the vial from her hand in concession.

"How could you even had time to prepare a batch?" He asked disbelievingly; then he kicked the potion back. He felt the unpleasant bubbling of his skin ripple out from his midsection, distorting his frame until he was shorter and a bit fuller.

Luna watched the transformation with abject fascination and this faint but very transparent hunger that slackened her expression for just a moment.

Once he was no longer himself, before he could really translate the strange expression, she snapped back to her typical demeanor and said a bit blithely, "Who wouldn't be prepared for a quick getaway?"

The question was stated, so obvious in its logic, that he was too busy digesting how sweet Luna could show such calculation to even notice when she took his hand. The smile returned, her gray eyes trained on him, when he finally managed to mutter, "You frighten me, Lovegood."

She laughed and disapparated them to the property's edge.

They popped into existence, Xeno already waiting. Theo hastily let go of Luna's hand even though the man was busy conversing with some red-headed bloke that could only be related to the Weasleys. It's like they carried the recessive gene for all gingers in Great Britain.

A snarky observation that was soon shot to shite when Luna traipsed up to the guy and said, "Hi Harry!" And Theo knew with utter fucking certainty she meant Harry Potter- because evidently there was nothing that Luna Lovegood didn't know.

The polyjuiced Harry bumbled at being caught out. "Um. Harry who? I'm Barry," and the not-at-all subtle twat looked shiftily first at Xeno and then Theo.

Luckily Luna's father came to his rescue. "Yes, yes. Luna you must have misheard. Barry, meet my daughter Luna and her friend, Mr. Night."

Harry, who was playing Barry, took the wedding invite from Xeno's hand for confirmation before escorting them past the wards. The ceremony was happening outside of a gigantic white tent with chairs for the guests placed in a half moon around a lone wooden pillar.

"How did you know?" Theo muttered under his breath. How did you bloody know, he wanted to shout. Luna shrugged one shoulder and only replied, "Energy," which at this point in his time with the Ravenclaw should be predictable enough. The pair settled near two seats, four rows back and Theo watched the guests filter in from all sides of the property by all of the Weasleys. And of course the least likable of the Weasleys had to beeline to Luna and himself the minute they took their seats.

"Hello Luna," Weasley greeted as his eyes unabashedly took in her wardrobe choices. "You've met Barry then?"

Harry-playing-Barry inched towards Weasley, presumably to give him a heads-up on Luna's telekinetic powers but she ruined that quickly.

"Of course I've met Harry," and Luna looked at the pair with the serenest smile on her face. Theo decided it was a lot more fun to watch Luna mind-fuck someone else.

Polyjuiced-Harry only shrugged helplessly at Weasley, already knowing the futility in denying it, so the bastard changed tacks.

"Who's this?" He nodded at Theo.

Luna simply said, "My friend." Weasley's eyes narrowed on Theo who, now that he thought about it really had zero clue what he looked like. After a lengthy assessment of his transfigured form, Weasley stepped into Luna's space. Effectively shutting Theo out.

Now that won't fucking do.

Theo inched around Ron's back, picking up on his low mutter. "I get not wanting to be alone at a wedding, Luna, but can you trust this guy?"

Theo's heart skipped on the "t" word. His feet slowed as he settled behind Luna, still tall enough to see over her blonde tresses and flower crown, and he waited to hear her answer.

Would it be castigation or salvation?

A breathy laugh escaped her. "Oh Ron. It is possible for me to have friends outside of you Gryffindors."

The tone was light, teasing, a diversion away from something deeper that Theo couldn't put his finger on. Nevertheless, when Ron's mouth opened for another round of unwarranted opinions, Theo moved to bolster her back.

"Don't you have some escorting to do?"

Theo stared, unrelenting in his position behind Luna and Ron stared back, reddening from the anger, until Harry-turned-Barry intervened. Tugging on his dress robe, Harry broke Ron from the stare-down. The two slumped off to assist in the growing line of guests, Theo and Luna left to their intimacy.

It was then in their solitude that he realized Xeno never stayed by their seats and the thought burned a trail into his belly, a pool of possibility. Slowly, Theo brought his lips to the shell of Luna's ear. Her breath thinned out to non-existence.

He considered a moment what to say- some provocative hook, perhaps? Maybe an arrogant observation on her choice of friends… but then, sweet gardenia flooded his nostrils.

So he went with honesty, stripped bare.

"You never answered his question."

Luna stopped breathing entirely. The silence between them deepened, filling their little bubble of intimacy until Theo was chin deep in anticipation, and the people around them still moved unburdened.

They filled seats. They chatted. They bided their time for an entirely different forthcoming momentous occasion while Theo's brain screamed for him to do something. Anything.

Then Luna exhaled and the slow release of breath curved her back just so, like a key fitting into the notch of his torso. She felt warm and pliant and fuck, if Theo didn't want to take hold.

Her head turned, gray eyes dark as they latched onto him.

"We'll just have to see," she offered up, a crumb of food for a starving man.

And Theo, clearly having no pride, took what he could get. Backing away, he gestured for her to take her seat before he settled in the one to the right of her. Just then, Xeno returned.

"They'll be starting soon." He took the seat to Luna's left and leaned conspiratorially

into her. "Much obliged you saved our seats. I had to settle a minor misunderstanding with a gentleman over the Hallows."

Utterly devoid of unspoken niceties, Xeno blatantly pointed toward a dark, burly man who now was fully aware he was being gossiped about.

More surprisingly, the bloke was Viktor Krum. He glared in their direction for a few moments before taking a seat directly opposite theirs in the half moon arrangement.

"Your dad knows Viktor Krum?" Theo queried out of the side of his mouth.

"He knows the Hallows," Luna corrected. She pointed, much more discreetly, at a chain draped around her father's neck. A simple pendant roughly resembling a rudimentary eye hung on the end.

One day, Theo would question Luna about these damn Hallows.

One day, when he cared.

For now, he was more concerned about the congregation of witches and wizards filling up the remaining seats; as odd as Krum's appearance was, it had nothing on the handful of part-Veela beauties clustered toward the back, like whispering waifs. Theo's gaze wandered away from the alluring view of ice-pale eyes and colorless hair as it changed to a vibrant menagerie of reds, coppers, and auburns.

Weasleys. Every bloody one of them.

Well, almost every one as the entire group stood together for the groom and presumably his brother who proceeded to take their places by the pillar. The Delacour girl then floated down the aisle that cut the chairs in half. Her dress robes were a lustrous white but Theo's eyes were drawn to the naked look of adoration on her face as she drew nearer to the oldest Weasley.

The look spoke of love, beamed trust, and in some ways was so intimate that Theo had to drop his eyes away. He tuned out the wedding and its long, droning talk of unified magic, togetherness, and the rather relevant, if not chilling, 'til death do us part'.

Instead, he studied the people through his eyelash fringe; several women a few rows ahead of his seat were crying a bit boisterously into handkerchiefs, their shoulders shaking from the overflow of emotion. Theo's nose involuntarily wrinkled in disgust before his gaze moved elsewhere. He saw Weasel next to Harry-slash-Barry and while the latter's profile was slack with longing and a fair bit of awe, all Theo needed to see of Weasel was the stiff back to know his opinion of the ceremony.

It wasn't so long ago, in fact, that the man spat the words that matched his present body language.

"There's no place for relationships in a war. It's just a weakness the enemy could use against you."

Theo glanced once more at the couple, entwined by hands and eyes, and thought yes, I'm too much a realist to consider all that mushy shite work the risk.

Reality was though, much as it pained Theo to admit it, the kissing couple in the center was not the only ones that believed love was worth the risk. He averted his eyes past the now-kissing couple, the raucous applause, until his roving gaze found Hermione in the crowd, her body the picture of grace and her unbound hair the exact opposite.

Theo smiled at the sight, then studied the man beside her. Even with the convincing glamour of brown hair and thin spectacles, Theo knew it was Draco beside her.

No one other than a Malfoy would clap so sedately.

"Let's go meet them," Luna murmured on his left, reminding him that he was not alone. Eagerness swelled in his chest rising to match the fervor in Luna's tone.

As the ceremony concluded, guests started to amble their way into the tent. Night was falling and the white canopy was a beacon in the inky vastness.

Xeno gestured for the pair to follow him, which they did, although Theo's eyes remained trained on the voluminous mass of curls that just entered the tent. They stopped along the way and Xeno made small talk to adults he knew and Theo's wand hand fidgeted with impatience until Luna deftly weaved her fingers through his.

The yellow of her dress whispered against his jet black robes; for a moment, Theo's myopic urgency to find Draco faded to the nethers of his mind as he watched the clash of light and dark. The bold sunflower hue never succumbed to the black and instead, threw light against the dark canvas like a beacon all its own.

When Theo surfaced from the sentimental turn of thoughts, he found Xeno on the move. Luna tugged him along, their pace naturally synced, and he suddenly resented his present setting.

Weddings turned thoughts sickly sweet, on par with the unimpressive cakes they usually served up.

Weddings made things seem possible but in a world preparing for war, Theo knew possible had no part in it.

He disengaged from Luna with a stiff smile as they finally entered the tent. Xeno meandered his way down the receiving line, Luna at his side with a polite closed-lip smile as all the Weasleys greeted them with far too much exuberance to be well-mannered. Theo chose to stand behind the two and take advantage of the human shield they provided, his eyes searching again for that bushy head and bespectacled man.

His gaze snagged on them at the end of the receiving line. The pair was close and cozy as they spoke in low- dare he say respectable- tones to Harry/Barry and Ron. A restless itch chased across his skin, chafing against the too-constricting robes, and he took a step toward them because the urge was too strong.

The time apart, too torturous.

Then, over the tumultuous beat of get to them in Theo's head, a voice emerged.

"Oh yes. Luna's been so fortunate this summer to have such a constant friend like Mr. Night."

Xeno and Luna turned in perfect sync, like a set of French doors. A gap emerged.

"He recently had come to stay with us for an extended time."

Theo couldn't pull his eyes away from Draco and Hermione who had turned toward him at the idiot blond's raising volume. It didn't matter that the Lovegoods and other assorted Weasleys were in his peripherals, their attention like a spotlight. It didn't matter because Draco's face started to ripple with recognition as the man finished his damning speech.

"Luna said it's something to do with his family."

Oh fuck.

oOo

Draco thought, as he stood next to Hermione conversing stiffly with the Dimwit Duo, that another torture session with Voldemort would be easier to endure than this.

Since they arrived, Weasel and the ridiculous looking Potter had been less than enthusiastic by his presence. He's learned to take much of this in stride of course- it's not like he oozed delight upon seeing their faces- but this time, the chilly attitude also extended to Hermione.

One third of the Golden Trio.

Their convenient brain-on-legs.

And the observation had Draco's blood boiling.

They sat separate from the red-headed twats during the ceremony, who were up front with the rest of the family, but the minute it concluded Hermione made a beeline for the pair.

Which brought Draco back to the aforementioned torture.

"Do you have a plan, Harry?" Hermione asked in undertones. The question was rebuffed with a narrowing of Chosen one's lips as he pointedly looked at Draco. The blond- though currently a brunet, wouldn't Theo have a laugh- just rolled his eyes.

Hermione on the other hand curled her fingers into fists.

"How do you expect me to help if you won't trust me?" Weasel glanced between the two before saying, "Now, 'Mione. It's not that we don't trust you…" The sentence wandered straight away from etiquette, right into honest opinions and hard truths.

It's that we don't trust him.

Draco swallowed around a scoff as Hermione unleashed a whispered torrent of "Trust me, you can trust him" logic that did nothing to melt away their stubbornness. Before she got too worked up, his hand found the small of her back and his fingers dipped into the notches of her spine.

He pressed the ire away, eyes and attention wandering from the useless company in front of him. To his left, he caught two blond heads turning away from the receiving line to include some black-haired chap in conversation.

"...such a constant friend like Mr. Night."

The name piqued at something hazy and evasive in Draco's memory. It dawned on Draco as he looked more closely at the blond man speaking to the Weasleys at such a conspicuous volume that the girl with the man, who faced away from Draco, was Loony Lovegood.

His ears perked up as the conversation continued and his fingers steered Hermione so that she honed in on the action unfolding on the other side of the receiving line.

"He recently had come to stay with us for an extended time."

Draco's eyes flew back to the bloke standing next to the Lovegoods and were startled to find him already staring back. His chocolate eyes were wide, his olive skin pale and stretched tight over an expression of tense apprehension.

Draco's heartbeat slowed at the scene playing out before him, his brain just as sluggish as it attempted to piece together the disjointed picture. A task made ultimately easier and more devastating when the final piece was handed via Mr. Lovegood.

"Luna said it's something to do with his family."

The guy finally dropped his eyes and Draco knew, knew with a certainty unlike anything else that he was looking at Theo.

His jaw went slack. He could vaguely feel Hermione trying to get his attention but Lovegood's words were only just penetrating and their significance seared, the fire of fear hot as it prickled the skin of both forearms, of both runes and tattoo.

Urgently, unwittingly Draco moved to stalk directly towards Theo, intent on strangling every bloody answer out of the git, but then a body interrupted his path.

A deep burr then said, "Herm-own-ninny?"

No bloody fucking way.

Viktor Krum currently stood in front of him with a sentimental look aimed over Draco's right shoulder. He could feel Hermione's presence there so with an air of cool politeness, he pulled her in against his side.

Krum spared Draco the smallest, most dismissive of glances before speaking directly to Hermione. "It's good to see you, Herm-own-ninny. I-" His dark eyes slid to Draco. "I'd hoped I vould see you here. I remembered the ginger's fascination with you."

Hermione blushed so hard that Draco could feel the heat of it on his own skin. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other; Draco tried to anchor her with his fingers in her waist, firm and possibly bruising as he tracked Theo move with the Lovegoods to an unoccupied table.

His longing to stay by Hermione's side warred with a stark need to get to Theo, so much that he couldn't muster up the proper amount of offense- or outright attention- at the Bulgarian's flirting with his girlfriend.

But then, the ass offered his hand.

"It looks like the musicians are about to start playing. Vould you dance the virst song with me?"

Draco slanted his head down just as Hermione turned a questioning gaze up at him.

You promised me he bore into her. Contemplative, she looked over Krum's shoulder and her eyes danced around, finally landing on the Lovegoods, proving to Draco for the millionth time that she was indeed the brightest witch around.

Eyes still cast in their direction, she murmured to him, "I'll be right in sight of you."

Go ahead her words granted. So he capitulated, brushing his lips along her hair line and replying as he stared hard at Krum, "I'll see you after the dance."

They moved to the edge of a transfigured dance floor and very, very, reluctantly Draco turned away to find Theo. He had some answers to be getting, after all.

Loony and Theo were sitting, the father already disappeared from the table. When Draco approached, the two stood as he stopped within a hair's breadth of their bodies. Weary of the all-around pretense, he growled, "You better start fucking talking."

Lovegood stepped slightly in front of Theo, like she could wedge her absurdly bright cheerfulness between their tension.

"Hello Draco," she said a bit too loudly for his comfort.

He nodded shortly. "Loony," and looked over her shoulder, tirade hot on his tongue. Theo cut him off.

"It's Luna."

A short pause followed the multitude of implications tied to that statement and in that brief interlude, Draco could only raise his eyebrows a notch. He dare not mull over what path Theo had to have taken to get from 'batty Ravenclaw' to 'Luna'. It would probably be some fucking twisty maze-like route that would only end up giving him a headache.

Lovegood, or rather Luna, finally broke the silence as she dreamily stated, "I've always loved this song. I think I'll dance." Then she wandered onto the dance floor, strains of music only now beginning to resonate in the enclosed air of the tent, and swayed back and forth.

By herself. Maybe Draco would stick with the nickname Loony.

Now that his eyes were on the dance floor, he scanned the area until he found Hermione rather fucking cozy in Krum's arms. He growled; Theo, having mistaken the sound to be directed at him, finally spoke up.

"Hello to you too, mate." Irreverence coated words already heavy with relief. The detection of those juxtaposed feelings only fanned the fear crawling up Draco's chest.

"Theo."

His foolish friend pressed forward. "How've you been?" He asked and the question snapped the last shred of Draco's patience. Grabbing Theo's forearm, he dragged him to a slightly obscured tent edge, wandlessly casting a Muffliato as they walked.

It had been the only positive outcome of his countless tortures by Voldemort- he forced himself to learn some simple wandless spells, if only to feel tied to his magic in some form.

Regardless, Draco's eyes were still glued to Hermione even as Theo gasped at the unexpected roughness, and it wasn't until Theo gripped back that Draco really looked at the man.

It was a stranger, this exotic-colored bloke with the thick, inky locks and olive tone skin.

It was an imposter, whose frame was too short and too built.

But the eyes were all Theo. Not blue, maybe, but dark. Desolate, much like his pseudonym.

"Do you think," Theo said lowly, as if a Muffliato hadn't been cast, "that you're the only one angry? Desperate for answers? It's been months."

Pain rippled across Draco's otherwise closed expression. He had felt each and every day of that separation, of the uncertainty like it was a breath held with no knowing when you'd have fresh air again.

Theo had always been fresh air.

Exhilarating. Draco felt finally able to breathe again now that he was reunited with him but in doing so, he could tell that something wasn't right. He released his grip on his friend and slightly nodded in concession, turning back to the dance floor with fists stuffed in his pockets.

Lucky for him, Theo accepted his concession unconditionally.

"How've you been?" He repeated.

As he watched Hermione, now twirled by the Weasel, Draco reflected on the most succinct way to answer the blatant concern in Theo's tone. They hadn't much time and there was no sense in perpetuating his friend's worry.

He finally replied, "Better," his gaze slanting momentarily to Theo so the brunet could see the sincerity there.

Theo ate up the reassurance, and then tipped his eyes meaningfully to Draco's right arm.

"Luna's been keeping me updated on Granger's entries."

A dozen different intimations danced between the start and end of that sentence but Draco was really only interested in one of them. He ignored Theo's attempt at diversion- it wasn't a story he wished to share ever anyway- and pitched his voice curiously.

"So. Luna?"

A gusty sigh escaped Theo which prickled the back of Draco's neck with sparks of Deja vu. He knew that sigh, intimately in fact. It shuddered out of his own mouth a time or two when he first got entangled with Hermione.

Fucking Salazar, Theo. Your timing is utter shite.

He was quiet in the wake of Draco's probing, Theo's gaze far and away on the dance floor as he watched the song conclude, the partners change. Hermione sent a little wave toward them as she grabbed Lovegood's hand and twirled her around.

"Yes," Theo answered, resolve and reticence in the word. "Luna."

The girls were laughing now, a mirror view of the two of them standing all stoic and unsociable on the party's edge. Draco watched the girls converse through their smiles, likely catching up the way he and Theo were, and knew they would be heading towards them once the dance ended.

As much as Draco wanted to study Lovegood to discern whatever hidden quality had hooked Theo, he knew there wasn't much time.

He needed answers. And faster than Theo was giving them.

"So what Mr. Lovegood was saying…?" Draco trailed off, throat blocked by 'what if's' and a solid knot of responsibility that he somehow failed to keep Theo safe.

The man's face collapsed with resignation. "It's true," though he didn't elaborate further. The violins were culminating to their final chords and any minute, the girls would meander their way to them and the only real answers Draco had received from Theo were 'yes' and 'it's true' and they weren't fucking good enough.

He seethed. "What the hell, Theo? You forget how to talk?"

Theo stepped in front of Draco and despite being more than a head shorter, he crowded the man's purview.

"What would you like me to say?" Theo clipped, eyes so black Draco feared he wouldn't hit the bottom of them, or the pain so visible there. "That my father finally found a way to consider me valuable? That he pledged me as a replacement to You-Know-Who now that you're no longer on his radar? Because to be fucking honest, Draco, I'd rather forget how to talk than rehash all that shit."

The song ended. Draco murmured the incantation to cancel the Muffliato, the words choked as they came out on a strained exhale. As Hermione and Luna walked towards them and the regret pressed hard on Draco's chest, he physically struggled to verbalize the emotion to Theo.

His best and longest friend. His by all-accounts brother, fucked so cruelly by Fate, born a Nott and then punished for it.

Draco unlocked his jaw.

"I'm so sorry." The words rang true, but insufficient, and Theo heard it all. The man, etched in pain even as he inhabited a different body, only shrugged.

"It's complicated now," meaning apologies aren't enough and there's a ripple effect for every action.

First Pansy. Now Theo.

Draco couldn't help but think it would have been better if he let Voldemort have him.

oOo

If only a simple apology could mend the fissures in Theo's soul- but he knew now, certain things were irrevocable. As permanent as the tattoo on Draco's left arm… and your father selling you to the Devil was one of those things.

Torn between a persisting resentment and a desire to just acquiesce, Theo stared hard at his best mate's tortured face, so odd in its transparency. He opened his mouth to say something akin to 'it's all right' when he felt a shift in the energy behind him.

It was like the early morning haze that distorts the sky was dissipating, leaving only the clear infinity of dawn.

Theo looked over his shoulder and right into the daybreak gray eyes of Luna.

The joy from the previous dancing had bled out, leaving them clear and concerned when she asked, "Everything all right?"

And suddenly it was. Theo didn't know how, but something in the way she looked at him as if she could see all those fissures and accepted them wholeheartedly, eroded away at the conflicted feelings inside of him. And for now, at least, everything was all right.

He answered Luna's question but looked back at Draco.

"Yeah. Everything is good."

The bespectacled man seemed unconvinced by the words but now that they were joined by company, Theo knew he wouldn't elaborate or attempt to persuade. He instead would fall predictably into an isolated state of self-loathing, a private place Theo was only too familiar with. Granger had snuck around during the exchange to share a quick kiss with her boyfriend, as the four stood in a quiet cluster looking out onto the party.

Many still crowded the dance floor as others picked from a buffet lined up on the opposite side of the tent. As Theo's eyes scanned, he caught sight of Potter talking to some old bat seated at a table near the food. Weasel and Weaselette stood inconspicuously close to the Chosen One, although their attention was honed in on Theo and his lot.

"What's his deal?" He asked Granger, assuming as one of his besties she'd know the meaning behind the sour puss on Ginger's face.

Luna was the one to reply. "He's figuring out who crashed the party."

Three sets of shocked eyes swiveled to her. Luna continued matter-of-factly.

"He's got a brain made for chess. All he has to do is shift a couple pieces and he reveals the heart of the game."

Draco's face scrunched at the analogy but it was Granger's, blanched with comprehension, that held Theo's attention.

"He's not the only one," she whispered, but the revelation was drowned out by the collective intake of air throughout the tent. Bright blue light burst into the center of the space in the shape of a sleek lynx, prowling the empty air with its mouth caught in a roar.

The Ministry of Magic has fallen. The Minister is dead.

Theo heard the barrage of disapparition cracks as guests fled the scene.

They are coming.

He watched as the Weasleys crowded nearer to each other, wands already out and pointed. Defending their home, their sanctuary.

They are coming.

Granger suddenly grasped both Theo's and Luna's hands.

"Stay safe," she urged just as chaos slit the ceiling of the white tent wide open. It draped like a leery smile, the opening a dark starless void. Death Eaters in full regalia appeared on the dance floor, shooting curses at any person standing still.

"Look to the journal!" Hermione screamed before she made a run for Potter on the far side. He was back to back with Weasel, massive Protego keeping them partially safe from wayward spells, and Theo watched them look for their missing link.

Her hair flung out behind her as she pushed through people frozen in fear, calling out to Potter and Ginger. They turned, eyes relieved, attention diverted past the panic and directly onto the part three of their trio; the feeling of relief, however, was only temporary for the pair. Draco ended up reaching Hermione first and disapparated the both of them.

Now that they were gone, Theo's concern naturally shifted to Luna who, in the pandemonium had left his side. His eyes cast around the inside of the tent which was now in shambles; only the brave guests remained, divided in small groups as they took on the crowd of Death Eaters. Spells crackled through the air like fireworks. They sounded in the night like bombs. When he found her, his heart stopped.

She stood by the dance floor as she faced off with a Death Eater. Her wand was in her hand, movements fluid, voice serene as she recast a Protego and subsequently threw an Incarcerous.

The Death Eater, whoever the fuck they were under that mask, easily dodged the spell as they parried Luna's footwork. Several ugly looking purple hexes were spit-fired across the space but Luna was able to deflect them upwards into the remains of the canopy.

On impact, the fabric melted like wax.

His stomach rolled. Luna was fighting a Death Eater while Theo was backed up against a tent flap, stiff with fear and not-a-small amount of awe and she was fighting a bloody Death Eater.

Who happened to be relentless. And cruel, and real fucking skilled as they began to poke holes in Luna's shield.

Even from a distance, Theo could see her face glistening with sweat as she struggled to keep moving, to keep safe. Before he knew it, he was pulling his wand from its pocket and moving towards her, his steps quickening when she fell after a particularly strong curse shattered her Protego.

The Death Eater's arm was raised and Luna was vulnerable. Theo could vaguely hear the gleeful intake of breath as they started to yell out "Ah-" but then he was there and she was in his arms and at last, blackness took over.

A/N: Only slightly behind schedule... good news is the next chapter is completed and mostly betaed and I have a handle on the chapter after that! I hope you enjoy my rendition of this canon event... and am ever thankful for the continued follows, favorites, reviews.