A/N: Oh boy um. I'm sorry? It's been a while. I don't even know if some of y'all are even still reading this. But I am back. Ish. Yay?

Life's been pretty busy, but I'll try to at least finish this story. For those coming from AO3, updates over there will probably happen once I've posted chapter 25. Bulk updates equals fun times.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Title: The Past Does Not Define Us

Rating: T

Pairing: Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

Summary: "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

Warning(s): Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

Chapter 21: The Withdrawl

The letter crinkles in his hands, Daphne's elegant cursive, gorgeous and elaborate just like her, piercing through him as usual, her tone sharp and dismissive. Familiar.

He missed this.

Why hadn't he written to her sooner? He knows why, she knows why, but he doesn't like admitting it, to himself or to her, even though she knows. Daphne has always been so much better at emotions, so much better at life than him.

And love.

But what does Theodore know about love?

He knows pain, he can handle pain (not very well, but it's something he's familiar with). But love is a whole other matter. He's always relied on Daphne, emotional, calculating, cold, and marvelous Daphne, his longest friend, his better half, for that sort of thing.

But this? Letting Hermione go? Letting Weasley have her?

It would destroy him.

He would break. Crumble into tiny pieces. A doll broken from a fall off a high shelf like the Astronomy Tower.

She would probably forget about him (would she? She seems to care so much.). She would probably mention him to Weasley and the red haired man (not boy, no longer a boy, they all grew up during the war and Theodore isn't stupid enough to believe that Weasley hadn't.) and he would laugh it off. Mention how it wasn't worth talking about the son of a Death Eater (he was right, but it still hurt, it hurt, ithurtithurt).

Seeing her with Weasley would be the end of him in the long run.

Slytherins are always aware of their chance of survival, of their chance to thrive. And Theodore learned this lesson well (from his father, from the war, from the revilement and hatred of his peers). It would only be a matter of time.

A part of him cynically questions when he would gather the courage to actually do it.

Theodore's nose wrinkles and he laughs to himself, a hollow broken sound, in the emptiness of his dorm room.

It was always a question of when, wasn't it?

When will you take the Dark Mark, Theodore? When will you apply yourself, Theodore? When will you make a decision for yourself, Theodore? When will you become less of a coward, Theodore?

A week had passed after Daphne's letter arrived and here he was, hiding from Hermione, just like the months before. He glances at the clock beside his bed.

7 o'clock.

They usually meet in the library at The Corner right about now (she still calls it Theodore's Corner and he still doesn't have the heart to tell her to change it).

He hadn't gone the entire week.

Was she worried? Did she miss him? Or was she so preoccupied with Weasley to even notice?

Theodore turns his gaze to Daphne's letter.

He smooths out the paper and reads the words again. He reads the same elegant script, the same sharp words, and processes them. Over and over and over. And at least ten more times after that. And at least another twenty more. Eventually, he takes the letter, and with shaking hands, hovers it over the burning flame of the candle, the wax stick melted low.

Taking a deep breath, he stands from his chair and watches it catch fire, burn, and turn to ash.

Then, he pulls on his socks, grabs his sweater, and rushes out the door.