Rough stone caught underneath his foot and he almost tripped over the scattered debris. The castle grounds were unrecognisable, its landscape a grotesque scatter of rubble, blood and bodies. Theo kept glancing at the corpses of fallen Death Eaters and fought the urge to check if it was his father's face under any of the masks. Spells were still flying, Potter had sprung to life and was fighting Voldemort. Theo could barely think straight with all the noise and flashing lights.

He caught sight of Granger running around with Weasley. He watched Seamus charge a wizard twice his size. He'd even witnessed the life leaving Bellatrix's eyes, but there was no sign of the Malfoy's.

It would all be over soon, and he had to find Draco. He had to find him before the Order did, or worse, another Death Eater. There were those who had their suspicions on who was committing the murders. They had all sensed a shift in Lucius' son's countenance and knew to be wary of him without being able to quite put their finger on why. Many knew of the training he was subjected to and the hours he spent with Bellatrix Lestrange. Perhaps, they thought, madness was contagious.

But Draco and Theo were meant to be careful... strategic… and on Theo's part, he had been. The Battle of Hogwarts, he reasoned, was the perfect opportunity to rid himself of his enemies without giving himself away. Alecto Carrow had been far too easy. He had come upon her by chance while trailing Luna. He watched McGonagall tie her up at Ravenclaw Tower. It was over quickly. Selwyn, who was powerful, he'd tricked, and Travers he'd been forced to duel. Amycus had been the messiest. There was blood everywhere, and it had turned Theo's stomach inside out.

The list was nearly complete, save for Yaxley. He wondered for a moment if Draco had taken care of him and began searching the castle. By sheer luck, Theo caught a fleeting glimpse of blonde hair. He weaved through the remaining duelists deflecting hexes and falling stone, but as he drew nearer, he saw that it was Lucius and not Draco. He watched as the wizard grabbed a robed Death Eater by the arm and at once, disapparated.

Theo never found Draco. His father, Tobias Nott, was found on the grounds of Hogwarts amongst the fallen. Days later they found Lucius Malfoy exactly where Greyback said he would be, on the very same cliff the werewolf had thrown his son off. He admitted to having acted with Corban Yaxley.

The Death Eater had vanished without a trace, and Fenrir Greyback was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.

The office of Obscurus books was located on the third level of an old Victorian building. Theodore Nott stepped out of the lifts, his burgundy robes flaring out around him, as he made a straight beeline toward a door, its plaque reading, Chief-Editor. He walked silently between sets of office desks lined neatly against the room's bare walls. The employees were too busy furiously clicking away on their typewriters to take notice of Theo, but one unfortunate wizard dared to catch his eyes. Theo threw back a scathing glare, to which the wizard ducked his head and continued on typing. An elf with a squeaky voice dressed in loincloth popped right up in front of Theo, preventing him from entering.

"Do you have an appointment?" he asked.

Theo frowned. Just what the bloody hell was an elf doing here? "No," he scowled, trying to sidestep the tiny elf. "And I don't need one."

The elf followed his movement, blocking his path again. "Ernie was told, 'every wizard needs an appointment.'"

All the while cursing under his breath, Theo began undoing his tie. "Here!" he growled, exasperated, tossing it to him. "You're free. I own this publishing house, and as of this moment, you're free. So go forth and prosper," he said, shooing him away. "On you go."

The elf smiled up at Theo, and returned his tie, "Ernie can't accept this, Ernie is already free."

"Just whose elf are you?" said Theo, his curiosity piqued.

"Ernie is the new intern."

His eyes narrowed in on the elf.

Granger, he internally groaned.

Even when she was grieving, she still made the time to play the hero. Except Merlin forbid she hear him say that— the heroine, she'd correct.

Theo bent down, so he was eye level with the elf. "Look, Ernie," he started. "I'm your employer now. I own Obscurus Books. I'm going to walk into the chief editor's office now and fire her, and you're going to let me." Raising himself up, he turned around to the other employees. In a loud booming voice, he said, "Show of hands. Who here worked on getting Rita Skeeter's novel to the best sellers list?"

The clicking and clacking of keys stopped. A few dazed employees looked to Theo and then to each other questioningly. One after another, a little shyly, four hands went into the air.

Theo grinned from ear to ear. "Well done," he beamed. "You're all fired!" Then he burst through the chief editor's office doors to announce the good news.

Later that week, Theo asked Ernie to move the remaining inventory of The Mudblood Lover to his ancestral home on the outskirts of Edinburgh. He was down two publicists, a designer, a copyeditor and chief-editor. Finding employees to replace them seemed like unnecessary work he didn't want. Maybe he'd get Blaise on it. The man had a knack for being able to do just about anything.

Floo-ing home, he found a mountain of books, perhaps three hundred or so, stacked neatly against the wall of his foyer. Removing his cloak, he made his way to the study, his Italian leather shoes clapping against the stone floor. He fell down into the chair behind his father's old desk and wrote out a formal invitation. He stood pacing up and down the fireplace wavering between indecision. Finally, after deep consideration, he summoned Cecelia with a whistle. The little owl came swopping through the open window.

"Find Hermione Granger," he told her. The bird flew back out, the letter clutched in her talons.

A few hours later, nearing midnight, he heard the doorbell ring. He waited, and then he waited some more… until he realised he had freed all his house-elves and chased them off his property.

He made his way toward the front door, grumbling all the while. Yanking it open, he found Hermione Granger, wrapped in warm muggle clothing, her breath fogging the air. "I don't like you," she said by way of greeting. "I'm only here because I'm curious."

Theo opened the door wider and stepped to the side, inviting her in. Without a word, he bade her to follow him.

"What is this?" she demanded, as he led her out to the back gardens. A large bonfire was burning brightly in front of them.

"Well I heard you were running around like a headless chicken buying all of Skeeter's books—A for effort by the way, as inane as that idea was—"

"Theodore," she sighed. He startled at being called by his first name and how tired she sounded when she said it.

He grew serious as he gazed at her. "I bought the publishing house," he said after a few moments. "We own the rights, and if Skeeter tries to go to another publisher, Blaise assures me we can sue her for breach of contract."

Hermione was blinking furiously and then suddenly she was embracing him; her icky Granger-ness wrapped around him so tightly he thought he'd suffocate. "Thank you," she choked. "Thank you so much."

Theo didn't have his Occlumency in place this time, he was uncomfortably present, and he could hardly deny that her proximity was not entirely revolting. Theo cleared his throat and extracted himself from her. "Right well—"

"Though I'll have you know," she said wiping a tear from her eyes. "That the burning of books is blasphemous…but I suppose in this case… I'll turn a blind eye."

"How generous of you," he muttered.

The most awkward stretch of silence ensued.

"It must have cost you a fortune," she said suddenly. "Thank you."

He grew irritable at how she kept thanking him as if he had done this for her.

"I didn't do this for you, Granger," he found himself whispering. "You're not the only one who misses him. I loved him too."

She tore her gaze from the fire, the heat from it had given her cheeks a rouge tint, and the flames were dancing, reflected in her eyes, like life coming back to her, but when she turned back to face the flames again, he saw that she was still hollow.

"Well," she stuttered nervously. "While I'm still here—"

"You want another memory."

She was wringing her hands.

Theo sighed. What was he going to do with this shell of a girl? Then an ingenious idea came to him.

"Say, Granger," he drawled. "You like books, don't you?"

A small smile tugged on her lips. "It's like you don't know me at all," she teased.

"It's settled then." She cocked an eyebrow toward him questioningly. "You're hired!"

The Reparation Ball, he saw was an immense success. Theo was proud to have had such a large hand in organising it. Other pureblood families contributed as well, and then, of course, there were the volunteers who'd helped set up the silent auction. He knew Mrs Malfoy had donated a few priceless seventh-century artefacts which were going to raise a considerable amount of galleons toward the post-war effort. Everything was going swimmingly. So just why the hell was Granger looking like an uprooted mandrake?

"Honestly!" she exclaimed in a huff. "Doesn't Blaise have any scruples?"

Theo followed the direction of her gaze to the far side of the ballroom, where Blaise was speaking to Frederica Pellegrini. He watched as the witch threw her head back and laughed at something he said. She batted his arm in a playful manner and in return, he threw her a roguish grin.

"It's only a little flirting Granger," he said, turning back to face her, but the witch ignored him, continuing to subtly—not so subtly—watch them, over Theo's shoulder.

"But he's married for goodness sake, and she's your date! Don't you care?"

He frowned, toying with the idea of what it would feel like to get jealous. Theo caught another glimpse of them together and tried to summon that envious fellow referred to as jealousy. Nothing stirred within. The only thing he felt was pity for Blaise. Unfortunately for his friend, he had become a shameless flirt just like his mother. Yet it was all very harmless he knew. Blaise loved Pansy. It wasn't entirely his fault that he also loved the attention. Theo was almost grateful for him having taken his gorgeous yet utterly boring date off his hands.

"No," he said with certainty. "I don't care."

"Pansy would care," said Granger pointedly. "She'd probably hex him right here in front of all these highbrows and Ministry officials."

Theo felt obliged to defend his friend's behaviour. "Look, Blaise is," he paused to find the right word, "complicated."

Granger rolled her eyes. "And what does that mean?"

"It means... that despite our worst fears, some of us turn out to be exactly like our parents."

"Not everyone," mumbled Granger into her wine glass. "Draco certainly didn't."

Theo scoffed. "Oh, please," he jeered. "Draco was cruel, calculating and selfish. He was exactly like his father." Merlin how he missed his friend.

"He was nothing like Lucius," spat Granger, her little button-nose crinkling into a grimace.

Theo shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Yes, he was. You just don't want to admit that that's the kind of wizard you fell in love with. The only difference between Draco and his father was that he happened to fall in love with a Muggle-born."

"That's not true," she began to argue. "He—"

"If Lucius Malfoy wanted something he couldn't have, he would have gotten it in the end," he said with a raised brow. "I bet there was a small part of him that was proud of Draco for bedding you." Theo raised his glass up. A toast. "No one loved a good conquest more than Lucius Malfoy. May he rest in peace."

"Blackmailing and bribing Ministry officials, hunting down children, is very different from pursuing the person you love!"

"Oh?" he quirked his head. "Then you clearly haven't heard the rumours…"

He watched as her eyes lit with burning curiosity. Feigning disinterest, she mumbled, "Rumours… what rumours?"

Theo was wearing a Cheshire grin. He leaned into her as if what he was about to say was of utmost secrecy. He watched as she leaned infinitesimally closer to hear him. "Well," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "apparently Abraxas, Lucius' father, didn't approve of his intent to marry Narcissa Malfoy."

"Really?" Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed with scandalous thrill. She was clearly tipsy, and Theo could smell the wine on her breath. "But why? They're both purebloods."

"So?" he scoffed. "The house of Black wasn't what we would call in good standing. Andromeda and Sirius Black caused quite the stir—and everyone knew Bellatrix was a screw loose."

Hermione's eyes squinted in thought.

"And apparently," he said leaning in further, "and this is only a rumour—Narcissa Black was interested in someone else at the time… Lucius not only had to deal with his father's disapproval but he had to win her over." Tapping a finger to his lip as if in thought, he added, "now doesn't that sound like a familiar story?"

Granger's lips pursed angrily, her eyes glaring at him.

"Merlin," he laughed. "Hermione Granger rendered speechless…"

Scowling, she jabbed, "And what about you, Theodore Nott, does the apple fall far from your tree?"

A dangerous expression flitted across Theo's face before he composed himself. Shrugging a shoulder, he flippantly said, "Of course." And with those last words, he stepped into the large crowd away from her.

"Don't forget the meeting next Thursday!" he heard her call out.

He turned and gave her an awkward salute.

Theo's palms were slicked with sweat. It was good he hadn't stayed. Yet there was that fleeting instant when Granger seemed to see right through him.

No, no. It was impossible—impossible—he kept reassuring himself.

Everyone who knew was dead.

His best friend was dead, but to Theodore Nott, he felt very much alive, and he blamed Hermione Granger for that entirely. She kept him alive. Kept reliving memories, asking him to give her all of his. And he had to relive them in order to find them before splicing the frames from his mind. And she kept asking one inane question after another, some of which even he hadn't the answers to. What was his favourite colour? Did his mother ever cut his hair? When did he first learn to fly? Who taught him? What was his favourite flavour of ice cream? And on and on, until he wanted to choke her just to shut her up.

On occasion, he would let his anger get the better of him. He'd curse at her, insult her intelligence and dress sense. He'd pick on the slightest infraction, blow up like a geyser and then regret his words instantly.

More often than not, on those particularly difficult days, Theo would find sleep impossible. He'd pour himself a nice quiet drink, and then stare for hours on end at his hands, crying. Strangely the murders he committed had no guilty hold over him. Still, he shed endless tears, night after night, mourning the dead thestral he had happened upon during the battle.

For his father, he had none, but he did, at times, miss those quiet evenings when he would sit at his desk, working, while Theo would sit on the adjacent side absorbed in a book. The only words spoken between them, were when his father asked to help clarify something he was unsure of; because Tobias Nott was a hard-hearted wizard, unyielding in his beliefs and expectations, but he was also a proud father and entirely aware that he had produced a son of exceptional talent and intellect.

When Theo got to thinking like this, he would go on a bender. Cuba, Monaco, Petersburg, Paris, he even found himself in the middle of the Egyptian desert once unsure of how he'd gotten there. Granger would track him down eventually and drag him back to Britain, reminding him of all the responsibilities he had left behind.

"You could do so much with your fortune, I'd give anything to be in a position to effect real change."

The more time Theo spent with Granger, the further away, his destinations became. The turning point was on a bright, breezy morning when he was rudely roused from unconsciousness on a beach in Sri Lanka.

"How many times do I have to do this!" cried Granger. "You're so utterly selfish and irresponsible! I have half a mind to quit, in fact, another incident like this and I—!"

"Alright!" he snapped, dusting the sand off himself. "I'll get it together." Fighting an immense hangover, he forced himself to shower and sober up, so he was stable enough to travel by portkey. She grabbed his hand in a huff, sliding her fingers between his, and it was this small gesture that made him realise that he'd kept running away just so she'd chase him.

The churning in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the strange pull of the portkey and everything to do with the fact that once they'd arrived back in Britain, he hadn't wanted to let go of her hand.

After that day, he gave up his midnight excursions to foreign lands and took to shutting himself indoors. It was, he reasoned, the easiest way to avoid her.

But Hermione Granger was, if nothing, a persistent gnat, and Theo always seemed to have something she wanted— his memories. And on those rare nights— which were becoming more frequent—when she would turn up at the Manor looking to him for relief, he found it impossible not to give it to her.

And it made no sense, yet the more miserable she was, the more he wanted her, wanted to fuck all the misery out of her. Fuck her repeatedly, continuously, violently, till she could barely remember the name Draco Malfoy. And even that was untrue. He wanted to make love to her, he wanted permission to love her without feeling guilty, without thinking of his blatant betrayal. When he thought of Granger, he thought of Draco. The two were intertwined.

Still, he considered it. Perhaps if he could make her feel better, give her peace, even for a moment then maybe she'd give him the same. There had been times where he had thought about leaning in and kissing her… but he dared not touch her again after the last time he'd kissed her. The image of Hermione from Hogwarts, her features screwed with disgust, were still imprinted in his memory.

Besides—it was all so very wrong; to feel closer to Draco when he was only getting closer to her.

Sometimes Theo wondered if she knew how much her presence tortured him and found solace in his suffering. Because as long as Hermione Granger still loved Draco, Theo could not let go of either of them.