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Andromeda and Ted's voices were drowned out by the deafening roar in Theo's ears.
How many times had he stared at his mother's portrait at Greystoke Castle and wondered what his life might have been like, how he might have turned out, had she lived? How many times had he stared into the depiction of those hazel eyes, the eyes so much like his own, waiting for her portrait to speak to him, to offer him guidance? How often had he gone to the empty East Wing, where her portrait hung in shadow, in his loneliest hours and counted the curls in her hair, wondering what she had been like?
Theo didn't know for sure, but he was certain beyond any doubt he'd recognize her portrait anywhere. And he had no doubt about the portrait inside the locket held within his trembling hands.
"This is a portrait of my mother, Vina Burke. She died when I was a baby…" Theo turned his head toward the stairs, ignoring Andromeda and Ted's wide-eyed looks. "Or at least that's what I've been told my whole life."
Without hesitation, Theo leapt over the back of the sofa toward the stairs, but not a moment before his foot touched the bottom step, he suddenly found himself unable to move.
"Theodore Nott— you will return to your seat at once," Andromeda commanded as if they were back in her classroom and he'd just spoken out of turn. "Upstairs is a woman— a fragile woman— who has worked too hard for too long to be set back now by some foolish boy's lack of patience," Andromeda said, her stern voice sobering the room, her wand poised steadily in his direction.
"Andromeda— dear…" Ted admonished softly.
Andromeda's fierce gaze darted to her husband, then back to Theo. If Theo still had the ability to wince, he certainly would've. He'd never seen her look more like her sister— Bellatrix.
Slowly, Andromeda's expression softened and she lowered her wand. Theo felt control of his body return.
"Sorry," he mumbled, taking a seat on the steps and looking into his hands in shame.
"No need to apologize, Theo," Ted replied, rising from his chair to sit beside Theo on the step, patting him on the back. Oddly, Theo found he didn't mind.
He did not miss the warming look Andromeda directed Ted's way. Under different circumstances, he might've found it humorous.
"I know you're thinking Jane might be your mother, Theo, but she looks nothing like the woman in this portrait," Ted said gently.
Theo remembered Draco's description of the woman. He looked to Andromeda for affirmation.
"Ted's right. Jane's appearance is very different."
"She could be under a glamour," Theo offered quietly.
"It's doubtful. She's been at St. Mungo's for years, undergone extensive tests for any potential glamours, shrouds, hexes, poisonings, jinxes, or curses," explained Andromeda clinically. "And it's been confirmed she's not a metamorphamagi," Andromeda continued quickly, noting Theo about to protest.
"But the question still remains— how did she get the locket, and how is it the locket responded to your touch, and your touch only? Many Healers have held that locket, and only the baby's portrait has ever been seen."
Theo dropped his head into his hands. There seemed to be no doubt the locket belonged to his mother, or his mother's family at any rate, but he knew so little of them, and even less about Vina Burke herself. Perhaps the locket had been stolen, pawned off by an angry house elf…
Or father more likely, Theo considered. It was no secret that Nott Senior was not exactly what one would call a reverent man.
His mother's family creed, the one Sprock had told him so many years ago, swirled around his mind— "Scientia sit potentia" — knowledge is power.
"I have no bloody idea," Theo sighed.
This knowledge seemed so far out of his grasp, and he certainly felt powerless.
His father had never told him much of anything about his mother, nor her past. The topic, like so many things with his father, was forbidden. Only Sprock had ever provided him with some of the details he so longed for… unconnected scraps of information that had left so many gaps in the picture of his past, in his understanding of his own self, and— most painful of all— in his heart.
In that moment, said heart began to pound, a familiar rush coursing through Theo's being as an idea, like magic, took shape in his mind. He looked up into Andromeda's scrutinizing gaze.
"But I think I know who might."
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"MALFOY—!"
Hermione winced at the sound; a voice that was more animal than human.
Greyback— Hermione thought as she lurched helplessly through the cloud of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. It had to be him.
Piercing through her panic, the sound of Greyback's snarl in the overwhelming blackness sent an icy shiver down her spine.
"You bloody rat— I'll find you!" she heard Greyback snarl again. "Dumbledore's mine!"
Even amongst the chaos of shouts and the flashes of spells gone amiss, she felt some relief; from what she could gather, it seemed Malfoy had managed to escape Greyback's clutches… for now, at least.
I need to find him.
Hermione cringed in pain at the sudden vice on her forearm— she looked down to find long, pale fingers ending in jagged black fingernails digging into her bare skin.
"Stupefy!" She screamed into the darkness. The hand retracted, but Hermione had to drop to the floor to avoid the nonverbal spell that had clearly been directed her way in retribution.
"Where are you, Draco?" She whispered to herself, breathing hard on the stone floor, struggling to catch her bearings.
Hermione glanced at her wand— rather, as she couldn't see it, its general direction— knowing any illuminating spell would be useless. Unconsciously, she brought her free hand to her throat, shocked to find that the typically cool platinum necklace was warm to the touch; it pulsated and glowed beneath her trembling fingertips, as if urging her in one direction.
She rose to her feet and didn't hesitate in following its guiding vibrations, dodging spells and leaping over the hems of robes, some black, some Auror-gray, for what seemed like an eternity, until at last the opaque darkness seemed to dissipate before her eyes.
When Hermione was almost certain she could discern the outline of the hallway reemerging, a rough, powerful arm wrapped around her, knocking the air out of her lungs.
"Now what have I got here?"
She recognized the wretched voice immediately even as bright pops of light flashed before her eyes as she gasped and struggled to regain her breath, to break free. With dread, she could feel Greyback's hot, foul breath on her neck.
"My lucky day— I've got a pretty one."
"Protego!" A voice Hermione instantly recognized as Bill Weasley's boomed. A brief relief coursed through her as she felt herself freed, giving her the strength to dart forward toward the clearing.
Hermione sprinted down the corridor, her hand clasped tightly around her necklace, blindingly casting shielding charms at any sound or flash of light. As she ran past, she tried to ignore the unmoving shapes— the shapes she knew were not heaps at all, but people— she thought of Bill— hoped he could hold his own against Greyback— and Ron, and Ginny, and the other Weasleys who may have made their way to the castle tonight. She thought of Luna, and Neville, and hoped they were okay— and she thought of Harry… Harry and Dumbledore somewhere in the world, perhaps returning to the castle, to the chaos, at this very moment— and Draco…
She realized the necklace was guiding her toward the Astronomy Tower just as the hall flooded with a sickly greenish light. She looked upward to find a sky not dotted with stars, but one overtaken by the blaze of the Dark Mark.
Draco.
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It appeared to Theo as though Sprock had, in an instant, aged about a hundred years, every wrinkle on the house-elf's aged face pronounced by his pained expression, by the tears welling in his eyes.
"Sprock?" Theo asked as gently as he could manage. When Sprock had arrived at Andromeda and Ted's home, he'd assumed his usual state of spry skepticism, but at the sight of the platinum locket, the elf had gone silent; a rarity for Sprock, who never seemed short on opinions— vocal opinions.
With a trembling hand, Sprock lifted his tiny glasses to wipe at his eyes, and Theo crouched down to place a comforting hand on the elf's shoulder.
At the sight of this tender action between wizard and elf, Andromeda directed a meaningful look at her husband, who nodded in silent understanding.
"M-Master Theodore… you will excuse this old elf for his emotion…" Sprock looked up with his pleading, owlish eyes to meet Theo's concerned gaze. "But more than that, Sprock hopes you will be able to one day forgive him…"
"Sprock— forgive you—? For what?"
The elf took an audibly deep, shaky breath as Theo, Andromeda, and Ted collectively held theirs.
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Hermione crept up the winding stairwell of the Astronomy Tower as swiftly and silently as she could manage, struggling to keep the sound of her breath and footsteps under control. She only hoped she was not too late.
The moment she reached the top of the stairs she saw him, his back toward her, the familiar shape of his outline framed by a vast sky alight with the ominous green light of the Dark Mark. She wished she could stand beside him, place her hands on his shoulders— as much to steady herself as to remind him he was not alone.
Draco heard the approach of nearly silent footsteps and gripped the edge of the rampart's cool stone surface to steady himself. His heart fell and filled all at once; he knew it was her. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before speaking.
"I told you to stay away."
He barely recognized the sound of his own voice.
"And you thought I'd actually listen?" Hermione answered quietly, her voice still hoarse from Greyback's clutches. She approached Draco with caution, her wand outstretched.
"I hoped," Draco sighed, without turning to face Hermione. "I thought Felix Felicis was supposed to be good luck." He could sense her nearing just as the Protean coin, the one linked with Rosmerta's, vibrated and warmed in his pocket.
Dumbledore's coming.
Draco knew the Headmaster would be drawn to the location of the Dark Mark, to the Astronomy Tower, to him.
"There's still time, Draco," Hermione said, unable to mask the pleading tone in her voice.
Draco said nothing, but vaguely wondered if that's how she thought of him now— Draco, not Malfoy. He wondered when that had started. Even now, warmth spread through his chest at the idea.
"We— we can go. We'll go into hiding until we figure out a plan—"
He couldn't deny he was tempted by the thought, to go into hiding with Hermione. They could do it, he knew, armed as he was with Occlumency and memory charms and his knowledge of Death Eater tricks, and Hermione being, well, Hermione. But what would become of his mother, his home? And Theo? Surely he would be called upon, perhaps targeted to pay the price for the failure of his task, particularly after Greyback informed Voldemort of Theo's role in the mending of the vanishing cabinets. And Draco knew Hermione— or at least he thought he was beginning to— and he knew she would never truly abandon Harry and Ron—
"My mo—"
"I'm willing to bet your mother wants you to live."
Draco turned to face Hermione at last. He paused, not altogether surprised to find her wand pointed in his direction.
He smirked lopsidedly, "What're you going to do, Granger? Stupefy me and drag me out of the castle without being seen by that herd of Aurors and Death Eaters?"
"Yes," she replied firmly, even though she recognized the impossibility, and ridiculousness, of this plan.
Draco knew they didn't have much time; Dumbledore was most certainly on his way.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but—" Draco paused as his eyes traveled to her throat, alarmed by the sight of her neck, illuminated by the glow of her necklace. It was clearly red and darkening, as if bruised.
"—what the bloody hell happened? Who else do I have to try to murder tonight?" He clenched his fists in anger, everything else momentarily forgotten.
"Greyback—" Hermione brought her hand to her throat, only now noting its tenderness, rawness.
Draco reached her before Hermione could say another word.
"Did he bite you?" Draco urged, his eyes wide, his body beginning to vibrate with rage as his fingertips gently examined her neck.
She lost focus, lightheaded by the sensation of his careful touch, his proximity.
"No, I—"
Draco felt his body relax, but only momentarily; Dumbledore was likely to arrive at any moment. He hoped the Headmaster was alone, but knew Harry would probably be with him.
Another thing to deal with.
Looking into Hermione's eyes, he knew what had to be done.
It's the only way.
Draco knew he had to seize the opportunity of Hermione's dropped guard. He braced himself, hoping she'd forgive him.
Petrificus totalis.
In an instant, Draco's arm was around Hermione's back, bracing her as she stiffened, paralyzed by his silent spell. Her eyes remained unaffected, and he recognized the anger— and worse, the betrayal— in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered as he carried her into a shadowed corner of the room, casting his best disillusion charm. It was hardly perfect, but it had to be enough, there was no time to take her somewhere safer; his heart stopped at the sound of two distinct voices emanating from the direction of the ramparts.
Hidden amongst the shadows, he turned and edged toward the voices, but noted only one figure outlined by the green glow of the Dark Mark. It was slumped against the ramparts, where Draco himself had stood moments ago. He did not hesitate.
"Expelliarmus!"
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"Sprock needs to see— to be sure— he must be sure, before…" The house-elf was trembling now, visibly shaking from head to foot.
"Of course, Sprock, of course," Andromeda intervened hurriedly, stepping between Theo and Sprock. "I will ask Jane if she is willing to meet with you."
Andromeda rushed up the stairs and Theo placed his hand back on Sprock's shoulder.
"Sprock— whatever happened— you can tell me," Theo urged as gently as he could, hoping to avoid causing the elf any more distress. "You know I trust you."
"M-Master Theodore is very kind…" Sprock's voice trailed away, the elf unable to meet Theo's eyes.
Theo looked up at Ted pleadingly.
"Sprock, please, come sit by the fire," Ted stepped forward, leading the elf to an overstuffed chair beside the hearth.
Somehow, especially when Theo had been very young, Sprock had always seemed a bit larger than life— in knowledge, wit, and even magic— but now, trembling in the Tonks's over-sized and overstuffed armchair, Theo thought his friend looked about as small as he currently felt.
"Have some tea," Ted said kindly, offering a steaming cup to the elf.
Sprock accepted and sipped at the tea in silence. With releif, Theo noted the creature's trembling seemed to ease a little.
Andromeda returned a few moments later, and they all turned their attention toward the stairwell— toward Jane— slender and silent, trailing close behind.
As the two women reached the bottom step into the sitting room, Jane's eyes scanned the room. She found Ted's gaze first.
"Hello again, Jane, come, have a seat," Ted offered.
Jane's lips curved into a small smile, but she hesitated, her gaze again meticulously scanning her surroundings, as if checking for potential danger.
Theo was unable to look away, but if he had, he would've seen Sprock's eyes wider than before, cloudy with tears, and the seat of his chair now wet with the tea spilled as he'd caught sight of Jane.
Jane's eyes came to rest upon Theo's pale face at last. Theo was certain he saw a flash of recognition in her eyes, and then…
"NO!" She screamed, racing toward the front door. "Not him!"
Luckily, Andromeda was quick, and she was able to brace Jane before she reached the door. Ted rushed to help her.
As if electrified, Sprock jumped from his chair and hurried toward Jane.
"Vina! Mistress Vina— this young man is not who you think— he is not Luthor!" Sprock exclaimed.
Sprock's words acted like a spell— suddenly, Jane became rigid, then calmed as she caught sight of Sprock, but she remained resolutely behind Andromeda and Ted, her expression full of uncertainty.
"Wh— what did you say?"
"I know he looks very much like him, but this young man is not Luthor—"
Jane and Theo winced simultaneously at the name: Luthor, Luthor Nott.
Father, Theo thought angrily. Of course father is behind this.
It was no surprise to Theo that the sight of him had struck fear in her heart— Luthor Nott was his biological father, after all. Theo didn't like to acknowledge it, but he did resemble his father.
"Sprock?" Jane's voice cracked.
Sprock merely nodded, his face soaked with tears. "Sprock has missed you dearly."
Jane slumped to the floor as if her legs had given out, and Sprock rushed to her side. She did not push his hand away as he sheltered her hands in his own.
"This young man is your son," Sprock said quietly, gesturing to Theo. "Master Theodore is grown now."
Andromeda and Ted stood in stunned silence as Theo cautiously approached.
When he reached them, he knelt and held out the open locket for her to see Vina's portrait— her own portrait— inside.
Sprock sighed heavily as his eyelids fluttered closed behind his tiny spectacles, as if letting go of a thousand years of pain.
He released Jane's hands and snapped his fingers.
Jane's features began to melt away.
Her black, stringy hair warmed, lightened a little, and curled. She remained thin, malnourished, but the shape of her cheeks and jaw rounded, her nose straightened, her brows thickened and arched. They all watched in awe as the effects of the elf's spell revealed legs that were longer, shoulders that were broader, more powerful in their set.
When she looked up to meet Theo's gaze at last, he saw his own hazel eyes looking back at him, the same eyes he'd studied in her portrait at Greystoke Castle, but now, her gaze was alive and shining.
"Theodore," she whispered, tenderly accepting the offered locket; they watched in continued awe as the portrait of Theo as a baby reappeared.
Vina gently traced the image with her fingertip as though inspecting a precious, yet familiar, artifact.
"My Theo."
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A/N: Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, and following along!