Chapter Five

Theo looked down over the edge of the windowsill and saw the two figures far down below. He still couldn't quite believe that one of them had sent a spectral otter up to him to speak with her voice.

He wanted to believe that it was the strangers from his dream, but he kept telling himself to not get his hopes up. It might not be the man with hair like moonlight and the woman with the energy that crackled around below, but whoever it was he would be glad of their company even if it was only for a little while.

One of the figures went running and then came back flying low to the ground, and Theo's eyes widened yet again. In all his books he had never heard of a man that could fly, perhaps the figures below weren't human beings at all.

Leaning precariously over the edge, he could vaguely make out the two figures below. He kept pushing his curls out of his eyes, but it was a lost cause. As the figures flew rapidly upwards, Theo stepped back in shock and surprise as he realised they were riding a broom. And then his breath caught as a laughing face with pale skin and paler hair and grey eyes met his own and the clever eyes of his companion in her deep burgundy gown. He already had her amulets and their many runes memorised, but he bowed as she carefully floated off the broom and stepped into his tower.

Her tiny slippered feet on the stone floor of his home made him draw in a breath.

The blond man dismounted the broom and stepped into Theo's tower as well. He reached out to shake Theo's hand. For the first time in his life, Theo touched another person that wasn't his father. And generally when his father touched him, all Theo received was pain. This was like a frisson that went through him, like the air before a lightning storm.

The man turned Theo's wrist and looked strangely at the mark that had always been there for as long as Theo could remember. Theo felt the tension in his grip before he released it, stepping back.

"I'm Draco," he looked curiously at Theo, whose eyes were tracing every perfect inch of the man who had invaded his space. He'd taken off his shirt and was only wearing a leather jerkin, his pale arms bare, and Theo recalled the part of his dream where those large pale hands with their rings had been all over the woman behind him. Theo felt the warmth of a blush decorating his cheeks.

"Theo," he replied, not recognizing the breathless quality of his own voice. "I'm Theo. Welcome to my home." He tried to remember what the etiquette book said he ought to do in this situation. Should he offer them tea?

"And this is Lady Hermione," Draco added, taking the beautiful woman by the hand, drawing her forward next to him. "She was wondering if you might need some rescuing."

Theo looked behind him at his books, his only company in the empty tower and turned back to the young man whose bearing reminded him in some ways to his father. Theo found himself wanting to kneel before him.

"Do you have time for me to pack a bag," Theo asked, ruefully.

They did in fact have time for Theo to pack a bag. He rushed around grabbing his favourite books and clothes. He took the drinking mug he always used and then looked at his satchel and tried to figure out how he was going to get all of these things to fit into it.

"Can I help?" The beautiful woman asked from behind him. Theo tried to ignore the fact that he knew her skin was that same rich caramel everywhere, but that her nipples were a deep dusky pink.

Theo laughed, "I don't know how I expect to bring all my favourite books with me, it seems like a bit of a fool's errand. They are certainly not all going to fit in this satchel."

Hermione smiled and pulled out a long carved wand, and Theo watched in amazement as she cast a spell that caused his satchel to glow for a moment before returning to normal.

"Everything should fit now," She smiled. "Do you mind if I borrow a few of your books on magic? You have a couple older titles that I've not seen before."

Theo looked at her and then looked at his bag, he opened it up and the inside was now so cavernous that he couldn't see the bottom. He looked up at her in surprise, "You are a witch."

"A sorceress," She replied, not unkindly, "But close enough. And the books?"

"Take whatever you like as a gift for helping me to leave this place," Theo said, stuffing all his possessions into the sack. He was never coming back here if he had anything to say in the matter, and if he got far enough away perhaps his father would never be able to find him.

Theo grabbed his dream journals from his desk and shoved them in his bag as well.

His most recent one, however, had fallen from his side table and was obscured by the bedding. As Theo carefully boarded the broom and tried not to sigh at the muscled pale arm wrapping around his middle, the book with the sketches of the two strangers from his dreams, their horses and the sorceress' jewellery, lay on the floor forgotten.

Five days later, Thoros, High King of Nott, appeared with his house elf in the dead of night. He'd been putting off dealing with his firstborn son for far too long and now there was no reason to delay any longer.

He walked silently through the tower, ignoring the elf behind him who wept silently, well aware of what Thoros planned to do. The long knife came easily to his hand as he approached his son's bed, but the slash of the knife brought up only feathers. There was no one asleep in the bed.

And after he searched the tower, he discovered that there was no sign of his son to be found. Pulling the book from under the bed and flipping through it, he discovered some clues. He'd find his son and those that harboured him and slay them all.