Thank you again to all those who have read, followed, and favourited. I love watching the read count increase!
Some action coming in the next update, for those who have been waiting on it!
7thMay 1998
Nott Hall
It was the night before the first of Draco and Theo's missions was due to take place. Hermione lay in bed, her brain buzzing with a million questions – what if they'd chosen wrongly? What if there was no one there? What if they fought, what if someone got killed? Her overactive imagination immediately presented her with visions of Draco and Theo's bodies, spell damaged and broken, and she shuddered – and then wondered why the visions had such an impact. She distracted herself by wondering how many people would be left for them to find. She knew a lot of people had had contingency plans in place to flee the country, but she hoped – they all hoped – that enough had remained to turn the tide.
She sighed, turned over, sighed again, and gave up. She was wide awake, and judging by the silence of the rest of the house she was the only one. Katie at least was sound asleep beside her – while Theo's house had plenty of bedrooms, the girls were still sharing; partly for company, partly to leave space for the others who Draco was hoping to tempt out of hiding, and partly because none of them entirely trusted their Death Eater colleagues. Hermione slipped out of bed and made her way downstairs. Hopefully, she'd be able to avoid waking Miffie and make herself a cup of tea, and then she could go over some of the plans again.
She accomplished the first part of the task easily, and then carefully made her way through the dark house to the library. The plans for the following day were lying on the table where they'd been left when Draco – always the last one awake – had gone to bed. To her surprise, there was already a figure lounging in a chair in front of the fire.
"I didn't realise anyone else would be here," she said, by way of announcing her presence. The figure glanced up, revealing itself as the master of the house. He waved his glass expressively, indicating the other chair. Hermione sat down.
"Always feels better to have someone sitting with you when you drink," Theo said eventually, as he drained his glass. "Want one?"
"I have tea," Hermione replied. Theo made a face.
"Have a real drink," he said, handing it over. Hermione took it and sipped it tentatively.
"That's better than the stuff I've had before," she said, surprised. At Theo's raised eyebrow, she elaborated. "Seamus brought some to a party one night." Theo scoffed.
"I think we can fairly safely assume that anything I pull out of my father's cellars is going to be better than something that idiot provided for a Gryffindor common room party. The whole of Gryffindor could pool their fucking Gringotts accounts and they wouldn't be able to buy this. Well, assuming Potter didn't get involved, I suppose one of you has a reasonable amount of money."
"You sound like Malfoy when you say things like that," Hermione observed. "Just because most of us will have to work for a living instead of bleeding our parents dry, you still think you're so superior."
"No," Theo replied. "For a start, all my money is mine. I wouldn't have lived off my father if my life depended on it, which it probably would have. And, I'll have you know, there was a time when sounding like Draco was the biggest compliment I could have been given. But superior? The Notts, in my opinion, are about as inferior as you can get. I'm not proud of my heritage."
"Where is your father, Theo?" Hermione asked curiously. Theo downed another glass of firewhiskey.
"Dead," he replied. "Didn't you know?"
"I… guessed?" she said hesitantly. "What happened?"
"Draco didn't tell you?"
"No."
"The ultimate pureblood sin," Theo said dully. "I killed him." Hermione blinked. "Thus ensuring both my exile from polite society and the end of my line."
"Why?" Theo sighed.
"Which?"
"Both."
"It's complicated. My father was…" he paused.
"A sadistic, abusive, murdering bastard," provided a voice from behind them. They both jumped as Draco, wearing nothing but a pair of loose trousers, picked up a piece of parchment off the table, inspected it closely, sighed with relief, and turned to leave again. "Just checking something," he explained vaguely.
"Anyway, regardless, the fact that I killed him, and that it's generally assumed that I did, means that all the mamas and the papas will suspect – possibly correctly – that the family streak of insanity has manifested itself in me. No one is going to want to tie their daughter to someone they think is mad. They all know what my father did to my mother, and like father, like son. Thus my estrangement from polite society and the end of the Nott line."
"You could meet someone… normally. You know, not through an arranged marriage," Hermione pointed out. Theo snorted.
"Pure-bloods don't meet that way."
"You might not meet a pureblood," Hermione persisted. Theo raised an eyebrow.
"In which case, the Nott line-"
"-would be much improved by the injection of new blood, vastly reducing the likelihood of inbred insanity!"
"Have you seen this?" he brandished his left arm at her, displaying the Dark Mark. "I'm on the wrong side! Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to retire into scholarly recluse with a Ravenclaw half-blood, but once this is over, who's going to want to marry a Death Eater? My father has destroyed any chance I'll ever have of that, don't you see? He forced this… abomination on me, and ruined my fucking life!" He threw his glass into the back of the fireplace where it shattered, causing the flames for flare up for a moment. Hermione sorted through her arguments, wondering as she did so why she was so concerned. Until a few days before, she'd never given a second thought to Theodore Nott, yet now it seemed the most important thing in the world to convince him that he was worth more than he thought he was.
"You're not on the wrong side any more, Theo; you're harbouring the resistance in your bloody house!" Theo seemed to ignore this point.
"Anyway, it doesn't make any difference. No girl wants me when Draco and Blaise are around, and I draw the line at the murder of two of my last three remaining friends in order to find someone." Hermione shook her head, frustrated.
"Why did you kill your father?" she asked, reverting back to the previous topic. Theo sighed.
"Several reasons. What Draco said was right, he was sadistic and abusive. He murdered my mother, and everyone knew it. I killed him when he came back one night with two muggle girls, told me it was about time I fucked something, and to get on with it. When I refused, he crucioed one of them and threatened me with the same." Hermione shivered.
"That's not murder, Theo, that's self-defence."
"Doesn't make any difference, he's still dead. I obliviated the girls and dumped them in the nearest town. Transfigured my father's body and threw him into the sea, and took my place as the head of the family Nott." Hermione moved over until she was kneeling on the floor beside his chair. He frowned at her, seeming to have difficulty focussing. She wasn't surprised, given the amount of firewhiskey he'd drunk since she joined him. She reached out and he flinched, and then froze as she wrapped her arms around him.
"You looked like you needed a hug," she said quietly, pulling away. Theo stared at her in confusion, and then slid off the chair so he was sitting on the floor beside her. Hermione had a sudden understanding. "Theo, when did your mother die?"
"When I was two," he said quietly. "She was the victim of his anger at Potter's defeat of Voldemort. And yes," he added, following her thoughts despite the firewhiskey, "As far as I know she was the last person to hug me." Instinctively, Hermione leaned into him and hugged him again and this time, one of Theo's arms came round her shoulders. When she sat back, he left his arm in place and she curled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Theo slowly moved until his cheek was resting on top of her hair and Hermione felt his breathing slow and steady as he fell asleep. Closing her eyes, she did the same.
"Have they fallen asleep?" Ginny demanded from outside the door.
"I think so, I can't see them anymore," Draco sounded annoyed. "Nice set up, by the way."
"Well, Hermione always makes a cup of tea and goes to the library when she can't sleep, she used to do it at Grimmauld Place. And just now… well, who can sleep?"
"Theo, apparently. Drunken arsehole messed up his chance after I turned down expensive firewhiskey to leave him alone for Granger to find."
"Don't be like that, it's progress," Ginny grinned. "They'll be good for each other."
"Theo's never had a girlfriend."
"Hermione hasn't had a lot of boyfriends, don't worry."
"What about your brother?"
"Assuming he survives?" Ginny asked in the cold tone that she'd taken to using when her family came up in conversation. "I think they were attracted to each other by default. Anyway, if they're asleep then there's nothing else we can do tonight. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Mal – I mean, Draco." He smiled.
"Goodnight, Ginny."
They separated to head to their respective bedrooms, but Ginny turned as she was about to close the door.
"Draco?"
"Yes?"
"You know everything she just told him was rubbish – all that stuff about no one accepting a Death eater?"
"Yes?"
"You know that applies to you as well, don't you?"
"Good night, Ginny."
Ginny wriggled into her new pyjamas, purchased courtesy of Draco – no one outside their hideout was surprised to find him showering Katie with new belongings and, if she'd ended up with enough clothes to dress four women instead of one, what did it matter? She was about to climb into bed when she stopped, haunted by the look in Draco's eyes as he wished her goodnight. She left the bedroom again and silently, bare feet sinking into the thick carpet, made her way along the corridor to Draco's room.
Here she froze, unsure, and finally decided against knocking, opening the door and slipping in before she could change her mind. Draco appeared from the balcony looking confused at the sound of the door closing, and frowned.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. Ginny shrugged.
"I wanted some company," she replied. "You looked like you might too." Draco considered this for a long minute, and then moved to sit on his bed.
"Come on, then," he offered, pulling back the covers. "It's not exactly warm in here."
Lying in the big bed, face to face, Ginny was surprised when a wry smile suddenly appeared on Draco's face.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"What your brothers would say if they saw you," he replied instantly. "The perfect Weasley girl, lying in bed with the Death Eater who tried to kill Dumbledore."
"I don't really care what they've got to say," she said. "They're not here, are they? And you're more than that, Draco. Even just this week I can see that you're more than that. That… idiot who made that plan, who tried to do that… he's not who you are now. He wouldn't have done the things you've done – the things you're planning to do tomorrow." She turn over and wriggled backwards until she was pressed against him. Draco wrapped his arms around her.
"Tomorrow might be a disaster," he said, almost too quietly to hear. Ginny shook her head.
"It won't be," she said firmly. "Trust me. And on the off-chance that it is – we'll have tried. At least we'll have tried."