Heartless

by ReWritten-string-of-stories

{fourth of the Magically Arranged Marriage series} Battle-worn, Hannah Abbott and Theodore Nott find themselves without much to live for at the close of the War. But dark secrets tie the two weary hearts together and the truth will always out.

3. Chapter 3

When did you unfold, slowly turn cold, and finalize your soul?
I carried you down to the ground…well, mercy.

|… T …|

Saturday meant another day that I needed to go into the office. The bulk of the legwork for the Moorehouse account was complete – I needed to get going on another account, which inquired more investigating than either law-search or finance-managing. Investigating was much more my niche than Zabini's and I spent my time in and out of various locales in London to fish for her information. Summer meant grey skies and grey skies meant rain, which any Englishman and woman should be used to. By the time I returned home around seven that evening, it was edging into yet another summer storm. This time I didn't fumble with the keys thanks to the violent lightning that lit my way. I got dried right away in the entryway and started towards the stairs.

She came around the corner.

"Oh-"

"You're here," I said startled.

"I didn't end up at the office today," she said with a little shrug. "You…you did?"

"About ten hours, we have a new account that I needed to do some research on."

"Sounds like an early day," she said. "I don't know many people who get up early on the weekends."

My jaw may or may not have slowly unhinged.

…uh…?

Had she just teased me? Was that tease, as in 'I feel comfortable enough around you to poke fun at you, completely forgetting the type of person you are' type of teasing? I didn't recover quickly enough and she turned back to the kitchen. And then all that attraction from last week returned to slap me across the face.

It was the slight curve of her hips, and the definite curve of her breasts, and her hair (which I objectively realized I rather had a thing for) and I didn't mean to follow her to the kitchen but…why not? The kitchen was as good a place as ever to try and control my eyes. Those jeans fit her very nicely. Merlin, was this the bond or was this me? Did it matter? I think that I would have taken a second and third look. At her face, I mean, her face. I was tripping over myself in my own head. Thankfully, Abbott didn't look surprised that I'd followed her in but she did look shy.

"What?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You look like you have something on your mind," I said quickly. "I just- that's all."

I wasn't making sense, obviously.

"Oh, no, no, it's just that-"

"-yes?"

She gestured towards the stove and I angled my head to see past her. She had-

"I made dinner." The unspoken "enough for you too" stunned me into immobility yet again. "After meeting up with Luna Lovegood. And…I'm sorry that you've been making everything so far."

As soon as the words left her mouth, something flashed across her face.

"Oh, no, no," I tripped over my words to assure her that I wanted to make anything as long as she would eat it, "cooking for two is easier. And besides, I enjoy it."

I sort of stumbled my way over to the nearest stool and watched her bring over a plate.

If I was the sort of bloke who pinched myself when unbelievable things happened to me, I would have immediately covered my arm in black and blue bruises. Because this was surreal, something straight out of my wildest hopes. I believe I just stared at the plate for a long time.

"I promise you that I'm a decent cook." I broke out of my reverie. She offered me a very small but very real smile from where she stood, hip to counter. "Water, juice, or wine?"

We had wine? Had she bought it herself before this week or just today?

"Water would be great, thank you," I said. "And I'm just a little slow, I'm sorry."

I took a bite.

"Oh, wow, that-" I took another bite and she arched her eyebrows, "really good, like good."

"I'm not incompetent in the kitchen," she said with another devastatingly genuine smile. "And there was enough left over so…"

"Thank you, it's really good," I repeated, trying to take in her pretty face and the food at the same time. I ended up devoting all my attention to those two monumental tasks while she pulled a heretofore unnoticed report towards her.

I wasn't kidding – the food was really quite delicious. And I wasn't kidding about the attraction either – now that I got a chance to look at her hair down, I could see that it definitely didn't curl towards the ends but there was this bump or wave to it which was endearing without trying. I'd noticed it sort of absent-mindedly but she was really fit now that she was healthy. The plumpness I'd suspected was the natural state of her cheeks had most certainly returned, and she'd put on whatever she'd lost during the first week and half after the Marriage Law came out.

I kept staring, knowing that I was staring, but remembering how warm she'd been last night.

It was dizzying.

"There's a little bit left if you want more," she sort of muttered without looking up, "and-"

The kitchen was plunged into darkness.

"Did the-" she started.

Of course, the electricity was gone.

"Merlin," I sighed, "I think it did."

She laughed. It was the first time I'd ever heard her laugh; it wasn't like her laugh tinkled or was magically pretty or anything but it was full and so genuine that I joined in. I could barely make out her face between the slowing flashes of lightning.

"I don't suppose we have any candles, do we?" she asked when she stopped.

We didn't.

"Uh-"

"And that is a definite no." She sighed, but it was edged with laughed, when she stood up. "Come on, I think I'm sure I have some in my boxes, somewhere."

I followed her without any sort of (it was becoming obvious to me that she could lead me anywhere and I wouldn't question her too much) and we blundered up the stairs in complete darkness. It might or might not have taken us a whole ten minutes to get up to the fourth floor. We were almost almost to her room when she tripped ahead of me and everything slowed all the way down and I somehow was close enough to bungle the fall so that I redirected her fall into the hallway's wall.

Which brought her body fully flushed against mine.

"Thank…"

Aye, I could understand why she wasn't up to finishing her words. In the dark, her breath against my collarbone was doing the most. I watched my hand, understanding in a distant sort of way, that was in fact my hand and it was in fact reaching for her cheek. And then she was staring and I was staring back and I didn't know what I was going to do until half a second before I did it.

Her mouth was warm, and dry, and I couldn't believe I was even kissing her, but who was I kidding – how could I not kiss her? – it was slow and tentative and she was frozen. I pulled back slowly and looked at her, fully intending to apologize and get away and submit myself to whatever punishment she wanted to impose.

She was staring.

Her eyes were luminous in the dark.

She shifted and it instantly brought me to awareness of just how warm the rest of her was. Like a Muggle space heater, really, just all this…heat. And I was drugged with it, dropping my head to taste her lips again, fingers cradling her neck, kissing her like I knew that parting our lips meant I might never have her again. And this time when she shifted, it was forward, and wayward and down and-

Yes.

|… H …|

I was swamped. It was like he was broadcasting his thoughts and feelings and I was overcome by everything about his lips and his rough hands and the silk of the shirt beneath my fingers. It was like everything about this surreal evening had led up to him catching me from my almost fall, then pinning me to the wall and kissing me like he was the first. Good God, I was swamped. I wanted him. I really wanted him. As in I wanted him and I wanted this and I was caught up in the broadcasting and pulling his dress shirt out of his trousers and I wanted him and the world sped up.

His lips were fire. No, literally, I was hot or heated or in heat and his lips made it impossible for me to retain any sense of myself. I just fell into his mouth and the push and the pull and the way his fingers dug into my hair and angled my head back so that he could breathe against my skin and the lightning in the background-

-his hands on my neck-

-and now it was all naked skin under my nails and my palms and when he shivered (I shivered too) I scraped my nails over his skin again just to feel him moan into my mouth, and I wanted it wanted it wanted it until the want blotted out everything else. We stumbled into the room across from mine and he slammed the door with his hip, then pinned me against it. Cold against my back and warmth in the front and his mouth on my neck was everything I'd been praying for, and he sucked the skin so hard that I was certain I might die from the sensory load, but then his hands were skimming waist and reaching for my jeans and holy shit that was me, he was touching me.

"Oh," I gasped-

-and he swallowed that in a messy open-mouthed kiss that nearly had me losing my mind before his fingers parted me completely. And then he was finger fucking me, fast, hard, stealing all my air with more wet mouth on mouth action that definitely had me weak against the bedroom door. His free hand made quick work of my shirt off, slipping my bra down, lips moving to my jaw and down the column of my neck, down to collarbone, and another suck and fuck I couldn't think, I wasn't thinking, no thinking just none, and like the one time I rode a rollercoaster I was climbing to some unforeseen height. He changed the angle of the fucking, and suddenly I was climbing a little quicker, and my hands scrabbled at his belt – practically ripping them off – and he wasn't in any position to help so I unzipped and reached in and he was velvet in my hands. He was velvet in my hands, warm and hard and the sound he made was exactly what I needed to hear more of so I stroked him, enthusiasm taking over where inexperience tread, and yes that sound. But he switched the game again, his fingers curling just so and stretching me so that I felt so awfully full and wet and needy and there was nothing else in the world that existed besides his fingers and this fire and the way he scraped his teeth against my pulse and if I could crawl on both hands and knees towards whatever this was but the there was nothing-

-he stroked me right through it, I shuddered, moaned, shuddered, lost it and he held it together, and that didn't even take the edge off of whatever hunger we were fully in the throes of. He backed up and that heat was getting away from me and I followed, he kicked off his trousers without a thought, and hell, if he wasn't better than I'd thought he'd be, but he was done with me watching or maybe done with me not on him because he dragged me all the way in. Just hefted me up and I was back to back with another wall while he leaned back and did away with the bra just to cup my breasts in his hands and lick a path up my cleavage and oh my-

"Jesus," I said, or maybe I tried to, I don't know, just his hands letting me down to the floor. He hit the floor soon after, on his knees, and dragged his teeth against my the bones of hips and I don't why that was so hot but I shuddered so violently that his hands came up to grip my waist as he nuzzled the panties right off of me. Then ohmygodohmygodohmygod tongue, wetness, fuck this kind of heat was unnatural because no one could feel this and not live and die in the space of a breath but I couldn't think past it and shit he slid his hands up the backs of my shaking thighs and all his hot breath-

– gone, gone, gone, just gone –

"Please, please just-" I have no idea what I need or what I want or what I'm begging for but he does and he takes me in stride, back up into his arms I go, and then there's a bed underneath me and his hands are slowly – so slowly – rubbing my sides and his lips are gentle on mine and it's not even what I wanted but maybe I don't know myself. The heat which was more of a violently naked electric spark has changed, changed, a slow burn that includes the rasp of his beard on my stomach as he slowly kisses his way, attention paid to the undersides of my breasts and my nipples and his fingernails scraping up my arms and shit no I can't-

"Please, please, I can't- oh my God – just please-"

And he makes this sound like he's on board with everything, like I've summed up everything with my begging, and everything I summed up is exactly everything he wants too, just completely on board with all of it, and he can't wait either and then he's gloriously close, close, close, in, in, fuck fuck I can't breathe past how different fingers are from the real thing, but his eyes are open and soft and the way he looks at me is the entire world gift wrapped, just everything I could ask for. He kisses me and this time it's the slow simmer, not the rush, but just as messy, just as audible, and I can't breathe because he's stretching me open, wider than I've ever been, and he's slow slow slow and maybe I make a sound because he murmurs something I can't really make out (and I want to hear it, I want to hear him, I wish I can hear him) but he's not so slow anymore. My mouth is moving but there are no words that I can hear, and his fingers tangle in my hair and tug it back in a way that means my body is a curve, a curve, but my mouth is still moving, and maybe he can hear me through the lightning and the rain, and the way his body is breaking me apart and remolding me in his image and-

-oh God, oh God, oh G-

The build, the crescendo is building again, slower this time, like it wants to match the changing energy between our bodies, and I can't seem to move as fast as I want to, I can only whimper and hold on to him, accepting the kisses he presses into my eyes, my jaw, my cheeks, the edges of my mouth, my blood is humming beneath my skin. The sweat is like a secret accomplice, instead of making things slicker and adding to friction, does the exact opposite, chests sticking not sliding, and I want to move, I do, but he's changed the energy and I can't do anything but get caught in his flow, his thrusts slow and deep, tiny earthquakes centered where we're joined, fuck, clutching his shoulders and trying to breathe but every breath is less air and more heat-

"Please-"

-and between the press of his chest, the beat of his loud heart, and a whisper that sounds like my name, I splinter apart.

|… | …|

I came awake instantly, eyes snapping open, and instantly wished to be anywhere else in the world. Like, physically, anywhere else in the world. Because oh my God, last night had really happened.

Last night had happened.

Where was my hatred?

There was a last night…and it happened…and when I opened my eyes, it was to his collarbone. I was in his arms yet again, completely naked, skin to skin. We couldn't have been closer if we had fallen asleep hugging. Honestly, that was how close we were. And if I had worried this past week about his comforting me after a nightmare, that was miniscule on the scale of one to what the fuck have I done that I was experiencing this morning. I could feel myself start to panic and did my damndest to ignore my pounding heart in favor of trying to figure out what to do. First things first, I opened my eyes again.

Oh my God, how did this even happen-

I shoved the panic back a second time, and began to slide my arms down his body – his body, that was his body, good God – and did my best to ignore whose body I was skimming right now and that it felt slightly cold. He didn't even move, breathing slow and even, and I was so grateful to the world for trying to help me out at this moment. The trickiest part was getting my arm from underneath him but once that was accomplished, I shimmied out of bed.

Where was my hatred?

It felt too strange to leave the room undressed so I yanked my panties on, shoved my shirt over my head then went looking for my jeans and belt as quietly and quickly as possible. The whole time, my mind veered from the very real fact that I had crossed a line that should never have been crossed at all. I nearly tripped over his belt (realized that I was blushing because that belt was a representation of everything I'd done) then made my way to the door like I was a spy. I eased the door open and when I looked back, his face was relaxed and his hair even messier than usual but he breathed slowly. There was something so…

…heart-wrenching…

…I looked away.

I eased the door behind me and felt like I could breathe a little bit better.

I couldn't stay here.

Where was my righteous rage?

I crossed the hallway into my room and got a Muggle duffle bag together and started to pack enough work clothes, cloaks, shoes, boots and makeup to last me a week. All the reports went in, the keys to the house, my journal, makeup. There was no way I was going to be able to face him and I had to go…

Shit-

…today was Sunday.

Mum….Alfie…oh God.

Oh God.

I couldn't be here for another minute.

|… T …|

Hannah Abbott was not in bed.

I didn't really know what to think. Last night seemed surreal, like a memory and not a reality, hazy around the edges and more brightly colored than the day-to-day experience. I remembered everything in perfect detail – the slope of her shoulders curved downwards, the thickness of her ankles, the column of her arched neck, the way her arms wrapped around my shoulders, the taste of her in the back of my throat. I didn't know how to compute…rather, I really just couldn't make that night mesh with what had happened before it but I sure as hell could make it mesh with her pointed absence in the present.

I am not the kind of person to let something so monumental go by without comment. Yes, I'd wanted to kiss her but I hadn't clearly intended to be with her, be with her. I wasn't Malfoy or Zabini. I'd never…never taken anything that far. She was my first. It wasn't premeditated or anything like that – there was no way I could have planned everything nor would I have ever overstepped my bounds purposefully and hurt whatever fragile thing was growing between us. Not that that mattered at this juncture. Blast it all, what I mean is that I wasn't the kind of person to make love and then let it go.

I don't know how I could call it anything but love.

I don't know how other people fell into love. Maybe it was different when you didn't have a Ministry telling you that they'd found your soul mate, or maybe you weren't enamored by her at first sight, and maybe you weren't scared because she definitely hated you already and with good reason, and maybe you felt like she deserved better. But I was pretty sure that my heart was more than halfway to not being mine.

Even as it had been happening, there had been some part of me that was cognizant that this was precious and unprecedented. She was precious and unprecedented.

She was also very very gone.

How could I be so certain? Something told me she wasn't usually the kind of person to run from her problems. But there was stuff missing from her room and the bed was cold. I just knew she was gone.

So what could I do now?

Wait.

… | …

Two days later, I was a little outside of my mind. She wasn't just gone, she'd left.

When I'd found out she was my betrothed, I hadn't asked Zabini to look too closely into anything that didn't have to do with her family's death. I wanted to respect her privacy, respect her right to tell me as little or as much as she wanted about her own life. It wouldn't have been right for me to do that myself. Day three arrived and I came really close to breaking that rule. I'd thought about sending owling her, or maybe owling Cho Chang, but then had come to the conclusion that if she was going to run, she would have run to Chang. Or would she?

Was there some other mate that she was just as close to?

I knew that she got along with Luna Lovegood, also, since Malfoy seemed to be getting close to that whole group…which automatically meant that we would be too. She'd even been invited to the Potter-Longbottom birthday celebration so perhaps she had a wider network than I could have ever expected.

Or perhaps not.

Obviously, I was not an expert on the life and times of Hannah Abbott. Our interactions had never yielded a wealth of information about her habits. But I was very good at finding things out…damn it, I wanted to honor the promise I'd made to myself. I'd only recently embarked on this path to being honorable.

I paced the length of my office again, and again, and again.

Should I break my rule? Shouldn't I break my rule? What harm could it bring? But wasn't self-justification the beginning of the end? Didn't that-

"Theodore." I halted in my tracks and looked at the door. "When is the last round of interviews? Mate…are you pacing? What's going on?"

"Can you block out around 3pm to 5pm Friday?"

He nodded.

"What's going on?"

"Marriage Law stuff," I said shortly. "And, of course, a side investigation project."

He looked like he wanted to ask a little about it but I waved him aside.

"Let's have a drink later, aye? Then you can explain to me what's happening with Parkinson that has you almost as upset as I," I said with a wry smile.

"I still can't believe that it's taken us almost two months to get a proper secretary in here," Zabini said switching tack.

"Be grateful the process is ending."

"If you weren't so choosy…"

I gave him a look that told him what he could do with his opinion, and he laughed.

"Out of here by 5:30pm, partner." His voice moved down the hallway but I could still hear him clearly. "And stop pacing, I can hear you clear across the building!"

I stopped pacing but she was never far from my mind.

The new investigation I needed to do? Ronald Weasley. We got along well enough but weren't close…which is probably why he'd asked. It was about Padma Patil, he wanted a detailed investigation about her life over the last twelve months. I'd put on my professional hat when he'd asked, and promised it would be off the books since he'd seemed so torn. God only knew what he was looking for or what he would do when he found it. My job was to gather as much of the facts as possible then offer him a report.

Padma Patil was one of the easier people to investigate. She was twin to Witch Weekly's most popular column writer, one of the witches advocating for an expansion in magazine content in the magical world, and had pioneered the creation of arguably the most popular one yet Mode. She was witty, funny, intelligent, and involved – a social butterfly in every sense of the word…and social butterflies were always much easier to investigate.

Still, as engaging as she was on paper, I couldn't put Hannah from my mind.

I wanted to know how she had felt when she'd woken up that morning. Scared? Confused? Surprised? Disgusted? The first three I could deal with but the last one would leave me gutted. I couldn't (wouldn't) be able to bear it, if she'd regretted what had happened between us. Two months, two bloody months, and fuck, I really did think I was in love with her.

Alright, so I didn't really have time to deal with the connotations of that.

What I needed to do was send an Owl as soon as I got home-

-how can I be in love with her-

-and concentrate on putting together this report so it would be ready to be sent off tomorrow. And then make sure that all our interviewees had responded.

That's what I'd do.

|… H …|

Aside from the obvious, this summer was all about change. I'd become closer to Luna Lovegood. Cho had struck up a friendship with Parkinson, which I hadn't truly understood but wouldn't stand in the way of. Parkinson had never taken the Dark Mark, had a snarky sense of dark humor that I could definitely appreciate, and was rather wild in her ways. She was fully entrenched in my life and I was better for it. The three days away from Theodore Nott (yes, I could refer to him by name) I used to meet up and strengthen these weird new relationships. I saw a lot of Longbottom, without Cho, and got a good look at their relationship from the perspective of a third-party insider.

Their dynamic was…odd. Awful, actually. Cho was hard and Neville endured. The more he endured, the harder Cho became. But she liked him and that was the baffling thing. A month ago at his and Harry's birthday party, she'd been honest and true. Now, she was back to being cruel.

Cho wasn't really a cruel person – heavens, in school she'd been hands-down the nicest of the most popular girls at Hogwarts. Yes, the War had turned her a bit cold but hadn't it done the same for everyone? No, her cruelty was different. It was like…like…she couldn't help herself when she was around him. Like something was literally spurning her to increasingly greater heights of surliness. And he didn't deserve it…at all.

The drama that played out at her apartment was almost enough to distract me (and her) from why I was there in the first place.

"What happened with him?'

I looked up at her from where I was lounging on the sofa chair. It wasn't in me to pretend innocence.

"I just needed space."

"I don't think that's true," she shot back. "Space is a hen night that includes nail polish and flame moscatto. Space is a few hours spent eating our way through all the dishes at Enchanted Eats. Space is lazing around doing nothing with your best mates or people-watching at the park. This?"

Her face was hard, pointed.

"This…is a little bit more than space, Han."

Pansy looked up from her magazine.

"I thought you were going to be subtle about this, Cho."

"Pansy," Cho frowned. "Really?"

"Cho," I frowned even harder. "What is this even about?"

Pansy put her magazine down and nudged my legs off the chair.

"An…intervention," she said with a faint look of derision. "At least, that's what it looks like from here."

"Intervention?"

"A discussion, ignore Parkinson."

"Because I decided I didn't want to be around him?"

"You're never around him, Hannah." Cho looked mildly exasperated. "You're either with me, or with Luna, or me and Pansy. Or you're at work."

I looked at Parkinson, who literally put her hands in the air as if she was a neutral third party, and then opened her mouth to completely blow that neutral theory out of the water.

"She's right. And while I've only just gotten to know you this summer, Abbot, I understand how you work. I'll even go out on a very non-Slytherin limb here and say that you and Cho are the closest things I've ever had to female friends." She made a disgusted face as she said that, sweeping her straight bangs back in an irritated movement. "Merlin, forget I said that. My point is that you have made it a point not to be alone very often with him, at least not in a meaningful way."

"I-"

"Which is strange considering how attractive he is at most angles."

Now it was my turn to make a face at Parkinson.

"You being one of my closest friends means that I'm not going to pursue that last thought," I muttered. "Anyway, I wanted space. Space. You know, not to be in the same space as him."

"For three days?"

"What is this, an interrogation?"

"Intervention," Pansy interjected cheerily, "already told you this."

"Hannah, whatever is going on with you two, you need to face it. It's been two months since the Law went into effect," Cho said with concern, "two months. You don't think I remember what you were like in school? Happy-go-lucky, airy, a flutterer…and now you're this serious grown-up who never really smiles when she's not with people she trusts."

My jaw dropped.

"Cho, what-"

"I'm not saying this to…to hurt you, or belittle you, or anything like that," she interrupted. "I'm saying that life happens and people change. You changed, and I love you no matter who you are. This thing between you and him is about what he is. But maybe he's not what you think he is."

"I-"

"Well, isn't it?" interrupted Pansy. "My family…was never outright aligned with He Who Shall Not Be Named but his was."

His wasn't just aligned. His was directly responsible for Alfie's death. His father was as guilty as guilty could be, and I'd had the testimonies of dying Death Eaters to confirm it. I dragged in a ragged breath as my brother's face swam before my eyes – I had loved him so much, so damned much, that every time he went out on a mission I'd been a nervous wreck until he came back. Mum had said that I was attached to his hip whenever he came home from Hogwarts, which was entirely true. His stories, I took as truth. His words were pretty much law for me.

The last time I'd seen Alfie, he'd been worried.

I couldn't get his distracted frown off his face, the whole night before the mission. I'd stayed up, charmed his roommate at the Order headquarters into leaving so that I could stay up with him. I'd fallen asleep for maybe four hours before I'd woken up to him looking exhausted. He'd never gone to sleep.

When it had been time to leave with his team, he'd managed a smile and hugged me close.

"Be good, sis."

Those were his last words.

Be good.

And I…I just couldn't.

I couldn't. I couldn't at all.

The night I'd found out had been the singular most horrible night of my life. There was nothing that I could have done, I understood that. Everyone was fighting, people were dying, lives were being lost, the battle for good and evil wasn't without casualty. But that still didn't mean that I was any more prepared for that news than anyone else. I don't really…remember…

…what happened in the weeks after it.

I emerged from that experience a different person.

I couldn't 'be good'…not anymore.

As Cho will apparently attest to.

"Yes," I said softly. "You're right, of course."

"By no means am I belittling anyone's loss, you know that," Cho continued softly, "and what the Death Eaters did was horrible. They took people from us, they stood for someone who was alright with death and destruction. And his father was a part of that…but was he?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said on the edge of a gasp.

"You need to talk about." Parkinson touched my ankle. "It's the rest of your life that's at risk here. And your happiness."

"I don't want to be happy with him," I shot back, suddenly furious, "and I don't understand why my relationship is suddenly under examination here."

"Because you need to face that whatever it is you think about him stems out of a preconceived notion that he is guilty."

I think all the blood left my face.

"When your brother and mother are murdered by Death Eaters," I hissed, "by all means, feel free to speak to me about who I should and shouldn't forgive. And since you don't want me here-"

"Merlin, you Hufflepuffs are touchy," Pansy interjected. "Hannah, look, we care about you. Cho is your best mate and I'm rather certain that through some freak accident I'm right up there with her. And something big – alright, bigger than usual – happened between you and him that brought you here. We can't figure if that's a good thing or a bad thing but the way you're acting right now, it's something altogether different."

Cho and I both gaped at Pansy, who reached for a handful of peanuts in a plate on the coffee table.

"Right," Cho said after a moment, "what she said."

I sighed.

"He kissed me." They both froze, looked at me. "To be completely honest, he kissed me and I kissed back."

"And there you have it, Cho!" She stuffed her face with those peanuts and touched my ankle in a way that I think was supposed to be comforting. "Neither good nor bad, but something altogether different."

"Do you like him?" Cho asked.

"I don't even know him!"

"But do you like him?"

Did I like Theodore Nott?

"No."

They both shared a very obvious and very rude look of disbelief before looking at me in unison.

"Why did you kiss him back, Hannah?"

Because I wanted to.

"Well-"

Because I had to.

I closed my mouth.

Because everything in me said this was what was right.

I didn't have any words to explain what I felt.

"Well, I got caught up."

"Caught up in what, exactly?" asked Pansy slyly. "Emotions or lust? Or both?"

"L-lust, obviously."

"Not so obviously. If it had been lust, you would have swallowed it and stuck it out in the house. You're not a runner, Hannah, you're a fighter." I really really wanted to glare at Pansy. Why were we friends again? "Which means you had feelings about this kiss and these feelings were strong enough to drive you from the house."

I also wasn't a liar so…

"I didn't…Alright, I didn't just kiss him."

I made it a point to stare at the wall. A blind and deaf woman would have still felt the complete and utter stillness in the room.

"Hannah."

I really didn't want to look at Cho. She said my name three more times. I sighed and looked at her, then jumped when Pansy pinched my arm.

"Yes, I know," I huffed. "Terrible complication. I just…it was like a dream…or a compulsion, sort of. I knew in an abstract way what was happening and with whom but it didn't…it just didn't matter. And I don't know why. "

"Hannah," said Pansy, "do you like him?"

I shook my head. Her face went thoughtful.

"Do you love him?"

I froze.

"No, no," I said. "No, I don't."

"I'm not saying that you should or that you do," Pansy said with the same thoughtful look. "I'm not sold on the Ministry and their stupid guide to how to be in a relationship. What I'm saying is that it takes time – it could take two days or two years but you should be open to it. You don't have to love him. I'm saying that you…you could."

|… T …|

Zabini ended up completely drunk.

I never drank to excess – wasn't even much of a fan of drinking, really – and that was a blessing since I'd had to take the poor lout home. Parkinson was off again on some other reporting adventure and he was trying to figure out why that affected him so much. He was trying to figure it out at the bottom of his cups, though, and so…

Completely drunk.

He was in no condition to even try to Apparate and my home was the closest. I supported him by the shoulders while we waited patiently for the cabbie to arrive.

"Nott," he slurred affectionately, "you know 'ow much you mean t' me?"

I tried very hard not to smile.

"I do, Zabini," I said soothingly.

"Good." His face crinkled into a pleased look and I finally did smile. "Because y'r my family. And M-Malfoy is family. You and Malfoy are my best best mates. The best! And Crabbe and Goyle'r g'ud friends. More family…than I'd e'r thought to 'ave."

He lurched sideways suddenly and we both nearly went toppling.

"Merlin, Zabini!" I dragged us over to a street lamp. "Yes, you're my family too."

He smiled blearily before settling against the lamp-post. I internally rejoiced when the cabbie got there a few minutes later. I half lifted half dragged the somewhat conscious Zabini into the backseat and gave the driver my address. Zabini propped his head unto the window pane and looked at me.

"Whe' we goin'?"

"My house."

"Why?"

"Because your manor is too far."

"S'not that far," he said on the edge of a sigh. "Defin'ly closer than Nott Manor."

"We're not going to the Manor," I said patiently, "we're going to my house."

His eyes closed for about a minute before he worked up enough energy or what have you to respond.

"Wiv' you and Abbott?"

"Yes, with us."

"But…she's not there?" Astute observational skills, even as a drunk. "Mm, 's not lonely?"

A pang in the chest region and I blinked at my best friend.

"Not too lonely," I said lightly. "And you're coming over tonight, anyway."

"That's true," he murmured. His smile was so bright that it was childlike. "Never alone with me."

"That's right, Zabini," I said on a sigh. "I'll never be alone."

The next morning was hell for Zabini. Our fireplace wasn't connected to the Floo Network, being a Muggle house in a Muggle neighborhood. We also had a strict no-magic rule because even a tiny bit of magic could completely fuck with everything run by electricity in this house. That bit of wandless magic the night of Hannah's nightmare? I had to replace all the clocks on the fourth and third floor. That meant that after forcing him to eat a little bit of breakfast, I bundled a miserable Zabini into a taxi-cab and sent him on his way.

It meant that I had the place to myself, the exact opposite of what I wanted. I spent an hour reviewing what I'd found of Padma Patil but couldn't focus enough to compile it into scrolls that would make sense to Weasley.

I sighed.

Might as well head off to Max's for the day again.

"Theodore," said his fiancée Marla. "Here again, little brother?"

"You know I come to watch you cook," I smiled and accepted a kiss on the cheek. "And to talk to my niece."

Her brown hair was messy around her face, like she'd been sweating. Max came down the stairs with barely veiled curiosity and color in his cheeks. When they glanced at each other, I put two and two together. I couldn't even feel bad about it – wasn't it a brother's prerogative to interrupt his happily married sibling in the middle of the morning? Regardless of what I interrupted?

"Brother," I smirked, "I see you are up and awake at this hour."

He cut me a look that was half disgruntled, half amused.

"And you look like you could use a bit of a lay down," he responded. "Well, your bedroom is made up."

Honestly, his compliments were overwhelming. I frowned and Marla laughed.

"On my way up."

"One of the house-elves will wake you up for lunch, don't worry," Marla interjected. "Get some rest, Theodore."

Before I went to bed, I wrote the note.

Hannah,
(I would just like to know that you're alright)
(Please let me know where you are)
(I don't know what to do to make this right)
(Please come home)
I'll be gone Monday and Tuesday, just to let you know.

|… | …|

The next day was spent being lazy with my family. I'm certain my brother was curious but Max didn't bring it up. He might have always been much more comfortable with talking openly about feelings than I, but he was also my brother and knew the best. I appreciated the fact that he usually let me come to him in my own time. Not that I had any intention about talking to him about this. Ever.

I went to work the next morning to a completely recovered Zabini who told me to Plunko Malfoy at my earliest convenience. We all each had a pair of twin sheets, and mine were here at the office.

Drake.

My mother is throwing a ball of sorts to officially signal Hermione's acceptance by her at the end of this month. Well, it's my mother's idea but Hermione's orchestrating it.

Well, shit. When had that happened?

Congratulations, mate. Is she doing something special?

Etiquette lessons.

I bet she's enjoying those.

Hahahaha, indeed. Keep an eye out for an official invite; Mother will be upset if you don't come.

Tell her I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Come for lunch today, before I'm buried in practices for the Falcons.

As if I'd ever say no to a meal cooked by the Malfoy house-elves. They were almost as good as my own!

Yes and yes, mate. We'll be over there by one at the latest. New secretary, training.

The response was disgustingly fast.

Training? Dirty. Is she cute?

I'm telling Granger, mate.

Kidding! See you at one.

Our new secretary was thirty year-old Marco Blue, an Italian patriot who had a memory that was incredible. Training wasn't as strenuous as I'd made it out to be to Malfoy. We were confident that he was trustworthy and understood the importance of client confidentiality. He also understood that the business had the potential to grow, and that we didn't expect him to be a secretary forever when advancement was possible. It kept me busy while Zabini met with a potential client, and we went through all the current files and showed him how we did paperwork. He was catching on without me repeating myself.

I let Marco know that he could come back tomorrow morning to report for work, and that pay time was going to be every week as requested. When he waved his way out, Zabini and I Floo'd over to Malfoy Manor for lunch.

I honestly enjoyed his mother. She went out of her to treat me like a second son, and I often suspected that it was because she'd known and liked my mother before she died. Mrs. Malfoy was pretty close to what I thought of as a mum, and it was rather obvious that she would baby Malfoy if she could. Instead of feeling envious, it actually was rather fun to watch Malfoy bask in his mum's love. That love was also obviously extended to Granger, who came in towards the end

Lunch was so good that Zabini and I were loath to leave. But leave we did to a full afternoon schedule of me taking over client meetings while my partner caught up on financial problems with two of our accounts. Around four, I left to see what I could find out about Padma Patil from people who knew her sister. Indirect inquiries were usually the best. By the time I came back, Zabini was gone with a note letting me something had come up, not to worry, and that he'd closed shop early.

Which made me suspicious but alright.

The cab back was quiet. It sank in that I hadn't seen Hannah in days. She'd left, without word, and what that silence might signify really didn't make me feel good. I would never regret what had happened, never, but I don't think it happened at the right time, obviously, and I should have backed off as soon as she hit the wall. I should never have pushed it so far, should never have let it get that out of hand. I could be small and blame the bond – and it's not that I didn't recognize that the bond amplified everything to a greater degree – but I wasn't an animal acting on instinct. I should have controlled myself.

Yet another blame to carry.

What if there had been no bond? To be perfectly honest, I didn't know anything about her. Maybe she had been starting to open up but it was a long way from the sort of relationship that leads to physical intimacy. And while my heart might have decided to jump into the fray, I didn't…shit, I didn't want that complication. I wouldn't deny that it had happened but I sure as hell didn't have to be happy about it.

"Aw, hell," I muttered, palming my face as I went up the front step.

And wasn't it odd that I wasn't feeling ill? I suspected that that was because my heart had decided to get involved. On my end, there already was a so-called emotional bond. So, of course, no sickness. That was a confirmation I really didn't need.

The house was empty. Just like I'd expected. Just as I'd feared.

|… H …|

The thing about friends is that good ones tell you the things that you really don't want to hear, but probably need to. While Pansy had an awful habit of teasing someone when they were down, she also had quit being mean about it. And Cho was persistent enough to not let me forget the conversation we'd had.

They were right.

I wasn't in the habit of running away, at least not since Aflie's death.

And I had to address this.

I heard him come in, huddled under my blankets in the dark. I tried really hard to swallow the ball of feelings that I couldn't really examine and figure out what I wanted to say. His father, his horrible horrible father – just the memory of him made that familiar bubble of hatred and fury rise like bile in my throat. But Theodore himself was so…

…was I wrong?

Was I wrong?

Was I punishing him for something that he wasn't responsible for?

Is that what I was doing? And if I was, how could I make up for it? Jesus, this was like a complete reversal of everything I'd felt before this.

Not everything.

Sure, not everything. Because obviously I wouldn't have slept with him if there wasn't some level of desire there. And stupid Pansy and her stupid observations about his looks were actually spot-on. And since it was time for me to come clean with myself, even before I came clean with him, I had been fighting against an inner need to not be cruel. While seeing him had literally brought out the worst in me, even at my worst I knew that it wasn't like me to be so cruel.

It scared me that there was such a depth of…terrible feeling in me, that I was capable of the kind of emotion that led to vendettas.

That wasn't who I was, was it? I wasn't that kind of person, was I? Was this a reflection of who I was? And if it was, was this who I wanted to be?

I didn't want to be the kind of person who carried around hatred so heavy that it made me tired. Literally. And I didn't want to be this girl who ran when she was confronted with something that felt bigger than her. I didn't want this to be so complicated – why was everything so complicated? I didn't want to feel so horrible about him, feel like I was betraying my family by giving him a chance. I wanted to feel like Alfie would have been alright with whomever I chose, that he would have been kinder than me, wiser than me, quicker to separate him from his father. I wanted-

-Alfie, Mum, people made me happy, people make me happy-

I started to cry.

I wanted to be happy.

Was that so much to ask?

I just wanted to be happy again. I wanted a house with yellow walls, and a room to read books in, and a place that I could come home to where I didn't feel like I had to tiptoe around issues. Could I have that with him? Could I?

- you don't have to love him. I'm saying that you…you could-

I wiped my face, squared my shoulders, and got up just as I heard footsteps down the hall. I beat him to the door before he could knock. He looked completely shocked.

"I heard you coming."

He took in my face, a hand rising up to hover between us before he let it awkwardly drop.

"I…well, I felt something was wrong. But I thought the house was empty…yet I could feel something? Sometimes…rarely…I can…feel…you."

"Do you…uh, do you want to come in?" I stepped back.

The look of shock on his face would be so comical if I wasn't dealing with my own frantic heart. It made me scared and shy and really terribly nervous about being a big girl and dealing with this like an adult. I waited for him to slowly make his way into the room and then gestured towards the bed. And then I immediately turned red.

Oh, God, this wasn't going to be easy.

"Just sit anywhere, I guess."

He sat at the window seat and I breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"So-"

"Alright-"

We stopped, laughed a little awkwardly which surprisingly lightened the mood, and then he gestured for me to continue. I wanted to stay at the door but knew that I should sit. So I sat first and fussed with the comforter. Then I took a deep (really deep) breath and squared my shoulders again.

"So, obviously, we need to have a talk." His face was wary, and that made me a little sad. "Not a terrible talk, a necessary talk. I want you to know that I didn't mean to leave you without word. I want-"

I sighed.

"I don't want to do this." His face went carefully blank and I hurried to backpedal. "I mean I don't want to be fighting…here…with you. But back to our first problem. What…I mean, what did it feel like for you?"

I could tell he knew exactly what I mean when he turned red.

And for some reason, I just started to laugh. It started as a snort – a really unladylike snort – before it slid into a chuckle and then before I knew it, I'd leaned back on my bed and was laughing uncontrollably. Staring at my ceiling and trying to control my laughter got harder when I heard him start to join in over by the window.

"I'm so sorry," I gasped between bouts of laughter, "I didn't…I didn't mean to pose the question that way…but your face!"

His turned into another belly-roll and I gasped for air. After what felt like hours of laughing, I finally felt well enough to speak. And…I felt good.

I stood up, watching his familiar face still crinkled into a genuine smile, and crossed to the window seat to sit beside him. I stuck out my hand on a whim. He looked at, his smile turning curious.

"Can we start over?" I asked. "Hello. My name is Hannah Abbot. We're in the same Year and I was in Hufflepuff."

He took my hand.

"I'm Theodore Nott and I was in Slytherin." We shook hands. "I'm certain that we're meant to be betrothed, and I want to get to know you."

I remembered when he'd said it, and the anger that had filled me before. The anger was nowhere to be seen now. I gave him a small smile, and he smiled back.

"Did you…did you eat dinner yet? We still need to talk and I'd rather do it over food, but only if you want to."

"I would really like that. I can make-"

"I'll make it," I said firmly. "I really…appreciate all the times you cooked, so I'm cooking today."

When we got up, it was…comfortable. It was with an air of warmth that had never been present before. I trooped ahead, telling him that I knew he'd just gotten home so if he wanted to take a bath, he could and I'd get started regardless. He took me up on the offer without a word (but with a faint smile) and I tried to ignore how shy that made me by rushing down stairs. By the time I'd dished out the rice and curry, he was back down and his hair looked wet.

I ignored that ridiculously stubborn lock of hair that liked to curl above his eyes.

"Water? Juice?"

"Water. This is good! Thai?"

"Japanese, actually," I said as I put the water glass in front of him. "Went to a restaurant and had it, asked the waiter what it was called then looked for a recipe on my own."

"Did you cook a lot, before this?"

I sat down, pulled my own dish to me, and nodded.

"I actually like baking more than cooking." He looked surprised. "What, I don't look like I would?"

"Not even sure you look like a cook, to be honest."

That would have sent me into a tizzy before, now I just rolled my eyes while he waited for my reaction. When I did, he seemed to relax infinitesimally.

"I am…sorry, you know." I swirled the ice in my own glass of water. "You…well, I wasn't expecting that to happen at all. And it did, and I don't want you to think that you did anything wrong, I just wasn't expecting it."

He blinked, a lot.

"I shouldn't have kissed you the second time. I should have…should have backed off, and I really wished-"

"I don't regret it," I said firmly. His eyes widened. "I don't regret it; I just wished I'd been expecting it. That's all. You shouldn't feel guilty."

"Was it…was it okay with you?" He ducked his head in a way that was far too endearing for me to comprehend. "The whole night is something of a dream to me – not that it wasn't memorable or anything…that's kind of why it feels like it was a really good dream that didn't happen- okay, I am going to stop talking."

I blushed.

"Mutual."

"What?"

"The feeling about it being a good dream is mutual."

For a long moment, the sound of us eating filled the kitchen.

"What made you decide on opening a business?"

"Zabini has a head for numbers and he's logical. I just wanted…I wanted to maybe see what I could do from a legal angle, just in terms of all the laws that were passed for no reason during the War. A lot of places were lost, money gone, so I suppose I wanted to help from that aspect."

He wanted to…help? I gazed at him for a moment, the fact that I don't really know him hitting home.

"Hannah?"

I blinked.

"Sorry?"

"You appeared to be woolgathering," he said with the hint of a smile. "Does it surprise you when I call your name?"

I blinked again.

"I suppose, yes," I said honestly. "No one really calls me by my first name, outside of Cho and Pansy sometimes."

"Parkinson? Are those two your best mates, then?"

I nodded.

"Pansy is a very recent development, and we're friends through Cho but she is a good…friend. I would never have expected to be friends with her."

He looked like he wanted to say something, then swallowed his words.

"What?" I asked.

"Is it because she's Slytherin? Is that why you didn't think you'd be friends with her?"

I sensed a bigger weight behind this question and met his gaze head on.

"No," I said softly. "It's because she was quite horrid to me in school. But she's grown up. I…um, I'm learning that people change."

"I see."

Did he?

"Anyway, who else are you close to? Obviously Zabini."

"Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle. Closest to Zabini out of all of them, Malfoy second. The other two are rather busy with plans for a double wedding big enough to please both sets of in-laws."

"Wow." I waved him off when he rose to help me clear the dishes. "And who are they marrying?"

"Crabbe is with Eloise Midgen, Goyle with Millie Bullstrode."

Goodness, I hadn't thought of Ellie in ages. I felt slightly guilty about how many people I'd lost touch with after the War. I wondered if she was doing well but supposed that if Vincent Crabbe was in love then she might be in love too. I turned to the sink and washed mechanically; weirdly enough, her situation gave me hope.

"How often do you get to see them?"

"Zabini, about once a week." I laughed a little, as I'm sure was his intention. "No, Zabini every day of almost every week. Malfoy at least once a week, but he'll be busy soon with professional Quidditch. Crabbe & Goyle, every two weeks or so."

I'd heard about that from Luna and wasn't terribly interested outside the fact that he was Nott's mate.

"What do you like to do, when you have time, I mean?"

"I don't really read a lot. I guess I've never really been much of a reader…that's always been Zabini. I spend time with family and friends."

Ah yes…he had an older brother.

"Siblings?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

He nodded.

"Older brother. Matthew Nott, but since I've been little, I've only ever called him Max." Pain slid like a subtle knife into my chest. I'd never called my brother by his first name either. Alfred was his middle name. "He's married…I'm actually going to be an uncle in four months."

I stared.

"Goodness…well, wow, that's…wow. Congratulations? How does that feel?"

He shrugged but he was grinning.

"I'm determined to spoil her." I arched an eyebrow. "Something tells me the baby is a girl. I can't explain it, and I've never been good with premonitions or anything, but I've gotten used to think of her as a girl."

I nodded, failing to push away the thought that I would never be an aunt to my own brother's child. Instead of hatred, sadness started in. I'd made a good enough gesture today – I could retreat back to my room now. I uncrossed my arms and started to cross the kitchen.

"I'm tired," I said. "I'll just turn in."

He looked surprised but not offended.

"Good night…Hannah."

"Goodnight."

|… | …|

There was so much that I didn't know about him.

I mean, of course, a person is a character with lots of different quirks and thoughts and beliefs but since I'd spent so much time hating him and what he stood for that I'd stopped thinking of him as a person. He might not have liked to read but his favorite room in the house was his home office because of all the books. He liked spicy food but orange juice didn't agree with his stomach. He was a pretty clean person, and always cleaned up after himself in the kitchen. He'd learned to cook when his mother had died when he was ten. He didn't have control of his magic so he'd spent hours with the house elves in his home, and figured out more by trial and error than any innate talent for cooking. He didn't seem to understand the concept of a television, nor most Muggle sports. In fact, he wasn't really a sports person either. He watched Quidditch only if someone he knew was playing, and since Malfoy had become one of two new members of the Falmouth Falcons, he suspected he'd be much more invested in it now. He loved his brother, but sometimes he sounded like he was the elder, not the younger.

And that was just the tiny bit of him I got to know.

"How about the last account you took on?" I asked. We were sitting in his office, where he was looking for some sort of recipe book that he was convinced I would appreciate while I sat and watched. It was only four o'clock on the following Monday afternoon. "I keep expecting you to stay later and later."

"Hm, it's a slow month. How about you? Why are you home?"

"Done with paperwork, and I was feeling tired so I thought I'd take a nap before you found me in the kitchen. I'm going to go in tomorrow rather early, and stay late."

"Should I pack you lunch?"

Since he was still looking for the book, he missed whatever fond look passed over my face.

"If you'd like to."

"You hated that salmon last night."

"I didn't hate it," I denied.

"And that's how I discovered you actually hate fish," he intoned in a somewhat dramatic voice. "Honestly though, you didn't touch it and your face rather gave your thoughts away. What else don't you like?"

I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it.

"Really just have never liked seafood, except shrimp." He made an amused sound and I kept talking. "I know, very strange. I don't pretend that my likes and dislikes are understandable."

"I suppose I'll find a way to get you to eat some."

Whatever you want, master chef."

"Why don't you have a favorite color?" I asked curiously. "Everyone has a favorite color."

He scoffed, ducked his head to look in a lower shelf.

"Why – do you have a favorite color?"

"Yellow, all shades."

He looked up at me.

"You were destined to be a Hufflepuff, eh?" I remembered Mum's own words and a bittersweet pang flooded me. "Don't tell me you have a favorite animal too."

I laughed a little.

"Seriously," I scoffed, "who has a favorite animal?"

He made a sound of success, and then held out a leather bound book. I crossed the room to get it from him. When I opened it, it was full of magic baking recipes.

"Not that I can use this now, but when I move out-"

I stopped, and a really pregnant pause made everything awkward. We'd been good about finding about each other, and who we were friends with, but we still skirted anything that had to do with the War, with the one time we'd had sex, with family, or with the future. I forced a smile and turned away.

"Anyway, thanks." I shook the book a little, and turned to the doorway. "No magic for now but I feel like baking this weekend."

He stood, brushed his knees off, and cocked his chin towards the hallway.

"Take your nap. I'll make something else tonight."

I took the out gratefully.

|… T …|

It took me three days to come to the conclusion that you didn't have to know someone to be in love with them. For all intents and purposes, I was only just getting to know Hannah Abbot and I was certain that I was definitely in love with her. It made everything she said and did…endearing. And I mean, everything. Every facial expression, every voice intonation, even the way she sucked down coffee in the morning after the big breakthrough was dear to me. The fact that she was only nineteen was startling – even though we were in the same Year and everyone kind of varied around a three year average age difference. She just seemed older than her years. I could objectively realize that it was really irrational, just plain illogical, but knowing didn't really help me feel any less…awed…by her.

A part of me wanted to be aggravated but the rest of me told that part that it should be grateful that we were civil (more than civil).

I saw her almost every day during the second week of August. When Mrs. Malfoy's invitations arrived, I asked Hannah if she would do me the honor of attending the ball with me. Even though we were on good terms, I was still really shocked when she agreed to attend. The invitation was black tie, the second tier of formal, and I set about trying to find something to wear without help. I also said that she had an invitation to the double wedding in a week – perhaps, I was pushing my luck – and she said yes to that too.

I smiled so hard the next day at work that Zabini asked me if something was the matter.

Malfoy asked me the same thing when we went over for lunch the same day.

I wanted to look good.

The double wedding was busy. When Max married Marla, it was just us and her parents and her best friend. I was the best man, her best friend was the maid of honor. It was small and private and really beautiful even if it was just a part of six. This was…a large-scale operation. Zabini arrived a little late (something was going on with him and Parkinson) and we were hustled into a run-through by the two mother-in-laws. I confess to feeling harried for most of it. Hermione came to dazzle Malfoy (which worked) and assure us that that Parkinson and Hannah were with the brides (which also worked).

"Hannah's in there too," she said, "and says to tell you hello."

"Well then, tell her I return the gesture."

"And?"

I might have turned red. Malfoy and Zabini were snickering openly now and I felt like a teenager with his first crush. It was aggravating and gratifying all in one.

"And…tell her I'll see her soon?"

We returned to the grooms' suite just in time to see Crabbe and Goyle catch a case of the nerves. Goyle, more than Crabbe though. There was a moment there, when we stood together in front of the mirrors that had been dragged in, where I felt so glad to have these men as my mates that I was overwhelmed. Thankfully, all that emotion passed and the weddings kicked off without a hitch. Zabini and Parkinson seemed to still be in the middle of row but it wasn't immediately obvious, even to us who knew. The two newly wedded couples were so blissfully happy that it was hard to feel anything less than amused when you saw them on the dance floor. Malfoy was so busy flirting with Granger that he really wasn't paying much attention to anyone else. And I couldn't stop staring at Hannah who looked very pretty in a knee-length sky-blue dress.

Her work schedule seemed to change around. Monday through Wednesday she left around 8:30 in the morning, and returned a little after 3:30. There weren't as many on-field cases, according to her, and she was one of the best in the department at skimming reports for discrepancies and grammatical errors. By the time I got back, she was usually hunched over her desk with a highlighter.

Monday and Tuesday nights, I coaxed her into reading her reports in the office room. Wednesday nights, she seemed to be alright with me spreading my work out on her bedroom floor while she huddled over by the desk. Thursday nights seemed to be a break day of sorts – we ended up hanging around the island counter of the kitchen, eating, pretending to work, but mostly talking. I usually didn't see her on Friday and Sundays until the evening – she was off somewhere visiting Cho probably. She always disappeared for the day on Fridays and Sundays but came back in time for dinner.

I didn't really wonder why all the other things that kicked in early for the other couples didn't kick in for us at all until Zabini asked me why I was Plunko'ing her at the office. I could feel her erratically, sometimes, but we couldn't hear thoughts. I can't even say it bothered me when he pointed out.

I got a chance to officially meet Cho Chang when she came over in mid-August. She was just as regal as Hannah had described, and a little cutting more besides. I got the feeling that she didn't care for me all that much, but I was determined to win her over. I was unfailingly polite every single time she was at the house – asking her about her work and her life, melting into the background when my presence wasn't desired.

The night of the ball held in Hermione Granger's honor was one of the best nights of my life. She, Cho, and Pansy got ready together altogether somewhere. When we got to the Man wore this amazing dress that looked more like a cloud than material, and was a very nice gold color. She looked like walking sunshine.

"You and Abbot, huh?" Malfoy nudged me that night. "You're like a couple of crushing teenagers."

"No," I denied it.

He made a knowing face before he went outside to meet Granger. Turns out he knew what he was talking about since he proposed to Hermione Granger in front of the entire ballroom less than fifteen minutes later.

August seemed to drift by and with it…us.

September came and with it the news that Luna had disappeared from Hogwarts' grounds after less than forty-eight hours. The chaos that ensued was sudden and strong, and though Zabini and I hadn't been able to close up shop on September 1st we went through two ink bottles between us doing our best to track her whereabouts on our own. We shortened the appointments after three o'clock so that we could send letters to half a dozen contacts throughout London to keep a lookout for a woman with Luna Lovegood's description.

It was terrifying.

It was terrifying because we'd thought we'd moved past those days of random disappearances, of people gone without a whisper to indicate what was what. It was terrifying because watching Malfoy's muted concern and Granger's open fear felt like I was finally seeing what Death Eaters victims' families felt. It shook something in me…all in all, a horrible twenty-four hours. I was relieved to hear that she had left under her own steam, but I hear the fall-out of that was aggressive…and came down to her leaving because she meant to leave Thomas himself.

That weekend I stuck to Hannah's side, unable to shake the fear that she would be gone if I blinked too long.

Sometimes, it bothered me that we didn't get a chance to talk about the issues that loomed in the room. No matter how far and wide our discussion topics, we never strayed to the night that we'd made love or to the War. I knew – of course, I knew – that we had to talk about it. But something in me was feeling lighter these days, happier, not so guilty about my…my place in this world, I guess. I would take whatever I could get from her and be thankful for it.

I wanted to hold on to this feeling; I wanted to feel like I had the right to be happy.

|… | …|

'The water and electricity bills are on the counter," I said over my shoulder, carrying the hamper up the stairs while she rushed down it. How she'd overslept, I wasn't sure. I'd heard her alarm going off but she'd slept right through it for the fifth time in the last week and a half. I wasn't due in until eleven o'clock and I meant to take care of the bills since it was already the ninth. "I'll get them on my way to work."

"I'll get bread on my way home."

"Don't forget your umbrella."

She was already out the door.

I kept going up the stairs with the laundry, put mine away, then took hers up to her room. When I pushed the door open, I had to smile at the slight mess. A stack of reports she wasn't done with sat on the desk, a pile of discarded clothes thrown over the back of her chair. I unpacked the laundry and started to leave the room when my foot hit something hard.

I bent to pick it up. It was a book.

"Huh," I said absently, "did she forget you at home?"

I had time to run over to the Ministry, if she had. I left the book and went to the second floor office to see if I'd could jot a note off asking if she'd left it. Ten minutes of searching and I gave up – I must have forgotten it at work. Well, nothing for it except to make sure it was something she needed and then run it over. I jogged back up the stairs, down the hallway, and into her room where the book lay on the bed.

It did look kind of familiar; it usually sat around her desk and I'd seen her writing it once, a long time ago though. I flipped it open-

-and stopped when I saw my name.

How could this be? Neville told me that magic – magic! – was behind this, that Theodore Nott is supposed to be the person who can make me happy. How can a murderer make me happy?

I nearly dropped the thing.

What…what the hell was this? What the hell was this?

-I will never be able to love him because every time I look at him, I'll remember what I've lost, it's been so hard to pretend to be civil these last few weeks, so hard to pretend that I don't hate-

No…what?

-says he wants to help people. As if a Death Eater could help anyone-

No, no, no, no.

I-

How could the son of the man who killed Alfie help?

-oh, Merlin, oh God, so blind, so blind, so blind.

-dying men and women don't have much reason to lie, it's true, his father killed Alfred in front of a group of them, like an animal-

It was like I couldn't see anything beyond the words, nothing comes, just as if the hand of God Himself has reached down to cover my eyes, everything just an immense impenetrable blur of colors that vision just won't make sense of. I have always known this, have always always suspected that I am not deserving of happiness but to have it ripped from me by the very person…that I…

-the depth of my hatred knows no end, it's hell every day to know that he is the only option I have, I will not dishonor my family's memories for him-

Imagine that, sight without understanding. Is this her bedroom? The walls are too dark, the proportions too small, the noise of the rain outside too loud in the silence of the room. Because this could not be her room. This wasn't our house. And this book could not be her diary. And the words in heavy dark blue ink on the pages could not be true. Oh God.

Because it just could not.

-he should suffer for everything his father did. If I can't be happy, then by God, he won't-

Yet, even as I think these long heavy thoughts, the small journal falls from nerveless fingers. He killed her brother? He killed her brother?

It falls from my fingers.

I hear a thump as it falls from my hands to the carpeted floor but can't be moved to bend down to retrieve it. I cannot be moved to back away either. I can't be moved at all. My brain sputters and reason sputters with it. It isn't true. It just can't be. It has to be a joke, I think sickly to myself as I drop to my knees like a weight to the floor. But even as I struggle to find excuses for what I have read, a part of me is already losing the battle.

No, no, no, no, no, no-

There's so much flashing through my brain that I feel slow. When I try to grasp a single coherent thought, my brain refuses to cooperate and the heaviness deepens. I'd thought I'd gotten rid of it; that the last of it had gone the moment she'd opened her door with puffy eyes and a shy smile to invite me in to talk. But it's back. It's back and I know it like I know the back of my hand. I know it like I know my name, my best mates, my brother. I know it the same way I've always known something was wrong, that I didn't deserve to be happy, that her hatred was more personal than it should have been, that this was my fault, everything was my fault, everything is this weight because everything is this heavy. I know this heaviness as well as I know myself.

So much makes sense now.

It's like part of me has always reserved judgment: the silent but heavy weight of guilt that has never lifted from me completely. Indeed, it is the me as I know myself to be: the man who is completely unshaken in his belief that happiness is unattainable for one such as I. And as that small part convinces the rest of me that what I have read is the truth, that Hannah has always loathed and despised me, that she has feigned all interest and all affection, that she wants to see me broken, and Merlin, there's so much clicking in to place now.

The son suffers for the sins of his father, in addition to his own.

Oh, God, oh God, I can't do this, my chest-

-I realize I'm standing here, just standing, and my gaze drops to where the damning book lays, its delicate dyed green leather now bent a little at the edges. All it takes is that one moment, the look of the sheet so lonely and strange. Whatever it is that is keeping me intact cracks.

Father killed her brother? He killed him?

Suddenly, I am up on my feet and backing out of the room so quickly that I trip and tumble to the floor again. I have never been this pathetic, crawling backward; gaze focused unto the book as if it will sprout wings and follow me. But I can't bear to remain in here, this pressure inside my body is going to crush me, crush me and fearful that H-Han-…that she will come back before I have a chance to make her wish true.

As soon as my back hits the opposite wall, I am jarred unto my feet and into action. Without paying attention to anything else, I back out of the door hurriedly.

My only thought is motion, to just…stay in motion because concrete thinking is swallowed by it. My feet move forward of their own volition, carrying me down the long hallway and to the staircase that would provide the most expedient departure. I don't remember, I can't remember, I know nothing as I thrash about for what to do, what to do, where to go next.

…I can't-

I need out, just out of this house, shit, really have to leave Han-H-Han-

Can't even think it now-

Where my body has been moving at a relatively fast pace, my feet adopt the frantic pounding in my mind and set a faster pace down and down, wayward and downward. It's raining.

She cannot know.

Shit, I can't be here. The rain goes on and on, and I think that it's only been a month, that there's no reason I should feel this way, that I should have known – damn it, when it's too good to be true it usually – and here I am with a house I didn't want in the first place and a home I can't return to and I'm Apparating and I know that Max will allow me to remain on his estate without too much trouble. I have no time to think about how bedraggled I must appear, how horrible I might look, as I slowly make my way up and up and up the winding path to his place. The rain is harder now, I notice absently, but I can no longer feel it.

I can't feel it.

I concentrate on swinging each foot before the other. Already, I am consciously shying away from thinking. I wanted monotony and the sweet relief of autopilot. Now, I am almost up the stairs. All my attention focused on the left foot carefully being placed in front of the right, then the right in front of the left, then the left-

"Can we start over? Hello. My name is Hannah Abbot. We're in the same Year and I was in Hufflepuff="

The memory intrudes, slaps me across the face and I stop moving mid step.

"Yes, I would lo-…I mean, yes, I will eat lunch. With you."

I am not aware of the cracking of my love for her, of blood pumping and pumping until I want to Obliviate myself.

"The feeling about it being a good dream is mutual."

I just want to die. I want to be gone.

"Hannah's in there too," Hermione Granger says with a sly smile, "and says to tell you hello."

I am bleeding here, halfway between the forest and a house, and I cannot move.

I am bleeding.

The son suffers for the sins of his father, in addition to his own.

So this is how a heart breaks.

|… H …|

Today was turning into the longest day of my life. I'd woken up late three times this week alone, and twice last week. I never slept through alarms but I couldn't seem to get up this morning. I'd kept hitting the snooze button until I was half an hour late. When I'd gotten to work, Pottleby had asked me why I was tardy so often in the last two weeks. I hadn't a real answer, which meant I stood there silent and guilty and feeling horrible in general. I was ahead on paperwork but my presence was requested for an on-field assignment next week and I was trying to do my research on the wizard, stay awake, and figure out where to get bread on the way home.

The only bright spot was that I'd remembered the lunch he'd packed for me last night.

The afternoon consisted of three cups of coffee, a three-hour long staff meeting, and Auror Brown spilling something across my desk and drenching half my reports. He looked so wretched about it that I didn't have the heart to lay into him like I would have. Magic took care of the spill but two of my reports needed to be redone. As if I didn't have enough to contend with. Instead of leaving the office at 4 o'clock, I was dragging myself in to the grocer's for some bread around half past seven.

I just wanted to go home-

-when had I started thinking of that house as a home?

I don't know. But it was home and he was there and I just wanted to see his face light up when I came in to the kitchen, and have him fuss over me a little bit.

I struggled up the porch stairs in the light rain, got the door open, and was surprised to see how dark it was.

"Hello?"

I did an odd jiggling motion to close and lock the door behind me, and dropped my purse at the entryway. This was odd. Theodore was always home in the evenings. The latest he'd ever get back is eight, and he usually left a note to let me know. I shuffled into the kitchen to see no note but the stack of bills was still there.

Hadn't he said he was going to take care of it?

Maybe, he'd gotten busy and forgotten.

That wasn't like him though. He was…responsible. If he said he was going to do something, then he was going to do it and have time to spare. I shrugged and put the bread away. I couldn't imagine eating dinner – all we had was fish and the sight of it yesterday had made me nauseated. I sighed and trudged up the stairs to my room.

I just wanted to sleep.

|… | …|

"Brown-"

"It's my fault," he said frantically, "and I am so so sorry about yesterday. I should have never been so careless around your desk. It's my fault so just let me do it. I can do it, it's fine."

I sighed. It wasn't even lunch but my chest was feeling a bit sore, I had a low grade headache going on, and he was going into meltdown.

"It's extra work and you're behind on yours," I said gently. "I'll do it myself."

His face crumpled, as if I'd just yelled at him. I didn't even understand why this was so important to him.

"I'm not blaming you, Brown. I just want to make it easier for you – tell you what, if you finish the one you're working on, I'll let you help me reconstruct report number one."

Perhaps, Auror Pottleby could see me looking like I was at the end of my rope becase he came along and gathered the nervous Brown to hurry him back to his desk. I hadn't seen Theodore today but I'd gotten a little bit of a late start so I'd left breakfast and a note on the kitchen counter.

"Abbot." I looked up. McDowell was motioning me towards the door. "Two visitors."

…who on earth?

When I got to the door, I saw Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy pacing in the very small waiting room. I had no idea what they could be here for. They looked concerned and McDowell closed the door behind me.

"What's…what's going on?" Two and two were put together and I instantly blanched. "Is something wrong? Where is he?"

"Where's Theodore?"

"I-I thought he was at work, with you," I said helplessly. "What's going on?"

"He didn't come to work yesterday," Zabini said grimly.

I stared at him.

"Didn't…come?"

Zabini shook his head, his expression so worried that my stomach clenched. Malfoy stepped forward.

"When did you last see him?"

"Yesterday," I said slowly, "I don't understand. It's Tuesday already, I don't-"

"When, Hannah, what time yesterday?"

The fact that Malfoy was resorting to my first name was not at all lost on me. Panic began to trickle in.

"I left at eight forty-five," I said on the edge of a gasp. "He was taking laundry up, said he was going to be- oh, God, I don't understand. But-"

"He didn't show up," Zabini repeated. "He didn't Owl and I didn't…you know, I just didn't think anything of it until around two o'clock yesterday when there was no sign of him whatsoever. We all know how punctual he is."

I sat down, heavily.

"I just…I don't…I d-don't understand, he didn't show up for work yesterday?"

The dark house, bills still on the table.

"Nothing, you haven't seen him since then?" Malfoy ran a hand through his hair. "Think, Hannah, there's no note? Are you sure?"

"I didn't look," I said helplessly. "He usually leaves notes in the kitchen; there wasn't one anywhere so I left one when I was leaving this morning. I didn't think-"

"Could he have left a note somewhere else?"

I shook my head.

"I don't-" my voice broke, "don't understand."

This couldn't be happening. No, no, this wasn't happening again. There had to be a logical explanation! But he always left notes, he never went back on his word – if he'd said he was going to pay the bills, then he was going to pay those bills when he'd said he would. He would never leave it undone, never leave it like this.

"Abbot."

He wouldn't leave the bills there, and he usually made dinners on Mondays, and if something felt wrong it usually was wrong.

"Abbot."

How could this be happening again?

"Abbot? Malfoy, call someone."

How could this happen to me again? How-

…

…

…

I came awake, slowly, like I used to, and I came around in a high state of confusion. I didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing I remembered was being at work.

"Abbott?"

And…that was definitely Blaise Zabini's voice. I blinked at the ceiling, still really confused. I was at work and I'd had visitors…?

"Zabini?" The world came in to focus as I pushed myself up. Zabini and Malfoy, twin expressions of concern on their faces, on either side of the bed I was suddenly on. A bed? In the tiny waiting room? I looked around the room and saw a worried Auror Pottleby coming through the door with a glass of water. "What the-"

"You fainted."

Why would I-

Oh, God. I closed my eyes and pressed the back of my hand to my mouth. I'd splintered apart for Alfie but I couldn't afford to do that for Theodore. Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe, maybe he'd gotten lost on his way to work. Or something else. He wasn't…he wasn't just gone.

"Abbot, you need to drink this."

"My…my betrothed…he's disappeared," I blurted out. Pottleby's face went from concerned to grim in a heartbeat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Dark Magic at work?"

I shrugged, helplessly, taking the water that I didn't feel like drinking from him.

"You're off until we find him. A task team will be assembled in the next half hour to canvas your house. It's a Muggle home, you said?"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Malfoy, "you think there's…there's something else going on here?

"She's a part of our team. If someone close to her has disappeared then, it's too much like…"

He let the sentence hang and we all filled it in with the days when Voldemort was rising to power. I think every drop of blood drained from my face. The world went sideways for a minute but Zabini was there, sliding an arm around my shoulder before I could tip over.

"Breathe, breathe, breathe," he murmured in a low voice. "Whatever has happened to Theo, we'll find him."

"Doesn't he have a brother?" asked Pottleby. "Have you-"

"His brother hasn't seen him in four days."

My heart crumpled.

That was the only place he could be.

He would never go anywhere else.

"You're off, Abbott." McDowelle paused at the door going into the main room. "Wait here while we assemble the team."

I nodded.

"Can you two talk to each other telepathically?" asked Zabini.

I shook my head. He clutched me closer while Malfoy sat on my other side and swore.

Oh, God.

I can't.

Not again.