Smeared black ink…
…your face is ashen and I'm barely listening to last demands.

|… T …|

Life is a living breathing hell that would give me no rest, lend me no quiet peace to slip away into. I don't remember how I got to Nott's Place, and somewhere in my delirious mind, I thanked whatever Power there Is for keeping me in this gloriously careless state. Because with fever, nothing can penetrate…my very mind was beginning to warp reality.

"Master Nott." The voice was warped, loud, twisted. "You need to eat."

I know that I moaned, turned away, burrowed into darkness. I faded in and out of consciousness.

"I'm going to find Master Nott."

So loud, so warped, why was it back?

I was so hot that I was cold. Everything burning, burning, and I was sweating out of control. I faded out between flashes of heat, and faded in between flashes of cold.

"Master Nott has been like this for the last day, not eatin', nothin' we can do-"

I was burning up.

"Dodge, open your eyes."

I opened my eyes.

"Max," I croaked, "Max where are you?"

I felt a hand clasp my own tightly.

"Oh, Max, what happened to him?"

"I don't know, sweetheart, I don't know."

"Max, where are you?" I asked plaintively. "Help me, where are you?"

I faded back out.

Once I woke up to Marla in my room, bathing my head with a cool towel. I clutched her wrist urgently. She would do it, she would do it if I didn't tell her not to-

"Don't let her in here," I shouted. "I can't face her so don't let her in here. I can't."

-I faded out before I could hear her response were periods of relative quiet and keeping me gloriously hot and unfocused Awake, I could focus on nothing but keeping my lungs going, focusing on every second of the time, absently observing the way the breath would fill me then leave me…fill me, then leave me.

Time held no meaning, I have no idea how many days went by in that painful dull stupor. I was drenched from head to foot in the torrential rain and I was colder than I had ever been.

Everything that I have worked for is nothing, is nothing at all in my hands.

|… | …|

I felt awful – awful, something was wrong, awful.

What day was it?

A late start at work…bills on the table…the grandfather clock at the start of the hallway on the fourth floor…laundry. Laundry in my arms and a book-

"Hannah," I croaked.

-my eyes snapped open to see a room that didn't immediately look familiar and wallpaper that should have made sense but didn't. Her diary, the ink on the page, words running together until all I'd seen was the shape of my own shock on thick paper.

Distantly, I felt my throat seize.

I kept my eyes shut.

"Hannah."

For the first time in years, I gave in to an overwhelming need to cry. I don't really know how long it lasted. I felt worse when I was done.

"You're awake?"

I removed my arm from my eyes to see my sister-in-law looking very pregnant and very worried. I had no idea what the hell was happening so I supposed it made sense for her to be here. When I tried to sit up, she rushed to my bedside. The house elves must have herded me into the bedroom, and since there was a tray on the bedside table, they must have tried to feed me.

"What-"

"Happened? We were hoping you could tell us." Her laugh cracked at the end and suddenly she was crying, her eyes spilling tears and her chest heaving as she took a great shuddering breath. I'd never seen her cry. I didn't know what to do. "Tink showed up at our house, frantic, three days ago."

…I was at my Manor?

I struggled to sit up again and Marla fussed loudly. She wiped her face.

"Pregnancy makes me cry more," she said with a wry smile on her wet face, "but we were so worried. Draco and Blaise didn't want to alarm us but had to come when you didn't show up for work on Monday. Hannah had a team of Aurors go over every inch of your Muggle house."

I blinked, hard, trying to make sense of the fact that she was telling me I'd lost time.

"But…isn't it Tuesday? I mean-"

Her face looked pitying.

"It's Wednesday night, Theodore."

Wednesday.

…

Wednesday?

"It's Wednesday?"

"Approximately half past eight."

"How-" I started, bewildered, and she looked like she was going to cry again so I shut it. "No, I'm alright, really, I feel better and I'm so sorry I put you through this-"

Thank heavens Max came in at that moment, took in the whole scene, and immediately took control of the situation. He kissed Marla on the forehead and ushered her out then came back in.

"Max, how- I don't understand."

He took a deep breath.

"Draco and Blaise came by, worried, Tuesday morning around 10:30AM asking if we'd seen you. You hadn't shown up for work the day before and, for some reason, they hadn't been able to get ahold of you on Plunko's." He dragged a hand through his hair. "Understandably, I was…we…we were worried. When they left, they told us they were going to find your betrothed, Hannah Abbott. I told Marla to stay here, didn't want her worried in her condition, and told them I would meet them at your house. I had the address – remember, you gave it to me – it took me thirty minutes to get there by the Muggle way, and when I got there-"

He palmed his face.

"-the place was crawling with Aurors. They'd set up something to make sure the Muggles couldn't see the influx of people in their neighborhood, and they were combing over every inch of your house and the houses around it."

I felt my jaw drop but I was still sick, my brain refusing to make connections to what he was saying.

"But what were they looking for?"

Max looked at me, and there was such a mix of fear and relief and concern on his face that I knew I didn't want to hear the answer.

"The Dark Mark, or clues that Dark magic had been involved."

Fuck.

"Max, I am so sorry-"

He held up his hand.

"They found nothing, no foul play, but no clues as to what had happened or if anything had happened that would have led you down the neighborhood. We didn't know if you'd been attacked and Hannah-"

My whole heart clenched.

My entire heart.

Everything curled into this tight ball of anguish that I couldn't breathe past. Why did it feel like I was in mourning?

"-was distraught, heard she fainted at the Ministry. Then Tink shows up in a panic to say the house elves found you unconscious, in the rain, in the garden of all places on Monday afternoon. They got you to bed but you were delirious, fever-ridden. When we moved you here, it was obvious that you were sick. Much…well, much sicker than I'd ever seen you before. We considered St. Mungo's all of yesterday but your fever broke this morning."

Sweet Circe.

"Is she alright?"

He gave me an unreadable look.

"She is. She's been by every day-"

"But you didn't let her in, did you?" I asked urgently, trying and failing to sit up. I tried to breathe through the panic but ended up sounding like a dying fish. His face remained impassive. "You didn't, yes? Did you?"

"No. We didn't…because every time we brought up her name, you got so agitated that we had to sedate you. She's…not taking it too well." Max crossed the room to sit by my bed. "Dodge…what happened? Why were you here?"

My eyes closed involuntarily. It hurt, so much, to think of her.

"Dodge."

I opened my eyes.

"He killed her brother," I whispered hoarsely. "Father killed her brother."

Max's face went slack.

"She knew?"

Something in his voice made me frown.

"What?"

He froze.

And it clicked.

"You knew." It came out, even, expressionless. Instantly, guilt warred with frustration on his face. Guilt won. "You…knew. How did you know, Max, did you know the whole time?"

"I found out, almost a month after Miles was killed."

"Miles?" I asked mechanically. "Miles?"

"Miles Alfred Abbot, older brother to Hannah Abbot," he said quietly. "He was a Year under me at Hogwarts, didn't run in the same circles but we got along well enough."

"When?"

"Third month in during a recon skirmish, last October."

I stared at my brother for a long moment, the brother who had never lied to me before.

"You knew from the day I told you her name? You knew, Max, and you didn't think it was something I needed to know?"

"If she didn't know, then you would have been alright-"

"But she did," I exploded in a hoarse shout, "she did! And every week I showed up on your doorstep because I wanted to surround myself with people who were happy because everything at home had gone to dogs! Every week! How could you not tell me something so- so- something so important? How could you keep that from me?"

"I didn't know that she knew," he said helplessly, low, "and you've been happier in the last few weeks so I thought maybe you'd both worked it out-"

"But you knew that I didn't know."

"Theo, please-"

"In the last three weeks," I said evenly, "three. Not a 'few', brother. Three. Three weeks of what you call happiness out of an entire summer where you had a chance to tell me what in hell's name was going on."

He winced, opened his mouth, closed it.

"Is that why you've never asked why I didn't bring her around to see you and Marla?"

He hesitated and I almost wanted to laugh.

"I see."

"I wanted to protect you, Dodge."

The sudden fury gathered.

Max had never even pretended to get along with Father – and yes, I was glad he was safe but I spent all that time trying to fit into the mold that was supposed to be for the eldest Nott. He might have loved me but I was never the one he wanted to groom…it was always Max, always the firstborn, always the carbon copy of the wife that he'd lost, always. And fuck it if I didn't cotton on to that by the time I was old enough to willfully control my magic. Every time I'd wished I could rail my resentment at the brother I loved more than anything or anyone else on earth, every time I felt guilty for even feeling that way, every time Father had cut me down for any fault, every time Max had urged me to just up and leave our father – as if I could, as if I could just abandon all allegiance and leave him on his own.

Fury burst.

"And yet again, your habit of ignoring things you know has served us both well."

His face was ashen but I didn't (couldn't) care.

"Please, Theo-"

"You've done enough. Really. Or perhaps it's that you've done too little. That you watched me be so…so damned unhappy and thought to yourself 'Yes, of course, it's better for him not to know anything'. Your moral compass is incredible," I said on the edge of a bitter laugh. "You knew and you let me burn! You let me go into this entire situation blind! That you lied to me for so long is unimaginable but…in the name of protecting me? Protecting me?

"You know what Father did, you know what kind of monster he helped me become? What I've seen, what I've…I've done?" I said low in my throat. The very breath in my lungs burned, smoke in my pathways and ash on my tongue. "Clawing my way up from the abyss and knowing that no matter how much I tried, I'm still…me. I am still Theodore Nott, second generation Death Eater, still someone who watched and used to enjoyed torture, someone who followed evil zealously, someone who…well, I'm glad your brotherly instinct has decided to show up now of all times, because you have been the model of elder brother protection growing up."

When his face crumpled completely, I threw my arm over my face and turned away.

"Get out."

"Dodge-"

"Get. Out. Matthew."

I heard his sudden inhale, knew that I had scored a hit, and bit my lip.

He left.

I slept.

|… | …|

"You scared the ever-loving shite out of us, mate." Malfoy ran his hands through his hair. "Merlin."

They looked less worried and more relieved, although I have it on good authority (Marla) that they crowded into Nott Manor after I'd fallen back asleep last night. Since I couldn't stay awake for more than three or four hours at a time – thanks to a combination of not really eating for the last three days and elevated body temperature – they'd missed me being awake yesterday. Which was definitely for the best.

I couldn't have dealt with anyone after my brother's betrayal.

"Theo…what really happened? Matthew told us you were out in the rain, that's where your house elf found you." Zabini and Malfoy sat down on the chairs next to the bed before Zabini continued. "Something happened."

"I am so sorry," I said. "I-"

"Before you make up some complete horse shite of a lie," Malfoy interrupted, "I'm going to stop you."

A sense of fear filled me, and I couldn't understand why. Was this punishment? The world's way of getting even?

I opened my mouth-

-and realized the heaviness in my chest was more shame than fear. Even from the grave, I couldn't get rid of his sins. It was like a chain, like a cycle, like fucking destiny. How was it that he could still be affecting everything? Was my life not my own? Had it never been my own?

I wasn't a good person at Hogwarts – I fully own up to and take responsibility for it. I was cruel and bigoted and thought that being the son of Death Eater was a free pass to do what I liked. I admit that. And I will never be any less guilty for the bullshit I pulled through school, for taking the Mark, for standing still as people were tortured in front of me. I just wanted to suffer for my own sins.

Why was I being punished for his, too?

I couldn't bear the blood on my hands, how could I bear his too?

"Theodore…" Zabini said, and his voice was low and pitying. I struggled to say anything but the truth. "Is this why you won't see her?"

They waited.

"I wasn't myself." I took a deep breath and looked at them. "I had to leave that morning. I didn't realize I was outside for the rain, obviously. I don't even really remember the decision to try and get here."

Malfoy nodded, Zabini looked at me patiently.

I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling.

"My father killed Miles Alfred Abbot in October of last year."

Utter silence.

I closed my eyes and covered my face. It was so hard, the hardest thing, to keep it together in the face of that silence. I was filled with shame. Filled. I felt like I would never be clean again. I don't know how long I kept my hands over my eyes but when it felt safe enough for me to look at my friends, they still looked dumbfounded.

"Shit, that's…holy fucking shit." Malfoy just kept shaking his head back and forth. "I mean…crikey, mate, shit."

Zabini had nothing to say, which I would have found surprising if I wasn't battling intense shame.

"How?"

"Ha-" I sucked in air. "Her diary."

Malfoy's eyes bulged.

"Hannah's?!"

I nodded.

"And suddenly, everything clicks into place," Zabini murmured softly. "She knew the whole time, from the very first, didn't she."

I nodded again.

We sat in silence for heaven knows how long until something akin to horror dawned on Zabini's face. I watched it with an air of detachment, because, honestly what could I feel now? What emotion hadn't I felt in the last day in the 'feelings' continuum? But this horror was something new and anything new at this juncture was not good. Zabini's horror swelled visibly and he opened his mouth.

"Have you ever seen a photo of him?"

I shook my head. His nostrils flared right before he took a deep breath. I almost wished I could summon an emotion in response to whatever he was feeling. I settled for asking a question.

"What are you thinking, Zabini?"

"What do you remember about last October, mate?" he said in a hard voice, face closed. "What do you remember?"

I was bewildered.

It had been a terrible month, no less or more terrible than the horrible ones before it, hadn't it?

"I mean, I-"

"Think, Theodore, think."

I wracked my brain for what he might mean. October had been…what, the third or fourth month in? Cruelty everywhere, father at numerous tactical meetings, Dark Mark constantly burning because of the constant tortures and killings, never any sleep because Death Eaters best work was done in the dark…Malfoy had had enough of death when he'd come close to killing Dumbledore, and had somehow convinced his father that he would be better used as a medic on the field. Death Eaters hadn't even thought of that concept – a Healer – but Malfoy could be persuasive when he wanted to. Zabini and I had remained in the thick of things, however, which would mean we were still out and involved in October. We'd seen a handful of murders and tortures by that time.

Tortures…

An inkling of something flickered across my mind.

The dream is always the same.

October was the month I reached my quota for cruelty, wasn't it? I looked at Zabini who looked horrified and guilty and pitying all at once.

Dark skies and a full moon, and a graveyard whose markers are worn down until the names are barely readable.

"We must have seen him," he said hoarsely, "we must have."

In the dream, I walk behind Father.

The nightmare filtered in.

"No." The voice that came out of my mouth sounded hoarse, a little broken. "No."

The path widens to the clearing ahead, the moonlight is so full and clear and a heavy and startling.

"Theo-"

"No."

Zabini opened his mouth and said something I couldn't make out while Malfoy, already on his feet, was running out of the room.

"No," I say slowly. "No. Can't be. You don't know what you're talking about."

The Dark Lord in his terrible glory, the visage twisted inhumanly, his slit of a mouth opening to issue the order and Father moving forward to obey with pleasure-

I slid out.

|… H …|

I prayed like I believed in a Higher Power.

My coworkers covered the neighborhood looking for any clues to his disappearance and found nothing except evidence that he'd transported himself elsewhere. It wouldn't tell you where he went, but at least dark magic was cleared as an implication. Every time I tried to get involved in the search, Draco Malfoy or Blaise Zabini would be there to sit me down. The blond coaxed me into eating a bit of something but the whole day was anxiety-inducing.

So I prayed.

When they could find nothing else that was definitive, they returned to the Ministry.

His best mates wouldn't leave me alone, urged me to Owl someone before they would even consider it. It took Cho fifteen minutes to convince them to go, and that was only after they'd jointly warded the entire place. I was so touched by their apparent concern that I was in tears as I bid them goodbye. Which meant ten more minutes of Cho doing her best to assure them that we would use magic, if necessary. They left at half past three.

My mind raced in circles. I didn't understand how this had happened.

I can't really remember tracking time but I can honestly say that I cried more that day than I have in almost a year.

"You need to sleep, Han."

I was exhausted. I'd felt exhausted for what felt like forever, and the exhaustion seemed to exacerbate the soreness in my chest.

"Too tired to sleep."

"Then I wish you would eat." Cho nodded at the plate in front of me, on this kitchen encounter. "Did you even get breakfast this morning?"

I shrugged and shoved the plate away, feeling nauseated.

"I can't imagine keeping anything down, especially not spaghetti."

"Let's get upstairs to your room."

"I don't want to sleep-"

"Up, Hannah," Cho said firmly, "up. I'm not going to let you run yourself into the ground. There's no proof that anything including dark magic has happened."

"But he's not here to say either way."

"You need to sleep – he needs you to be awake and aware, Han," she said in a cajoling voice, "and I'm awake. If anything happens, I will personally wake you up. Come on, up, up."

She helped me to my feet and didn't let go, all the way up the stairs to my room. I was asleep in moments.

When I woke up, Cho was reading a book at my desk and night had fallen. There was a roll of parchment next to her and when I made a noise, she looked up. I cocked my head when I heard a noise down stairs. She read the question in my face.

"Pansy's up to no good in the kitchen," she said lightly, "so I hope you aren't attached to your pots."

I dragged a smile out of the depths of my misery.

"Owl?'

She'd read it, I could see, but her face gave nothing away. She just got up and handed it to me.

He's at Nott Manor. From what we gather, he was caught in yesterday's rainstorm for some reason. He was found by a house elf, running a high fever but his brother & sister-in-law are at the house. No sign of dark magic, still running a high fever, somewhat delirious but we're waiting to see if the fever breaks.
B.Z.

"Oh, thank God," I muttered feverishly. "Thank God."

When Cho silently handed me a tissue, I realized there were tears running down my face.

"You didn't wake me up," I said faintly. "You promised."

"I would have if it had been bad news."

"Aren't you considerate. What time is it?"

"Almost eleven forty-five." Cho cracked a smile. "You slept like you needed it. We should probably stop Pansy before she destroys your kitchen."

I laughed.

"He didn't give me Nott Manor's address."

"I noticed."

An expression I couldn't quite read flickered across her face.

"What?"

"I don't think he withheld that information as an oversight."

"He doesn't want me there?" I asked slowly. "But…why?"

"He might not be the one who doesn't want you there."

"Nott is feverish…that doesn't make sense."

"Or his family doesn't want you there. Have you met them?"

I shook my head. What could I have done to his brother and sister-in-law? That didn't really wash either.

"Or you could just be guessing in the dark.'

"You're right, of course," she said lightly, "you know I liked to be dark and gloomy. Come on, up, let's see Pansy."

She let it go easily but now that she'd planted the seed…why wouldn't Zabini give me the address? He'd probably just assumed that I would know it myself. And he and Malfoy had worried enough about me earlier that I was rather certain that they'd be by tomorrow to see me regardless. But why didn't they want me there tonight? And where had Theodore been to have caught ill? A raging fever didn't come as consequence of running out of the house, even in all this rain…and he hadn't even been sick this summer, I would know. So what had happened? Why had he gone to the Manor? Why hadn't anyone known he was at the Manor until now? I tried to shrug it off but it wasn't banished until I entered my kitchen to see a fair bit of flour and sugar and chocolate everywhere.

"Parkinson," I almost shouted, "what are you even doing?"

Her inky black bob was clipped back and she was wearing one of my aprons. The kitchen radio was on (shocking, since with the amount of magic that had been thrown around I was certain it would have been broken). When she turned around, she grinned and waved her hands like she was dismissing all my fears.

"Scones, brownies, and biscuits."

I was baffled. It was the only appropriate response.

"The Muggle way?" asked Cho. "What do you know about baking?"

"Well, obviously since magic would fry everything in this house," she said with a teasing smile. Whatever music was playing was infectious enough for her that she pranced around the island counter to take one of my hands and one of Cho's and drag us to the seats. "And I have eyes and can read, hands that can mix, and access to that recipe book over there."

Of course, the one Nott had eventually found for me.

"Now while I know you lot love to mope but I won't have any of that while I'm here for the week."

"The week?" I asked dumbly. "You're staying the week."

She got serious for a bit.

"We both are."

For what felt like the hundredth time today, my eyes watered. Instead of teasing me about it, she squeezed my shoulder and handed me a tissue.

"Sorry-"

"You deserve a good long cry," she interrupted. "Just don't move from this spot while we bake."

"We?" Cho coughed. "We who?"

"You and me, mate."

"I didn't sign up for that."

I laughed and wiped my face.

"Midnight baking sounds perfectly domestic, which is your middle name!" I stood. "While we're at it, Pansy, do you know the exact address for Nott Manor?"

She jotted it down on the notepad we kept in the kitchen.

"Now get up so we can finish before all this before two."

|… | …|

Cho and Pansy weren't really morning people and Pansy didn't have to be at her desk until 11 on Wednesdays. I was exhausted but I ended up in the kitchen by nine making a huge breakfast of eggs, ham, kippers to pair with the biscuits from last night. Speaking of which, we'd ade so much (enough for me to take some of it to work with me) that it was a bit ridiculous. I'd had to use the loo four times before we were done, that's how long all that baking took. Pansy had burned the first batch of brownies and the second batch of biscuits but surprisingly had done well with the scones.

I knew they would turn me away from work but I went to pass on the news.

"He was caught out in the rainstorm, we're not quite sure why," I said to the room at large. "But I just…thank you. Really. You all didn't have to do that – go out there at the drop of a hat – and you did."

And, again, I was fighting tears.

"And we would again," said Pottleby, not unkindly. "Any sign of dark magic?"

I shook my head.

"Moving him to St. Mungo's?"

"His family is watching him closely and if his fever gets out of hand, they'll take him there immediately."

"Good. Now, go home and sleep."

"But I have baked goods to sweeten the deal, and I can still-"

"No," interrupted McDowell. "Get some rest and stay out of here until next week. That is an order, Auror."

I left the three containers of brownies and scones on Brown's desk, and waved on my way out. I was tempted to step into the loo just to see what I looked like, but it was too important to me to get to Nott's place from there. I met Zabini at his office in Diagon Alley and we Floo'd to Nott Manor from there.

It was…strange…looking around this living room and knowing that this place had housed the man who had killed my brother. That was the best way to describe the jumble of emotion in my chest. Such pain and disbelief, wrapped in relief that Nott was safe. I had less than a minute to take my surroundings in before a tall heavily-pregnant dark-haired woman strode into the room. Her straight hair was thick – really thick – and long, and her eyebrows were straight, giving her a slightly pugilistic look. But then she smiled at Zabini and she looked…pretty.

When she turned to me, I smiled hesitantly.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Hannah." She took my hand. "I can call you 'Hannah', can't I? I'm Marla."

"A-ah, yes, of course," I said. "I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances."

"As am I," she said quietly. "Blaise, can I have a minute alone with Hannah? You can go on up since Max is in there."

She watched him leave and waited a moment before she touched my arm and indicated a sofa. We sat and I waited to figure out what was going on.

"How have you and Theodore been getting along with this Law? I know it didn't go very well in the beginning."

"Uh…not very well, in the beginning," I stammered, "but better recently."

"So you haven't had a row or anything recently?"

"Nothing that I can think of."

A look of acute indecision crossed her face. When she took my hand again, I instinctively held it tightly.

"I'm rather blunt or so I'm told, but I find that saying exactly what I mean is the best way to avoid miscommunication." Her smile slid off. "Theodore was found Monday afternoon around a quarter past noon by a house-elf. She managed to get him inside with the help of the two other Nott house-elves. He didn't wake up and they apparently tried to feed him but he couldn't stay conscious long enough to ingest anything."

Good God.

"Yesterday morning, after Blaise and Draco came by, Matthew left the house to see if he could find Theo himself. He was back when the boys Plunko'd him, saying they had tracked you down at the Ministry and a team of Aurors were on their way to canvass your neighborhood. Forty minutes later, Tink shows up saying something about a deathly ill Master Nott. We got here around…maybe, one o'clock, one thirty at the latest? We've been here ever since."

I wanted to thank her but she was his family.

"Did he…did he say why he was out in the rain?"

She shook her head.

"I'm going to be perfectly candid," she said seriously. "He is running a very high fever and if I wasn't a Healer, we would have taken him to St. Mungo's."

"It's…it's that serious?" I asked hoarsely.

"But Nott Manor has an excellent ingredient stock, and I am certified. If anything happens, we'll take him posthaste."

"I-"

"He's asking to not see you."

I stared at her.

"I'm sorry?"

"My apologies, I didn't know how else to break this to you." She looked frustrated before patting my hand. "He might be delirious but just your name is enough to send him into heightened…I don't know how to describe it in layman's terms. He has very brief periods of lucidity and during those bouts he is either asking for his brother or instructing anyone who will listen to make sure you are not allowed in the room."

"Lucidity?"

"Moments of clarity, during a fever, where the patient seems to know who they are and what is happening to them."

I felt like I'd just been slapped.

"He doesn't….want to see me?"

"He's not coherent enough to explain himself but-"

"Can't I just peek in?" I asked desperately. "When he's sleeping, just- just don't tell him I was there, don't tell his brother, just let me see him. Please, please let me, please Marla."

It was the second look of indecision to shadow her face and panic bloomed in my chest. I had no idea why he wouldn't want to see me – Cho's face as she wondered whose oversight was responsible for it, Zabini asking if there was anywhere else that a note could be left – but it was probably just the fever talking…but, oh God, I just wanted to see him.

"His sleeping cycle is not as predictable but if you manage to Floo over here before nine o'clock tomorrow morning, I'll find a way to let you in."

She stood, which was rather clear as a dismissal, as far as those go. For a moment, I felt my eyes fill.

"I promise I will find a way," she whispered as she hugged me, "and I will try to find out what I can."

It was the best she could do, and I was grateful. When I got home, the house was empty and I ended up sleeping for the next four hours. I hadn't slept this much in weeks but I didn't feel all that much better when I woke up. I took a bath, got through one of four reports I had left, and tried to eat something. My best mates weren't much help either when they got home in the afternoon.

"I didn't mean to be a downer, you know, maybe it's something else." Cho crossed her arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter pensively. "You haven't rowed in weeks, it can't be a recent fight."

"Maybe I said something or-"

"Stop second-guessing yourself," interrupted Pansy. "This is not something you've done. What the hell could you have said to offend him on the way out – goodbye? Have a good day? This is all speculation."

"If he's agitated enough-"

"Sick people say crazy things because they are ill," she continued like I hadn't even spoken, "and I am glad that he feels well enough to feel strongly about anything, even if it's not something good. You won't know anything about why he was out there in the first place until he gets better. Until then, there is absolutely no point in stressing yourself out by thinking about it."

After I returned, I acknowledged that it was much easier said than done.

I hadn't done anything, had I? I mean, of course, June through August had been horrible. I had been determined to punish him. Was it catching up with me? Or was he pulling away? But that didn't explain what would have drawn him into the rain…or who. I got up, opened the fridge and silently gagged when I opened the pot of chicken and dumplings. I slammed the fridge door shut. When I turned around Pansy was reading something and Cho was staring at me thoughtfully.

"When was the last time you ate, Hannah?"

"Breakfast, this morning."

She looked at the clock.

"You mean a little over eight hours ago?"

"I guess so, yes."

"That chicken and dumplings isn't that old," she said with a blank look on her face. "I made it two days ago. Does it smell off?"

"No, I don't think so…I think I just am not all that hungry."

"You made a face like you were nauseated."

"It's not your cooking skills, Cho." I laughed a little. "Lately, I even second-guess eating bread. Don't fret."

"How many days have you been late for work in the last two weeks?"

I thought about it.

"Six, I think. Why?"

"Too tired to wake up?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," I scoffed. "But what is this about?"

Pansy was paying attention now, silent but watching with interest.

"Bear with me here, Han," Cho said lightly. "How many times did you eat yesterday?"

"I think I ate lunch, and then while we were baking, I ate some of the stuff Pansy annihilated."

"And the day before that?"

"Lunch and dinner."

"Han, have things been busier at work than usual?"

"It's actually slowed down a little bit."

For a moment, Pansy and I looked at each other before we gazed at Cho.

"Have you been feeling a smidgeon sore?"

"I guess, I keep waking up in awkward positions-"

"Where've you been sore?"

"My arms and chest – we lifted something heavy upstairs a week ago."

"Have you ever been late to work before recently?"

"Maybe once," I said helplessly. "Cho, what the hell is going on?"

Her face was moving from thoughtful to certainty.

"It's been a six weeks since you crashed at my place, yes? Hannah, if we understood this right, you and Theo slept together, didn't you?"

I turned red, but nodded.

She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward.

"Han…when was the last time you had your period?"

"Seven-"

I froze.

Seven weeks…? My period was sometimes this late. But Cho wasn't staring at me like that on a presumption. And her older sister was currently pregnant.

"Holy God," I exhaled. "You don't think I'm-?"

"Wait a minute," Pansy said loudly, "you think she's up the duff?"

Cho nodded.

"You're just like Xian…same symptoms except she started with the vomiting early. You're pale too."

"Holy God," I said again. It was the only phrase I could think of so I said it again. "Holy God. Wait-"

Cho came around the counter and touched my arm. I felt my heart beating out of control.

"We can use the spell-"

"No magic!" I shouted. "I mean, Merlin, I'm sorry. No magic in the house. Muggles have this thing…it's a pregnancy test."

They looked really dubious.

"How does it work? Is it accurate?"

"It's 75% accurate, I think, and if I really am-" I stumbled over my words, "then that means I am like 5 weeks along and I'm way less likely to have a false negative."

"A false negative?" asked Pansy. "What-"

No, no, no, no, sweet heaven, this was happening? This was a thing that was happening to me?

"Never mind. Holy God-" I could hear my breath coming in rasps, desperate and alarmed, "okay, won't think about that. Well…I pee on a stick. I mean, there are instructions and I need to follow them closely. When you're pregnant, there's something in your blood or urine that will indicate a baby's presence. So…someone call a cab."

Pansy practically lunged for the house phone.

Forty minutes later, Cho and Pansy stood on the other side of the door while I stared at the stick in my hand, waiting for I don't even know what. How could I be pregnant? I mean, one time! That single instance had been enough? And we hadn't used protection – it hadn't even crossed my mind. I'd been so busy ignoring the elephant in the room that it had completely slipped my mind that we hadn't used contraception. I'd let myself relive it once then tucked it away.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

"Hannah?"

I ignored Pansy and stared at the stick. These three minutes were lasting forever.

"Hannah, please say something."

"I'm waiting for it to tell me," I yelled back. "Give me time!"

"It speaks?"

"No, Pansy, it…no, there's a marking on the right, purple."

I am nineteen years old, I thought desperately, and not married, not really even in a relationship with Theodore Nott. I cannot be pregnant.

I stared at the stick – there was a light purple line on the right.

I bit back a moan and ripped open the second package. I mean, I'd bought six of them and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to use all six. I dipped it into the cup, shook it off, then laid it in the sink next to the first one. Then I ripped open the rest, dipped, shook, laid them out too.

You know…just in case.

How can I be a mother?

I didn't even know what I was going to do. I didn't know the first thing about babies – I didn't have cousins or an extended family and I'd never spent time around anything below the age of four years. I stopped, stared in the mirror. It was the same face I saw every single day. Brown eyes, blonde hair that might be a little limper than usual (thanks to all this fatigue), and worry. I looked as worried as I felt.

"Hannah, please open the door."

I am nineteen years old.

Jesus Christ.

What the bloody hell was I going to tell him? He'd just come out of God knows what with a high fever and didn't want to see me. Oh God, Cho was right. I'd been sleeping so often in the last two weeks that I'd woken up late six times for work. I hadn't had a full day of three square meals in a few days because I was nauseated every single time I smelled something that had any level of spice. And I'd cried more in the last week than I had since I'd lost my brother. I should have known it myself.

So much for self-awareness.

I can't be a mother.

I didn't even know how to fix things with Theodore – I wasn't sure how I felt about him, I'd only just gotten to know him, I'd never met his family until today and that was his sister-in-law and not his older brother – and now there might be a small human in the mix?

Shit.

I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes, as hard as I could then I looked down.

Six violet lines, all in a row.

…

I opened the door. Cho and Pansy took one look at my face and swooped in on either side.

I, Hannah Abbot, was pregnant.

|… T …|

Father had killed Miles Alfred Abbot, and I had watched.

What was I supposed to do with that piece of information?

The recurring nightmare about the boy and the snow-covered clearing…Zabini had shown up this morning with a photo of her brother. There was no two ways about it. It was him.

It felt like…

…like being sentenced to life in Azkaban.

If I'd thought I was carrying guilt before, it was nothing compared to the physical and mental ache of it now. It consumed me, inside and out. The nightmare, which I'd only had about once a month before, was present every time I closed my eyes. It didn't matter whether it was day or night – there was no rest. The details that I'd never noticed about the dream came to the forefront. He was soaked to the bone, dirty and bleeding. Even wet, his dark hair had had that same strange wave pattern that hers did. His eyes had been a different color, certainly, but the same shape. Defiant even at the end, staring Father straight in the face. His dead eyes afterwards, face frozen in that fierce countenance, but the eyes so wrong.

It was like the dream skipped ahead these days and all it focused on was the death.

I couldn't breathe. I could never pull in enough air to feel as if I was functioning correctly. It was like an ever-present need to curl into the fetal position that had nothing to do with me recovering from illness. My chest hurt all the time, constant pressure that made it hard for me to breathe. I would give anything to be someone else, anyone else in the world. Max tried to see me three more times. Each time I pretended to be asleep. Marla didn't say a single thing about it but I suspected that she didn't know.

I would have given anything at all to be someone else.

"Are you-"

"No," I said firmly, "I don't want to see her."

"But why, Theodore?" Marla crossed her arms, looking frustrated beyond belief. "She was so worried. She came here the evening your fever broke, Theodore. You can't do this to someone who cares about you."

"No."

Marla stood.

"I'm not going to prevent her from coming in here. If you don't want her here, then tell her yourself."

"Marla-"

"No, I'm not lying for you anymore," she cut in. "You are my little brother in every way except blood and I love you, and I don't know why you're hurting but it obviously has to do with Hannah. Whatever it is, I'm sure you can get through it. But you have to face it, and face her because she does not deserve to be treated this way."

It was so ludicrous that I started laughing.

"You think this is funny?" she fumed. "Fine, do whatever you want. But I won't turn her away."

She stormed out and I couldn't stop laughing.

It wasn't funny – it was ludicrous. I couldn't face it because I couldn't face her. The situation was so absurd that it shouldn't have been real. How ironic was life? How could I? How could I stare in her face and know that I'd watched the last bit of her family die? And did nothing? What, exactly, was I supposed to say to her? There was no amount of emotion that could convey how terribly sorry – what a pale word, 'sorry' – for what had happened to her and her family.

I was so sorry.

I was just so sorry.

|…|…|

"Dodge, I know I'm the last person you want to hear from." I looked at him. He stood on the other side of the room, his hands made into fists at his sides. "I'm sorry. I am sorry that I didn't tell you, I didn't warn you about it. I didn't know how. I kept waiting for a so-called perfect time that didn't exist. And you were happy all throughout August, Dodge, you were, but that doesn't excuse my lies."

I let the silence stretch on before I sighed.

"You didn't lie."

"A Gryffindor's version of a lie then," he tried to joke. It fell flat and he shook his head. "I know what you're doing right now."

"What am I doing?"

"It's not your fault," he said quietly. "You've been brought into this whole Death Eater legacy since you were young. You would never have become a monster had it not been for the home you were raised in. There was no other choice for you, Dodge…Father suffocated you – it's not your fault that you went down that path."

"He smothered you too."

And you didn't become what I did.

"And I am six years older than you," he shot back, "so I left. You're right – I've never been the brother you needed. I was older, I was working to make my own way, and I should have taken you away. I should have never left you in this house, I should have done everything I could to get you out of here and I didn't and that is my fault, Dodge, it is mine and not yours."

"I'm not even a year older than I was when I still followed the dark," I said raspingly. "I was old enough to know right from wrong."

"What you did, Dodge, you did because you were groomed to do it," Max said harshly, "yes, you knew right from wrong and yes, that means you knew what you were doing but the person you were then is not the same person you are now. You knew cruelty and you engaged it but you learned better! You told me yourself that seeing it changed everything for you, everything! You can shoulder your remorse for the things that you actually did, damn it, but you can't take the blame for this too!"

I opened my mouth and Max made a slashing motion in the air.

"No, Dodge, you will listen to me." He crossed the room and stood at my bedside. "It is not your fault. You couldn't have done anything to prevent either Miles' capture or his murder. You are not to blame for his death, Dodge, Father is."

"But I was there," I said, voice hoarse. "I was there."

He sat and his face was as hard as stone.

"What do you think you could have done?"

"I-"

"You don't think the Dark Lord would have made it worse? Would have tortured you and tortured Miles just to underline his point?" He would have. He had been a twisted sadistic fuck and nothing would have given him more pleasure. "You don't think Father would have helped him punish you? Do you think you would have lived? Do you think you could have saved Miles?"

I blanched.

"Dodge, it isn't your fault."

"Being a witness to injustice," I whispered, "means I might as well have been the perpetrator."

My brother shook his head.

"You turned it around. Whatever you saw, Theodore…it broke you. It broke you and remade you into someone capable of being more than just…a second generation Death Eater. You've cleaned up the accounts, attempted to find a profession that would help others, and never once complained about my absence." He shook his head again. "You have done more to repent in the past few months than guiltier men in their lifetimes. You've never run away from what you've done…and while I'm proud that you are willing to shoulder the terrible things, it means that these past eight months you've been living life like a man who doesn't think he deserves it."

"I don't," I choked out, "but I have to try…I'm trying to be a better person."

Max's expression flitted from harsh to unsurprised to infinitely sad. And because I am the little brother who was forever chasing after the older one, who'd worshipped him so senselessly, always loved him always always I scrambled to explain so he wouldn't look that way.

"Max, I'm trying-"

"No."

He lifted his hand and dropped it on my shoulder. He held the back of my head like he used to when we were younger, then squeezed my shoulder.

"I know you don't believe me, little brother, but you're not trying to be a better person – you are a better person. One day, you'll see it for yourself."

|…H…|

I didn't get a wink of sleep Wednesday night.

Forty-eight hours, and my life was collapsing down around me.

How had this happened?

Cho and Pansy had dragged me two blocks down from my home to confirm the pregnancy test results with magic. I was going to be a mother.

In a few months.

Oh, God.

Banished from work, there was nothing to do but sit in my room and stare at my walls and think about this entire summer and how differently I'd believed my life would go. You have a plan and a purpose and a goal, and then life comes along and sticks you with a deck of cards that you can't possibly play. But you have no choice. I hadn't been…happy, exactly, but I'd been sure. I'd been sure that what I wanted after the War was to recoup. I had a job that fell in line with my new goal – to make sure nothing happened to anyone like me ever again. I didn't necessarily do it out of the goodness of my heart. I did it because it was a neat outlet for every bit of anger and exhaustion and fear I couldn't name. I did it because more death meant that Lord Voldemort was still winning, even in death. I did it because I couldn't lift my head in front of their graves. I did it because I had to. Emotionless, blank – these are the things I heard people call me. Aye, maybe I hadn't been happy but what of it? I'd been focused.

And then the Marriage Law comes around and BAM-

-I realized that everything that had been stolen from me was still gone. It would have been so much better to take Mum and Alfie's death and pour it into my work as an Auror. Reading his name on that first letter brought forth all the emotions that I vaguely acknowledged were gone.

So…their deaths were like festering wounds. That's what I realized.

One would think that hatred would have been my constant companion in the months after Alfie died. In a sense, it was. Out in the field with brief skirmishes, I was hardened. And while I didn't kill those Death Eaters who eventually told me who had struck the killing spell, I hadn't eased their passage into death…just forced what I needed from them and left them there. Finding out made me cold, I suppose. I had the information I wanted but couldn't do anything about it. So it wasn't really hatred that pushed me, it was more like I needed to know. For closure. Like there was such a thing as closure after your mother and brother have been murdered.

So, no, I hadn't felt enough to really hate someone.

Until the Marriage Law.

Then, heaven help me, I felt. Suddenly, I had a perfectly clear goal for all this emotion I hadn't known was pent up.

All throughout June, I'd let it consume me. I knew it was no good. I knew that this wasn't healthy. But it was uncontrollable – an urge I got every single time I saw Theodore Nott's face or heard his voice or saw him go out of his way to be polite and conscientious. Because, honestly, what the fuck was wrong with a world that had paired me with the son of a murderer? I was almost willing to paint him with the same brush because anything was possible from a Death Eater. He was probably a killer too. And it had galled me to have to be with him just to function.

And he'd tried so damnably hard and I couldn't help the sense of righteous vindication I got from punishing him, even if I was punishing myself too. His point had been a good one, about compromising my own health and therefore my job…I don't think I would have stopped on my own. The bond, of course, was already working its magic by the time I'd arrived and being drawn to him against my will reinforced every negative emotion I'd ever felt…like…ever.

How had I come this far?

Sure, I'd made peace with the fact that he was the son of the murderer but he wasn't the murderer himself. That was possibly the largest concession I'd made in the scope of my nineteen years of life. Because the Hannah Abbott I was before the day I was called out of the dining hall to hear Professor Dumbledore inform me that Mum was dead…she wasn't really the kind of person to hold a grudge. She liked people. She was awkward and maybe a little bit shy but she had been a nice person…a nice person with dreams of family and a home and she'd thought more about the positive than the negative. The Hannah Abbot before that day wouldn't have been able to maintain this constant level of hatred and negative emotion. She might have even tried to understand the man she was tied to.

Maybe I felt like I'd lost parts of me?

Maybe I wanted to return to the 'me' I used to be?

"Hannah?" Cho pushed the door open, startling me. She looked very nice – a business suit with fitted silk trousers in a soft pink. "It's four o'clock. You haven't moved, have you?"

I shrugged.

"Just thinking."

"Budge up Chang, I can't hold this tray forever and we all need to eat." I dragged a smile unto my face when they both came into the room. Pansy had a huge tray of food, probably something she'd bought on her way back. "Merlin, you really haven't moved, have you?"

"We knew you wouldn't," sighed Cho.

"Just thinking," I repeated.

"About the fact that you're going to be holding a crying child in nine months?" Pansy quipped cheerfully over the tray. "Or how exactly you are going to tell the father of said child?"

"You have absolutely no tact," Cho snapped. "Seriously, Pans!"

"She's not fine china," Pansy shot back, "so we need to stop treating her like it. She hasn't broken yet and she sure isn't going to break now."

"Both, actually."

Pansy put the tray quite unceremoniously on the bed and started opening everything and laying it out. Cho lifted the blankets to get in next to me while I continued.

"And I…I suppose…shite, what do witches do when they are pregnant? What is prenatal care like? I have half a mind to go to a Muggle doctor instead."

Pansy made a face.

"Would it make you feel better to go to a Muggle doctor?"

"Don't know. I think that it's better that way, less chance of me running into anyone." Pansy nodded, handed me a dish of something that didn't make me want to throw up, and handed Cho a similar looking plate. "Marla told me that he doesn't want to see me."

Their expressions were so in unison it was eerie.

"What?"

"Wait, why?"

"She didn't know either. But she was going to try and sneak me in today. Obviously, that didn't work out thanks to all the..." I made vague hand motions at my stomach. "But I do not even know how to deal with the crisis here, much less the crisis over at Nott Manor."

I was going to be a mother.

What was my life, right now?

"Whatever you need, we're here."

I knew that, and was infinitely grateful. My eyes filled before I could stop them.

"Oh, Han." Cho squeezed my hand. "It'll be all right, I know it will."

I really sincerely hoped so.

|… | …|

"Hannah Abbot?"

I gathered my cloak and purse, nearly stumbling to my feet, and followed the nurse into the back part of the clinic. It was bright and clean, and painted in colors that reminded me of a nursery or a child's bedroom. The nurse smiled reassuringly and I briefly wondered if she smiled this way at all expectant mothers. She probably did.

"I see it's your first time to the clinic," she said in a friendly manner. "How are you feeling today?"

"G-good, I think."

She led me into a room with all the usual doctor things – the padded seating and the bright lights and the charts. She assured me that the doctor would be joining me in a few moments and left. I tried to breathe deeply so I could fight off the panic that was rising like bile, and counted to ten to distract myself. True to word, a Dr. Kirosaki entered the room a few minutes later. Once she started talking, it was a bit better.

By the end, I had a few more facts and felt slightly better than before.

I was almost six weeks along and hadn't gained more than a pound. I wouldn't gain more than two pounds in the first eight weeks, but after that I would start to increase. I could expect morning sickness, fatigue, and nausea. I had to begin taking prenatal vitamins, stay away from all forms of alcohol and raw fish, and had to try and get in more sleep. My vitals weren't terrible but they weren't good either – apparently, I was moderately dehydrated (which she said was compounding my fatigue) and had a lower white blood cell count than normal. She'd asked after my family history and I'd wished fiercely that I'd had someone who loved me present. I wished even more fiercely for my mother.

Sometimes I forgot that I was only nineteen years old.

"I don't know," I'd whispered in alarm, "I don't really have any way of asking. Why? Is something wrong?"

"I'm going to do my best to be truthful at all times with you," she said professionally, "but at this moment, I don't think so. It's standard for the parent or parents to have a bit of family history – conditions that might run in the family that they want to watch out for in the unborn baby."

"Well, my father had heart disease but he died long before I was old enough to really know him. My mother and older brother-" I sucked in air, "-are no longer with me, unnatural causes."

Dr. Kirosaki smiled kindly, and took my hand.

"We can do a battery of tests of well-known conditions or diseases, just to be sure, and only if you would like to."

"I do," I said in a hurry. "I do, as long as it doesn't hurt the baby."

"You're in good hands, I promise you." I nodded gratefully. "Now I want us to go through the calendar and pick out a date for you to return next week. Obstetrician and/or midwife appointments should happen at least once a month, to make sure that everything is developing as it should."

I took a deep breath and nodded again and listened as closely as possible. I felt so very much…alone. When the doctor was finished, I thanked her for everything and left. I went straight to my old home, to visit them. No cleaning this time, just straight to the site.

It was raining.

It was always raining.

I didn't bother with a spell, just sat in the grass, in the rain with a hand on each headstone.

…I cried.

|… T …|

I was awake and staring at ceiling just before dawn on Monday morning. I figured I'd taken enough time for myself and that it was time to get back to work, come hell or high water. I'd done enough self-reflection to last a lifetime and none of it had come up with answers to all of my questions. But, no matter. Last night, Marla had come in with a sleep potion designed for dreamless sleep. I couldn't hide forever. I couldn't wallow forever. I had to return to work. I didn't think I'd be able to stay on my feet all day but I would try.

What about her?

It was another question my subconscious kept asking.

I turned over and let my mind wander. The house was quiet. The sky went from dark blue to incrementally lighter shades. I watched the sun rise and light up the sky. The rolling hills of the estate washed with color. Rather peaceful.

To think that seven days ago I had been perfectly content in a Muggle house where I'd lived with the girl I was certain I was in love with…to think that I'd wondered about the big things that we avoided talking about. We'd never talked about her family. I can't speak for her but I'd avoided it because I'd known that the War had taken away her mother and her brother. We were so busy building the beginning of whatever fragile relationship we'd had that I hadn't wanted to disturb it. And even though I'd accused Max of not inviting her over purposefully, the truth was that I didn't know how to talk about my own family without raising ghosts.

I'd just wanted to be happy.

You can't be happy in a lie.

Her family members' deaths were intricately entwined with fact that I had been a Death Eater. Another touchy subject, obviously. And something that I was starting to realize had much more to do with my feelings of shame and self-doubt than they did with wanting her to feel comfortable around me. But...

…it's natural to want to hide the ugly parts of yourself.

I watched and waited and gazed until the sky was the dim blue of a full day.

Then I got up and got ready.

|… | …|

Zabini Floo'd his way into the office – I could hear his arrival – and must have noticed the music immediately. He popped his head in immediately.

"Christ, Theo, I didn't expect to see you in here, mate." He walked all the way and collapsed into the chair in front of me. "You don't look as terrible as you did before. How long have you been here?"

I tried to smile and think I did a fair job of it.

"Maybe three hours? I got here at 7 o'clock." I leaned back. "I looked at our calendar and the schedule is clear."

"No client meetings – I needed the time to catch up on everything."

"Thank you for covering for me, mate."

"That's what I'm here for," he smiled, "among other things, and Marco is seriously a godsend."

There was a pregnant pause.

"I wished I'd found a better way to tell you about Miles Abbot."

"I would never have put it together on my own," I said lowly, "and if I had, it would have been at the most inopportune time. It's better that everything is out all at once."

"You need to talk with her."

I shrugged.

I knew I did. Just…not yet.

Zabini stood and headed for the doorway.

"Do Max and Marla know you're here?" I swore, because Marla would surely have a fit, and he laughed. "I knew you'd forgotten. Alright mate, I'll be down the hall."

I was exhausted by three o'clock in the afternoon but was proud that I'd responded to mail, finished a report, had Marco run me through the meeting plans for the week, went out to do a bit more research on Patil, and ignored Malfoy's pointed comments regarding coming over for dinner since he'd begun practicing. I could tell he'd be in the office if he could, badgering me without end, and was grateful for small favors.

Marco and Zabini insisted I leave, saying that if I overworked myself, I'd be missing another week.

This was probably true.

I Floo'd back to the Manor, took a few sips of the potion to ensure I would actually sleep, and was dead to the world until half-past eight.

When I woke up, my thoughts went to Hannah Abbot. I'd done such a good job at not thinking about her all week so I let myself wallow now. I wondered how she was doing, why she'd fainted, how she was feeling. I lay in bed and wished intensely that I was with her.

After what felt like hours, I fell asleep again.

|… | …|

"Mate, are you getting worse?" Malfoy made an up-and-down motion with his salad fork. "Because it looks like it."

At his words, everyone at the small dinner table pinned me under their gaze. Granger and Zabini looked thoughtful, which probably didn't bode well for me. Mrs. Malfoy seemed to be getting ready to ask me in more detail what I was feeling.

"Does it?" I replied lightly. "I don't think it's possible to feel physically worse than I did last week. So odds are I'm improving."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"I ran into Hannah for yesterday morning," Granger said with a look. "She was in Wiltshire so it was actually a bit of a surprise."

Everything in me wanted to ask how she was doing. My best mate interrupted before thought became action.

"Oh?" said Zabini. "What were you doing in Wiltshire?"

"My father wanted me to come along with him to a friend's dentist office. I was waiting for him to pull around the vehicle when I quite literally ran in to her."

"Didn't you see her two weeks ago for lunch too?" Malfoy asked. Granger nodded and they shared an unreadable look before Malfoy continued. "How is she?"

"Looking quite ill and exhausted." Granger delivered those terrible words in a very quiet voice. "Actually, when I saw her, she was coming out of a clinic."

I closed my eyes.

"Like…a Muggle hospital?"

"Yes. I didn't think anything of it, at first, but she was moving so slowly that-"

I stood up abruptly, staring straight ahead. The room went deathly quiet.

"If you will all excuse me, I'll be returning to work now."

Rudeness, be damned.

|… H …|

Hermione Granger had been the last person I'd expected to see Wednesday morning this late in September, especially since I'd seen her two weeks ago for another brunch meeting. I'd immediately gone into auto-pilot, dragging up a smile and a weak explanation for why I was in Wiltshire to begin with. Her hug was comforting though, and I might have held on a little too long or a little too tightly to be normal. When I'd pulled away, her intelligent gaze had shifted to the clinic entrance a few steps away before returning to mine. I don't think she connected the dots but it was equally as obvious that she thought I was sick. When her father pulled around in his car, she offered to drive me to wherever I needed to go.

I'd declined and waved her off, and stood there nervously laughing long enough to get weird looks from passersby. When I'd gone into work, I was still half reeling at the absurdity of it all.

Speaking of work, I didn't know what working pregnant women usually did. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to let the office know immediately or wait until I'd begun to show. And heaven knows I didn't really want to tell them anything since I hadn't talked to Theodore.

Theodore, who doesn't want to talk to me.

Theodore, whose hysteria had apparently not been faked. Theodore, who remained at Nott Manor even after his sister-in-law and older brother had gone back to their own home. Theodore, who had returned to work three days ago but had not once stepped foot in our house.

I couldn't keep crying over him – I wasn't the kind of person to take things lying down. I hadn't done anything and I didn't deserve to be treated this way.

So today I'd taken the plunge. The invitation to the wedding of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had perhaps spurred me onwards and upwards. Or maybe it was that I could no longer look at any of the recipe books in the library without feeling the sick weight of sadness over my breast. My lunch break, perhaps, did not allow enough time to find out what was going on but I wouldn't risk coming in later and missing him altogether. The building looked newer than some of the others on Diagon Alley, and was three stories from what I could see. I knew they'd bought the whole building but weren't renting out the top. There was a very neat, professional sign to the left of the stairs leading in. I wondered whose idea that had been.

I pushed the door open resolutely. It led into a reception room done in dark colors, the ringing of the doorbell still tingling. A tall thin man appeared immediately.

"Good morning, Miss…?"

"Newton," I lied smoothly. "I don't have an appointment but I would like to speak to Sir Theodore Nott."

He nodded smartly and left the room rather abruptly. When he came back, he motioned me to follow him down the hallway. The door was already open.

The first glimpse of Theodore froze me in place.

He was writing something, quill scribbling away at parchment. The crown of his dark head was bent, his hair falling over his forehead. I could see that he was on the verge of biting his bottom lip, a weird thinking quirk. A million different fragments of memory raced across my mind – Theodore laughing, Theodore frowning, the sight of his shoulders as he stood over the stove, Theodore working on his accounts across the room of the home office, the way his forehead wrinkled when he was thinking about something particularly puzzling, that one wisp of hair that seemed to always want to curl across his forehead, his thick fingers holding a spoon - and something in my chest tightened painfully.

Maybe I made a sound because his head snapped up.

In that moment, nothing else existed. In a distracted sort of way, I knew how desperate I looked and I couldn't find it in myself to care. Like a thirsty woman, I drank in the sight of his face. His eyes were so wide and his face was so slack. Every familiar crease, every new shadow, the look on his stunned face – I drank it all in like I hadn't seen him in years. I didn't realize I was moving across the room until I was standing between his legs and looking down at his face to dimly realize that my own hands were framing it.

"You don't look fully recovered," I whispered.

He still looked too shocked to do much more than gape…and I wanted to be angry, or be sad, but all I could feel was relief. His skin was warm under the pads of my fingers, and I stroked his face without any actual thought to do so. I followed the creases across his forehead, skimmed the bridge of his nose, rubbed the corner of his eyes and thumbed the edges of his mouth. I couldn't help myself. And he didn't stop me.

He stood and my hands remained around his face.

"Hannah," he croaked, "please don't cry."

I kissed him without another thought and for the first time ever, all the Ministry's stories of the way the bond was supposed to function came true.

It flared to life, but like a blowtorch not a candle. Everything was vibrant, glowing, his arms tight under the cloak across my back and one hand fisted in my hair. I didn't bother with something as mundane as breathing when I had him in my arms. When he pulled me closer, I arched unconsciously and gasped into another deep kiss. Theo was so close that the heat of him was apparent through his dress shirt, and I gripped his shoulders so hard that they felt locked in place.

I have no idea how long the magic of those kisses went on.

I only knew that they went from desperate and rushed to slow and gentle. When they dwindled down into nothing, the bond was thrumming in my mind. His forehead was pressed into mine and he was breathing as hard as I; I couldn't feel anything but his own feelings – enormous relief, niggling trepidation. I let calm steal into my soul.

"I'm so sorry," he said lowly, "so sorry for everything."

I was too relieved to be bewildered. He seemed to take a deep breath and when he blinked, I felt distance open up between us. He pulled away and gestured towards the chair. I didn't take my eyes off of him and I didn't move.

"Please sit."

"Not until you explain what happened last week, why they wouldn't let me see you, and why you haven't come home."

His face might have smoothed into an emotionless blank, but my mind was alive with magic and I could feel what he felt. He was pained.

"Why are you hurting? What's going on? Why won't you talk to me? I don't-"

"You're overwhelming me, Hannah, please. Sit down."

And that wasn't an obvious evasion. I sat reluctantly.

He sat down too and made a steeple out of his fingers. The aching in my head from him increased slowly. For what felt like forever, he stared at the wall behind me in silence. I tried not to fidget, or yell, or explode.

"I didn't get to work on Monday, obviously. I'm sorry about the bills." I gaped…as if that's what I was worried about. "I'd gone up to your room…t-to put your laundry on your bed. I found…"

His agony swelled and I felt it so intimately that my hands flew up to press into my chest. He took a deep breath.

"…your book."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I found a book." His eyes didn't leave the wall. "I thought it was something else, something you needed at work but had forgotten maybe, so I was all set to run after you. But I wanted to make sure so…so I checked it. And it wasn't a book, it was your journal."

…that was the last thing I'd expected him to say.

"What?"

I was dumbfounded. I hadn't written in my journal in weeks, not since the beginning of August when life had gotten a bit out of hand. He looked at me now and his mask cracked straight down the middle. I sucked in a harsh breath of air. God, he looked like he was in agony.

"Theodore, I don't understand-"

"I'm so sorry, Hannah, I didn't…I didn't know," he whispered, "I didn't know."

He kept shaking his head uncontrollably and I got up without thinking.

"No, sit!" The force of the shout had me stumbling away from him. "Father killed your brother, I don't…I don't want your comfort."

I stared.

Honest-to-goodness, I collapsed into the chair and just stared at him.

"I am so sorry, Hannah, you will never know how sorry I am," he continued, "I had no idea and I shouldn't have read your journal, once I figured out you didn't need it for work. But I didn't know that it was him, I had no idea this entire time, and then I read that and everything – Merlin, everything made sense. I couldn't understand why you hated me so much – I knew I didn't deserve you and I accepted that but I…I just hoped I might find a way to make you happy, even if you were tied to a Death Eater. I didn't understand it but I get it now-"

I gaped.

"You didn't know?"

He was telling the truth. I'd hated him blindly and he hadn't even known.

"I…I watched it happen."

…

…the room reeled with those four words.

"You-"

"I was not a decent sort when I was younger," he whispered, "and I was quite horrible at Hogwarts. My mother died when I was three and I barely remember her. For as long as I could remember, it has always been Max, myself…Father. Max was like this shining star, so different from Father and I. He's always cut quite the figure…very expressive, never could outright lie worth a damn, light where Father and I were dark. He…protected me, stood up for me, half-raised me, but he was older. When he left for Hogwarts, he couldn't do that anymore."

My eyes went unfocused. His voice came as if from a distance.

"I believed it…all of it. All the nonsense about purity of blood equaling worth, of magic and entitlement, and I followed in Father's footsteps eagerly. Max wanted nothing to do with it, and nothing to do with Lord Voldemort. You see, he never had. And even though he'd half-raised me, he'd raised himself too. But when he left, I didn't see him and he chose to cut himself off before I turned thirteen. By the time I was in Fourth Year, I only spoke to him via owl and never when Father could know. I took the Dark Mark as soon as I could."

I lifted a shaking hand to cover my face.

"I started the War as a zealot but torture is…it's terrible, horrifying to watch another human suffer like that, and maybe Father knew I couldn't stomach too much of it because he wouldn't let me watch many."

Torture?

…Alfie?

He was talking about torture right now?

I tried to suck in air and couldn't.

"I will never forget for as long as I live how…h-how defiant your brother looked in that clearing." His voice was so choked I could barely understand him but God knew I couldn't look at him. "They tried to break him b-but he wouldn't. I…fuck, Hannah, I can't - am so sorry. I am as guilty as-"

He had watched.

"-death changed everything-"

Heavens above, he'd watched the whole thing happen.

"-to see evil…just…celebrated…like that-"

He'd…watched…?

"-never again wanted to be the kind of person who doesn't do anything when bad things happen right before their eyes-"

What…what was this?

I didn't want to hear anymore.

"I have regretted most things that led me to this point in my life but I have never regretted them more than when I found out your brother was the man in that clearing," his voice cracked wetly at the end but I was far too numb to look up. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-"

I stood, wordlessly, and Apparated right out of the office.

I don't understand.

I don't remember how I got back to work. I don't remember what I did at work.

Theodore, I don't understand.

I know I caught a cab about two streets down from the Ministry in the rain. I vaguely recall staring out of the passenger window and letting myself into my house.

I don't.

I trudged up the stairs mechanically; my mind focused on everything and nothing at all, and removed my cloak before I slid into bed. When the dark gathered at the edges of my vision, I welcomed it gratefully.