Come on skinny love, just last the year.
Pour a little salt…you were never here.
|…T…|
No matter what I did, there was a burning in the back of my throat. It wouldn't go away. It would sleep, sometimes, just dormant and unmoving. Other times, it felt like the burn was spreading from my throat to the skin under my collarbones, my chest, my skin. It spread so slowly, as if I was meant to feel the way it stretched throughout my being. Twenty-four hours…forty-eight hours…seventy-two hours…the burn took on a life of its own. It choked out everything else, choked out the connection that had sprung up, choked out everything that needed me to function at higher level than autopilot.
The first few words had been hard to get out, yes, but after that it flowed like magic through an unstable barrier. Just out and out and out. I couldn't stop. Even when her face lost all its color. Even when her eyes went perfectly horribly blank. I physically could not stop. When she'd covered her face, I'd known her heart had cracked. The bond transmitted everything. And, shit, I'd heard her heart break.
And still I kept speaking, words tumbling out without any real will on my part. I know I apologized and explained my past and…I just, well, the words were the most I might have ever spoken to her in one go and they were the worst. And I couldn't stop. I had no control over it. When she'd stood, my mouth kept going but she'd Apparated in the same motion.
Words in dead air, a voice in an empty room.
One moment? Words and Hannah.
The next? Silence.
Everything got…dimmer, from then on. I don't really know how to describe it. I delivered Padma Patil's report to Weasley. I went where I was supposed to go, and I said what I was supposed to say, and I did what I was supposed to do. In public, at least. But it was all…gone. It was gone. Just me and this burn clawing its way up my throat every second of every day. It was so much worse, to know that I was in love with her and know that it was finished. It was so much worse, to have seen her and held her and had that fucking bond come out of nowhere and feel so…so…right…and then to lose it all in the next breath. It was so much worse because she deserved to know everything and she deserved the truth and she deserved so much more than me.
I knew that and it was killing me.
I could never be what she needed – how could I? How dare I? – and if she chose to never speak to me again, she was well within her rights. A whole life unfolded in my head, between baths and work and client meetings and days where I felt more lonely than I could have ever thought possible and it was a half-life. It was rain and weekends in my bedroom and nights alone. It was discovering a new recipe and making enough for one. Between sleeping and eating and staring out the moonlight, I thought about reading over my documents after work by myself and the fourth floor of a house located in a Muggle neighborhood. It would be remembering the last eight weeks and sidestepping my brother and ignoring the looks from my mates. It would be even emptier than before and it might kill me.
She was everything now.
It would kill me.
It was killing me already.
… | …
"Nott. Nott. Nott?"
I looked up just in time to catch Malfoy's piercing look.
"I know forcing you to help me choose tablecloths for my wedding on a Thursday evening isn't the most exciting thing but I've been calling your name for hours and hours."
"Exaggeration is not becoming," I said drily.
"Neither is desolation."
I immediately froze.
"You know it offends my sensibilities to talk about feelings but enough is enough," Malfoy sighed. "What happened? Did you talk to her? Zabini says you've been different for the last four or five days and I believe it. Although if we want to be entirely truthful, you've been different since you went missing."
I tried on a smile. He wasn't taken in. I let it slide away, closed my eyes, and felt the burn spread down to my chest. When I spoke, I didn't recognize the rasp in my own voice.
"I told her. It's…we're finished."
"There's no such thing as finished," he said in a calm voice, "because you're bound together."
This time I smiled and opened my eyes but it wasn't happiness.
"Interestingly enough, there was no physical backlash." He looked disbelieving and I shrugged. "You do realize that the Ministry never meant to make it so that we wouldn't be able to be without each other, right? Or…perhaps they did, but my theory is that we've been living together non-stop for the last six weeks. It's cemented the relationship enough that we don't need to be around each other."
"But you both can't even feel each other's emotions through the bond-"
"Happened right before she left." Malfoy's face went from disbelief to shock to something close to pity in the space of a heartbeat. Damned if this half-life was already beginning. "Anyway…no backlash. It would have kicked in by now if it was going to kick in at all. I'm not ill, if that's what you mean by different."
He looked completely unconvinced.
"Don't you feel her-"he touched his temple, "-all the time?"
I don't think our bond worked quite like everyone else's.
And wasn't that the most damning proof of our incompatibility?
It had waited two months to kick in, instead of everyone else's four weeks. Instead of a steady presence in my head, I was overwhelmed by all the guilt I'd never quite gotten rid of after the War. So…no. No, I couldn't feel her. I didn't even know if she was there and I was honest enough with myself to admit that I was terrified to try and be rebutted. I had enough proof that she didn't want anything to do with me, and Merlin knows I didn't need more.
"Not even a little," I tried for a light tone and prayed I got it right. "I-"
"Nott," Malfoy said quietly. "You don't have to lie to me-"
"It's just over," I interrupted firmly. "I'll get back to myself, don't fret your cold little Malfoy heart."
The silence in the room was quickly becoming uncomfortable.
"She's coming to the wedding, you know." He tilted his head and his gaze slid away from me. "You're one of my best mates and a groomsman, and she will be there."
We sat there, me with nothing to say and him brimming with words he wanted to say.
"Merlin." He stared at me before leaning back in his office chair. "Well, Hermione's on her way here. If she sees you didn't help me pick any fabrics for the tablecloths, we're both done for."
I forced a laugh.
"Then back to it, mate."
Forty-five minutes later, I was on my way out. Granger and Malfoy had disappeared ten minutes ago with a look in their eyes that meant they were busy snogging somewhere else. I Floo'd home to the estate, tried to squash the feeling that I was entering the wrong house, and ignored the lingering melancholy that swept over me.
|… H …|
"Oh…Merlin."
The statement seemed to come from both of them at once. For once in her life, Pansy Parkinson didn't have a single snarky thing to say and her expression was one of pity mixed with disbelief. Cho, however, was infinitely worse. Her face was twisted into abject horror, her eyebrows high and eyes so wide that my heart rate picked up just looking at her. I'd told them everything.
"I didn't want to tell anyone at all," I whispered. "Cho, I know…I know you were so worried back then, and you probably suspected something but I couldn't tell anyone so I didn't."
"I understand," she murmured, almost distractedly. The horror was still as fresh as ever on her usually less-than-expressive face. I didn't really know what to do with it but I couldn't look away.
"He didn't know," Pansy repeated slowly, "he didn't know…Merlin, I don't even know what…so let me understand this, he was…there?"
I nodded.
"Goodness."
She was telling me.
I could appreciate the numbness for the insulation it provided against emotions. I woke up Saturday morning, September 17th and looked at the calendar. After fifteen hours of sleep, I felt almost as tired as if I hadn't been to bed at all. I went to work for extra hours, consumed my prenatal pills during a balanced lunch, finished two reports, and put in a request for the next available field assignment. I'd gotten so good at compartmentalizing things this summer so why not continue? I ignored everything, all of it, even the way my mind felt alien and strange to me with this new hum of magic. When I got home, Cho and Pansy were already waiting…which led me to this very moment, where I was reliving my last forty-eight hours.
"I didn't know, and he didn't know," I murmured.
The words left my mouth but what I meant by that was anyone's guess.
"Your journal, of all things," Cho muttered. Her face was sliding into the kind of blankness that comes when one's mind literally can't parse through details anymore. "And…he saw it all…"
"Not that silence kept it a secret, anyway," I said bitterly.
Ah, here was a spark of emotion.
"How did he even figure it out? Only Blaise has that kind of memory-" She cut herself off in such a way that every one of us caught on to what she'd just realized. "Blaise. Well…he does have the memory of a god. He would have put two and two together."
I didn't doubt her.
"How do you feel?" she asked gently.
I don't know that I felt anything.
Maybe I didn't have any more feelings left to feel. Maybe the last week had made sure I wouldn't have any emotions left over for yesterday's reunion. Maybe I was still worried about becoming a mother but with every day, I worried less about me and more about this baby's health. So, maybe, this new piece of information was a blow that I might never really recover from. And maybe that didn't matter. I could focus on myself, and the baby, and block out the remorse I'd heard in his voice. It didn't have to mean anything.
What did I feel?
I shrugged.
"Let me cook for you two tonight," I said lightly. "I've been looking up recipes every chance I can get, and the pantry's still rather well stocked."
"Han-"
"Really," I said firmly, "it's fine. I'm alright. I have the baby to worry about, and I'll…well, I'll sort it out in time. I just want to thank you both for-"
"And here's the famous Hufflepuff emotion," Pansy tried to tease, "but really, don't thank us. That's what we're here for."
"I'm more worried about Cho here," I said. "You alright? Do you have something?"
"Nothing that compares to yours," Cho nodded with a weak smile.
"That's a very evasive response."
Her smile grew a little stronger.
"Weren't you offering to cook a few moments ago? Get on with it, mate."
… | …
Not thinking about Theodore Nott was so much harder than I'd thought.
While "You alright there, Abbot?" became a much less-asked question over the next seven days, I had no idea how to work through all the different things I was feeling. So I worked as much as possible in the next seven days, and accepted the fact that Cho and Pansy were going to take up residency in my house for the duration of the pregnancy. They swung by their own apartments to drag the majority of their wardrobes into the rooms they'd chosen as their own. Choosing the rooms was just sort of for show, though, because more often than not they crowded into my own massive bed.
It was nice and not nice…not being alone.
I loved them and they loved me enough to stay with me, help me through this. And even though I loved them and was grateful enough to bring myself to tears twice again, I still felt miserable. I wasn't lonely without him (I wasn't, I swear) but every emotion I felt was amplified to seven times its size, swelling into the empty corners of my heart, took over my mind when I wasn't actively busy or engaged.
I worked and I worked and I watched my best mates cook and I smiled when I was happy and I slept. I worried about the future and what kind of mother I would be, and when the weekend came, I brought Cho and Pansy out to see my family. They helped me clean the place, and watched me when I took over the kitchen to make dinner, and when night fell and the tears came they crawled into my childhood bed to tell me stories about their week before they both fell asleep. Between the hard angles of Cho's elbows and the warmth of Pansy's back, I listened to them breathe and let myself feel.
I let myself be angry that I'd been so irresponsible with my body after we'd slept together, and I let myself feel guilty about it. Getting rid of the baby had never been an option (had never even crossed my mind, to be certain) and I knew that I would love him or her fiercely enough for two parents. I just wasn't prepared to have a child and God knows I couldn't do it alone.
I let myself feel the shock that had washed over me in Theo's office that day, and felt fury at a fate that I could never have changed for my big brother. It was…there were no real words to describe how horrifying it was to know that he had suffered…in his last…well, before he died. He'd suffered before he died at the hands of Theodore's father and that deepened my grief like nothing else could have. It would always hurt, I think.
And then I tried to let myself feel…for Theodore.
And that was awful.
There was so much there that I could only bear it for a few moments before I slipped back into numbness.
I wasn't ready.
Would I ever be?
I really wasn't sure. I cried and cried and focused on the way my best mates in the entire world breathed when they slept. Soon, I was asleep too.
|… H …|
"A moment please, Abbot."
I stopped in my tracks, turning to face Auror McDowell with concern. Yes…concern. I don't think anyone is not concerned when their boss asks them to stay behind to talk. And certainly not in such a dour tone. The rest of the room was empty except for two witches who seemed busy trying to file something. I glanced out the window before I took a deep breath and returned to my desk.
"Yes?"
His weathered face smoothed into something of a smile.
"It's nothing bad, girl, just a superior worrying for a junior. You've been looking…different…since your betrothed's disappearance."
A wave of panic flooded me from all sides. I managed to tamp it down, viciously, and offered my boss a smile. He stopped me before I could even open my mouth.
"Abbot, you're a lot less hard to read at the moment."
I stared at him but he just stared back.
"I'm…sorry?"
"Sit."
I sat.
"Whatever it is, lass, it's not interfering with your work. But it's not hard to see that you've changed this summer and whatever has made you change…well, it's still there. Or it's changing, on its own. Understand me?"
Not really, no. It probably showed on my face. He sighed.
"Take a break."
Immediately, I bristled.
"I don't need one."
He looked at me, critically, and heaved a sigh.
"Certain about that?"
"Yes," I snapped then was immediately overcome by mortification. "I mean, yes, of course, sir."
He didn't say anything for a minute then heaved another sigh. I held my breath, waiting for something else. I'd thought I'd done such a good job with compartmentalizing my feelings, putting my problems away when I got to work, functioning as usual. If it was getting easier for him to read me, I didn't know anymore. Another wave of despair crawled over me and I fought it back.
"Abbot-"
"Please," I said. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to cry. "I like working here, I like what I do, and I'm good at it."
"I'm not saying you're not a great Auror, girl. You're young but driven, and I know what drives you. Who you're tied to, what it means-" he said gruffly, "well, it's not lost on me that this is very different. And it's your drive that worries me."
The look on his face was torn (between what I don't know) but settled into a resigned…fondness? Oh my God, he was fond of me? How?
"What…worries…you?"
"We all struggle with demons," he said gently, "you more than most. Some days – some weeks – the struggle keeps you down…and you've been down recently."
I blinked and focused on the clamping down on the burn rising in the back of my throat. Damn it, I was not going to cry.
"Just…take it easy, Abbott. I'd hate to see a fine Auror like you lose to whatever is hurting you right now."
I nodded, choppily, cleared my throat, and knew the burn would overtake me soon.
"I understand, sir. Anything else?"
He sighed again.
"You're free to go."
I stood, quickly, and gathered my things with the knowledge that I was already losing. If I cried in the bathroom for a few minutes before Flooing home on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, that was no one's business but mine.
|… T …|
"I am lashed," I sang aloud, grinning up into Draco's face with what felt like the world's biggest smile. It was the weekend and it the night was young. Everything was bright and shiny, and the bar was pulsing with energy that I hadn't seen before. When my eyes focused on Draco again (shite, I was pissed but not that pissed), I felt the grin stretching wider and wider. He knocked his shoulder against mine and rumbled something but he looked happy too.
"When did he get this way?"
I blinked, turned, knew Blaise was somewhere around here because no way could his voice float around otherwise.
Blaise wasn't God.
Even though sometimes I thought he was.
"Only sometimes?"
Well, obviously, he was just a regular bloke with the mind of logical powerhouse. Scary mind, yes, but not all-knowing.
"Certain about that, mate?"
I blinked, blinked again and there he was right in my line of sight. This time I knocked shoulders into him and may or may not misjudged since he let out an 'oomph' that sounded unexpected. I started laughing again, harder than before, and let my shoulders shake with it all.
"I want to dance," I decided. Dancing was good, dancing was fun. "Come on, come on, come on, let's go dance."
"Good God, he is bladdered."
Which, seriously, meant dancing would be bloody well brilliant.
The floor was a series of bright and dizzying impressions – the heat of bodies pressed against each other, snatches of red and blue and green lights cutting through the dark, something with drums and guitar thrumming through the air, the blood pulsing in my veins in answer. I couldn't remember if I'd dragged them with me to the dance floor or arrived here on my own (and I knew I was losing small snatches of time) and the alcohol made it too hard to care. When I opened my eyes the next time, blonde hair floated across my vision.
Not Hannah, though.
I knew that much.
The dance floor wasn't much fun anymore.
"Drake." I shoved my way out, knowing my sense of direction would eventually lead me to the bar. "Blaise."
I knew, vaguely, that I should probably wait by the bar but that obviously would take too long. And I wanted my best mates now. Or maybe they'd gone home? Should I go home? I patted myself down, the tight-fitted dark khaki trousers and found my wallet.
I should go home.
I left the bar, lost myself in the brightness of the dim lights at the entrance, and stopped outside on the street to make sure my wand was still tucked underneath my white button-up blouse. Satisfied that I would be okay to catch a Muggle cab and defend myself if anything happened, I flapped my hand in the wind to call one.
"Where to?"
I know I spoke and I know I slept and I know that when I opened my eyes, I carefully counted out the correct amount of change and gave it to the driver. When I got out, I looked up at a sky so dark that I blinked and blinked. And wondered how stars ever survived the dark. Did they see each other, a bright neighbor not close enough to touch? Did the absolute silence bore them or make them lonely? Were they scared of the dark? Was the dark all they knew? Did they know they were bright, the way they knew other stars were bright just by looking?
More lost time.
I missed this house, even though we'd only had two (two? Three?) months in it. It was hers, anyway. She could do whatever she liked with it, for all I cared. I mean, I did care. I hoped she didn't trash it, or throw it away, or burn it down. But she was allowed to, really, since I was awful.
I was descended from awfulness and cruelty and it made sense that she should do whatever made her happy, especially if it didn't include me. If it made her happy.
Did it make her happy?
It made me feel miserable.
Awful.
But I was awful, came from awfulness, deserved to feel this way. And I didn't blame her. I didn't even really blame circumstance, either. Max had turned out differently, proof that nature over nurture wasn't just a Muggle theory used in experiments in human character and upbringing.
So I could have been better before but I was being better now, right?
Giving her what she needed, even if I wanted to die every day, wanted to sleep all the time just so I wouldn't have to feel-
"Theo...Theodore Nott?" I spun – everything spun – and almost fell over, which was hilarious. "Merlin, are you drunk?"
I laughed even harder, laughed for what felt like a minute, before my eyes focused on a face. She was brightly pale – and that was such a weird thought that I knew for sure that I was drunk – and her eyes looked darker and larger than any normal human.
"Parki-" I sucked in air and waited for the laughter to subside, "Parkinson. You live here now, do you?"
The world tilted and I found myself sitting on the sidewalk. Instinctively, I reached around to feel for my wand – still fine – and then let myself relax on to the hard ground beneath me. She was safe, she was fine, she was alright.
"Merlin, Theodore, do you know where you are?"
Stupid question.
"Home."
Her eyes were darker than before, which would have been frightening if I could find it in me to be anything other than warm.
"Who were you with?"
I waved my hand in the air, smiling.
"Blaise, Draco. They left."
"I very much doubt that." She crouched down and patted my side. "Stop wiggling, I'm checking if you have Plunko's on you."
I started to laugh again.
When she was done patting me down, she sighed and wiggled an arm underneath my armpit. She was too little to help but I knew what she wanted so I hefted myself to my feet – bit of a struggle but I did it – and struggled to stand upright. She said something that I didn't understand, then said it again.
"What?"
"I'm taking you home."
Home?
She said something else but I couldn't hear it over the buzzing in my ears.
"What, Pansy?"
"I won't leave you here, come on, come through the gate-"
No.
I'd done the right thing for two weeks, I wouldn't break now.
I tried to smile at her, let her know I didn't need to go inside – I'd get back to the manor on my own – but I was Apparating before I knew it.
… | …
I woke up to the sound of frantic banging on a door, which didn't make any sense with what my eyes were telling me. Or actually (forget what I'd said) it made too much sense because I was on my side on a green damask couch which meant I was in a living room close enough to the front door for that banging to come from there. And it was definitely still early, if the weak sunlight was anything to go by. Where the hell were the house elves?
What the hell-
The banging stopped and I groaned and slapped an arm over my face.
My stomach felt ten shades of awful, and my eyes were disgusting and gritty. Not to mention my mouth, which I might have used to clean out a bathtub last night because it tasted like the backside of a sick dog. What the fuck had I done last night? And how had I gotten home? And why was my wand tucked into the space between my trousers and blouse? And who the fuck was yelling?
I rolled off of the couch and hit the ground on all fours. I tried not to regret that immediately but I had more important things to worry about when I heard the heavy tread of feet close by. When both Draco and Blaise appeared in the doorway, a confused house elf in their wake, I knew I was in for it.
"You are an idiot," started Blaise in the loudest voice I'd heard from him in years, "and I was going to kill you if you weren't already dead in a ditch somewhere."
"Please don't shout," I moaned and dropped my head to the carpet, "I'm going to die anyway, let's not hasten it."
"Get up," said Draco, "you look pathetic on all fours. And he's not shouting, that's his angry indoor voice…which he is entitled too because you disappeared from the bar last night."
I didn't doubt it, since I couldn't remember anything between sitting at the bar and waking up with a mouth so foul it was making me feel queasy.
"We let you wander out on to the dance floor – adult supervision and all that-" Blaise started.
"Winky, could you please get tea and some toast-" Malfoy interrupted.
"For an entire hour because you seemed so happy to be there-"
"-on second thought, add kippers, fried eggs and scones to that. The smell alone should get him off the damned floor-"
"We look away for a single moment and magic! You have decided to up and disappear on us-"
I moaned into my arms and tried to block them out. Fuck the food, fuck the mates, I was just going to lay here pathetically and wish for death…and maybe a glass of water…and a toothbrush.
"-and a carafe of orange juice. Maybe some coffee too, Winky. You are, by far, my favorite house elf in this place."
"-and, of course, you've never wandered away drunk before so it took us fifteen minutes to realize you were no longer in the building which put a serious damper on the night-"
"Get up, Theodore, you'll feel better if you do. Blaise, give the man a minute to get his arse out of the air and on to a couch."
If Draco was the one bossing us around, it meant Blaise was good and well angry with me.
I bit back a dry heave and pushed myself on to my arms (it would be too ambitious for me to stand and sit again on the couch), and settled for sitting on the floor with my back propped against it. I rubbed my eyes hard to try and get rid of the gritty feeling but it was rather immovable. When I looked up, Draco was already lounging in a chair close by and Blaise was standing and silently fuming.
Which only added to how awful I was feeling.
"Blaise," I said pitifully, scraping ineffectually at my face, "I'm sorry, I was out of my mind, obviously."
His eyebrows didn't really lessen in intensity.
"I have no idea how I got back here and I don't really remember too much about last night between dancing and…well."
"You went to Hannah's last night."
My heart stopped.
"I what?"
"You went-"
"I heard you, man, but what…Merlin, how do you know? What did I do?"
I lurched to my feet, which was ill-advised as I immediately felt nauseated – but it was also possible that the fear flooding my system was the source of a sudden desire to throw up. If I couldn't remember what the hell I'd done, there was no telling what I'd done. Blaise's face was resigned, which only made my mind fly faster to conclusions. Yes, I was miserable and yes, I was in love with her and no, I remembered nothing and oh my God, why was I fucking this up to?
"You didn't do anything," he sighed. "She doesn't know you were there, at least last I'd heard. Pansy hadn't sounded like she'd said anything. But that lot doesn't keep secrets so there's no betting that it'll remain one."
She would find out.
Parkinson would tell her.
She would find out that I showed up drunk off my arse and spouting heaven knows what nonsense.
"I am never drinking again," I groaned into the palms of my hands. "Never."
"Unlikely, since my wedding is in two days." Draco shook his head and pointed at the couch. "I keep telling you if you sit you will feel a bit better."
"About what exactly?"
"Your awful life decisions," he said easily, "or your breath, which I can smell from here by the way."
Right.
I was about self-preservation at my core, but drunk Theodore was 50/50 on that. Sober Theodore was a locked trunk but drunk Theodore's lid was at least partially open. I had no way to estimate just how likely I was to have expressed emotion on my face but I was reasonably certain that I would not have said anything.
Which is why I asked what I'd done.
"And there's the breakfast service." Eyes snapping open just before Draco clapped his hands and reached for the giant platter that Winky had brought. When he was satisfied that it was closer to him than anyone else in the room, he pinned me with a serious gaze warmed through with understanding. "Wash your face, brush your teeth, and come back. Then you can worry."
|… H …|
Pansy was acting odd.
Actually, she'd been acting odd for the last day. I knew how Pansy functioned, anyway – press hard enough and the story would come leaking out (trickle to stream to flood) but if it was a bad story, she would continue to leak for a long time. When Cho pressed her about it, Pansy just shrugged and said she was thinking. Thinking about what, we had no idea. My mind was glad for something else to worry about that didn't involve him, or my anxiety for this baby. I was still hanging on and holding out for something but I didn't know why and I didn't want to wake up with this overwhelming weight on my chest every day.
Perhaps, it was Blaise Zabini?
When she came down for dinner without Cho, she had something white and gold in her hand. She held it out to me and-
-I'd forgotten all about the Malfoy-Granger wedding.
"We didn't forget," Pansy said on a shrug like she was clairvoyante, "seeing as Zabini is the best man and Longbottom is one of her best mates. We just didn't think it was all that important in light of all the other stuff."
"Is that what you've been worried about?" I said, scrambling for words. "What's going on with you?"
She sighed and seemed to look heavenward before her gaze met mine head on.
"Nott was here."
…
Well, that wasn't what I'd been expecting.
"When? Why? How did you-"
"Last night." I sat down heavily at one of the barstools around the island. "Probably celebrating for Malfoy's stag night, or what have you, but he was quite drunk. I didn't want to tell you because…well, I didn't want to. I don't think it would change anything for you and you need to try and be happy."
"What did he say?" I asked shakily.
"Not much. I was coming back from the office, of course, and it was a bit past eleven and I hadn't the faintest how he'd gotten there in the first place but-" she sighed and placed a hand on my shoulder, "he was standing there just looking up at the sky. When I said his name, he turned. I could tell he was drunk."
Theodore had come here.
"He'd laughed, asked me if I live here now and when I asked him if he knew where he was, he said he was home."
…
Whoosh…slow exhale.
Everything in me clenched in one breathless moment before I forced myself to breathe.
"And that's why I didn't want to tell you," Parkinson said frankly as she watched me closely, "because I want what will make you happiest, Abbott, but I don't know what that might be. You hide it better but it's been less than two weeks and you have been miserable-"
"-coping, not miserable," I said harshly. "I'm fine."
"You dishonor our friendship by lying to me," she returned easily and without any anger. "Besides, I'm a Slytherin – we spout lies before we learn to talk."
I didn't laugh.
"You'd have a fighting chance if we didn't have this bond tying us to another human being," she continued, "but I suppose you have a fighting chance anyway since you can't hear him."
"Did he say anything else?" I asked impatiently. "Anything?"
"He Apparated before I could get inside, or do anything else. I mind-whispered Blaise the minute he vanished, since God only knows what Apparating drunk leads to."
"He's fine?" I whispered. "He's alright?"
She nodded.
I expelled a breath.
"What do we do about the wedding?"
"I don't know, Abbott," she responded with a touch of snark, "what should we do? Because we are going to the wedding to support the men we are tied to and you have a choice to make."
Ignoring the sarcasm, I frowned and stared at her.
"Pansy, is there something else going on with you and Zabini?"
"Nothing."
"Are you-"
"Abbot," she interrupted with a smile that still seemed somewhat thin to me, "I don't know why you are so determined to find problems elsewhere."
"It's because my problems seem to have become you and Cho's world," I said quietly, "and I don't want that. I don't want us to only focus on my life tragedies – I want us to share everything. I don't want to burden you without you burdening me too."
"Morbid tonight, aren't we?" she said with a true smile. "That's the Hufflepuff spirit."
"Pan-"
"I know, I do – and if I promise to tell you as soon as something comes up will you promise to stop poking holes in my emotions? For the love of Merlin, let me cook dinner and feed you and my future niece or nephew!"
"What's going on?"
I turned to see Cho standing in the doorway, gaze sliding between Pansy and myself.
"Abbott is worried her pregnancy is taking over our lives."
I glared at Pansy hard enough that I felt a brief ache between my eyes. Fatigue was already slowing me down – being irritated was sapping my strength. Cho frowned a little.
"Because we've moved in here…or because we are always around?"
"Neither and that's not what I meant, you know that!"
"It is what she meant," Pansy said as she fetched a deep pot from God knows where and moved to the icebox. "She's looking for something else to worry about-"
"You two are the best mates, the absolute best," I said, "and you've put up with-"
"We haven't put up with anything," interrupted Cho. "We're here because we want to be here, because there's nowhere else we'd rather be. So whatever it is you're worried about, we can deal with it together."
"It's just that my problems have become…yours…too and Pansy has been a bit off, so I was trying to reassure her that I wanted to hear all about it before she calculatedly decided to respond with humor!"
Now Cho just looked amused. Pansy looked like she'd mentally left the conversation. I threw my hands in the air. Honest to goodness, I was just ready to give up on this whole attempt at a heart-to-heart when Cho said-
"So…is that a yes to going to the wedding tomorrow?"
… | …
I was going to throw up.
As beautiful as this shimmering black dress was, I could not find it in me to concentrate on anything other than the fact that I was going to throw up. There was a weight on my chest that I couldn't seem to breathe under or over or around, and I could feel the beginnings of panic simmering in my stomach. My hands were damp, sweat seeping through my pores incessantly, and I could feel a bead of perspiration gather at my temple. I held the clutch in an ironclad grip, deathly afraid that if I dropped it I would let go of my bodily functions too. My mind felt strange to me, as if part of it were not my own.
All we'd done is cross the threshold leading into Westminster Abbey.
"Merlin, Han-"
"I'll get through it," I said through gritted teeth. Cho and Pansy shared a glance. I shouldn't have come here, obviously, and I regretted it already. But I was here so I needed to try to stick it out. "If it gets to be too much, I'll go."
They seemed to decide in unison to keep silent. Instead, each wormed an arm through my stiff ones. I smiled gratefully (and prayed that it looked like a smile and not a grimace) then focused on taking deep breaths. Mrs. Malfoy stood at the door with a couple whose mother's hair was a carbon copy of Granger's curls. All three looked happy (buoyant even) and welcomed us with nods. The path through the abbey wound around the side and we moved slowly, seeing faces that we vaguely recognized as international political powers. I know that I wasn't all there since I couldn't get a decent breath in. It was a Malfoy wedding after all and if I had the brain power to dedicate to anything other than low-grade terror, I would have been amused. As it were, I managed a smile here and there but let Cho and Pansy do all the talking.
Every step was a deliberate decision I made, voluntary and engaged, as I focused on keeping it together. Even though these heels were comfortable, I felt unbalanced…precarious, moving across a floor that seemed to be shaking slightly. I kept breathing, more deeply, but it didn't seem to help. The weight on me squeezed any excess oxygen out of the way. We might have taken only a few minutes to cross the ballroom to the French doors that led to a balcony and stairs to the grounds but time escaped me.
Don't throw up, I said fiercely to myself. Breathe, don't throw up, don't be scared, breathe, breathe, you can do this, just breath Hannah.
Cho and Pansy never let go of my arms.
It helped.
I just had to breathe.
We reached the balcony (which I only noticed because of the difference in my steps) and moved down the stairs. The bulk of the wedding guests were actually down here already, milling about and talking to each other. While wizards and witches were usually a dour bunch, there was such a vast array of colors and styles that it dizzied me. I breathed deeply, focusing on the grass beneath my feet, and ignored everything until we were on the heels of Harry and all of his best mates. Cho let go to approach Neville with a look on her face that spoke of hesitation and admiration (which was seriously something we would have to talk about later) while Pansy and I held unto each other and faced the rest. Ron and Harry offered me wide happy smiles while Dean pulled me into a brief hug. Pansy got smaller smiles, no hug.
"You're looking very well," Dean said with a grin, "very much like a model."
It teased a small smile out of me and lessened the weight on my chest.
"You all are looking dapper yourselves."
They were a relatively good-looking bunch, casual and confident, and the suits seem to emphasize just how tall Ron and Dean.
"Padma," said Ron, shrugging as if that explained everything…which it did…because if I were engaged to a fashion industry mogul, I'd probably be impeccably dressed as well. "Speaking of, here she comes."
We turned to see Padma looking more regally stylish than anyone our age had a right too, in Indian traditional dark green satin trimmed in bright gold. She pulled Pansy in for a friendly hug and pecked me on the cheek, before sliding under Ron's arms. All at once, the weight in my chest turned into a heavy longing that stole the breath from my lungs. I wanted that – I would kill for that. Theodore and I had never been very touchy because we'd still been building whatever fragile thing between us. The way she had just slipped into his space, nothing too overt at all, but with a familiarity that spoke of…life…of things built, of foundations, of intimacy. My mind seemed to pulse again.
"Hannah?"
Pansy's whisper was very low and slightly sharp. I found myself blinking away a fresh wetness in my eyes. When I looked around, it appeared everyone else was oblivious to my distress. They had devolved into separate conversations which – good. I needed air and a non-reminder of what I'd lost.
"Sorry I faded out for a tick there," I said lightly when we were far enough from prying ears. She seemed to search my face for something; in a rare display of public affection, she slid both of her hands into mine to grip tightly. When she spoke, her tone was matter-of-fact.
"This is hard."
"Yes, this is hard," I agreed and blinked vigorously, "just as hard and awful as I'd thought it would be, Pans. But I am not a quitter."
"Don't hold yourself to some invisible righteous standard." She squeezed my hands again. "What triggered it?"
"Ron and Padma." I watched her angle her head to gaze at the couple in question. Her clear brown eyes narrowed incrementally in that fierce face that was as familiar to me as my own. "Don't worry, it won't take me by surprise again."
"I'll know if it does," she said gruffly, and squared her shoulders. "Ready?"
We turned back to the group and were pulled into conversation. More and more people joined us – Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to appear out of nowhere, all at once hugging their sons and Harry and Neville and Dean before urging us to greet the parents of the couple. Parvati and Padma's parents wandered over as did the Thomas and Lovegood families. I hadn't had any idea that Dean Thomas had quite so many siblings – and a rockstar for an older sister at that.
And the twins who were lively and rambunctious.
You know, I hadn't had much opportunity to be around children as I was growing up. As the younger sibling in a family where we didn't really talk to our relatives (nor stay in touch), there were no baby cousins to look after. I didn't have a lot of friends either so no mate's younger brothers or sisters to get under my feet. The girl, Sophie, was social and precocious while the boy, Sammie, seemed to be silent and adventurous.
I caught myself touching my stomach as I watched them.
Pansy tugged Cho and I towards an older couple – the man with hair as dark as her own and a slight woman who somehow looked quiet – and introduced them as her parents. Moments later a beautiful older woman with Blaise's nose and mouth joined us and introduced herself as his mother. We all made polite conversation before I spotted half the staff of Hogwarts here. Why I was surprised, I couldn't say but when Professor Sprout took my hands warmly, I felt unaccountably touched.
"An Auror, Hannah?"
"For my Mum and for Alfie," I said.
She understood at once.
Sudden music streamed into the courtyard, indicating that the ceremony was going to start. I froze immediately, feeling breathless and nauseated, knowing that this would be it. This would be the moment that determined whether I could stay the whole time or not. Was I strong enough to watch Theodore stride down the aisle? Could I keep it together? Could I appear untouchable and unruffled? Could I?
"Hannah?" I looked up to see Cho gazing at me steadily. She must have detached herself from Longbottom to check on me and Pansy. "Are we ready?"
"Yes."
We filed into the church proper.
Breathe, breathe, Hannah, you can do this, I thought again. Focus on the details, the decorations, your best mates but for God's sake keep it together.
I honestly tried not to give in to the terror – I swear to you that I did – but I'd regressed to focusing on the way air expanded my lungs.
I should not have come.
I couldn't tell you what the inside of that church looked like. I could only tell you that it was a big place, which in turn made me feel anxious and small. When I sat in the pews, I felt even smaller. The music swelled to a crescendo that felt deafening to me, overwhelming. I clenched my arms tightly and grasped Pansy's hand like it was the last line connecting me to life and kept my eyes focused straight ahead. Why was this so hard? Why did I feel like I was going to shatter into pieces if I saw him? How did I become this girl, who was terrified by the sight of someone else that she was quite literally shaking in her seat?
The melody changed and I felt like someone was whispering my name. I had to pull it together. I took a moment to close my eyes and rally my courage.
You are strong, I snapped angrily in my own head, and you can do this. Chin up…
I lifted my chin.
…shoulders squared and back-
I stood straighter, letting go of them to use both hands to hold the silver clutch.
-this is just another battle that you intend to win, no weakness.
I pasted a serene look on my face, feeling the mask slip into place the same way it used to earlier in the summer. I had done this a hundred times, a million times – I could do it again, I could do it again. I would do this again.
I opened my eyes.
|… T …|
"Three down, two to go," Zabini intoned dramatically fixing his bowtie in the room's mirror, "but at least the two left don't have their weddings set up."
I crossed my ankles and narrowed my eyes at him. I didn't take offense at all – Hannah and I were at the impasse of a giant mess that I didn't believe would be resolved – but I didn't believe for a minute that the logical Blaise Zabini didn't have the vaguest clue of when he would be proposing to Pansy Parkinson. Apparently, neither did Vince nor Draco who scoffed openly. Blaise just laughed before speaking.
"You're getting married in ten, Draco. Feeling ready for it?"
All Malfoy did was admire himself in the mirror in response. . I couldn't find it in me to be jealous of his happiness and even though I was hurting, I would never begrudge him this. I crossed the room and gripped Draco's other shoulder.
"Well, well, well," I said, "pretty boys cleans up well, regularly, but today?"
When I whistled, he laughed. Before I knew it, everyone was together in front of the mirror and touching Malfoy in some way. It felt strange and sacred…and precious. How had the five us survived the War? How much more of our lives did we have to live? His marriage (and Crabbe and Goyle's) felt like a path stretched before us, a future in which we firmly entrenched in each other's lives. I squeezed him a little. It felt bittersweet...and real. Was this what it was like to grow up?
"You and Hermione," I said lowly, "are going to be happy."
He met my eyes in the mirror, grinned and nodded.
The others ribbed him for a while before Crabbe and Goyle departed to join their wives and the other guests. We fell into chairs Zabini transfigured and kept watch silently in our own way. In the silence, my mind turned to Hannah. She was out there in the crowd somewhere, and my heart dropped at the thought of what she might do when she saw me. Not that I thought she would do anything, not the way one would think, but that she might look at me the same way she had when we'd first met.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
I would not be able to bare it, if she did.
Almost two weeks without her.
There was another knock on the door and a soft voice saying that the groomsmen needed to be at the entrance immediately. We knew that the formidable Lady Wickham believed in giving the groom a few minutes by himself before he joined the rest of us outside. Malfoy looked deliriously happy and it drew a smile from me in return, a genuine one, as I shoved him lightly. I left the room with Zabini and we followed an usher down the wide airy corridors into the main foyer.
Mr. Granger, Hermione's father, greeted us with a smile.
"Gentlemen?"
"Ready as always, sir," Zabini said smartly.
He nodded and moved on, further down the way we'd just came.
"You nervous?"
I turned to Zabini who was giving me a steady look.
"Why would I be nervous?" He simply arched both eyebrows. "Yes. I am. But this is his day and he is as much family to me as she…could have been. "
"No one believes you'll ruin anything, Theo," he said with a half-smile on his face. His eyes moved over my shoulder. "Thinking time over?"
"Mate," I heard Malfoy say, "I'm just ready for this to be started."
"Well, I personally am ready to get out of this suit," I faked a grimace and gestured at the dressy bow at my neck, "but I'm happy you're ready."
"Gentlemen." Lady Wickham (I couldn't help but add 'the formidable' as a identifier in my head) seemed to look at us sternly. Behind her were Weasley and Lovegood who both looked quite fetching. "The bridesmaids are here – music will start in a few moments. Remember your places and your timing."
I almost rolled my eyes - it's not like she'd kept us here for four hours before our stag night last night to make sure we 'knew our positions'.
"Good luck, Master Malfoy," she said to Malfoy with the tiniest hint of a smile.
"You two are as pretty as a picture," Zabini said with a smooth smile.
"He is right," I added, "you two look very elegant."
Malfoy pulled both of them into a hug – he'd become so much more handsy this summer – and said something into their hair that had the both of them smiling. Lovegood complimented us all before a sharp 'please' from Lady Wickham sent us scurrying into our positions. She handed the girls their bouquets while beautiful music filled the space and Lovegood slipped an arm through mine. We were the first pair to go.
Hannah. I breathed her name in my head, knowing that she was here. Hannah.
I dragged my free hand across my face and took a deep breath, steeling myself for the inevitable. The door swung back and we stepped across the threshold in unison. Some part of me flared to life, immediately, and I knew without looking where Hannah was in the crowd. On the groom's side of the congregation, towards the front of the beautiful room…I blinked and breathed through my nose. One foot in front of the other and Lovegood to anchor me to this place. My eyes searched for Hannah's and found her face unerringly-
-she was beautiful.
Merlin.
I think I went stupid in that moment.
She was beautiful, like completely and totally beautiful.
She looked a tiny bit paler than the last time I'd seen her but her skin was still luminous. Her hair was completely straight, none of the curl at the end I loved so much, and I was shocked to see that it was cut to just below above her collarbone. Whatever makeup she'd put on was dramatic – her lashes were so thick and dark and her eyes were mysterious in her face.
She was staring right at me. My heart pounded. I felt the connection between us – that elusive mental bond – flare to life, as if all it needed was us to be in the same room. She looked untouchable, serene the way Luna Lovegood usually looked. And she stared at me with very little expression, neither cold nor warm.
Like I was a stranger she neither loved nor disliked.
My chest felt heavy.
I broke eye contact first.
The ceremony was beautiful, what little I remember of it. The bond never tapered down – it was like a lamp, well-lit, self-sustaining. If this is what everyone in these arranged marriages felt, how did they manage to ignore it? How did they function with this thrumming awareness of another human being constantly running like a litany through their minds? I managed to live in the moment, in the present, so I would keep myself from tracking Hannah down and talking to her myself. I forced my mind to flit from one event to another, from one person to another, and was as lively as I have ever been. I managed sincere laughter throughout the Muggle wedding photoshoot (which could only take place in the hour at the church, between the ceremony and the reception at Malfoy Manor) and made myself scarce when Zabini went to find Parkinson. I talked to old professors, to the Muggle Prime Minister, to dignitaries of state (Merlin's Balls, Malfoy's mother was well connected) and spent a great deal of time with the parents of the bride and groom.
I charmed Mrs. Zabini easily enough and was greeted quite fondly by the Parkinsons. Visiting their table was the closest I came to Hannah.
I didn't look at her during that long conversation and she excused herself shortly after.
Mrs. Zabini raised her eyebrows at me but otherwise didn't comment. I smiled like I didn't care, and hooked an arm around her son's shoulders before we returned to the table specifically for the bridal party. I drank (probably a bit more heavily than I should have) but not enough to have me loud and sloshed…just enough to brighten the room, to illuminate the way Malfoy and Granger looked so happy together.
It was beautiful.
All of this really was beautiful.
I felt wistful as I watched them.
…|…
The clinging sound that usually accompanied an incoming text on one of my Plunko notes filled my office. I looked up from the scroll I was currently working on and shuffled across the room to the shelf that held a sheaf of them. The sound went off again and I muttered about patience.
A third cling and I cursed, then another cling that sounded like it was actually a cross the room.
What were the odds that two different people were writing me at the same time on a Thursday afternoon?
I flipped through everything quickly, found the paper turning from yellow to red and back to yellow again. It was from Max. I blew against it and the message appeared immediately.
Marla just saw Hannah Abbot at St. Mungo's.
My heart plummeted and I ran back to my desk to get a quill.
What happened? Another sound at the desk, I dragged this second Plunko's note into my lap but kept scribbling away. Max, are you there? What happened? Is she okay?
They talked for a bit (she didn't look hurt) but Marla thought I should tell you.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
How dramatic that initial statement had been!
How did she see her? Where?
Around the new maternity ward on the fourth floor.
My mind grappled with that one before another cling sounded from the parchment in my lap.
Thanks for letting me know. I'll be in touch. Tomorrow evening for dinner?
See you then.
I blew on the parchment in my lap. This one was from Malfoy – who I thought would be enjoying his honeymoon week far from any sort of communication – and asking whether I was coming to watch his training on Saturday. I laughed.
What am I, your wife?
Don't pretend you don't want to support me at my first public training.
What if you're awful? What if it's a waste of my time?
Hah bloody hah, mate. Yes or no?
Yes. I rolled my eyes. Now don't bother me, pretty boy, I have work to do.
As if to underline the sentiment, I looked up in time to see Marco knocking perfunctorily on the door and leading Ronald Weasley inside. He wasn't an appointment but I'd told the secretary to always let in Weasley if he came by. The bloke looked…stressed, to say the least. He looked closed-off and stressed. Immediately, my instincts told me that he wanted something unusual.
"Weasley," I said politely as I came around the desk to shake his hand, "please sit."
"Thanks for seeing me on short notice, Nott."
"Not a problem. What can I do for you?"
"I know I asked you to throw together all this stuff for me but I need a second opinion." His lips thinned as he produced the scroll in question. "Is there anything…unusual…to you about the information you collected on Padma? Anything that stands out?"
I took the scroll wordlessly, and unrolled it.
"I know you're good with connections, with seeing things – you have to be if you are trying to help people in law," Weasley continued, "and I know how thorough you can be. There has to be something that I'm missing here."
I hesitated.
"What should I be looking for?"
He pursed his lips.
"Anything, anything at all."
He wasn't telling the whole truth.
"Alright," I said simply, "just give me a minute."
Some of this information I still remembered from when I did my research. I'd gone to the Ministry to look at family records, staked out her work place to see if anything useful would come from just watching her there. She was very intelligent and very creative, and thanks to her career had a network that ranged far and wide both here at home and across the world. Her connections didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary – indeed, because she was in the fashion industry it made sense for her to have friends or colleagues from many different walks off life. She was best friends with an American heiress and her own twin, she came and went from her office as she pleased or as print deadlines approached, and she was rarely sick.
Hm.
My eyes scanned that portion of the scroll again. She actually was rarely sick…which wasn't unusual but for some reason I kept looking at this part of my findings. She hadn't been to St. Mungo's ever…wait, ever?
"Would you say Patil is healthy?" I asked carefully, glancing up at Weasley. "Has she been sick at all this summer?"
His brows furrowed.
"She's rather healthy although she did catch a cold earlier this summer. I think she had a bad fall the week we received the news about this marriage business and she had another one three weeks later."
Something about that made my instincts tingle.
"Were you with her when she fell the second time?"
Weasley shook his head.
"Why?"
"Well, I'm not sure but something doesn't wash," I said slowly. "Would you describe her as clumsy?"
"Not at all."
"Yet, she had a bad enough fall that you noticed it?"
"There was bruising around her wrist and on her forehead," he stated, "so I'm certain everyone who knew or saw her noticed it."
"Did she go to a clinic or the hospital? How was she treated?"
"She used a salve that Parvati makes for minor cuts and bruises," he said thoughtfully, "and she usually has some on hand. I've seen her take a jar with her to the office…but that was at least a month ago."
"How long did it take her to heal?"
"Almost four days – the salve makes things look worse before they look better."
"Does she fall or bruise a lot? Even though you wouldn't describe her as clumsy?"
"Three times in the first three weeks of summer." He steepled his fingers together. "Around the Quidditch try-outs, something was wrong with her shoulder. Her mate Rebecca used Plunko's to tell me that Padma had been thrown into a wall during a bar fight. After that…nothing."
I stared at the report in front of me for a long moment.
"Why did you have me look into this, Weasley?" I asked bluntly.
"Because something is wrong and I can't understand how to solve it because I don't know what it is." His face closed up again, blank and expressionless. "Why do you ask about St. Mungo's?"
"Because she has never been there, not once."
"That's not odd," Weasley remarked. "Why pay for something your Mum can handle at home?"
"She's nineteen years old and a survivor of the Second War – you and I have been to St. Mungo's, everyone was taken to St. Mungo's at the end of the War because Hogwarts was ill-equipped to deal with us. So how is it that Padma Patil somehow avoided going? I'm going to check her twin's records just to be sure but something is telling me that Parvati Patil was checked out and Padma wasn't."
Weasley stayed silent but I was certain he was listening.
"Why wouldn't she be taken?" I asked aloud. "There aren't many reasons…either she was missing at the end of the Final Battle or she was treated elsewhere. But there is no elsewhere she could have been treated, if we're working under the presumption that her twin went too. Which means she was missing at the end. And I, even on the opposite side, remember seeing her and her sister fighting back to back. So what happened between the time I saw her…or you saw her, possibly…and the end of the battle? Was she injured and unresponsive somewhere that Hogwarts staff couldn't find her or did she slip away under her own power? If she was unconscious, why didn't she find someone to take her to St. Mungo's when she awoke? And if she purposely slipped away…why? Why would one avoid Healing treatment?"
Something in the ginger's eyes shuttered. I let my questions die off without another word. We sat in perfect silence for a few minutes while Weasley appeared to work through a few things. I was startled when he suddenly stood.
"Thanks, mate." He shook my hand with a smile that looked distant. "You've been very helpful. If you could just...look into Parvati's going St. Mungo's, that would be helpful too. Just…let me know if anything surfaces."
I watched him leave.
…what the hell had just happened?