A/N: Hello! Thank you again for the review and likes :) This week I will be posting two chapters due to the fact that both of them are shorter. Expect the next Thursday! Enjoy our first peek at Theo through Draco's POV.

October 23rd, 1999 - Saturday Late Night

'Aren't you scared?'

Granger's words echo in his brain the entire way to Nott manor. There is only one light on in the East Wing when Draco lands on the front steps, and he doesn't hesitate when he walks through the front door.

His fingertips seem to still tingle from where he had attached the bracelet he had brought for Granger.

'Aren't you scared?'

Draco slams open the door to Theo's study, finding his friend at his desk, staring down at a stack of parchments. Despite the obnoxious entrance, Theo doesn't even flinch. His house-elf must have warned him Draco had appeared.

"Draco," Theo greets evenly, gesturing mildly to the liquor cabinet beside the fireplace.

Although Draco would like nothing more than a firewhiskey, he instead begins pacing. He only makes it three laps before Theodore Nott rolls his eyes and glances up.

"Sit down, you miserable bastard," Theo commands, waving his arm to summon the armchair from the corner. "Tell me what's got your wand in a wad. What's wrong?"

Draco sits on the chair angrily, plopping down in a way that would have made his mother wince, "Hermione Granger is what is wrong."

Theo's jaw clenches, his green eyes pained. "C'mon, mate, don't do this. Not anymore."

"No!" Draco snaps, surprise colouring his tone. "Not like that. She's just… impossible."

"You met up with her?" Theo's voice hovers between hysterical and concerned.

Draco breathes deeply, calming himself. "Yes. We went for coffee. I just left her to come straight here."

"You… left her… alive?" Theo asks.

Draco jumps to his feet, "What is that supposed to mean? I didn't fucking kill her, Nott."

Theo laughs, "I'm joking. God, you're impossible. I know you didn't kill her. I'm more shocked she didn't kill you, to be honest. How did it go?"

Draco slowly finds his seat again, letting his blood settle over Theo's words. Despite knowing he had no intention of killing Granger, the image of her body, prone and broken on marble flooring, had flashed through his mind. Not him; he wouldn't hurt her, not now, and probably not even back then, but he had watched. Stood there and did nothing.

Just as bad.

"It went… fine."

"Fine." Theo repeats, nonplussed. "You met up with Hermione Granger, the literal golden girl. Harry Potter's best friend. The girl you were an utter arse to for years, that you are supposed to marry in less than a month, and you say it went fine?!"

Draco scowls. "What do you want me to say, Theo? It went… surprisingly well. We didn't kill each other. We had a civil conversation."

"What did you talk about?"

"The matches, mostly," Draco admits, "I wanted to know who her friends got."

Theo leans forward eagerly, "Tell me Potter got someone hilarious. Like — like — Millicent or something."

Draco rolls his eyes, "No, he got the She-Weasel.. the one he's been dating since… Merlin, fourth year or something?"

"Boring," Theodore announces, "what about Weasley?"

Draco laughs humourlessly, "Unfortunately, we're going to have to be more specific. Granger is surrounded by Weasleys. If you're meaning Potter's sidekick he got that Hannah Abbott girl. Don't know her."

Theo slouches back into his chair. "All boring. Don't you have anything fun to tell me?"

Draco smirks, "Both Greengrass sisters were matched with Weasley brothers."

Silence reigns for a moment. Theodore Nott stands slowly and makes his way to his firewhiskey.

"Merlin," he breathes, "you should have led with that."

He pours two generous glasses, setting one into Draco's waiting hand. They don't speak for a moment as he collapses back into his leather chair and takes a sip. Draco watches him wince as the burn hits his throat.

"'Stori must ready to lose her mind," Draco muses, "I think Daph will accept it, but Astoria has always… aspired to be everything her father wishes."

Nott's expression grows dark. "Unfortunately, Daphne is the eldest. If anything, he'll argue to let 'Stori stay with her match and free Daphne."

Draco shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. Neither he nor Theo are close with the Greengrass sisters, but they aren't fools. They are lucky enough that their fathers are dead in the ground — Astoria and Daphne's father lives.

"Not a bad day to be an orphan, huh?" Theo's glib tone drags Draco out of his thoughts.

Draco laughs, missing his mother fiercely for a moment, "I suppose it's not. Tell me, did you meet with Lovegood today?"

Theo goes silent and still, and sets his cup down on his mahogany desk. His face is an emotionless mask, and Draco watches as Theo calculates exactly what to share about his meeting with Lovegood today — Draco doesn't blame him. They're Slytherins. He'd done exactly the same thing when asked about Granger.

"It was good," Theo starts, "she was… different from what I expected."

"I warned you she's as mad as a hatter, mate."

Theo's anger is instant, washing across his face and disappearing in the next breath. Draco would have missed it, only he'd been watching for it. Waiting for it.

"Bloody hell," Draco mutters, "you like her."

Theo protests, "No. No, she just… she was… nice?"

He says it suspiciously. Draco narrows his eyes — he remembers thinking the same thing only an hour prior. He'd always remembered Granger as this towering monstrosity of clever quips, bushy hair, and nasty comebacks.

"Aren't you scared?" Her words taunt him.

And, though her hair had been just as wild as he remembered around her head, she had sat down and proceeded to be… kind.

Draco almost wishes she had been cruel. He was good with cruel — he was used to it, and he knew exactly how to turn it around and strike back.

"Granger said," Draco swallows, "she said Lovegood was nice. That she would talk to you."

Theo brightens a bit. "Yeah. She was… wearing these ridiculous pink glasses, and insisted that Nott Manor was the perfect location to explore for Nargles, whatever those are. She searched all over the gardens, and the entire time she just… talked. About… nothing, really."

"So you just followed around a rambling, crazy woman and thought she was nice?" Draco laughs.

Theo grins, gulping down some more firewhiskey before setting his glass heavily on his desk. "Sod off, mate. She wasn't really rambling. She just… never really brought up anything I hated, you know?. Just… asked me about my favourite colour, and why I liked summer, and where my mother was."

"What — what did you say?" Draco asks hesitantly. He hasn't heard Theo talk about his mother since they were boys of 9 and she had mysteriously died. Draco still bears a scar on his eyebrow from the last time he had tried to bring her up, and Theo had chosen to answer him with his fists.

Theo frowns, silent. Draco sips his firewhiskey slowly and lets his friend find his words.

"I told her she died," Theo starts, "but… then I just… I told her all sorts of other things. Things I thought I had forgotten. Did you know my mother's middle name was Lunetta?"

Draco stares, "No… I didn't." The only thing he knows about Theo's mother is that she had long auburn hair, an affinity for painting, and that Theo's father had killed her. Or so people said. Nothing was ever proven, of course.

Theo sighs, "I think maybe Luna's name reminded me of it. Anyway, I told her about how she loved butterbeer and crepes and sunflowers, and I didn't even know I remembered those things about my mother until I said them to her."

"Theo…" Draco says, words failing on the tip of his tongue. He's never been good with words — a cutting remark comes to him as easily as the recipe for first-year potions, but anything else… when it matters? Words have always failed him.

"I know," Theo says solemnly, "I know. The problem is, your witch is going to solve the WPG and free us all, right? And I can't keep Luna; she's not mine."

Draco reels for a moment — there are so many things to unpack in that statement. His witch — Hermione Granger would be his wife.

Theo isn't wrong — Draco can't imagine a world where Granger would sit idly by and let injustice stand. Can't imagine her letting the Wizarding Population Growth Act trap her friends and herself into a marriage — she would fight. He couldn't even blame her for it.

And Theodore Nott — well, he had already admitted it, hadn't he?

A single day into knowing her and Theo was already scared to lose Luna Lovegood. Something good. Something kind.

'Aren't you scared?' Her words mock him.

Draco reaches for the bottle and tops up their glasses, not saying a single word when Theodore slams his entire cup back easily.

"You know," Draco mutters, "she asked me… she asked me if I was scared."

Theo settles bright green eyes on him, curiosity lighting up, "Hermione Granger asked you if you were scared?"

Draco nods, "Yes. But not before admitting that she was scared."

"Ouch." Theo says, "Bloody Gryffindors, huh."

Draco doesn't answer, and Theo doesn't ask — they're Slytherin through and through, and admitting fear or weakness isn't something they are equipped to do.

He clears his throat. "I'm glad Lovegood's nice."

"Yeah," Theo sighs, "I am, too. She's getting a poor deal, marrying me."

Draco stares into the amber liquid in his glass, watching it splash up the sides as he turns it slowly. Theo — Theo has been his best friend for years, and he is good. Good in a way few people are, anymore. But he's still not wrong. He's not stupid.

"She'll be lucky to have you," Draco tells him. It's not a lie, not really. She is lucky; Theo will be kind to her.

Still, Theo laughs. Drinks his whiskey. Stares out his dark window.

"She'll be a Nott," he finally mutters, "which is the opposite of lucky."

"Better than a Malfoy," Draco replies.

Theo doesn't answer, but the truth hangs between them. Despite being forced into the marriage, the world will see Luna Lovegood as nothing more than a Death Eater's wife.

Hermione Granger will have it even worse.

"Aren't you scared?"

Draco slams his cup down, and this time Theo jumps, startled. He doesn't speak, just watches him; his green eyes, reminiscent of stupid Potter's, are sad. He knows the thoughts running through Draco's head without him saying anything.

"Aren't you scared?"

All the time, yes.