A/N: Hello friends! Honestly, I'm sorry I'm making you wait so long between chapters these days. Life is far too busy. I was in a bad car wreck last week and it's set me back on all of my to-do's (I'm alright just banged up and dealing with insurance garbage). We are in the home stretch now, and I'm hoping to get this story wrapped up ASAP :) I'm particularly fond of this chapter, and it's the last Theo Nott POV we see in this story, so I hope you enjoy it too!

Monday, January 10th, 2000

Theo Nott is not exactly sure how he managed to get pulled into this harebrained Potter scheme, but he supposes it has something to do with the fact that his beloved wife offered Nott Manor up as an asylum.

Cho Chang had moved in following the meeting of Dumbledore's Army, and while Theo remembers the Ravenclaw as a quiet, serious girl from Hogwarts, it's obvious this war has remade her into something other.

She follows Luna around the grounds closely, blinking in the sunlight as though she has forgotten the feeling of warmth. She wraps herself in the blankets Luna has insisted on placing in every sitting room and stares out the windows for hours at a time. Her wand never leaves her fist, and she has covered the bedroom they had given her in more wards than Theo even knew existed.

It's rewarding, in its own ways. Cho's only been at Nott Manor for three days, but sometimes Theo hears Luna laughing down the hallways at something she said. Only the day before, Theo had watched an unfamiliar smile spread across Cho's face when Luna had taught her how to feed the swans. Thelma has been beside herself with having a guest in the Manor, and she has insisted on full meal spreads three times a day, and although Theo's not sure how she knows, it's obvious that she's cooking all of Cho's favourite dishes.

It's also impossibly difficult — Theo is no stranger to being feared. His father and his grandfather before him had reputations that oozed over everything they touched, and he had inherited that with his name. From their dark features, to their height, to the damnable Dark Mark branded onto every Nott's arm. So he can't blame Cho when she flinches every time he enters a room. The night prior he had laughed too loudly at something Luna had said, and Cho had nearly fled to her room in a panic.

Despite this, Luna is a balm, as always. She wraps herself around him at night and they both ache with what has been done to their friend. Luna cries at the scars Cho will carry for the rest of her life, and Theo wishes desperately that he was someone else, anyone else during the war. Wishes he could access a time turner — wishes he could create one. He'd go back, back to himself as that skinny twelve-year-old in the second year, and he'd demand that he be different. Demand that he stand up to his father, and burn down the Death Eaters; demand that he find Luna Lovegood and be the person who she deserved right from the start.

Theo is no fool, however. He knows he cannot change the past; even if he could, he wouldn't. There is nothing that would make him endanger Luna now.

Being a better person for her, though, is something he is actively pursuing. Even when it ends up that he's crouching behind a hedge for the better part of two hours while sodding Harry Potter is out investigating the house in front of them.

After the DA meeting, Theo had been summoned to his own home's office to find Harry Potter standing in the small room. He had gathered Ron, Hermione, Draco, and George Weasley inside, and explained to them the mystery of Rosmerta's missing child, and what Hermione had found during Christmas.

Since then, Theo has been involved in a top-secret mission that involves staking out Rosmerta's house; it's far less fun than he might have imagined since it mostly involves hovering behind large hedges in freezing cold weather and staring at a house that has yet to show any signs of life. Just this afternoon, Theo had arrived to relieve a miserable Ron Weasley. The man had genuinely thanked him for being on time before apparating back to St. Mungo's, where he had been spending nearly every moment at a still-sleeping Hannah's bedside.

Ron had been the one to design the roster for observing Rosmerta's house, and Theo had been surprised to see how easily both Harry and Hermione deferred to his strategies. Despite this, the state of Ron's bloodshot eyes and trembling hands indicate that it's only a matter of time before he's going to be removed from the roster for his own safety. Exhaustion is just as deadly as stupidity.

So far, there has been no sign of Rosmerta's child, or any other wizards and witches around the house. Hermione had sensed a broken fidelius, some protective wards, and a notice-me-not charm, but without approaching the house again, they have nothing else to go on.

The current plan is to rescue the child prior to the march they have been organizing, which has been dubbed the Marital Rights March. So far, the entirety of Dumbledore's Army, and most of the Order of the Phoenix, have been enlisted to spread the word of the march. Luna had drafted the Quibbler article for the Friday of the Ministry Fundraiser so that the members invited could talk about it there without suspicion.

A faint crack draws Theo out of his thoughts, but he doesn't worry, since only moments later Hermione is peeking around into his hiding spot.

"You're early," Theo notes. She's nearly half an hour ahead of schedule.

Hermione shrugs, eyes worried. "Harry hasn't found anything yet?"

Theo turns his eyes back to the vacant house. The saviour of the wizarding world is somewhere down there, hiding under an invisibility cloak and toeing the lines of the wards. "Nothing yet."

"We're going to have to breach the house." Hermione sighs.

Theo snaps his gaze back to her. "What?"

Her own expression turns fond at his shock. "You sound like Draco. You Slytherins, always content with lurking."

"You sodding Gryffindors," Theo snaps. "Bound and determined to run headlong into danger!"

Hermione huffs a laugh quietly. "It won't be that bad. I have a plan, but I'm sorry to say it involves you."

Theo already hates the plan. "What have you concocted, Granger?"

"It's Malfoy." She says primly. "And the fundraising gala is in four days. I was hoping to have George lead the mission, but unfortunately, the Ministry has hired him to consult for entertainment. Apparently, his New Year's fireworks drew some interest, and the Ministry is going all out for this event. He'll be at the gala with me, Harry, Ginny, Draco, and Ron. While we spread the word about the march and keep an eye out for dissenters, I need you, Blaise, Neville, and Pansy to be here."

"You want a trio of snakes?" Theo gapes.

"And Neville."

Theo scoffs, "Oh yes, that brings me so much confidence."

For the first time, Hermione's expression goes glacial. "Neville Longbottom is not only one of the finest wizards I've ever had the privilege of knowing, but he has more than proven his worth. I'm more than confident he'll hold his own amongst you snakes, seeing that he is the only one with the bravery to literally behead one."

Theo swallows. He actually likes Longbottom, he's just got more years knowing him as a bit of a clumsy oaf rather than a war hero. Hermione's not wrong though. Neville has more than proven himself, and if Theo's honest, he won't be sad to have him at his back.

"I know, Hermione," Theo says softly. "I'm sorry. I'm just… not used to these types of schemes."

"I know." Hermione's expression softens. "If it helps, Ron is trying to get out of the gala so he can be here. The Ministry wants us all there though, to have the stupid 'Golden Trio' show their alignment with the Minister. Utter shite."

"Not surprising though." Theo sighs.

"So… will you do it?" Hermione says after a moment. "Will you help us get inside the house and rescue Rosmerta's child?"

Theo swallows. He knows Luna would want him to help; truthfully, he'd want to help, even without Luna's influence. There's something inherently wrong with kidnapping a child, squib or not.

"I will."

Hermione catches his hand between hers. Her eyes are warm and something like pride seems to shine out of them.

"Theo Nott, I'm really glad I got to know you," she says quietly. "I'm really glad Luna got your name."

Theo extricates his hand, feeling the telltale heat of a blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, well, you're alright, too."

There are words caught in his throat that he wants to say to her; words of gratitude for her kindness. For her patience with Draco Malfoy, who has been his best friend his entire life. For standing up at his trial and saving him from Azkaban, even though it couldn't have been easy.

For fighting against a megalomaniac that tried to destroy all their lives when Theo himself hadn't possessed the courage to do so.

"Nott." Harry Potter's voice startles him, and when he ripples into view only a foot away, a shiver chases down his spine. He hates that invisibility cloak.

"Potter."

"Harry," Hermione greets, catching him in a quick embrace. Theo's recently gotten a crash course in how affectionate Gryffindors are; he'd nearly fallen over when Ron had clapped him on the shoulder as he thanked him, and his fingers tingle from where Hermione had just held his hand.

Theo has never had physical affection before, and now he seems to be swimming in it. He goes to sleep tangled against his wife, his hands pressed gently to her swelling stomach, and wakes up to her kisses. Even the Gryffindors around him bump into him gently when they think he's said something funny.

Theo knows Draco is as surprised as he is; even Narcissa, who loved Draco more than anything in the world, was never particularly physically affectionate with her son.

He had never understood Potter's speech at Voldemort's death — had never understood how love could be so potent a weapon, but he knows its power now. He has seen it: Molly Weasley standing in front of Bellatrix Lestrange, prepared to battle the most dangerous witch ever born for her family's safety. Narcissa Malfoy staring fearlessly into the Dark Lord's eyes and lying, lying to the most powerful Legilimens ever to exist, for Draco's life.

He feels it now, too. Feels the terror that love has carried into him; fear, unlike anything he's ever felt, that it will all be taken away. That he'll wake up alone in his Manor, with only Draco Malfoy as a comrade, half-alive and miserable.

"Theo's in," Hermione says breathlessly. "They'll raid Rosmerta's when we're at the gala."

Harry grins at him, green eyes bright. "Bloody brilliant. Who's going to go in, be the bait?"

"Bait?!" Theo yelps. "What do we need bait for?"

Hermione giggles. "Theo, someone has to go trip the wards and draw whoever is watching the house. Then the others will disarm and stun them."

"And how will they do that?" Theo retorts. "These are obviously trained people."

"Nott," Harry's biting back laughter. "You do realize we're also trained, right? Hermione will have everything ready. She's very good at traps and wards with stunning rebounds. Saved my arse many times."

Theo sighs — and love births courage. He's never been particularly brave, but here he is, standing with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, and prepared to take on the Ministry. Prepared to stand with other Slytherins and Neville Longbottom and wage war if it must be done.

Theo thinks of Cho; how only that morning she had been curled in a chair close to the window, the sunlight painting her vibrant bruises down her arms. He thinks about how he barely knows her, and yet he burns with fury at her mistreatment.

"Okay, fine." He says. "Tell me what to do."

Hermione throws her arms around him and Theo can't help the laugh that escapes his throat.

For the first time in a long while, Theo finds himself sitting in his study alone, with a glass of firewhiskey in hand. He's got his feet up on his desk and is staring out his window past his fern plant. Luna and Cho are barely visible in the distance, feeding the Thestrals and visiting. He had thought about joining them but decided against it when he heard their laughter drifting towards him in the evening air.

Instead, he's thinking over Granger's plan. It's a good plan when all is said and done. She'd planted multiple wards that released stunning curses upon each entrance to the property, and even a few inside the doorways with some impressive distance wand work. Theo planned on entering the house thirty minutes after the Ministry Gala's official start, drawing whoever was still monitoring the house and then having Neville, Pansy, and Blaise come from behind to stun anyone who was missed.

Hermione had also promised an artifact she had borrowed from the Ministry that would release a powerful sleeping charm upon breaking — it was a last resort, as it would require all of them to time bubble-head charms precisely with the artifact's release, but it was a strong backup plan.

The real trick, however, was the illegally brewed veritaserum that Granger had handed him to use for questioning whoever showed up. Theo's eyes had nearly fallen out of his head when she had given it to him; it was nearly impossible to get before the war, and now it was unheard of. All the best Potion Masters in Britain had fled during the war or been killed; Slughorn was still at Hogwarts, but the Ministry had been watching him extremely closely.

Thelma appears, startling him with her apparition. She grins crookedly at him and announces. "Master Malfoy is here."

Draco strides in only a moment later, and Thelma frowns at his improper entrance. Theo almost laughs, since he's never known to follow customs when coming to the Nott's house, and Thelma is surely used to this by now.

"Shall Thelma bring the Masters tea?"

"No thank you, Thelma," Theo answers. "We'll be fine."

She disappears with one more scowl in Draco's direction.

"Your wife is a menace," Draco announces, grabbing a glass and pouring himself a hearty dose of firewhiskey.

Theo does laugh, then. "Oh, sure. We both know it's your wife who is the real menace!"

Draco flops into the chair in front of his desk and sighs. "What's Granger done this time?"

Theo pulls out the tiny vial from his breast pocket. "Somehow acquired enough illegally brewed veritaserum to drug five grown wizards."

Draco's expression grows incredulous before he drops his face into his hands. When he meets Theo's gaze again, he looks torn between resignation and pride.

"I'm not even surprised," he finally announces. "She probably brewed it herself."

"No way," Theo argues. "It's one of the trickiest potions to create!"

Draco smirks, "She brewed Polyjuice Potion in the Hogwarts girls' bathroom in the second year. By herself."

Theo gapes. "You're joking. How?! Why?!"

"She apparently wanted to infiltrate the Slytherin Common Rooms to find out if I was the Heir of Slytherin that year and killing all the muggle-borns."

Theo realizes at that moment how absolutely horror-filled their childhood had been. "And now she's married to you."

"Yes, well, I do believe that same year at Hogwarts you complained that Loony Lovegood wouldn't stop stepping on your toes with no shoes on in Herbology." Draco retorts.

Theo flushes. He'd forgotten that entirely. "Oh, Merlin, don't you ever tell her that."

"As long as you tell her to stop setting her baby Thestrals on me — I'm going to start Floo-ing in to avoid the yard, I swear."

Theo laughs heartily and raises his glass to Draco. They grin at each other and sip gently on their firewhiskey. They've done this a million times before, and yet this feels like the most peaceful it's ever been.

The silence stretches. It's Draco who finally breaks it.

"I have to tell you something."

Theo raises an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"It's a secret." Draco huffs. "Astoria asked me to keep a secret."

Theo's curiosity is piqued — Slytherins are good at secrets, and the only way to be good at secrets is to not share them and hoard them for the right time. Draco is doing the opposite.

"So then, why are you telling me?"

Draco scrubs a hand down his face tiredly. He's been taking shifts monitoring Rosmerta's house, too, and he looks as exhausted as Theo feels.

"At Christmas, I talked to her alone. She was acting strangely — she said she felt bad, that she'd been awful to Molly Weasley and Charlie. She said she talked to her father, threatened him a bit and forced him to change his mind and not register a complaint about Daphne and Percy's marriage."

"Sounds like she's coming around — why the worry?"

"Because then she asked me a favour." Draco swallows and falls silent.

Theo drags his feet off his desk and plants them on the ground. The comfortable warmth has faded into a cold dread he's familiar with.

"What?"

"She asked me to deliver two letters on March 1st." Draco draws out two crinkled envelopes from his outer robe. "She said, one to Charlie and one to Mrs. Weasley."

Theo swallows. "Why couldn't she plan to deliver these herself, Draco?"

"I don't know," Draco answers. "She told me that the only way to save a broken marriage was to leave it — she said she wanted out of the WPG. That she had to go."

"Where is she going to go? Where will she stay?" Theo demands. It's not unexpected that she might run from the WPG, but he's never known Astoria Greengrass to be impulsive. She would have planned everything out. She also would never leave Daphne.

Draco sighs. "Stori wouldn't tell me. She just made me promise to deliver these letters. But something is wrong, Theo. I know it."

"So what are you going to do?" Theo asks. He trusts Draco implicitly. Whatever else he may have been, he's a damn good people reader. If he thinks something is off, it is.

"I'm going to open the letters. Right now. With you."

Theo's gaze falls to the envelopes clutched in his best friend's hand. It goes against everything Slytherin inside of him to read Astoria's letters.

"Alright," he rasps. He slams the rest of his firewhiskey and sets his glass down. "Alright. Open them."

Draco opens the letter addressed to Charlie Weasley first.

"Dear Charlie,

By the time you receive this, I will be gone.

I have learned so much about you these past few months, and so I know you will think this is your fault. It's not, Charlie. I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry I was an awful bitch for our entire marriage. You were gracious and kind and welcoming, even though you were just as terrified and furious as I was. In every other world, you were the perfect husband.

Perhaps in another life, we would not have met so battle-worn. In another world, it might have been nice. You would have learned to love me, perhaps. I know I would have learned to love you.

As it stands, I must thank you. You welcomed my sister and I into your family, and have treated us with kindness and respect that we have never before known.

Please don't blame Daphne or Draco — I tricked them into this and they didn't know.

Forgive me.

Yours,

Astoria Weasley"

Theo stares at Draco when he stops reading. The words hang over them, darkening their camaraderie. Draco's knuckles have gone white from where he grips the paper.

"Read the next one, mate," Theo says softly.

Draco sets Astoria's letter to Charlie on the desk with shaking hands. "Theo… that sounded like—"

"Read the next one, Draco," Theo demands.

Draco swallows the words he was about to say — they don't need to be spoken out loud yet. They both know that letter wasn't a runaway's final words.

Draco drags Mrs. Weasley's letter out gently. It's longer than Charlie's, and there are small translucent circles dotting the page. Tears.

"Dearest Mrs. Weasley,

I have written this letter thousands of times, and yet it is still never good enough. Please accept my most sincere and deep regret for the pain I have caused you, your family, and Charlie. Please know that I have never known a deeper sorrow than what fills me now.

You have been the kindest, most gentle mother I have ever known, and I have treated you with ice and cruelty at every turn. It is entirely because I love you and your family so — from nearly the moment I entered your home; I have been surrounded by something I have never before had. You all love each other so deeply — it is the greatest honour of my life that I am a Weasley.

I could not bear to lose you all — and so I never let myself have you. It would be cruel, I think, to let you all love me, as it seemed so easy for you to do, only for me to disappear.

If I had this life, I would spend it with you all. I would make up for all the heartache I have caused. I would wear the beautiful sweater you made me and stand beside Charlie and spend the rest of my life trying to deserve him.

But, this life is not my own. By the time you read this, I will be gone. It's important to me you understand — that you hear, perhaps, why I have done what I have done.

You see, Molly… and oh, how I wish I could have called you that in person. Molly... I love Daphne. I love my sister more than I love magic. More than water or air, or even the entire world around us. I have watched for years as she has sheltered me from everything you can imagine — school, our father, even Voldemort.

I would die for her, of course. And therein lies the rub. A blood malediction dating back generations has plagued every female of the Greengrass line. None bear children and none survive far into adulthood. I don't think Daphne knows — and I beg of you, I beg, do not tell her. The day the war was done, I performed blood magic. Illegal, dark stuff. I don't regret it.

This curse ends with me, Molly. Daphne is free.

Love forever,

Astoria Weasley"

Draco's hands are shaking so badly he can't put the letter back in its envelope. Theo takes it from him gently, even though he's feeling the same fury and horror even now.

"Theo—" Draco chokes off and glances down. Even now, even after everything, they don't know how to show this emotion.

Theo shakes his head. "She's dying."

"Yes." Draco agrees.

They stare at the opened envelopes and letters on his desk, and Theo wonders where the fuck they go from here. Do they take this secret to Astoria's grave, as she seems to want so desperately? Do they tell no one and stand by as she dies slowly and silently and hated by those she loves?

"Hermione told me," Draco murmurs. "She told me the Greengrass line kept dying out. We assumed they matched to the Weasley's because the Weasley's have so many children… we assumed the Ministry was trying to breed the Greengrass' back in."

"They are," Theo fumes, "they're just doing it the entirely wrong way. Why didn't she see a curse breaker? What blood magic has she done!?"

Draco looks as though he's aged in the past ten minutes. "If I had my guess, I would say she took Daphne's curse on herself. I have no doubt that the Greengrass' would have researched this. It's probably never happened that one sibling would take the entirety of the curse upon themselves before."

"They don't usually have daughters, anyway, from what I've read."

Draco shakes his head. "Double the curse, double the illness time. Merlin, Theo, she even told me. At Christmas. She said 'Daphne is happy. I can live with that'."

"Daph's going to be devastated," Theo says.

Draco sighs. "They all will be. This may be what Stori wants, Theo, but it's wrong."

Theo nods slowly — he knows why Draco is so upset. It's more than just Astoria dying — it's that they both know this is all Astoria has ever been taught. Slytherin heiresses know they must bear tragedy after tragedy with a pretty face and stoicism unmatched. Astoria will waste away slowly, dragging herself from everyone who cares about her, and she'll die alone. It's what Narcissa Malfoy chose as well.

"This isn't what they'd want," Draco says suddenly. "This isn't what Molly or Charlie or any of them would choose. They'd rather have her. They'd rather be there and comfort her."

Theo stares at his best friend — Draco Malfoy, nearly unrecognizable from the prat who'd made all the wrong choices. Eyes blazing with a sense of righteousness, of a surety he'd never had before.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Theo asks.

A muscle jumps in Draco's jaw. "I'm tired of watching people I love suffer and die, Theo."

"I don't think we're going to be able to fix this, mate," Theo says gently. "Blood maledictions are no small thing."

"I know." Draco sighs heavily, and then gently tucks both letters back inside their envelopes. "I know."

Theo watches his best friend. He doesn't really remember who they were before the war. Doesn't really know who he is — but he knows what he wants to be. He wants to be better, wants to be what Luna deserves. Wants to do all the right things, or at least try to.

"Draco, I think we need to tell Astoria that we're tired of losing people without saying goodbye. She thinks this will be easier for everyone involved, but it won't. She says she'll be gone by March 1st? Well, that means we have just over a month to show her how much we care. To show her she was a good friend, a good sister."

"Yeah," Draco rasps slowly. His eyes are ancient in the waning sunlight. "Will the death ever stop, Theo?"

"I don't know, mate." Theo clears his throat, cursing the sudden knot he can feel building. "But I think that to die surrounded by the people who love you might not be such a bad way to go."

Draco nods and swallows hard. "Yeah," he rasps out. "That sounds pretty good to me."

They don't say another word, not until long after the sun has gone down. When Draco stands to leave, he makes his way around Theo's desk and presses a gentle hand to his shoulder. Theo raises his own hand to set it on top. He lets the grief roll through him, and he knows Draco does the same.

Draco steps away after a long moment and heads towards the door. He stops briefly and glances back. For a second Draco looks as though he's fighting with himself.

Finally, he clears his throat. "I'm really proud of you, Theo. I mean that."

Draco disappears before Theo can answer — but he wouldn't know what to say, even if Draco was still standing in front of him.

Instead, Theo puts his study back in order using his hands, because sometimes magic takes away the motions that help him think. He waters his fern, and he closes the door gently. The Manor is quiet, and he heads towards his bedroom.

It's dark aside from the swell of the moon behind their curtains, and Theo slips into bed beside Luna. She turns to him, pulled into his rotation by something greater than gravity.

Her hair is splayed all over his pillow, and her eyes blink sleepily at him. "Hi," she says.

Theo tucks her as close to him as he can get, moulding every curve into his own skin and breathing for the first time in what feels like hours.

"Hello," he hums gently into her hair. Her toes are freezing when she tucks them under his calves.

"I tried to stay awake for you," Luna says, pressing her nose into his collarbone.

He doesn't answer, and her breathing stays slow and even. He thinks about the babies, growing slowly and surely within Luna, and more precious than anything in the entire world to him. Thinks about exactly who he'd become to keep them safe. Thinks about the ways he will tell them how much he loves them; will teach them to fly and pet Thestrals and ride on his shoulders and speak and grow — Theo thinks he will wear sodding Hufflepuff colours everywhere he goes if that's where they get sorted.

Theo thinks about Astoria's father, with two beautiful daughters; how could he ever allow this to happen? How could he have allowed his daughter to think she was too much trouble to care about when she was dying?

"I love you," Theo says into Luna's hair. "I'm going to tell you every day for the rest of our lives."

"That sounds nice," Luna murmurs, half-asleep. "And the babies, too?"

"Of course, Lu," Theo promises — and oh, the weight of this promise. How easy it is to promise his entire heart away — how brave this love has made him. "Of course the babies, too."