Dahlia awoke in a bed that wasn't her own.
She fluttered her eyes open. White-stone walls accented by dark woods and shades of green greeted her. She grumbled as she unsuccessfully tried to lift her head off Theo's bare chest while he still slumbered.
She briefly remembered the rest of her night. They had all gone back to the his dormitory and played card games. Draco hadn't spared her a glance the rest of the night, pretending nothing had transpired between them. Everyone had eventually drifted asleep sometime in the early hours of the morning.
Dahlia coughed. Her head pounded. She just needed five more minutes in bed. She rolled over onto her side and saw Draco asleep in his own bed, breathing softly. She had known they were roommates, but for some reason seeing them in such close proximity, and with such vulnerability as they both slept, made her feel as if she was playing with an inferno instead of fire. She was likely to get burned soon.
She watched Draco turn restlessly as Theo shifted, wrapping his arms around her stomach to pull her close. What would it be like in a world away where she fell into his bed? Would his body be colder? Theo's always felt like he was heated with the flames of the sun. She felt like a star in his orbit. She would always circles back to him eventually, even if her thoughts drifted to Draco from time to time.
Her and Draco had dared to grow into something more, dancing on the thin line of passion between love and hate. She was sure now, though. She would let them wither. She would let Draco sink into the thoughtless abyss of her mind. She would wake up and choose Theo, day after day, if that's what it took to silence the Fates incessant pull. He would protect her at all costs, and he had never spoken one unkind word or untruth to her. Even when he had tried to leave her, he refused to argue with her and had only left in the hopes of protecting her.
Dahlia embraced the peace, watching Draco sleep enveloped in the warm arms of Theo. She heard a girlish sigh from the other side of the room. She painfully propped her head up to find Eloise grunting awake. Eloise slapped Xavier on the back to wake him up.
"Ow! Stop!" He exclaimed sleepily.
"Wake up! We're going to miss the train!" She yelled as she scrambled out of bed. Eloise started towards her. Dahlia braced for impact and ducked beneath the covers. Eloise spared her no solace. She ripped away Dahlia's bedding with urgency. Dahlia violently shoved herself into Theo for warmth and protection, but sent him flying onto the floor instead.
"Theo!" She panicked. "Are you alright?"
"Fucking…hell," he rasped as he looked up from the cold floor to see Dahlia cocooned in his sheets.
"Oi, who broke the fucking mirror last night?" Xavier yelled from the open bathroom door.
Dahlia whirled her head in his direction. Her cheeks immediately burned with a blush. He was standing in the doorway in only his briefs as his unruly, midnight black curls fell into his face covering his glacier blue eyes. The muscles beneath his tanned skin relaxed as he obviously wore no shame. She gaped at Eloise and slowly nodded in approval. Dahlia would also risk prison for him, accomplicing in all of his smuggling felonies, if she was Eloise. She blushed back at her, not wanting this to be a subject. "We have to leave! Your father is going to absolutely murder you if you don't make it on the train!" Eloise exclaimed to Dahlia.
She went around the room waking everyone up. Amelia was her next target, who put up a good fight but ultimately landed on the floor, as well.
"Alright, alright! I'm coming." Dahlia said raising her hands in defeat as Eloise stormed back over to her.
Dahlia slung the covers away and stood. The chill of the floor sent a shiver through her spine. She helped Theo up, who had opted to stay on the cold ground as he nursed his forehead. He was only half aware of what was going on as he fought off sleep and his hangover. He took a seat on the bed.
"Meet me on the train? Yes?" She leaned down and kissed him softly.
He nodded in response with a groan. He shoved his dark hair back with tense arms, muscles flexing. She smiled, noting the cruelty hadn't yet found his features for the day. He appeared gentle, at ease with life. He mumbled something that sounded like he loved her, and to put some clothes on.
She found her robe from last night and quickly threw it on. She kissed Theo on the cheek and hurried out of the dormitory. She secretly spared a final cold look to Draco, who sat up bare-chested in his bed. His mouth parted as if he might call after her in a desperate morning clarity.
She turned, choice made.
—
Dahlia made it onto the Hogwarts Express with moments to spare.
The three girls walked through the corridor, searching for a compartment as the train slowly began moving. She halted as a wave of nausea overcame her with the jolt of slow motion. She had only been able to brush her teeth and take a five second rinse in the shower to rid herself of the reek of tequila. She had thrown on a Ravenclaw sweatshirt, leggings and sneakers before she was rushed out of her dormitory. She hoped her father wouldn't notice how ill she looked. He would be less than pleased that she had worn sweats in public.
She finally spotted the group of Slytherins sitting in a rather large compartment. Dahlia opened the door and entered. Theo immediately pulled her onto his lap by the window. He looked quite put together compared to her. He was freshly showered and had worn black jeans with his Slytherin quidditch captain crewneck. She could faintly smell cigarette smoke beneath his cologne as she leaned into his neck. He must have been nervous. She knew he was trying to quit.
Amelia sat next to Blaise with his arm wrapped around her. He gently played with her long, dark hair.
"Have fun last night, you two?" She smirked as she looked over in Theo and Dahlia's direction. For a moment, Dahlia had been terrified that Amelia was talking about her and Draco instead. It was subtle, but she observed Draco stiffen at the comment, as well.
Dahlia blushed, and Theo kissed her cheek. Physical affection was always his way of attempting to soothe her discomfort. "I'm in a dire state, Amelia. Please spare me," she rasped, as she broke out her water.
She handed the bottle to Theo, then unleashed her messy bun onto his face. She began brushing out glitter with her fingers.
Theo wondered how he had gotten to this point. He was not only willingly, but happily, letting a girl sprinkle tequila-soaked glitter into his eyes on the way to meet her father.
He realized he would do anything for her despite her secrets. He loved the way she wore his necklace, an heirloom that showed to the world that she belonged to the Nott house. The Fates could shove him and Dahlia whichever way they pleased, but they would cheat destiny to come back to each other. He quite wanted to meet the wretched hags who tried to separate them.
He peered at Draco coldly, remembering how he had tried to take her from him when she was in the worst of states. He tried to lengthen his fuse, save his anger for a more opportune moment. On the way to meet Dahlia's father was not the time to go for blood.
"Do these bloody windows open," Juliet exclaimed as she tried to beat open the window or find a latch. Lucas stood to help her, but she held her hand out to stop him. They were tense after Theo had spotted them talking tensely in a corner last night.
Dahlia shrugged, answering Theo's questioning gaze. Dahlia didn't know where Juliet had ended up last evening. She had found her in their dorm this morning, chugging water in the middle of the floor as she groaned.
"You're so fucking loud." Dahlia and Eloise snorted as Juliet rolled her eyes, giving up on the window. They would all suffer in the stuffy cabin, hungover and miserable.
The corridor fell into a comfortable silence as they all tried to find a few more hours of sleep. Theo scooted over to give her space to sit, but kept her legs in his lap.
"Theo, I heard you are staying with Dahlia tonight. Are you excited to meet her father?" Juliet asked quietly, innocence curling around her tone.
Theo found she was the most difficult friend of Dahlia's to win over. It had been easier to get back in the graces of Eloise and Amelia as they were both dating his friends. Juliet had been the most upset about his threats when he had come looking for Dahlia when she had disappeared with Draco.
He wasn't fooled by her doe eyes and feminine act — no; she held grudges. She delivered her malice through backhanded compliments. She had told him the lighting in the Great Hall made him look more awake. He was better at quidditch than she had expected. She was pleasantly surprised he took such advanced classes. She even commented about how Dahlia had never dated someone like him before — whatever that was supposed to mean. No doubt, she hated him. He had apologized profusely, and all she had replied was that she wanted what made Dahlia the happiest — and that she hoped it was still out there.
"Quite," he answered shortly with a charming smile.
"Don't worry, Theodore. He's a fair man," Juliet responded sweetly. He didn't miss her undertone of distaste hidden beneath her candied demeanor.
Draco sat across from Dahlia, currently spiraling. Is that what she wanted? A stupid boyfriend who would bend over backwards for her father's approval? Someone who doted on her constantly? Draco had never been the one for public affection. He wasn't sure if he was capable of it. He meant the words that fell from his lips and he didn't feel the need to prove it to anyone. How could she not realize that him and her were meant for so much more? He didn't want to waste their time at Hogwarts. He wanted to show her every pleasure the world had to offer. He didn't want to hold her hand in the halls; he wanted to take it, and run, then build a life. Show her how it might feel to fall in love in different cities.
Every single day the urge to love her, claim her, grew stronger. It made him more crass and vicious as he hadn't chosen this for himself. She was a poisonous flower the Fates had planted, and she bloomed within his blood. He didn't believe in gods, maybe this was his punishment for it. They had chosen to torment him for his irreverence. He wished he had never taken her to the cliff's edge. If he hadn't, then maybe he wouldn't have been chosen by them. It would be some other poor man's problem. But he had never felt quite so alive either. The vision had breathed purpose into him. The second she had left him on the bridge, he had known it was there. Something had tightened around his heart. The invisible thread stretching with each step she took. Then, he had seen it. He scrubbed his skin raw.
He had walked aimlessly through the crowd of nobodies last night. He assumed directionless until he had seen her. An invisible tether had pulled him through his whisky haze right into her grasp. And to his luck, she had been alone. The fool had left her there, in the dark, in an anonymous crowd for him. He had shaken his head in disapproval as he had reached for her. He had touched her, and then he had finally known that she felt this gravity-defying tug, too. She had answered his cosmic call. Then she had brutally ripped it all away from him.
He had watched Dahlia fall asleep last night on Theo's bed with the same green duvet as his. He couldn't help but imagine that it was his bed she slumbered in. She had looked like a fallen angel — somehow pristine despite her knotted curls and liquor-stained dress. It had been hell to sleep so close to them. That she sometimes slept in his own shirt was his lifeline at the moment.
Dahlia pulled her hair into a ponytail and glanced at Draco. He was staring at her with a blank expression. Harry had been right that he seemed to stare at her often. Her stomach turned, and she grabbed Theo's hand. She wanted to tell Theo what happened between her and Draco, but wasn't sure how to time the news. It needed to be sooner than later, but she also needed tonight to go as smoothly as possible with her father.
Dahlia took a nap for the rest of the train ride as Theo read a book.
She soon fell into a dream where she was strolling through a magnificent garden of white roses. Draco was beside her. He was in a fine, black suit but she happened to be in nothing but a short, cream nightgown despite the chill and growing mist. He didn't speak as they drifted forward in peace. The wind blew her curls, and Draco gathered the loose strands behind her to put them back into place.
She became unsettled as she realized she did not know where she was. She looked around with a new sense of awareness. A panic built in the back of her mind. Her conscious mind began breaking through the dream. The world seemed more vivid. The roses now had thorns, the ground not as smooth under her bare feet. She was consumed with her troubles from the waking world. She twisted rapidly, shivering as the temperature plummeted. Draco stopped short and tilted his head as if she had done something unusual.
"Why wouldn't you look at me, Draco?" She blurted.
Draco noted her face was fraught with disappointment. He was startled that she had spoken. He recovered and picked a rose from a nearby bush in the gardens of his manor. A fountain carved with sea dragons trickled nearby serenely.
He looked to her apologetically before muttering something under his breath. He took her hand, the placed the flower in her open palm as the wind blew her hair across her face. She watched the rose transform into a dahlia by his magic.
It wasn't enough. "Answer me," she pleaded.
He brushed his fingertips over her collarbones and up the column of her neck. He tilted her head up to him. He whispered against her lips an honest answer. "Because when I look into your eyes, I am reminded of how wicked and undeserving I am."
Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin. She blinked for a long moment. When she opened her eyes he had disappeared. She was left standing alone in the vast garden. The sudden loneliness was too much for her to bear.
Dahlia startled awake.
Theo gripped her legs that were placed in his lap to prevent her from kicking. She slowly uncrossed her arms and relaxed her fist. The remnants of a smothered, cream-colored dahlia lay in the palm of her hand.
She was speechless. She reached to her neck to make sure she was still wearing her enchanted necklace. She confirmed she was as she brushed against the golden chain. She had hoped that it would protect her from something like this. Dahlia glanced over at Draco who had noticed the flower petals dispersed on her lap. His stormy eyes met hers. If he was bewildered or shaken, he wasn't showing it. He broke eye contact and looked out the window.
She stole a glance at Theo, who was trying his best to hide his concern. It was clear to him that something supernatural had just occurred, but he didn't want to cause a scene.
"You're fine, love," he told her. "Why don't you stay awake? We're almost to London," he added, attempting to soothe her. He brushed the petals off her lap with a sigh.
They finally pulled into King's Cross Station.
She grabbed Theo's hand and hurried off the train, needing space from Draco. They said their quick goodbyes and exited the train onto platform nine and three-quarters. She smiled at the bustle of crowds.
"Are you ready for this?" She asked him as they approached the floo flame station within King's Cross.
"Actually, if we could just take-" Dahlia threw down her floor powder as she held his hand. He was pulled by his gut into new surroundings.
"…a minute," he finished as he exited through an enormous obsidian fireplace.
He held his breath. They seemed to have entered the Aldair Estate through a drawing room off the main foyer. He took in his surroundings in awe. This was nothing like he had imagined her childhood home. Dark cherry oak floors echoed unending through the several rooms and halls as far as he could see. There were no carpets upon the floor, which he found rather unsettling. The walls were decorated with oriental wallpaper of blooming branches, surrounded by elaborately carved wooden moldings that matched the dark-stained oak ceilings. Ornate oil paintings hung on the walls in an orderly fashion. The subjects of the oil paintings seemed to vary between different mythical creatures and dreamscapes.
His stomach pitted. It was small, but it was there. A painting of Dahlia with moon-white hair just as he had dreamed a time ago. Various sized stars had been painted sporadically around her, but if you squinted, they formed a swirling crown.
His heart beated more rapidly, pulse quickening.
Theo turned around to look at the fireplace he had just stepped through. Above its smooth obsidian was a massive painting of Leviathan, the colossal and abhorrent sea serpent, emerging from his chasm. An ominous foreboding slicked down his spine. Theo looked from the painting to Dahlia, his embodiment of honeyed divinity. Theo had always imagined himself as Hades ruining Dahlia, his Persephone, with his unrighteousness. He suddenly felt like he had gotten it wrong — he was the one who would have to get on his knees and bargain with hell's ruler to keep her above on solid ground.
"I'm sorry. Did you want a moment?" She asked him quietly as if a monster lurked nearby. She had never seen such a look upon his face. He wore a troubled, perplexing expression like he was recalculating a problem; reassessing a puzzle. He said nothing, only stared upwards at the oil paintings in an attempt to make sense of them.
"Are you alright?" She reached for his arm.
Her gentle grasp snapped him out of his thoughts. He meant to reply, but he heard a deep, lyrical voice approaching.
Devereaux Aldair commanded the room as he entered. He was a tall, narrow man that Theo thought could have resembled a wraith. That is, if he wasn't so charismatic. Theo had heard his own father refer to him as the Ministry darling. Of course, he had meant as a slight. Theo couldn't deny that the man was magnetic. There wasn't a dark grey hair upon his head that wasn't kept in place or a piece of lint upon his fully grey ensemble. Like Lucius Malfoy, he often opted to carry a cane. Although, menacing in appearance, his smile carried charm.
"Dahlia! How I've missed you, my light," he said pleasantly enough as he brought her into his arms. She reciprocated his gesture.
Theo prided himself in his ability to read body language and noted that Dahlia was a hint nervous. She lost words for an introduction as Devereaux turned his dark eyes to him. "And you must be Tiberius's son, Theodore."
Theo nodded as her father shook his hand with assertion.
"It's a pleasure, sir." He wondered if he had been polite enough or had made things awkward. He had never felt the need to share niceties before. This was new to him.
"Theodore's in Slytherin, and he's also the captain of the quidditch team," she said proudly.
Theo observed Dahlia's desire to impress her father. He also made a dirty mental note to make her use his full name in bed later on.
"Yes, I would be quite surprised to hear of a Nott who wasn't placed in Slytherin," he chuckled to himself.
"I'm sure Dahlia has told you that we also have a proud history of Slytherins. She, being the only exception like her mother. No worry though, I know my moonlight doesn't belong in the dungeons but closest to the stars in the tallest tower." He looked at her with devotion.
Dahlia edged closer to Theo. He was terrified to touch her in front of her father. "She is quite extraordinary," he answered, tucking his hands into his pocket. He tried to convey as much love in his eyes as possible through his gaping anxiety. Theo noticed her father's eyes drift to the necklace around Dahlia's neck. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, unsure of what to make it.
"Well, I always liked Tiberius, even if he could drink me under the table. You are welcome in our home in his absence. I must attend to the ministry needs for a short while, but I will see you both at dinner. Dahlia, I've arranged for Dagadan to be of assistance in the guest wing." With that, Devereaux nodded politely and sauntered out of the room.
A rather large, toad-like house-elf appeared from thin air. He silently took their bags. Dahlia grabbed Theo's hand and pulled him deeper into the beastly estate as if to outrun the elf before he could properly tend to any needs. The house was a labyrinth of arched, matte black doors that only led to more hallways.
"Where are we going?" He asked nervously.
"To my bedroom, of course," she whispered over her shoulder.
A new wave of anxiety nearly drowned him. The house was a maze. It almost felt sentient as if he would look back to discover the different doorways disappearing. Six rooms later, he crossed the threshold into what could only be her bedroom as she plopped down upon a massive, fluffy bed.
The walls were made of light blue stone as various rugs were strewn amongst the cherry oak floor in shades of pinks and lilacs. The left side of the room had an arched fireplace built within the stone wall. Several cream chaises and pillows scattered around it. Vines of field flowers hung from the ceiling, cascaded down thin, silk periwinkle drapes that separated the sitting area from the space where her bed was positioned. A midnight blue desk painted with constellations sat against the opposite wall. On either sides, piles of books were on the floor in front of ornately carved bookcases that sat nearly empty.
Her bed was located within a large, yet cozy, round alcove with floor to ceiling gilded windows. Deep sapphire curtains hung between them. The rotunda above her bed had been enchanted to showcase the phases of the moon. He walked into the space slowly as if entering a sacred place. He turned and noticed opposite of the alcove, to the right, her bathroom ceiling had also been enchanted to exhibit shooting stars and racing comets. He slowly entered the space as he was drawn to it. The bathroom was carved from light blue and gold-veined, white marble. Bronze-framed portraits of mermaids were perched along the floor next to a recessed bathtub. He knew he was being more nosy than what was deemed polite, but he couldn't help himself. He explored her bathroom and took his wand out to cast a shooting star across the ceiling.
"Make a wish?" He asked her cheekily. She rolled her eyes. He explored a bit more, wanting to note everything about her. He finally turned to face Dahlia. He noticed her eyes darken as she tried to lure him to her bed, made of cream and gold luxuries. He would have crawled to her if she had asked.
He strolled over and sat on the edge of her mattress and sighed with relief. He had been anxious for some time, but he felt like he could finally breathe easy, if only for a moment. He leaned back on his elbows. She immediately moved to straddle him. The sunlight reflecting through the moon-charmed rotunda above the bed made her appear as if she glowed. She slid her hands under his crewneck and trailed her fingertips down his chest in an attempt to bewitch him. He swiftly gripped her hand.
"Darling, we've just arrived," he said silkily. The truth was, he was terrified to fuck her during Devereaux's waking hours.
Dahlia read his uncharacteristic hesitation. "He's not here. He left for the ministry." She said leaning closer to his chest.
Her hips dug into his own, and a feral desire began to ache within him. He made no move to touch her as she moaned into his ear and ground her hips against him. He pulled her hair so that her face was now inches from his lips.
"You think your father would leave you alone, in this house, with someone like me?" He smirked. He loosened his grasp to let her resume her seductive ways for a little longer.
"Theodore, are you afraid?" She teased, whispering into his ear as she placed soft kisses on his jawline.
"Only a fool wouldn't be," he replied breathlessly. He gathered the willpower to resist temptation. "Dahlia, I have snooping to do. I will fuck you senseless later," he said strictly. He made an effort to get off the bed as he sat up. Dahlia was forced to move upwards with him and was now seated in his lap.
"What are you always saying about me?" She asked as she removed her sweatshirt to reveal a black-laced bra. Theo's throat bobbed.
"That I'm sweet, kind, demure…"
"Honestly, now that we are well-acquainted, I would say violent, defiant, risky…" He grinned. It was wiped clean when she dropped to her knees.
"Do you want to find out just how kind I can be?" She asked flirtatiously. She traced her fingers up his thighs to the button on his jeans. He remembered just how shocked he had been to read similar words she had written all those months ago.
He contemplated for a moment, weighing if he was willing to risk an untimely death at the hands of her lurking father and house staff.
"Please? I want to," she murmured, peering into his eyes with parted lips.
He leaned down to kiss her softly as she sat kneeling, perched between his thighs. She licked the roof of his mouth and deepened the kiss. He breathed hard into her and hastily pulled away from her. He leaned back, his jaw tensing.
"Have it your way," he finally answered with a thrill of defeat.
She unbuttoned his pants slowly. She ran the tips of her fingers up his thighs. He watched her intently as she pulled him free. She inhaled sharply, heat pooling in her core. She stroked her hand down his cock and she felt him stiffen as if he restrained himself.
She lifted her gaze to him, "tell me how you like it." She began stroking lightly and began firming her grip until her nails brushed against him. He groaned in pleasure and reached for her. He put his thumb on her mouth and pulled down her bottom lip. She sucked his thumb and then licked up his cock.
"Do you like this?" She asked lowly.
She lowered her head onto him and took him into her mouth. His hips responded in pleasure. She grazed her tongue and then pulled away to tease him. "And that?"
His eyes were molten as she looked up at him. She knew he liked it and would commit heinous crimes to keep her going. "I haven't got all day, love," he replied irreverently.
She took him into her again as she slid him between her lips. She began working her mouth and hand in unison. She could tell he was holding back despite his moans. She grazed her teeth against him and looked up. His head fell back. She was taunting him. He grabbed her hair and began moving with her, bucking as she went to swallow him whole. She rubbed her thighs together. She moaned onto his cock and he gripped her hair harder.
"Fuck," he exclaimed.
He was turning flush as he came closer to his high.
She slid him between her cleavage before swallowing him again and again. He gripped her jaw as he unleashed himself into her. She moved until he was finished. She pulled her mouth away from him as he panted. He looked upon her glassy eyes and perfect, swollen pout and it crossed his mind that he may never feel worthy of her, regardless of the mistakes she made.
He tucked himself away and pulled her off of her knees. He sat on the edge of the bed as she stood before him. He looked up at her in the gilded light and lightly traced her whole body. He wanted to memorize her. He lived in constant terror that she would be taken from him.
There was a knock on the door. They hurried to make themselves proper.
"The guest wing has been prepared," an elf spoke through the closed door.
Dahlia rubbed her hand across her forehead in annoyance.
"Later, I promise." He kissed the top of her forehead, then her lips, and left.
He strolled out of her bedroom only to find Dagadan waiting by the door. He knew that fucking weasel was waiting to report his every move to Devereaux.
"Sir, may I accompany you to your room?" The toad asked.
He leaned down and projected his voice as if the elf was an elderly, nearly deaf grandmother. "That would be lovely, Dagadan."
The elf began leading him through several hallways. Theo stood taller, ready to scheme. He placed his hands in his pockets once again.
With cheeks still flushed, he said smoothly, "Dagadan, Dahlia isn't feeling well. She asked me to grab her a textbook from the library so she can finish an assignment over the weekend. Would you mind accompanying me?" He asked innocently.
The elf nodded. If he was skeptical, he didn't show it. He began leading him to the Aldair library. Theo lied about the book he was looking for and said it was for her potions class. Dahlia really could use the help though. The elf waited for him to find the correct book and then brought him back to the guest quarters.
It was a lovely room crafted entirely from mahogany wood. Someone had prepared the room with a tray of snacks, beverages and bathing oils. An oil painting of dancing fairies hung above the plush bed. Theo ate an apple as he stared at it. He checked his watch and decided that enough time had passed for Dagadan to fuck off.
He opened the bedroom door and looked both ways. He began retracing his steps back to the library. It was a gamble, but he had a feeling if anyone would have a stock of books on oracles and divination, it would be the Aldairs. He made his way into the empty library and Theo began silently perusing the several rows of mahogany bookcases.
A curious thought crossed his mind. The rest of the estate had floors crafted from cherry oak — how peculiar that the floor of the library was made of obsidian instead. What required such protection within this room? His gut told him something was amiss. He traced the molding of the built-in bookcases with his eyes. He came to a halt in front of a bookcase that's smooth wood looked weathered and worn on the left edges. Was this one glamoured to disguise hinges?
He thought of what his own father would have done if he was trying to conceal a door. A pureblood wizard would only bother to try to open it with a spell, which surely it was charmed against. He began searching for a manual locking mechanism. He prayed it didn't require blood magic.
He had been tinkering with the secret door for almost an hour when he felt his hand brush past an invisible lever behind the molding on the bottom shelf. It was imperceptible to the eye, but he felt it. He ground it forward, and the door soon revealed itself. Theo grinned victoriously at his success. He pushed to bookcase forward. He opened the door enough for him to slip in. He was careful not to close it all the way in case it locked. "Lumos," he murmured.
His blood ran cold.
—
Dahlia was humming to herself, preparing for dinner. She had taken the most luxurious shower and felt completely rejuvenated. She was seated at her vanity, finishing her makeup when Theo bursted into her bathroom.
She turned quickly at the interruption. His eyes were wild as he hurried to her. She was overcome with confusion. He should have been dressed properly by now for dinner but he was still in his jeans and crewneck.
He cupped her face. "Dahlia, we need to leave." His desperation pierced her eyes. "We have to get out of here," he whispered.
"No, you need to get dressed for dinner," she said slowly, not fully processing his urgency.
"I don't fucking care about dinner," he whispered frantically. "We- you aren't safe here."
"This is my home, Theo," she exclaimed in disbelief. "Please, get a grip. Not everything is a danger to me. I'm fine!" She replied as if he was a nuisance. Her tone was filling with annoyance.
"I understand that! But this is an exception! I have to tell you something where it is sa-"
Just then there was a knock on the door. The Fates despised him but he would spit on their ancient, dusty graves if given the chance.
"Miss? Your father is ready for dinner," a house-elf declared through the closed bedroom door.
"I will be right there!" She politely responded. Her voice rose a few octaves.
Theo bent down to eye level to meet her gaze. "Dahlia, baby, please. Please compromise with me," he begged.
"We can discuss this after dinner," she said sharply.
He pressed his hands together and put them against his lips while he closed his eyes. Dahlia was uncomfortable to see him standing in such a manner, as if he was praying. He finally exhaled as if he had been holding his breath.
"Your father…your mum-she was…" He couldn't form the words to her. He pulled two journals from his back pockets to show her. "I found at least ten of these."
Dahlia stepped farther away from him. She couldn't handle anymore stimulation, or stress, at the moment. She felt a lick of nausea roil through her. She ground her teeth and forced herself to breathe deeply through her nose.
Theo was lying. No, he couldn't be lying. Unlike her, he had always been truthful. She was terrified to discover what the journals he found might reveal. She put her hands up to stop him from handing them to her. She couldn't read something upsetting right now. They were short on time for this discussion and she couldn't afford to have a mental breakdown, so she compartmentalized.
"We don't have time for this. Get changed. Now," she demanded. "My father will be suspicious if we are late." She walked over to him and softened her gaze. She put her hands on his chest. "We just have to make it through this dinner, okay? Just act normal."
She pushed him out of her bathroom and sent him on his way to quickly change into something more appropriate for dinner.
She waited at the top of the staircase for him to escort her downstairs. She heard a few more voices than she had expected below, which she found perplexing. She had thought this was a more private occasion. She was trying to hold herself together but was reaching her break point.
Theo finally emerged flushed from rushing. For once, Dahlia held her breath for all the right reasons. He was immaculate. He was dressed in a fitted charcoal suit. His top button was left undone to reveal a gold chain that complimented her own. He had pushed his hair back, taming his wild curls. He walked with his head down, straightening his suit a final time. He looked up at her and tilted one side of his mouth upwards.
Despite everything, she knew she would be okay when she saw him approach her. She remembered the first time he had grinned at her. She recalled thinking he resembled a prince of hearts. He had somehow swindled his way into becoming the chaotic king who held her own heart in his clutches. For a moment, in her childhood home, she wondered what her mother might think of him.
He stepped close, taking her hand. He kissed her temple.
"Let's go cause some madness, beautiful."
His eyes gleamed for her, and she had to remind herself how to move.
He helped her down the oval staircase that had been carved to resemble the winding roots of a tree. She wore an off the shoulder, lilac silk gown that draped over her curves with a modest slit. Theo thought she reminded him of a nymph in her dress tonight. Dahlia guided them toward the dining room only to discover a large group of guests upon their arrival.
Dahlia had assumed this would be a quiet dinner, but she had been wrong. Her eyes immediately found Draco Malfoy, who was seated next to his mother. Dahlia's stomach dropped. She noted Amelia and her parents, as well. Amelia conveyed 'what the fuck is happening' with her eyes. Had her father invited them all last minute? Dahlia widened her own eyes at Amelia, responding with 'I don't fucking know' written within them.
If Theo was caught off guard, he didn't show it. He threw on his mask of boyish charm as he assessed the midnight room embellished with ornate paintings of the Grecian goddesses. He guided her over to her seat. As he pulled her chair back, he murmured into her ear, "Did you know?"
She smiled at him, and responded with a quick eyebrow raise. She hoped her eyes answered for her. She sat at the end of the table across from her father. Draco was to her right and Theo sat at her left. She was acutely aware that both boys were staring at her. She called upon an elf for a gigantic glass of wine, even if it pained her to drink after her hangover.
Dahlia tried to remain as silent as possible through most of dinner. It was strange to be so close to Theo without him holding her hand, or at least reaching out for some sort of physical connection. She wondered if he was upset with her, or if he was just uncomfortable. He leaned back against his spiraled, wooden chair and swirled his crystal glass with irritation. Neither him, nor Draco spoke.
Narcissa Malfoy was seated next to her son, and was painfully aware of the new tension between the boys. Not wanting to pry, she directed her attention to Dahlia.
"You're so beautiful, dear. You have your mother's eyes," she said softly.
Draco looked uncomfortable that his mother had paid her a compliment.
"Thank you," Dahlia smiled. "You knew my mother?" She inquired.
"I did! She was quite outstanding at potions."
Something not inherited, she thought. Dahlia rested her head on her chin to listen more intently at Narcissa's memories of her mother as she continued. "I actually never would have properly met Draco's father had she not accidentally switched our exam results in class. I always jested that she did it on purpose," she added delightfully.
"How lovely," Dahlia responded. It was a short response, but sincere.
Draco finished off his drink dramatically. Dahlia crossed her legs beneath the table to kick him. She wouldn't stand for rudeness towards his own mother. Her heel made contact with his knee. He coughed to cover his wince of pain.
"She was a bit spacey," Narcissa took a moment to sip her wine. "But truly kind-hearted. She sent the largest bouquet of snapdragons the very moment Draco was born." She smiled.
"I had no idea you two were somewhat close!" Dahlia stated warmly. She was the darling image of proper etiquette.
Her mother had always worked in mysterious ways. She wondered if her mother hadn't interfered, if she wouldn't be stuck with an asshole as her fated soulmate — or whatever he was.
Narcissa continued, but Dahlia could not concentrate. She went still as she felt fingertips brush her ankle. She glanced at Draco who was rolling the stem of his wineglass between his fingers in one hand and staring at Theo. His other hand was beneath the table, slowly traipsing up her calf.
"Dahlia, you're flushed," Theo said to her with worry.
She reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it. She was overwhelmed with anxiety as all of her problems were now colliding within one singular space.
She excused herself to go to the powder room. She walked swiftly and closed the door behind her. She locked it. She bent down and took a few deep breaths. She was physically sweating. This was the worst situation she had ever gotten herself into. Worse than when a muggle boy had somehow found her address and showed up here in the middle of the night, waking her father. She had no clue whatever happened to him.
Thank gods this room was cold. She knew she couldn't hide in here forever. She wanted to purge herself of all the lies she was keeping to herself and to others. She wanted to demand truths from those around her, as well. She wanted to lay bare all of her questions about her mother's death to her father and ask him how deep his pureblood values ran. She wanted to scream at Draco for being so emotionally unavailable and plunge a cold knife through the Fates for haunting her with his presence every night. Theo was her anchor for which she felt all her problems swirled around and tugged against.
There was a knock on the door. She was sure it was Theo coming to check on her. She stood and cracked open the door only to find Draco leaning against the doorway with a solemn expression instead. There was a brief moment of peace as their eyes locked and nature balanced. It was ruined as he moved to barge into the bathroom. Dahlia tried to close the door to force him out.
"Get out of here! Are you psychotic!" She hissed.
He pushed past her into the room with ease. Dahlia refused to let him shut the door all the way — terrified of what people might think.
"I just need to talk," he whispered harshly as he tried to block her flailing hands. He finally got a good grip on her wrists and twisted her to face him.
"No! You've had your chances!" She whispered angrily.
He didn't disagree, and it wasn't worth arguing. Time was of the essence as there was a full table of perceptive guests just beyond this room.
"I meant what I said in the garden," he said adamantly. He knew she had truly been present in their dreams for the first time as she had slept on the train. She had never spoken in any previous nightmare.
His eyes were pleading and earnest. She didn't respond. Her expression was cold and hurt. He loosened his grip on her wrists so she could move forward, away, or however she wished. He would yield for her.
"I'm looking at you now," he murmured, unsure of himself.
That was what she wanted, right? He thought.
"Dreams don't count, Draco."
She spoke with resolution, like she was closing the whole book instead of a chapter. His thawing heart once again froze.
Dahlia read the shift in his features, growing annoyed at his inability to take a little heat without becoming distant and angry.
"You are childish and cruel," she murmured clearly, with disdain, into his lips. She retched herself away from his grasp. "I hope you are always haunted by me, and you never know a peaceful night's sleep."
Rage and jealousy licked his thoughts. He took lethal steps toward her and shoved her back against the door. It opened wider. She caught herself to prevent a stumble.
"You fool, your curse is my paradise," he chuckled menacingly at her ignorance. "This is it," he said possessively, motioning his fingers between them as to suggest they were the endgame. "The Fates delivered you to me. I don't have to be pleasant to own your heart."
She couldn't bring herself to find a response. She didn't know how.
He chuckled, grinning as he leaned down. Draco wanted to make sure she was clear on this one certainty. He pushed his cheek against hers and murmured, "but don't fret, as I am also yours by the gods." He felt her shiver in fear, or need. He smiled awfully and whispered as a threat, "do with me what you will."
Draco saw Theo approach from behind her. He pulled back, features shifting into a neutral, cooled expression.
Dahlia's face was riddled with confusion until she turned. Theo sauntered into the bathroom and lean against the sink. His approach had been as silent as a ghost. His eyes were absolutely feral as he pretended to check the time. There was a painfully awkward silence. Whether Theo could see this for what it was, remained a mystery to her.
"Well, don't let me interrupt," he quipped, sloshing his drink around in his glass.
No one spoke. Dahlia felt as if she was having an anxiety attack. She didn't want either of these men near her at the moment. All she could bring herself to say was, "I want to leave." She shrunk into her anxiety.
"I'll leave," Draco muttered icily towards her.
Theo let out a deep, ironic laugh as if it was the most humorous things he had ever heard. She could tell in his body language that he was not his best self. She had seen the same primal rage when he had opted for physical violence with Ron Weasley.
Draco went still and tilted his head with a smirk. Dahlia knew he was itching to throw their bonded connection in his face. Theo straightened and set his glass down. Dahlia felt herself leaving this reality as a panicked sob threatened to echo out from her throat.
"Get me the fuck out of here!" She exclaimed. She reached for Theo.
The hot tears that pricked her eyes seemed to pull him back to her. They grounded his temper. His face softened as he pulled her into him.
"Just get the fuck out, mate," he said to Draco, exasperation heavy in his voice. His tone had changed to a somber request on her behalf.
Draco exited the powder room as Dahlia crumpled into his chest. Theo slammed the door shut behind him. Draco went to take a seat next to his mother, who shot him a vexed, yet worried look.
"Are you ready to depart, Draco?" His mother asked him.
"No, I want to speak with Devereaux," he answered sternly, determined.
Narcissa glanced into his calculated eyes.
"Your father wouldn't like-,"
"My father is in Azkaban," He replied with distaste.
—
Back in the powder room, Theo pulled Dahlia into his chest and tucked her head under his chin. He glided his hands up and down her back gently.
"We can get out of here. We don't have to gather all the answers tonight," he cooed into her ear. She trembled beneath his arms. He desperately wanted to know what Draco had said to her.
"It's going to be alright. Let's get away from everything," he whispered soothingly.
He pulled her chin up to his face to read her eyes. She didn't look heartbroken over a romantic squabble — she looked terrified. He desperately wanted to patch her wings and make everything right for her.
"Go get your things. Don't speak to the elves. I'll come for you." He left her to go politely break the news that Dahlia had retired for the evening since she wasn't feeling well.
Dahlia obeyed. She silently went up to her room. She entered her bathroom to pack her things when her eyes moved towards the journals Theo had tucked away beneath folded towels for safekeeping.
In her swirling panic of unknowns, she could find some sort of answers now. She sat on the pristine marble floor and opened one of the worn leather books. The binding looked worse for wear. She immediately recognized her father's handwriting. Dozens of prophecies were transcribed across the pages. She recognized what they were from the book that Draco had left her all those weeks ago. Her throat constricted with tears as she noticed the scribbled notes in the margins. On a single date, her mother had conjured five different prophecies. Dahlia could barely tolerate using her Sight just once. Sensations were enough to tire her. She couldn't imagine foretelling five times in a row. Her father's handwriting surrounded the different prophecies. He had noted her condition which seemed to worsen over time. Had he done this to her? Was he the reason her mother lived such a short life? Did he fracture her mind? Dahlia's lip trembled. She knew her father loved her mother more than anything. Had Dahlia confused his obsession for love?
For the first time, she saw the picture of her life painted before her as it truly was. Hot tears ran down her face. She stood, and packed the journals in her bag. She dumped nearly her entire wardrobe and shoes into an enchanted suitcase. She didn't plan on coming home anytime soon.
Theo entered her bedroom as she was kicking off her heels. He ripped off his suit jacket and threw it into his bag. "Are you ready, love?" He asked as he pushed up his sleeves.
She turned to him, eyes red. "Theo, you said there were more journals?"
Her tone was somber. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He had only grabbed two in fear of getting caught. "Yes, but I don't think we can risk getting them now with so many guests. They were in a concealed room within your library."
She put her hands on her hips and looked down in frustration.
"I promise we will find a way to get them all, but now is not the opportune time," he said firmly, shaking his head at her.
He spotted a note Dahlia had left for her father upon the desk. He felt like it was an invasion of privacy to read it. She noticed his gaze.
"It just says I've left to spend the evening with Juliet for an emergency. He'll probably assume its some boy problem and I wouldn't want to leave you here."
He gave her a skeptical look.
"I'm not daft, Theo. I know if he thought we found something suspicious, that he would come for me."
"I never said that you were daft," he replied defensively.
The air was tense. He walked up behind her and put his hands on her waist to apologize for anything he may have done. He brushed his hands up to her neck to calm her. "Let's go," he whispered.
She nodded. He took her hand. She looked around one last time as to commit her childhood bedroom to memory, and then they were gone.
—
Narcissa Malfoy's voice echoed through the empty manor.
"Draco! When are you going to learn that your brash actions have consequences!" She yelled at her son.
Draco removed his jacket cooly and placed it upon the gilded table within their foyer. He didn't respond.
"I will not allow her to join this family, Draco."
Draco responded as he took a seat on the settee. "He didn't agree to anything. He said he needed time to weigh his options. Plus, this is far in the future. I'm just thinking ahead."
He hung his head as his mother continued to berate him. "You might as well sign her death certificate along with the marriage certificate!" She spat.
"She doesn't have her mother's sight!" He finally snapped, completely losing his temper.
He knew it was a lie. Maybe he had acted impulsively, but he had a moment of clarity within the powder room at the Aldair Estate, and he was inclined to lean into his gut instinct when it came to Dahlia. He knew she was better off with him. He could make tough choices. Theo would get them both killed with his desire to have it all.
"Do you really think it matters? They will kill her instantly. Or worse, force her to produce child after child until it kills her in the hopes of gaining an heir who has the Sight." She stopped her pacing and muttered, "that would potentially be your own child who would suffer such a fate, Draco. Gods forbid."
She shook her head in disbelief that her son had asked Devereaux Aldair for her hand in marriage when the proper time came. He had promised him horrible things if Devereaux would simply push the tide in Draco's direction and reject Theodore Nott.
There was a strained silence.
"Your childish jealousy will be the death of her," she said in a calm acceptance of what had been done. She covered her mouth. Dahlia's mother had been her friend.
She sighed and leveled with her son she loved so dearly, offering his heart the true advice he sought. "Draco, be patient. It will self-destruct naturally. He's a son of the Nott's. She will never choose you until then."
Draco watched as his mother as began walking up the cavernous marble stairs. "If she wasn't so foolish, she would just simply disappear."
Draco sat for a moment in the empty foyer, pondering how desolate his life might be without Dahlia.