Dahlia awoke in a bed that wasn't her own.

Her eyes fluttered open. White-stone walls accented by dark woods and shades of emerald greeted her. The window across from her showcasing the Black Lake refracted the morning rays as they cut through the waters in a shifting aura of earthy light. She grumbled as she unsuccessfully tried to lift her head off Theo's broad and bare chest while he still slumbered.

She briefly remembered the rest of her night. They had all gone back to his dormitory and played ridiculous 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.

Five more minutes, she thought.

She rolled over onto her side to find Draco asleep in his own bed, breathing softly beneath heavy lashes. 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 lighting an inferno. Her eyes stumbled upon his exposed chest; too nauseous. She was likely to get burned soon.

She couldn't admit to herself just how grateful she was that he was in bed, alone.

She watched Draco turn restlessly as Theo shifted, wrapping his arms around her stomach to keep her close. He exhaled against the tender spot behind her ear.

Dahlia kept her gaze tethered to Draco as she interlaced her fingers with Theo's own. What would it be like in a world away where she fell into Draco's bed instead? 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; a black hole. 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 her in the hopes of keeping her safe.

Dahlia embraced the peace, watching Draco sleep, completely enveloped in the warm arms of Theo as if he were constricting around her.

She heard a girlish sigh from the other side of the room. She painfully propped her head up to find Eloise grunting awake. She sat up quickly, slapping Xavier on the back to wake him up.

"Ow! Stop it!" 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, ripping 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, glancing upwards from the cold floor to see Dahlia cocooned in his sheets.

"Oi! Who broke the fucking mirror last night?" Xavier called from the open bathroom door, shoveling over shards of glass.

Dahlia whirled her head in his direction, but she quickly averted her gaze. Her cheeks 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 lightly 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, accomplice 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, changing the subject. 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 sighed, 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 a hangover. He grumbled, sitting on his bed.

"Meet me on the train? Yes?" Dahlia brought his forehead to her chest, running her hands through his morning curls. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she leaned down and kissed the top of his head softly.

He nodded in response with a groan. He sighed, leaning back from her and shoving 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 go put some clothes on.

She found her robe from last night and quickly threw it on. She kissed Theo on the cheek. "Love you," she quickly murmured.

"Love you, darling," he answered casually.

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 first 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 quietly entered, Juliet and Eloise behind her.

Theo immediately pulled her onto his lap by the window. He appeared quite put together compared to her. He was freshly showered and had worn black jeans with his Slytherin quidditch captain crewneck. She looked practically feral next to him. 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, 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, breaking out her water.

She handed the bottle to Theo, then unleashed her messy bun onto his face. She began brushing out sparkles with her fingers.

Theo grimaced, uncertain 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 the secrets she held. He loved the way she wore his necklace, an heirloom that showed to the world that she belonged to the Notts. To him. 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 foul hags who tried to separate them.

He peered at Draco coldly, knowing how he had tried to take her from him when she was in the worst of states last night. 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 with her dress on backwards as she groaned.

"You're so fucking loud," Amelia hissed.

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 tried to find a few more hours of sleep. Theo scooted over to give her proper 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 best friends. Juliet had been the most upset about his threats when he had come looking for Dahlia, and forgiveness didn't seem to be in her cards.

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 far 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," she swooned. "He's a fair man." He didn't miss her undertone of distaste hidden beneath her candied demeanor.

Draco sat across from Dahlia, currently spiraling in silence as Theo and Juliet glared.

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 he said, 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. Show her what it was like to hold the world in her palm.

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 bluffs. 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 had 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 just for him. He had shaken his head in disapproval — he never would have left her alone — 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 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 only lifeline at the moment; kept him from the bone crush.

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 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 thoughts began breaking through the dream. The waking met the dreaming on the edge of reality. 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 at all. 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 peered into her eyes apologetically before muttering something under his breath. He took her hand, placing 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 with his elegant fingertips. 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."

Bumps arose on her exposed skin. His whisper was the sound of new possibilities, dreams spinning to life. She blinked for a long moment, anxiety receding, but when she opened her eyes it returned. He had disappeared. She was left standing alone in the vast garden. She clenched her chest. The sudden loneliness was too much for her to bear.

Dahlia startled awake.

Theo quickly gripped her legs still in his lap to prevent her from kicking, his reflexes too impressive. She sat shaking, clenching her fist. His golden eyes widened in shock, bewildered as she slowly uncrossed her arms and relaxed her hand. The remnants of a smothered, cream-colored dahlia fell into her lap.

She was speechless. She reached to her neck to make sure she was still wearing her enchanted necklace. 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 upon her. His stormy glare met hers. If he was confused or shaken, he wasn't showing it. He peered out the window as if nothing had happened.

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 heavy sigh. It made Dahlia terribly self-conscious. He was growing tired of her, already.

They finally pulled into King's Cross Station, and Dahlia was sure she was going to puke because of nerves, or so she hoped. She grabbed Theo's hand and hurried off the train, needing to put several meters, a continent even, between her and Draco. They exited the train onto platform nine and three-quarters. She smiled at the bustle of crowds, pulling him forward.

He smiled back as if he thought he might never find himself here with her.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked as they approached the floo flame station.

"Actually, if we could just take-"

Dahlia threw down her floo powder as she squeezed his hand. He was violently pulled by his gut into new surroundings. Dahlia screamed at his side, a wild smile upon her face. This might be a mistake , he thought in a quick moment.

"…a minute," he finished in shock, propelled through an enormous fireplace, carved of precious obsidian into wall of rough stone itself. It was unsightly; bone-chilling.

He held his breath, stepping forward. 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 some time ago. Various sized stars had been painted sporadically around her, but if you squinted, they formed a swirling crown. He stepped closer.

Wait, was that really her? He questioned.

His heart beated more rapidly, pulse quickening.

Theo turned around to look at the fireplace he had just stepped through. Above its smooth mantel was a massive painting of Leviathan, the colossal and abhorrent sea serpent, emerging from his chasm. A foreboding slicked down his spine.

This isn't safe, he thought.

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 all wrong. So terribly wrong. He wasn't the darkest of the Underworld. 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, instead of Dahlia. 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 crooned 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." It was slick and cold, yet entirely warm.

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." Dahlia smiled proudly. It was wind in sails, salt to the ocean. She was proud. It left him turning flush.

She folded her hands nervously, and Theo observed her 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," Devereaux 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 to her with devotion.

Dahlia edged closer to Theo, but he made no move. 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.

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 policy needs for a short while, but I will see you both at dinner."

He turned to his daughter, easing his tone to something uncomfortably casual. "Dahlia, I've arranged for Dagadan to be of assistance in the guest wing."

And 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 at all.

He tried to keep up, nervous to be running in a dangerous man's house. It was a labyrinth of arched, matte black doors that only led to more hallways.

"Where are we going?" He asked, brimming with anxiety.

"To my bedroom, of course!" She whispered over her shoulder, up to no good.

A new wave of anxiety nearly drowned him. The house was an exhausting 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 with entirely too many pillows.

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 floral pillows were scattered around it. Vines of field flowers hung from the ceiling, cascaded down 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 placed on the floor in front of ancient 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. As if he were a thief.

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 bathroom as he was drawn to it. It was carved from 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, picking up rogue perfume bottles she had left behind. He took his wand out to cast a shooting star across the ceiling.

"Make a wish?" He asked her cheekily.

She rolled her eyes. He glanced around a bit more, wanting to note everything about her. He finally turned to face Dahlia, setting down an abandoned ballerina figurine.

He smiled softly, before noticing how her eyes darkened.

Oh fucking no, he thought.

She tried to lure him to her bed made of cream and gold luxuries, flipping her hair in the way he liked. 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 as she attempted to dazzle him.

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 the hem of his crewneck and trailed her fingertips down his chest in an attempt to bewitch him.

He swiftly gripped her hand, not having even a bit of this.

"Darling, we've just arrived," he chuckled 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 leaned over his chest, parting her mouth.

Her hips dug into his own, and a dark desire began to ache within him. He made no move to touch her as she moaned into his ear and pushed her hips against him, trying to take any hint of pleasure from him that she could.

He closed his eyes, hardening. Fuck.

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 added, nonchalant.

He made an effort to get off the bed as he sat up. Dahlia was forced to move upwards with him, seated perfectly 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 in their journals.

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 have you," she murmured, peering into his eyes, begging for him.

How could he ever resist?

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, 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 he restrained himself.

She lifted her gaze to him. "Tell me how you like it."

She began stroking lightly, his expression almost bored. She firmed her grip until her nails brushed against him. He groaned in pleasure, hips bucking, and reached for her. He put his thumb on her mouth and pulled down her bottom lip, asking her to answer his prayers. She sucked his thumb. He shook as she licked up his cock.

"Do you like this?" She hummed.

She lowered her head onto him and took him into her mouth. His jaw fell as he filled her mouth, nearly too big for her to take. It was the sweetest thing he had ever seen. His hips responded in pleasure, lifting into her mouth. She grazed her teeth and flicked her tongue upon him. He groaned loudly, stopping himself from fisting her hair and fucking her mouth. It was the height of his fantasies.

She pulled away to tease him. "And that?"

His eyes were molten as she looked up at him, innocent and pleasing. She knew he liked it and would commit heinous crimes to keep her going.

"I haven't got all day, love," he replied, grossly irreverent.

She took him into her again, sliding his cock between her lips. She met the hilt of him and he moaned, head falling back. She began working her mouth and hand in unison. She could tell he was holding back despite his moans by the flexing of his fist.

She grazed her teeth against him and looked up. His head fell back again.

She was taunting him, and he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed her hair and began moving with her, bucking as she went to swallow him whole time, and time again. She rubbed her thighs together. She moaned onto his cock, a sweet hum, and he gripped her hair harder. She squealed under his rough fist, electrified as she touched herself, loving all of him in her mouth.

"You look so fucking sweet taking all of me so well," he groaned, watching her mouth stretch around him.

He was turning flush as he came closer to his high.

"Fuck," he exclaimed.

She slid his cock between her cleavage before swallowing him again, and again. He thought he might die. He didn't want her to stop, but when she moaned his own name with his cock between her lips he couldn't last any longer. He gripped her jaw as he unleashed himself into her mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted, coming for her.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, moving in a rhythm with her. She sucked sweetly until he was finished, swallowing him whole. She pulled her mouth away as he panted. He peered into 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. Regardless of how she had gotten on her knees for him and loved it.

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 loved her so terribly. He wanted to memorize her. He lived in constant terror that she would be taken from him.

There was a knock on the door, and Theo was half tempted to throw a killing curse as the moment was ruined. 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, her nose, then her lips before quickly departing.

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 as he strolled through an enemy's lair; a wolf in sheep's clothing.

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?"

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 told the toad it was for her potions class.

Dahlia really could use the help though.

The elf waited for him to find the correct book, then brought him back to the guest quarters.

"Thank you!" He yelled loudly, shutting the door viciously behind him.

He grimaced as he examined his sleeping arrangements. It was a lovely room crafted entirely from mahogany wood. Someone had prepared the quarters with a tray of snacks, beverages and bathing oils. A painting of dancing fairies hung high 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 in the cool, dim light.

His step was rather loud against the cold stone.

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.

He smirked. It was so simple. Was this one glamored 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 and 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 barrelled into her bathroom.

She turned quickly at the interruption, nearly scared to death. His eyes were wild as he hurried over 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, horror shook.

"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 answered 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 bones 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." Her answer was sharp, definitive.

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 were praying. He finally exhaled like 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, especially in front of her father — 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, giving in. "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.

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. The additional whispers only made her anxiety worse.

She was trying to hold herself together but was quickly soaring to her break point.

Theo finally emerged, flushed from rushing. For once, Dahlia held her breath for all the right reasons. He was immaculate, 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, revealing a dimple.

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 within 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 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. Theo stiffened.

Dahlia eyes immediately found Draco, who was seated next to his mother. Her 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 seated 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. It was a necessity.

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 them. 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 sneered, 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 gushed.

Draco looked like he wanted to fall under the table.

"I had no idea you two were somewhat close!" Dahlia stated warmly.

She was the darling image of proper etiquette, and Draco wanted to vomit.

Her mother had always worked in mysterious ways. Dahlia 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 couldn't 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 exclaimed 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, bent down and took a few deep breaths.

What the fuck. What the fuck.

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 fanned herself eagerly. She knew she couldn't hide in here forever, but she was spinning. 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. 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 and 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 to you," 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 they had slept on the train. She had never spoken in any previous nightmare.

His eyes were pleading and earnest, but she didn't respond. Couldn't respond.

Draco withered. 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 whispered, voice shaking — hurt. She spoke with resolution, like she was closing the whole book instead of a chapter. His thawing heart once again froze.

This was all so fucked, she thought.

Dahlia read the shift in his features, and scoffed — annoyed at his inability to take a little heat for his actions 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 up his mind. 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 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. Everything was breaking. Her world was upside down.

He laughed softly like a lover, 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 worry, as I am also yours by the gods." He felt her shiver in fear, or need. He smiled awfully and whispered a threat. "Do with me what you will."

Her skin pebbled and she was quickly lightheaded. This was too much.

Draco saw Theo approach from behind her. He pulled back, features shifting into a neutral, cooled expression. Dahlia's face was riddled with confusion, lost, until she turned to see him.

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 as Draco and her remained completely still, caught in whatever the fuck this was. Whether Theo could see this for what it was, truly, 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. Her chest was heavy. A cold shiver threatened. 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 cried, reaching for Theo.

The hot tears that pricked her eyes seemed to pull him back to her. They grounded his temper. His face softened, coming back to her. He pulled her into him without a second thought.

I'm safe. I'm safe.

She gripped his suit jacket, knuckles turning white.

"Just get the fuck out, mate," Theo sighed to Draco, exasperation heavy in his voice as she wrapped around him. His tone only a somber request on her behalf.

She wants him, not me. She had chosen him, a Nott.

Draco exited the powder room as Dahlia crumpled into Theo's chest, desperation lighting in his heart. He slammed the door shut as his anger got the best of him. Draco returned to the dinner table and took a seat next to his mother, who shot him a vexed, yet worried glance as she swirled her untouched wine.

"Are you ready to depart, Draco?" She asked, sensing his disarray. It was rather unusual on his face; the love-stricken horror.

Draco bounced his knee and situated his pristine suit, his cheeks flush with emotion. "No, I want to speak with Devereaux," he answered sternly, determined and eyes casted in her father's direction.

Narcissa glanced into his calculated eyes, unsure if he was having a mental break. An ocean of uncertain hysteria broke through in an imperceptible moment that only a mother might catch. She rubbed his arm gently, a mask of polite civility gracing her elegant features.

She leaned closer, voice almost unheard. "Your father wouldn't like-,"

"My father is in Azkaban," He answered hastily in pained distaste.

Narcissa wanted to answer, to tell him that love couldn't be bought, but that wasn't the truth. Everyone who gambled the likes of power, whispered with the devil, and all of whom were seated at this table had a price.

The room was closing in.

Theo pulled Dahlia into his chest and tucked her head under his chin. He glided his hands up and down her back gently. She was crumpled paper in his arms, and he was sick with himself as he tried to smooth her edges.

"We can get out of here. We don't have to gather all the answers tonight," he cooed into her ear.

She trembled against him, panic ridden.

What had Draco said to her? He thought desperately, kissing her hair.

"It's going to be okay. Let's get away from everything," he whispered soothingly.

He tilted her chin up to read her eyes. She wasn't heartbroken over a romantic squabble — she looked terrified. Theo found clarity, weaving a plan into action. He would make everything right for her.

"Go get your things. Don't speak to the elves. I'll come for you," he ordered.

Dahlia nodded, silencing her tears. Everything she had ever known as solid ground felt like water falling through her hands. She took a step back, disgusted with herself. Theo was comforting a liar. She didn't deserve him, but she couldn't lose him either.

He brushed her blotchy cheek with his hand. "It's me and you," he whispered, conviction in his uncompromising gaze. "That is all that matters."

Theo left her to go politely break the news that she would be retiring for the evening since she wasn't feeling well.

Dahlia obeyed. She silently snuck out of the powder room and went up to her quarters. She dug her nails into her arms, holding herself together as she crept through the estate.

What am I doing? What the fuck is Draco doing? What have I done to us?

Draco was pulling her by a rope, believing she was his as dogma of her Fates — his gods now too. Surely it was nestled in his heart like hers, but what had brought him to his knees? Why wouldn't he fight the urge? He fucking hated her. What did he now know that she didn't?

Reality felt far, like she could stretch her arm and break into the lining of space. She took grounding breaths as she entered her bathroom. She was packing her things when her eyes moved towards the journals that Theo had tucked away beneath folded towels for safekeeping.

In her swirling panic of unknowns, she could find some sort of answers now. She paused before removing the book from its hiding spot, unsure if she couldn't handle it.

No, she couldn't disgrace her mother by cowering from her truth.

She sat on the candied marble floor and opened one of the worn leather books. The binding looked worse for wear, and she immediately recognized her father's handwriting. Dozens of prophecies were transcribed across the pages. She recognized what they were from studying 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 covered her mouth, her life turned like an hourglass in one horrific moment. She knew her father loved her mother more than anything. Had Dahlia confused his obsession for love?

Her nausea peaked, head light from wine and anxious ripplings.

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, a shell of the girl she pretended to be. Numb, so completely numb as her senses shut down. She calmly dumped her entire wardrobe and shoes into an enchanted trunk. She didn't plan on coming home anytime soon.

Theo entered her bedroom with a strong stride as she kicked off her heels. She didn't glance. He ripped off his suit jacket and threw it into his own luggage he had summoned.

"Are you ready, love?" He asked as he pushed up his sleeves.

He was most confident and collected when he lead the way, and her heart was too tired to do anything but follow. It was reprieve, for the first time. He would give her all the answers. It was okay to be scared at his side.

She turned to him, eyes red and tone bleak. "Theo, you said there were more journals?"

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, head lowered in frustration.

He stepped closer and took her hands. "I promise we will find a way to get them all, but now is not the opportune time," he added firmly, shaking his head.

His eyes drifted towards her desk of constellations, where a note Dahlia had left for her father was written. He knew it would be an invasion of her privacy to read it, but he couldn't help but be tempted.

She noticed his gaze. "It just says I've left to spend the evening with Juliet for an emergency. He'll probably assume it's some boy problem, and I wouldn't want to leave you here so I brought you too."

He quickly shot her a skeptical look. Dahlia dropped his hands, stepping back.

"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, quickly defensive. He shoved his abandoned hands in his pockets. Dahlia was reminded that he didn't need her.

No, that's completely irrational.

The air heightened with tension. Dahlia crossed her arms, not backing down. She turned, hating how handsome he was when he said the wrong the thing.

Theo sighed, losing the war. He stepped behind her and placed his hands on her waist to apologize for anything he may have done. He massaged her neck for a moment to calm her fraying nerves. She exhaled and leaned back into his chest.

"Let's go," he finally whispered.

She nodded and he took her hand again. She looked around one last time, committing her bedroom to memory. 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, screamed, at her son.

Draco removed his jacket casually and placed it upon the gilded table within their foyer. He didn't answer. It was best not to do so when she was this upset.

"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 license!" She spat.

He squeezed his fist, bubbling over. Finally cracking.

"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 murder her! 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 everything if Devereaux would simply push the tide in Draco's direction and reject Theodore Nott if he wasn't planning to do so already.

There was a strained silence.

"Your childish jealousy will be the death of her," she whispered in a calm acceptance of what had been done. She covered her mouth, unable to take it. Dahlia's mother had been her friend.

There was an awful moment where Draco almost regretted it.

She sighed and leveled with her son she loved so dearly, offering his heart the true advice he sought. "Draco," she soothed. "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 began walking up the cavernous marble stairs.

She paused, scoffing softly. "If she wasn't so foolish, she would just simply disappear."

Draco sat for a moment in the empty foyer, a ghost of himself.