Eight stomach-churning hours passed.
Dahlia had barely slept a lick. She stared out the circular window of the plane as they descended through the evenings clouds. Eloise's head rested on her shoulder as she slept peacefully. Dahlia had counted the seconds as distance furthered from both Theo and her father. It was both a great ache and sobering relief.
Dahlia heard Draco sigh awake from the back of the plane. He stretched leisurely from his reclined seat across the aisle — the trip had proven to be more of a torment for some than others.
He wiped the sleep from his eyes as Xavier harshly threw the latest copy of the Daily Prophet across the small table. Neither him nor Dahlia had read the paper in days.
The boys had sat in the back, a distance away while she and Eloise had preferred the front so they could properly catch up. Eloise hadn't attended the Christmas Eve party at the Malfoy Manor, luckily. Xavier had barely escaped as his father's men had shuffled him out of the party, libation in hand, just in the knick of time.
Instead, Eloise had spent Christmas Eve with her mother, bargaining time so she could meet Xavier's family on Christmas Day. Despite her own negative opinion of how the holiday went, Dahlia assumed it must have gone well enough if she had stayed past Christmas. Theo hadn't even survived a single night under a roof with her father.
Apparently his mother had been rather difficult to please, and Eloise got the impression that she much preferred her son with Daphne Greengrass. She imitated his mother inquiring about Daphne over dinner pretentiously with straws hanging out of her nostrils as if she resembled a walrus. Dahlia had turned red as she tried to fight her laughter — not wanting to raise questions from Xavier.
Dahlia couldn't help but wonder if Draco's own mother liked her. She knew better than to assume so, despite the pleasantries they had shared and Draco's impulsivity to ask her father's permission to marry her one day. She couldn't yet fathom ever meeting his father as he was locked in Azkaban.
Xavier's own had been nothing but warm and friendly to Eloise. Plus, she seemed to have hit it off with his two brothers. The only snippet that had unsettled Dahlia was how much more apparent it became that Xavier was far more involved in his father's criminal empire for which gang violence thrived than she originally thought. She couldn't help but think to the future and what Draco, and Theo, might owe him in deals one day.
"Should I be worried?" Eloise had murmured.
Dahlia sensed Eloise's own intuition that leaned towards confirmation. Her stomach roiled, but she didn't want her friend to worry about things she couldn't control.
Instead, Dahlia had murmured that she wasn't one to judge as they were currently seated on his plane, her father was the ministry's grim reaper, and both men she loved now answered to the Dark Lord. Eloise had then changed the subject, not wanting to think about where he might have gone when he left her in the middle of the night those days they had spent together.
She had instead asked if Dahlia had heard from Juliet, assuming she might have since she had gathered that Amelia and Blaise were safe. They were both spending Christmas with her family and his mother — a swindler and a widow to over seven husbands, whom she admired. Dahlia confirmed that she hadn't heard from Juliet at all, which was quite unusual.
"What happened that night?" Eloise had finally asked after a long silence.
Dahlia shook her head, not ready to recount the events of Christmas Eve yet. She hadn't asked Draco what had happened in the meeting with the Dark Lord, unable to bear the specifics. She only knew Theo now bore the mark and had been given orders.
"Theo said he would come back. I don't think he meant anytime soon."
Eloise rubbed her thumb across her bottom lip in thought.
"Dahlia," she sighed hesitantly. "I don't mean this in any sort of way, but do you think he'll bother if you are with Draco?"
Dahlia nodded quickly and looked out the window. "If anything, it'll only entice him to return," she harshly muttered.
They had fallen into a comfortable silence as Eloise had picked up on the feeling that she wasn't ready to open up further. Dahlia had caught Eloise trying to eavesdrop on the details Draco was sharing with Xavier on what had happened that night. She had felt Eloise stiffen when they both heard Draco mumbling the hideous details on how Theo had received the Dark Mark. Eloise had only squeezed Dahlia's hand as she had numbly counted the clouds in the sky. The slow and steady thrum of the engine had eventually captured wakefulness from Eloise.
The plane had been silent for far too long when Dahlia heard an annoying hiss meant to attract her attention. She turned to look back at Xavier who wore his usual complacent grin. He was too well suited to be friends with Draco. They were a match made in hell that even the devil might banish. They were both far too arrogant, calculated, and self-serving — which unfortunately had proven to be exactly her type.
Xavier sat with his legs thrown across the row of two seats as Draco sat with his shoes upon the table that separated the boys. Draco was reading the Daily Prophet with an annoyed frown.
"We're almost there, doll. Are you excited?" Xavier whispered over the back of his seat to Dahlia, in fear of waking up Eloise.
Dahlia narrowed her eyes for a moment as he dared to to speak the nickname only Blaise was exclusively allowed to use. He grinned as if he knew that, and he wanted them to be equally close. She finally cracked when he gave her a boyish grin to put her at ease. Dahlia smiled and bestowed an answer as to further allow the seed of their friendship to be nurtured.
She motioned her head back and forth, unsure. "I think so? I'm excited, but in a nauseating type of way. You know?"
"Absolutely," Xavier emphatically assured.
At the same moment, Draco rudely snorted as if he had been monitoring their conversation carefully without notice.
"No," he replied coolly.
She angled her chin to glare over her seat at Draco. Eloise lifted her head in annoyance that she had been awoken by the sudden movement.
"Dahlia," she whined sleepily.
"You've never been nervous, Draco? Ever?" Dahlia taunted.
Draco closed the newspaper. "No, not even for a particularly high stakes quidditch match."
"You're lying." Dahlia scoffed, knowing which buttons to push.
He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Don't call me a liar, Aldair. I'll come over there."
Dahlia rested her chin on the top of her seat.
"Then what would you call that look on your face the other night?" She asked innocently.
"Which night?" He shot back.
"You know which night. The night you seemed nervous," she teased, grinning coyly.
"Dahlia," he warned, his eyes lighted as he realized she was referencing the other night, and how he had paused for a moment before fucking her for the first time.
"I remember a moment's hesitation with a nervous gleam," she added smoothly with a teasing smile.
"The only gleam you saw was one of calculation."
He crossed his arms, daring her to disagree.
"Alright, Draco." She sighed. She shrugged, feigning belief in him before turning to lower back into her seat.
She thought she had won.
Draco smirked. He knew she assumed that he wouldn't go far enough to embarrass her, but he liked winning and having the last word far too much.
"Alright?" He mocked with a chuckle. "Fine, I'll fuck you haphazardly next time to prove the point."
Dahlia whipped her head in his direction, mouth agape.
Xavier snickered loudly as he covered his mouth with his fist and kicked Draco's chair under the table. Dahlia hastily stormed across the aisle towards them. Xavier stopped laughing and cowered into his own seat.
"Quick! Throw her snacks!" Draco whispered to Xavier, who was trying to hide under the table.
"Don't come over here! This is our lair! Stay in your own hole!" Xavier yelled, hissing and throwing nuts at her. He was now stuck between the seat and table as he miscalculated his own size as he had shimmied too low.
Dahlia grabbed a handful of nuts off the table and threw them back at his face as he flailed.
"Dead to me," she hissed as she flounced passed their sloppy table to pursue the back of Draco's chair.
"Sweetheart, put your seatbelt back on! Unexpected turbulence!" Draco cried. "You heard the muggle!" Draco pointed towards the pilot's closed cabin.
He squawked as he held the Daily Prophet as a weapon to swat her away. He cringed as Dahlia snatched it from his hands. He realized he had feared for much worse.
"Out of all the souls the Fates had to choose from, and I ended up with you," Dahlia glared as she hovered over his seat, intimidating a Death Eater.
"That's so romantic," Xavier chuckled sarcastically as he positioned himself casually in his seat, like he hadn't just panicked to free himself loose.
"And I'll never love another, my North Star," Draco feigned dramatically with a hand over his heart.
He reached for her cheek as she slid into the chair next to him. Dahlia slapped his hand away. He interlaced his fingers as she began scanning the back pages of the Daily Prophet.
"I love you," he murmured as an apology.
Eloise strolled over and pushed Xavier's feet off the extra chair before taking a seat. They buckled in for their final descent as they were nearing the New York area. She reached for the Daily Prophet Xavier had close by. He fidgeted as if he had wanted to reach to keep it from her discovery, but had thought better of fighting with her over it. Eloise unfolded the newspaper and held it up.
Dahlia held her breath as a moving image of Theo and Alexander Nott stared back at her with charming, devious smiles.
'Nott so Missing Anymore' was the ridiculous headline over the photograph from the Christmas Eve party at the Malfoy Manor. She looked to Draco, who was masking any sort of expression with a hand thrown casually across his lips.
Eloise went wide eyed as she noticed. She looked to Dahlia, waiting for guidance.
"Well read it, if you want," Dahlia answered nonchalantly. She felt anything but.
"Want the highlights?" Xavier asked with a raise brow.
"No, of course not," Eloise rolled her eyes and brought the paper closer so she could read it in entirety.
It seemed the gossip column on the twenty-eight pureblood families had been moved to the front page. It was usually reserved unironically for page eight under the cheesy page headline 'The Scandalous State of the Twenty-Eight'.
Dahlia wasn't sure how much money her father had donated to the Daily Prophet to keep her misbehaviors out of the column over the years.
Eloise shot her a look that begged not to kill the messenger before she began to read the article aloud.
"To the swooning shock of many, the ever so handsome Alexander Nott, the eldest son of convicted Tiberius Nott, made his first grand appearance in nearly five years at the annual Holiday Magnificence held at the Malfoy Manor. His pastimes have been wildly rumored since his disappearance after graduating from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the passing of his mother, Emma Rosier Nott. From escorting to espionage, his suspiciously speculated ventures have taken him as far east as Siberia for alleged dragon taming. It was confirmed by several delighted sources he was smiling widely and whispering with seduction to a few eligible witches that he would be returning permanently to London. Perhaps, time heals all wounds. "
Eloise glanced to Dahlia for a reaction. Dahlia rolled her eyes and sneered at the shoddy reporting of Rita Skeeter, no doubt. Eloise continued with a grimace.
"The returned heir to the Nott fortune had no lady on his arm, but was instead accompanied by his brother, Theodore Nott. The younger of the brothers was set to inherit the entirety of both the Nott and Rosier fortune once of age, but it seems like he might have to learn to share now. With a wicked smile and a vast inheritance, regardless he will surely shape out to be quite the bachelor. While no witch was escorted in proper fashion, a source confirms he was seen passionately cavorting between books in dark quarters with ministry darling, Dahlia Aldair . It is rumored the two foxes are quite the cantankerous coupling ."
Eloise looked to Dahlia nervously, worried the last sentence might send her into an irate tailspin. Dahlia covered her mouth casually as her stomach dropped. She kept her eyes set on Eloise. Draco stared at her intently with unsettling stoicism. He kept a steady hand on her leg.
Eloise cleared her throat to keep going as Dahlia nodded.
"Several scandalized, rose-blushed guests also reported the young…minx ," Eloise cringed before continuing, " was also seen whispering delectably close with Draco Malfoy. A sure scandal is certainly underway as rumors continue to gain momentum that the Aldair and Malfoys have become more than friendly — so friendly in fact, discussions have deepened to join their powerful houses in the future. Neither the Malfoys nor Aldairs have been spotted on holiday. My journalistic instincts would lead me to believe it might be safe to assume they have opted for a more intimate setting — perhaps together to iron out details? No whisperings have been heard between the Notts and Aldairs — yet. However, to the heart-warming delight of many, both Alexander and Theodore Nott have been caught strolling the streets of London. A sweet homecoming, indeed... "
Eloise voice faded as a tense silence consumed the air.
Xavier's eyes moved quickly between the four of them. Dahlia prayed they would find solid ground soon so she wouldn't have to blast the door off the plane to physically spiral downwards.
Theo was in London. He had been in London, by chance, when she had been in London. It was a worse revelation than learning her and Theo's moans had been a little too loud in the library. She was too mortified to look at Draco, who she could sense was still staring at her. He now knew she had fucked Theo in his own home. In retrospect, it had been such a sloppy mistake.
"You know, I'm starting to think you have a thing for libraries..."
They shot their attention to Xavier, who was the least expected to speak first.
Dahlia sunk in her seat. "It could be worse?" she mumbled, wincing at Eloise.
Eloise bobbed her head fervently. "So much worse. Remember when you drunkenly threw up on the minister at his birthday dinner? After we had spent the day drinking at the pool with those muggle boys?"
Dahlia angled her head in confusion.
"Was that the birthday dinner? I thought that was summer solstice? You know, after the debacle in that disgusting pub when Amelia had to trade all our drugs to get my lost wand back from that one, mangy boy." Dahlia held up her hands, positioned like bear claws.
Eloise double-downed with a quick shake of her head.
"No, I dumped you on a lounge chair by Amelia's pool that night pretty early on. You definitely vomited on the minister during his birthday feast after that pool party."
Dahlia smacked her head back against the smooth leather of her seat.
"It was the heat, you know? It was unbearably hot on his birthday," Dahlia reasoned, ignoring Xavier's horrified gawk.
She waved her hand dismissively. "You're right, it could be so much worse. Public flirtations and rompings in high circles surely won't get me disowned."
Xavier oddly leaned into their low grumblings. Both Eloise and Dahlia gave him an intrusive look.
"Absolutely. Only purebloods were mentioned, anyway. It honestly creates more intrigue…for men…similar to myself," he chimed, opening his hands as if to convey it was a win-win.
Eloise shot him a certain look that dared him to cross that line again.
The tension refused to loosen as Draco simmered. He finally removed his hand from his lips to drop an open fist on the table.
"We'll sue them shitless for defamation. I'm tired of your name in their mouth," he declared, quiet coldness in his tone.
Dahlia waited for him to remove his other hand from her thigh — to take back his love. She winced as she met his gaze, bracing for an inferno.
"What?" He asked boredly.
Dahlia tilted her head in question, wanting him to read her mind so she wouldn't have to voice her insecurities.
He finally gave into her with an arrogant grin.
"You think I care if your name is next to his in a rumored, secret romp after how you two behaved publicly back at school? It's insinuated as a tryst since it's clearly written I'm the one you will marry. I'm the one who's sitting next to you right now."
Xavier raised a brow proudly but kept his mouth shut.
Draco looked away from her, knowing he had grazed against the open wound of Theo as he had made the point he had left her side. He leaned into their bond and sensed her anxiety seemed to be rooted in fear. It made him wonder how Theo might have reacted if their roles were reversed. He often contemplated the inner workings of their relationship as Dahlia's small habits revealed themselves over the days. She was consistently terrified, shying away from how he might respond without reason to every small move he or she made.
He didn't admit that the article had bothered him — that he didn't like her name next to his in any capacity now. He knew she missed him terribly, which left him on unsettled ground.
Draco sighed. He tried to focus on the impossible fact that he had her love now despite the past. If the article still bothered him later, he would bring it up. He squeezed her leg gently, and softened his tone mildly.
He found a delicate way to answer her honestly.
"Do I wish you might behave more decently? Absolutely, but so it goes with you — my nightmare. It seems I'll spend my fortune keeping your name clean."
She gave him a small smile. It was the most ideal answer Dahlia could have hoped for. She leaned into his side as he threw an arm around her shoulder.
"I love you, but I'm going to burn that filthy fucking library to the ground," he murmured into her ear. She squeezed his hand on her thigh. "Then I'm going to break his spine on sight."
"It's strange to see them admittedly in love, right?" Xavier questioned Eloise.
"It's a shock to the system at the very least." Eloise answered, sighing.
Dahlia suspected a reluctance in her response. She knew Eloise had grown to trust Theo as they worked closely in their research efforts. Dahlia discerned the secret truth in her stark features — that she wished Theo was here instead.
Dahlia glanced out the window as the plane touched the ground with roaring speed. Her breath was held with anticipation and a sudden desire to return back to London.
It dawned on her that there was no one here for her anymore — and quite possibly nothing left either. She grappled with the different shades of death. Her mother's own became less of a figment cloaked in surreality as she comprehended there was no one to pick her up and take her home.
Draco watched her carefully under the guise of casual boredom. If he sensed her disorientation, he wasn't letting on. She squeezed his arm as anxiety got the best of her. The visible stress in her features asked if he might always save her from the creeping shadow of unrest.
"Did you tell your father that you were coming here?" Xavier mumbled as he thought quickly. His head was ducked to peer out the window as they approached the small terminal.
"No." She shook her head. "Why?"
"There is more than one car here waiting," he answered.
Dahlia leaned over Draco to look outside of the plane. Sure enough, there were multiple black vehicles waiting for their arrival.
She looked to Draco, who shrugged and chewed his cheek.
"Not my doing. I haven't spoken or sent word to your father since the party."
She came to two possible conclusions, one far more delusional than the other. The more sensible scenario was that her father was tracing her through his own means and had sent transport as both a precaution and warning.
A more hopeful, insane voice in her head was screaming that Theo had somehow come for her. Maybe he had shaken down Eloise to uncover their plan. He had also been in London as they had this morning. She tucked away her ridiculous hopes and faith in him where Draco might not sense it.
A man in a suit opened the car door as they exited the plane. He stood patiently as he waited for her to get in. Dahlia peeked into the car and all hope died.
There was no handsome smile waiting for her. Before Dahlia could ask, the man simply said, "your father sends his love."
"Thank you," she muttered glumly as she scooted into the backseat. Draco said nothing as he slouched casually next to her, throwing his ankle over his knee.
Dahlia rolled down the tinted window as they drove off, remembering how the thick summer air brushed against her cheek instead of the biting winter cold.
She had counted the unfamiliar stars for nearly an hour when she started to question Draco's silence. She glanced to find him staring out the window, as well. She wondered what was plaguing his thoughts. She reached for their unbreakable thread to tug on his heart for attention.
He turned his head in question as to ask what he might possibly offer her if she was even the least bit disgruntled. She realized she had mistaken the silence as simmering contempt instead of pleasant comfortability. She slid across the crisp leather to find the nook of his arm to lay her head under his chin. It was peace she wasn't sure she deserved.
The air finally thickened and swirled anew with ocean salt. They were near.
—
"Not what you were expecting?" Dahlia asked as she slammed the car door shut.
Draco stood with his hands in his pockets, inspecting the towering Victorian home with a curious tilt of the head. The gravel of the driveway crunched under Eloise and Xavier's approaching car.
"I just expected more of a quaint cottage," he answered quietly.
He spun around as to gain the full picture of his surroundings. A secluded, decaying road separated the home from a flat marsh that birthed a forest. It swayed in the ocean mist beyond. The dull roar of the shifting, heavy branches left one to assume it was expansive, and nearly primordial. He turned as the crashing ocean found shore just behind the house.
Dahlia motioned for him to follow as she walked up the steps of the wraparound porch.
He glanced up to the inviting bay windows beneath the pitched roofs and turrets. The airy nature of the butter-cream beach house was inviting, but something unpleasant repelled him enough to give him pause.
He heard Dahlia creak open the periwinkle front door. He snapped out of his trance. Draco jogged forward and up the stairs, not wanting her to face the unsettling nature of the home alone.
Dahlia crossed the threshold, high on nostalgia.
"Mum?" She called instinctively. The words died before they finished leaving her lips. She was too slow to recall the present circumstance.
Dahlia's palms were painted in sweat despite the bitter chill. She was actually here — and this, she realized too late, was a mistake.
The wooden floor creaked beneath her boots as she forced herself to take one step after the other in a sick, self-inflicted exposure therapy. It smelled of her. She had almost forgotten the lovely scent of her mother entirely in her absence.
There was no despair left for her to hold on to, only a numb emptiness and a sudden sense of pure loneliness. It was the last shade of mourning. Here, she found understanding — a new perspective that if she called for her mother, there would be no response. There was no one just around the corner or sleeping softly as she snuck inside tonight.
The quiet creaks of a forgotten home were all that welcomed her — it was deafening. She stood nearly motionless as her hair blew gently in a small cyclone. Her breath froze as she unsteadily exhaled, forming a tiny specter.
"Eugh, it's fucking cold." Xavier's voice echoed down the foyer from the drawing room as Dahlia heard him kick the old logs into the fireplace then ignite it.
Eloise hushed him angrily, and chastised him for fumbling around a home that wasn't his own.
Dahlia ignored them. She walked straight down the hall and through the large kitchen. She retched open the doors that led to the beach as unease gripped her. It threatened to heighten into turmoil and choke her fully.
She glanced at Draco who was calmly strolling after her as she removed her new, ridiculously expensive boots. They seemed so garish, and she wasn't sure how they could have possibly brought her joy once.
Her heart began to race as she struggled to pull them off. Draco gave her a peculiar look as her panic rose. She finally ripped them from her feet and discarded them angrily on the porch.
She raced to escape her thoughts as she hurried down the white-washed wooden steps. Her throat caught on a sob as her fingers slipped on the latch of the white picket fence. It was too far rusted, so she hopped over it instead. She didn't have to look back to know Draco had followed her in concern.
She didn't want to look anywhere but forward. She wasn't strong enough to handle this. The last time she was here, she had held her mother's fingers as she exhaled for the final time. She couldn't believe she had even convinced herself she could handle this.
She began jogging towards the black mass of ocean — an abyss that always made her feel too small, and reminded her that her life was only one of billions. Everyone would eventually perish and their mistakes would be long forgotten as new lives were born — a grim thought that soothed her.
The wooden planks of the bridge chapped her bare feet as she began running faster through the dunes towards nothingness. A casual desire to face the monstrous ocean had turned into a life or death sprint. She embraced the sweet burn in her lungs as she pushed herself forth, as fast as she could go.
She heard him chasing after her, but she didn't slow. She realized there was no point — he would have to chase her like this, eventually. A breathless sob escaped her as she recalled the stab of ice through her heart as the killing curse had landed true — would land true.
She finally hit the bare sand where the bridge ended abruptly. It grated against her skin like needles. She fought to keep running as her feet began sinking. She screamed in frustration as her pace slowed in the powdery dunes.
She was so close to the water — to the bliss of nothing — if only her legs didn't burn so much and she could catch her breath. Her failure sent her spiraling as she fixated on the crashing waves. She was worthless — she couldn't even make it to the ocean. She couldn't manage more than a few minutes in her mother's house. How was she supposed to be brave enough to survive it all?
The stars were stupid to wait for her to be important. She had been born with Sight that had been too weak — there was no potential to even waste. Her father had known it, and let her carry on lawlessly since she was of no significance.
She was nothing. She hadn't even been impressive enough for Theo to stick around. The one person who had truly chosen to love her, was gone; abandoned ship quickly for better opportunities. She wouldn't come back for her either if she was him.
She felt Draco crash into her as she struggled. She screamed as he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her into the air with the momentum of his own sprint. She kicked as they fell back into the sand just before the furthest reach of the waves. She let him have her without a fight as exhaustion weighed her bones.
Guilt gnawed as she couldn't help but wish he was Theo. He would know what to say and how to patch up the gashes she was determined to keep reopening. He would know what to do next, and where to guide her.
"Dahlia, please!" Draco fought to get her to look at him. He didn't want to use force when she was in such an inconsolable state. "Look at me," he ordered angrily.
She finally faced him. "I need you to tell me what to do next," she mumbled through a cry.
He furrowed his brows as if she had caught him off guard. He took a moment to make sense of it, huffing. He shook his head.
"No," he answered breathlessly.
She shoved him as she sat shivering between his legs in the sand.
"Tell me what to do!" She yelled.
He grabbed her wrists as a flash of fury crossed his storm-clouded eyes. Despite the tension in his face, he spoke calmly, firm.
"No, and don't push me. We're not pushing each other, Dahlia. Not anymore."
She clenched her jaw in spite as he refused to be the outlet for her emotional outburst.
He leaned closer, easing his tone. "We only push things we wish to break. And we don't break things we love. And I love you."
She stared back with steadfast anguish, unresponsive. She felt childish — he was always so calm, sure of himself, and resolute in his words. He knew his purpose as if he was an ancient tree that only grew taller and wiser. She was a murky puddle that only sloshed back and forth aimlessly, going nowhere and remaining stagnant.
Draco hated whoever had tangled up her strings and led her astray. He dropped her wrists, worried he might squeeze too tight as frustration took hold.
His voice raised as he leaned back, needing to distance himself due to his own frustrated urges.
"I don't tell you what to do, and you don't tell me what to do. We decide things together." He angled his head and narrowed his eyes. "You want me to punish you? Push you around? Then you want me to tell you what to do?"
He dragged his hands down his face as he looked to the sky. "Drag you along, if only to lead you blindly?"
He shook his head incredulously, then looked down to her. "I don't know what fucked up notions he put in your head, but I won't tolerate them."
She breathed in a precarious nature. "I just want you to tell me-"
"That everything is going to be alright?" He scoffed. "Because I don't fucking know that. Nobody knows that, except maybe yourself, and I promised not to lie to you."
Her heart wavered as he refused to coddle her. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, so she only dug herself deeper into her own grave of pity.
"I don't know anything either, Draco! I'm insignificant. Barely any divinity ever ran through my blood. I had to turn to dark magic to be of anything worthwhile. I'm nothi-"
She gasped, adrenaline shooting through her veins. She realized it wasn't her own as an explosion of rage catapulted from his end of the bond.
"I don't fucking care if you are Divine!" He yelled. "The bond that ties us is only ornamental because I would still fucking love you regardless. I would want you without it. I know that now. If I could snap my fingers and transform you into something ordinary, I would. It would make things a hell of a lot simpler. I don't care about all the other lives we might have out there and that we might need to guarantee that they come to fruition. I'm only doing this," he motioned back to the house, "because that is what you wish to achieve. If it were up to me, I would fuck the universe's needs. I want you — now, and here. I want to count my moments with you in this life. You — not your power — are the only thing of significance to me."
Dahlia felt her own heartbeat slow as the panic receded. It erased all the intrusive words from her pages, leaving it blank for new prose. She wiped the last rogue tear away as she found herself shaking from the emotional toll.
She felt like a hypocrite. Draco wanted what she had begged of Theo. She had told Theo their love had been enough for her. And now here she was, worried that she wasn't great enough — that their love wasn't real enough despite Draco's word.
He shook his head and sighed. He leaned forward to move the hair blowing across her face. "And I know you can't find complete worth in one person, so I need you to believe in yourself too. Please, stop carrying the blame of others, their mistakes and the weight of their own faults."
He grimaced. He couldn't understand why she was so tormented. It left something able to be broken in his own eyes. He both loved and hated the vulnerability she pushed him to display.
Dahlia had been so wrapped up in the loss of Theo that she had forgotten why she had fallen in love with Draco in the first place, even when Theo had been around.
She had forgotten why the universe had gifted him to her instead of any other. He was the brutality she needed. He wouldn't tell her everything would be fine, he instead gave her the words to build herself with the determination to make everything as she wished.
She leaned her forehead against his and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. The warmth of his hug mended her, and she found herself needing more of him. He pulled her fully into his lap, sensing her urgency.
She leaned into kiss him but he dodged her.
"No. Look at me," he whispered.
He tilted her chin up to his eyes. "This is important — know that I will do this with you time and time again, until you finally understand your own importance."
She let his words linger long enough to become a promise before nodding earnestly.
He brushed his hand up and down her thigh as she straddled his lap, but he kept his eyes on hers. She wondered if touching her intimately was so natural to him he hardly noticed he was doing it at all. He made no move to close the distance, needing her to come to him when she was ready. He just kept the slow rhythm of the brush of his hand; knee to hip.
She closed her eyes and soaked in the sound of the pounding waves. It healed her. She finally whispered into his neck, "do you want to make a moment worth counting?"
She felt his neck tense under her lips as he grinned. He wound more tightly as his hand paused on the hem of her underwear beneath her skirt. She became more aware of the spaces left between them. He slid his hand around her waist, and flattened it against her lower back, showing more restraint than she had anticipated.
He peppered slow, strategically placed kisses on her jawline.
"All of my moments with you are worth counting," he answered smoothly.
She let herself smile and embrace the thrill of his words as if he was only a crush.
"Oh, really?" She teased.
Their love was both new, and ancient. There were still so many surprises to discover yet a timeless familiarity. She exhaled, letting her hot breath excite him. She licked up his neck as she pushed her weight against his lap.
He inhaled sharply as his own hips pushed forward. He clutched both sides of her face as he scrunched his fingers into her tangled hair. He crushed his lips against hers.
She let him have his way.
His own wave of desire crashed into her through their bond. She let it dance with her own building need as she fully exposed her heart and desires through it. The more of her love she pushed into him, the swifter the air blew around them.
He shuddered suddenly. She thought his heart might have spasmed.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, pulling away.
"Don't apologize to me. Let me have all of it," he replied, bringing her lips back to his.
It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It was both mystifying and otherworldly. It was a game of push and pull. She let the warmth of his love flood her veins. It was a drenching euphoria that dripped off every nerve and fell into the boundless well of her power.
When she thought she might die from the sensation, she sent it surging back to him like a punch to the chest. For the first time, she felt a deep appreciation for the invisible gift they had been given. This was worth everything. He was worth it all. She knew nothing, not even her name, but the singularity of their love in this fleeting moment. The dread that it would eventually end made her candied veins want to wither.
His breath skittered along her bare skin as he lifted her sweater off of her. There was no sound but the unforgiving ocean, a pretty melody of uneven breaths, and barely audible whispers as they couldn't find words worthy enough of each other.
There was no part of him she didn't want to touch. She wanted to draw a map of her favorite stars on his skin. She tugged his shirt off and spread her hands across his sculpted chest. The moment separated from his mouth had her heart twisting at the sight before her. She was dizzy at the reality of him as the euphoria edged off.
He slowed, sober yet his infinite love remained. He tilted his head back indolently, wanting her mouth on his skin again.
She instead pushed herself to her knees to look down upon his gleaming eyes, needing his worship.
He smirked; checkmate.
He removed her skirt slowly, reverently, as he stared up at her under the crisp silver light of the night sky. His hair waved in the thick, ocean mist and shown nearly luminescent. It was a sin how kind the moonlight was to him. It was a cleverly crafted heist by the gods — how close to perfect they had carved him for her. It was as if his eyes were born from the grey-blue of the ocean here, her first home.
"You were made for me," she murmured.
He confirmed it with a slow bow.
He kissed her bare hip as he ran his hands up her backside to her waist. He pulled her back down to his lap slowly. He traced down her throat to her navel with his thumb.
"We are so lucky, Dahlia," he whispered.
"And you are so beautiful," he murmured against her lips.
She let him lay her down, back against the cold sand. He caressed the goosebumps on her skin as he leaned over her. She glided her hands down his bare back as he removed the rest of his clothing.
Her mouth parted at the sight. She slid her hand between them and wrapped her fingers just barely around all of him. He took her other hand into his as he shifted his weight to settle over her. He groaned as he watched her stroke him.
He licked her sternum and flickered a whispering magic over her breasts with his mouth. She didn't ask questions of how he might have learned such a trick, afraid he might stop.
He let go of her to work his way down from her throat to her very core. She arched and gasped as he licked up her center. She pushed onto her elbows as he worked her. He tasted her until she lost all sense of reason. She thought she might have been sweating as the winter breeze cooled her skin.
"Please," she begged. He settled over her as she lay back in the sand, fully for him to take.
"I love you," she said, running her hands up the side of his neck to cup his face. It was a vulnerability he allowed for her — to be gentle. "I love you here, and now."
He ran his hand up and down the back of her thigh as to prepare her. His hair fell into his face as he glanced down at her naked body. His muscles tightened. He looked back to her with a newfound wildness. He pushed his cheek harder into the palm of her hand.
"I love you too, always."
He paused. "Now count," he ordered.
He grinned devilishly before surging into her.
His lips hovered over her mouth as she moaned breathlessly, "one."
He slid into her again, filling her slowly inch by inch.
"Two," she barely managed.
He moved harder. She sunk her nails into his shoulder.
"Fuck," she cried.
He finally claimed her mouth and began to move without restraint, forgetting games. He cupped her face, and she looked down to the void of black ink on his forearm. It was meaningless. He belonged to her. She had claimed him long before.
She thought she might die from how good it felt to be loved by him. Whether she was divine or doomed, he was her equal. They were cruel monsters who only submitted to each other — it was a vow made, no matter how ugly things became. Protecting the purity of this was the only thing that mattered.
She loved him. He loved her — would always love her.
"Tell me again," she said shakily, desperation in her eyes.
"I love you, and you are mine." He breathed hard as he ran his hand up the side of her neck. His thumb tugged on her bottom lip.
"I'm yours," she barely answered.
Release cascaded through her like wind in a free-fall. He held her fingers around his neck as she rolled against him in pleasure.
He found his own release as she cried his name. She moved her hand down from his neck to his chest as he held it. The wind blew angrily as she moved with him through it.
He remained inside her as he kissed her gently through ragged breaths. He smiled as she tried to wrap her arms around his neck. Instead, he collapsed next to her, breathing heavily. He pulled her to his side.
"I think this might kill me one day," she breathed.
"You? You're always putting me to work, Aldair."
He turned to grin at her as they stared up at the star-painted blackness.
"First, I had to chase you down with nearly Olympic speed. Then I had to do all the labor."
She slapped his chest, "Excuse you, I counted."
"You don't know what comes after two, Dahlia? I think even Goyle knows that."
"You've reminded me how much prettier you are when you're silent," she quipped.
He sat up and threw her clothes towards her shivering frame as he shook his head.
"You truly are my equal — beautiful and awful."
"I love you from that star to that star," she said pointing at the sky. "That has to be a few light years."
He smiled at the cheesiness of her statement. It was stark against the darkness they were both becoming capable of. It reminded him to find the simple joys and embrace them when possible.
He nodded approvingly. "I love you double that. Now get inside."
He spanked her. "I'm fucking cold."
They walked along the beach and across the bridge until they finally stepped foot into the house. Eloise and Xavier turned to smile at them as they swirled around the kitchen cooking dinner.
"Took you long enough," Eloise winked.
"Find anything yet?" Dahlia asked.
"Maybe, but it can wait." She shrugged.
Xavier wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek before feeding her a pasta noodle. Dahlia realized that she liked to see others find new joy in a place that felt so haunted.
The fire they had lit finally warmed the entire home from the cruel winter.
—
It was late, between hours, when a foreign entity brushed the skin of Dahlia's cheek.
She startled awake and lifted her head off Draco's chest. She looked around, disoriented. She turned to Draco, who was on his back next to her. He breathed softly as he slumbered, unhaunted.
All sleep had left her as the hair rose on the back of her neck. Fear balled in her stomach. She reached to the nightstand to grab Draco's discarded, silver watch. The snake-eyed arms pointed to barely three in the morning.
She clutched the watch to her chest and contemplated if this was even reality. It might have been a dream, but that seemed impossible as Draco was sleeping next to her.
An archaic voice danced behind her ear. "Follow."
Paralyzing fear took hold as her stomach flipped. The rush of adrenaline burned her blood as it released in a quick rush. She glanced around frantically.
A sweeter voice echoed from an intruder within her own mind.
"Be blind and we will guide you."
"Come, my sweetest creation," the fossilized voice sang.
She finally made a move. She shook Draco violently but he wouldn't wake.
"Please, please wake up," she begged. "It's not human," she mumbled.
She cried tears of terror as she felt her own foreboding — something was coming for her.
The wind blew open the bay windows gently as if peeking to check in on her. It sensed her distress and swirled around her gently. It pushed the shuttered window open wider, so the stars could voice their coos. They sang a restless lullaby as the intruder's voice morphed into her mother's own.
"I've missed you, my moon. Come, and let me teach you."
Dahlia covered her mouth as the voice spoken was no longer a fading memory. She would have slashed a knife across her own throat if given the opportunity to see her mother again.
She stood from the bed without hesitation. She knew it might be a trick, but she didn't care. She would die for the chance to see her again. She looked back at Draco, who still slept peacefully.
She now hoped he wouldn't wake to take this opportunity from her.
She slipped out of her bedroom and ran down the hall on light feet. She creaked down the staircase quickly, praying Xavier and Eloise weren't still awake for some ungodly reason.
The wind blew open the front door for her silently, egging her on to make a discovery. She breezed through the threshold with urgency. She suddenly realized she was barefoot and without a coat over the short black nightgown that Draco had insisted she purchase.
The cold had never stopped her before, she thought.
She was worried if she turned back the voices would stop speaking to her. She would somehow break the trance if she took too long. She pressed on with little judgement. She ran down the steps of the porch and looked around aimlessly.
"Guide her," voices demanded of the speckled sky.
A shooting star crossed overhead towards the wood. She ran quickly down the winding driveway, unfeeling of the gravel against her bare feet.
Her mother was waiting. She had finally done something right.
Another star danced north. She followed, staring helplessly at the sky. The stars giggled in excitement as if they were gearing up for something spectacular to unfold.
"She's coming," they murmured in anticipation.
"Maybe she has returned," they squealed.
Dahlia reached the end of her driveway and crossed the dark, winding road into the tall, muddy grass. She stopped short — there had to be a better way to get to the forest just beyond. She didn't know how deep the marsh might go and she was terrified to fall in if she misstepped in the darkness. She looked up to the stars as they moved in a ripple, pointing her forward.
"Close your eyes, Dahlia. Let me help you," her mother's voice echoed in the back of her mind.
The sound of her mother's voice gave her newfound courage. She wasn't doing this alone. She shook her head to no one. She didn't want to be blind again. She wanted to see and understand everything on her terms. She would be brave and she wouldn't waver.
She brushed against the dark well of power that had burrowed deep within her, hibernating in a soft snore. It had resided there from the moment she had marred her skin with dark magic. It had pushed through her pores and slugged itself into the depths of her being, wishing to be ignored. It stuck like tar to her bones. The pit gave no sign as she mumbled to it.
She took a steadying breath, and reach for it again meekly, terrified it might roar back. It tossed and roiled as her power resisted waking.
No, she thought. She needed this. She needed to see her mother again.
She grew vindictive as it had dared to ignore her when finally called upon in true fashion after all this time. She didn't wish for parlor tricks of crystal balls and tea grinds. She demanded her true power — the one she had viciously ripped from the starlit pool of forgotten voices, bones of those before her, and all cascades of time.
"Give me light," she whispered.
She clutched the sickly mass by its slippery neck and demanded her darkness. It thrashed and squawked as it was disrupted from complacency.
It finally bowed and rose from her black void like a shimmering gemstone with a dozen fractured edges waiting to be touched. She sensed hundreds of sticky threads stuck to the crystal. The stretching tendrils threatened to pull her refracting power back into the boundless pit.
She strummed one of the threads in a rhythm already known, and found her own timeless voice. She finally spoke to the stars in the language they understood.
"Give me light," she sang.
Everything silenced and stilled in shock as if she had broken a barrier. The crickets paused, and the wind halted. She heard nothing but the ring in her ears and the shifting gravel beneath her bare feet.
The endless sea of stars sighed in relief as if weeping. They had nurtured her ruefully without a response for all this time, and now, she had finally found the voice to sing back to them.
She was so close this time, everything thought.
The ocean of stars spoke to the waves below, warning them of a shift in tides soon. Then, the speckled sky surged with twinkling light as if she had turned a dial forward. Comets blasted past, and the moon lurched forward like a gentle beast. It's brightened light kissed her cheek lovingly as if greeting someone it had waited centuries to meet.
Dahlia didn't wait, nor did she say thank you. They were a birthright to do her bidding. She took off into the marsh, hopping over deep water as she moved through the mud and puddles now that she could see.
She waded through the thick grass and broken branches. Her anticipation and thrill of her own becoming kept her pushing on, despite the fear of what lingered in the marsh.
She didn't care that she was tired — exhaustion was merely a mindset.
She finally climbed onto a massive tree root at the edge of the silent forest. It protruded into the marsh. Dahlia was covered in mud and grass as she had sloshed through puddles to make it all this way.
Dahlia held onto the massive trunk of the tree as she shimmied to the other side of it. Its roots were connected to a dozen other trees, she realized. It reminded her of the interconnected network, or map of premonitions she often thought might be found beneath her own skin.
She hopped to the roots of the next tree, and pushed on.
She noted the water only deepened as the old growth forest rose from its depths. It had been here long before the tides had claimed it.
The frogs croaked on a lily-pad as she swished across a decaying log to cross a winding bend. She placed her hand on the next tree as she finished crossing. It was moist with the bright green moss that covered its trunk.
She looked to the sky and breathed hard. Her frozen breath carried through the barren branches. They shook awake as if they had been slumbering — hibernating too. The stars guided her forth to a large summit of dark earth risen from the swamplands. Three trunks grew grotesquely from a singular rooted base. It fed the smaller roots that reached endlessly as if it was the heart of the forest. Its branches curved unnaturally. It was the only tree within the forest that had no moss growth upon it. It was both malevolent, and wondrous.
Dahlia slipped off a root as she suddenly doubled in pain. A sharp pain plagued her mind. A thousand voices hushed her cries as she fell into the crisp water. She screamed beneath the surface.
"She can't wait to be reunited with you," they whispered.
"Come home," they chanted.
She fought against a great force pulling her down as she struggled to tell which way would bring her to the surface.
She wished she had her wand, she thought as she panicked.
Her lungs burned and as a last resort, she finally listened. She closed her eyes and stopped thrashing. She listened to the symphony of voices and let them bring her to discovery. She floated upwards and broke through the thick water. She gasped and shivered violently. She swam quickly to the mound that rose from the lush depths.
"Closer," they ordered, as she climbed up the shore of dirt and moss. She crawled into the thick roots of the three-headed tree on her hand and knees. She looked up to the crescent moon and calmed herself. It bowed as a few more stars appeared to bear witness. She let her senses lead as the voices hummed. She realized they were waiting, all for her.
Devout tears slipped down her cheeks. This was a sacred place.
She kneeled before a bare sliver of bark on the trunk of the tree where mountainous roots met the twisting trunk. She placed her hands into her lap, waiting for orders from the archaic voice.
"Please," she mumbled, voice breaking. "I've come all this way."
Show me my mother, she thought.
The ancient entity shook her bones without words. It pushed forth a kernel of knowledge into her being.
"Time…blood," she mumbled to herself.
She quickly looked down at her kneeling frame. She shifted into the squishing dirt. She looked up, and followed the moonlight down as she raised the palm of her hand — blood. She was kneeled upon a mound of ancient blood and dried dirt. Enough blood had been sacrificed to supply the old growth forest over time, she realized. And now, it required more.
Dahlia pushed down her terror. To be afraid, would be to fear herself. She knew what was needed. She ripped a spiked piece of bark from a nearby root. She steadied her breath and braced herself before she sliced it deeply across her palm. She repeated until the cut was deep enough to offer a proper amount. She slid her hand down the bare bark before her. It consumed Dahlia with neck-snapping urgency.
It took it all from her — a fair trade.
—
Draco woke viciously with an impending sense of doom. It carried on the voice of a wailing woman. A singular screech that left him awake — and petrified.
"Dahlia," he mumbled. "Someone is going to die," he croaked.
He turned and spread his hands beneath the bare sheets only to realize she was gone.
—
No blood was left, yet Dahlia inhaled.
It was the beginning, before time was neither linear, nor circular. It was only an idea the mother wished to create so the life that grew from her bones could experience happiness. She wanted her own small creations to create, so she gifted them the means to be able to exist upon.
The image painted in Dahlia's mind was shown as if it was refracted in stained glass. She watched as a woman crafted of nebulas kissed a towering supernova — a clouded man made of dying planets and breathing galaxies. His eyes roared with the lightening of typhoons. The woman's emerald hair left a trail of cosmic petals that morphed into racing comets against the blackest sky. It was both a parched wasteland and a blank canvas. The woman wore a crown of lively planets that cascaded across her brow like moss. Cosmic dust fluttered against her clouded skin forming butterflies and brilliant budding flowers.
They bloomed all at once as she collided with the supernova. He reached for her with an electric touch — and so it was born.
The mother whispered sweetly in Dahlia's ear. She told her the true gospel. The knowledge was bruised into Dahlia's bones.
Out of all of her children, creation loved her daughter Themis the most. She gifted her time, so she might rule it fairly and nurture it sweetly to thrive and grow. Creation promised and gifted her once more — Divine daughters for which she could use to thread, measure and cut time. Themis named her gifted manipulators, The Fates.
Dahlia's mind tumbled through the plush clouds where their twelve children played outside of time and reality. She watched a woman with no eyes and hair of gold brush her fingers apathetically against a towering structure for which hundreds of scales hung from. Silver essence dripped endlessly, forming tiny, infinite waterfalls. The titan, Themis, sighed dreamily as she looked longingly to the spinning timelines that surrounded the plush clouds.
The sky then burned. Dahlia watched reverently as stars were both born and died in an endless cycle. It was as if the mother was flipping through time like pages in a book, guiding her to see what she wished.
She finally landed on a different page, when more stars speckled the sky. She watched the golden woman weep from her eyeless sockets as a goddess draped in black and silver mocked her cries — her face morphing agelessly. The goddess's long hair fell into her face as she laughed lyrically. It swirled like the blackest smoke from the deadliest of wildfires.
The goddess blew shimmering ink upon the titan's creations. It landed on twenty-eight mortals as it drifted across nebulas and seeped into Themis's timelines — this is where magic was gifted and witchcraft was born.
Distraught with what the goddess had done to her pure creations, Themis disappeared. The Fates promised the titan that they would do her bidding unceasingly so she could finally rest. Themis gifted The Fates with the essence of her blood, so they may disperse it accordingly — when divine corrections, singularities, were required. Then the titan fell into a never-ending sleep, allowing more and more darkness to fester unjustly.
Dahlia's mind plummeted. She was dragged through countless realities until she once again found herself plunged into the murky depths of the swamp. She rose for air, despite her lungs no longer needing it. The air was warm and thick with summer. Her head bobbed above the surface as she watched her own mother's golden hair blow in the evening breeze. She kneeled before the gnarled roots, as Dahlia's physical form did now. Her mother whispered mercilessly, in agony.
"There is too much darkness. The scales are unbalanced. Wake her," she begged.
A thousand voices sung the same answer the mother had told Valeria Aldair.
"When the black tide lingers too far, they will find each other, and the heir will be forged."
"What should I do?" Her mother asked, trembling.
"The last of us, do nothing. Your path is set with the daughter you bore, and it ends where hers begins. You are not chosen to guide her."
Dahlia heard her mother sob. It was such a wretched sound that Dahlia was suddenly nauseated. She swam to comfort her mother. It wa surreal to see her so lucid.
The wind blew sweetly to coddle her. "Take care of her," she mumbled to the wind.
The convulsing whispers returned for a final message. "Beware. He hunts for-"
Dahlia screeched as she was pulled beneath the lush water as she reached for the mound. A force lassoed her heart and heaved her through the pages of time. She spun aimlessly through shooting stars, unable to find home. A chasm opened its gargantuan mouth, slicing through supernovas, to swallow her whole.
