Lucas Leerweather leaned back lazily in a broken chair within the farthest corner of the library. It creaked beneath his weight, the only sound from the living realm in quite some time as the sun had long set, turning the shelves into a dim labyrinth that most students found tedious. Lucas preferred it though, finding the silence soothing. Only the most clever spirits could find him through the maze of parchment.

He kicked his feet out, fidgeting with his lighter encased within obsidian. He watched the protective flame meant to guard him from possession reignite time and time again as he waited for Madam Pince to kick him out and send him back to the dungeons.

He dreaded her voice, especially tonight. The cries of the dead were particularly egregious this evening, buzzing with news from the farthest regions of the veil.

The flame of his lighter was snuffed by a strange draft. The temperature of the room plummeted, but he sat unphased, tired of their theatrics after all these years. He remained still, only his forested eyes glancing up in annoyance to the ghost who dared to ruin his evening.

The spirit presented itself as a girl no older than himself, hair long and loose in cool brown tendrils. Her skin was uncomfortably smooth and unblemished, reminiscent of buttercream. Her eyes were the shades of lily pads, complimenting the perfectly pressed, crimson cloak she wore. She smiled brightly across the table as she sat with folded hands upon the wooden desk, posture prim and proper.

"What do you want?" Lucas sneered, grinding his jaw. Only the worst of them presented themselves in such an alluring nature.

"That is no way to speak to a lady," she chided, grinning as if she was in on a joke.

Lucas relit his lighter. The flame danced across his fingers.

"You are far from a lady, demon."

She laughed softly.

"I am no such demon," she murmured like her true nature might be a secret.

She reached across the table and gentle placed her hand over his, covering his lighter and demanding his attention.

Lucas stilled entirely as his greater instinct told him to run. Ghosts had always fallen through his form like a gust of wind. This was no spirit or creature of the gods from either the heavens or underworld alike.

The ancient being tilted her head with a warning smirk. Any move made would be unwise. "When my spirits call to you, I need you to ask one simple question."

"Why?" He pushed, doing nothing without knowing the consequences when it came to a deal with the dead.

"The dead whisper that the veil is expanding. Millions are dying before they are even born. They are manipulating a gentle soul to complete a false path they have written. What I ask is simple. I only wish to guide my heir as they do."

"Who are you?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"A friend. A sister," she shrugged, aloof by nature.

Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Does this have to do with Dahlia Aldair ?"

She nodded emphatically as if he was a student who had correctly answered a difficult question. She leaned closer across the table and lowered her voice.

"Ask her, only when my voices call," she whispered as she faded entirely into the ether. The last of her words broke across his mind, both violating and enchanting.

"Who is the no-name prince?"

— — — — — — — — — —

The no-name prince.

There had been nothing at all as time stretched on, just the muffled cries escaping cracked lips pressed against the skin of her astral form, repeating their broken, weeping croaks — until now.

The flicker of his face silenced their call, freeing her from their icy hold. Dahlia felt the lips of her ancestors tremble with fear as she breathed in tendrils of charcoal smoke. He was here, somehow, although she could not see through the thick haze to be certain. She inhaled a full breath and felt the life return to her fingertips, her nerves beginning to sing again. His smoke was thick and cold as she breathed him into her lungs, yet it came as a much needed relief as the dead had cradled her mortal life by the neck for a thousand moments.

The no-name prince.

The silhouette of his classically handsome face appeared within the darkness, his sharp features cutting through the roiling shadows. Her heart tumbled forth as if he had retched it from her chest and dropped it as the outline of his irreverent grin flickered through the fog. She was certain her veins were made of glass, shattering completely when he was made vivid and revealed a true smile — the smile that was always just meant for her. It stretched wide in a laugh beneath the wondrous shades of a golden morning. The curve of his smirk moved like a spellbinding charm to form a whispered secret.

She was so desperate to hear his voice, just once more. She might carve his name into her delicate skin if he promised to murmur her something sweet just one more time. His head fell back lazily in a boisterous laugh, his skin soaking in every last drop of daylight the universe had to offer. She understood now that he had claimed the sun in a never ending search to find the light. It called to him although it always would be just off the horizon and out of reach.

The dream danced like a flame. She was blinded by the burning brightness of his fire, but she knew he was near, only a hair away from her resting form. The softness of lips met her tired eyes as they remained fastened closed. His warmth breath carried the dying cries of her stars, and she knew. The map beneath her skin alighted in a rolling tide of dimming fireflies as his skin met hers, and she knew that something was wrong.

Light as a feather, Dahlia's eyes gently opened. She gasped quietly as her vision refocused, the dust in the starlight swirling high above the tip of her nose. She choked back a sob of relief.

I'm okay. I'm okay.

She had been lost in the seas of stars for hours, nearly dying. The chill of the Hospital Wing revealed wettened streaks at the far corners of her eyes. She clawed her fist, realizing the lost seers had finally released her from their possession.

She turned her head to the side to find Draco slumbering next to her cot despite the uncomfortably small chair. He was statuesque under the moonlight; carved marble given life. His legs were spread wide, dressed casually in black as if he had snuck back after being told to leave for the evening.

Something wrong blew on the the draft, gently tapping her shoulder. Dahlia sat up, panic rising as she remembered.

He hunts. The no-name prince.

The skin of her neck prickled as a heavy weight pitted her stomach. Something heinous had been given a path — a new constellation in her night.

She carefully pulled back the covers of her cot and place one foot on the ground. She turned to look over her shoulder. Draco's chest still moved with the light breathings of a dreamless sleep. She placed her other foot on the stone and quickly stood to avoid the drawling creak of the old bed.

Her vision doubled as the blood rushed to her head, but she wasted no chance. She padded silently along the cold floor towards the exit of the Hospital Wing, her hysteria growing with every soft plea of a broken star.

She didn't wait for the sound of the shutting door to wake him as she knew it would. He slept lightly on the threshold of consciousness if only for her sake. She had never given him a reason to sleep at peace.

She dashed quickly, letting her footsteps be known as they echoed through the hall. Her head was light and spinning, but she kept pursuit, desperate to get to higher ground.

She had seen nothing at all, blinded once more as the Fates took hold of her physical form. Their wails stretched across the void to reach her with warning. She heard their sorrowed call and the weeping of stars as paths burned and new ones were forged.

He hunts.

It reverberated in her mind even now, pushing down upon her shoulders like a great weight and propelling her forth to find the end. He hunted the gods. He hunted her . The same hunter The Mother had warned her own about all that time ago beneath the three-faced tree and crimson roots.

Dahlia had returned with only one thought: the no-name prince.

Theo's handsomeness had burned so brightly it charred her mind. The high points of his angled cheekbones and pointed nose finding the purest shapes of light while his broken brown eyes glimmered like fool's gold. It was him. She wasn't sure how or why, but it was right and true.

Her mind swirled so quickly that she barely registered the hand that had found her forearm. It held tight and hauling her back. She whirled to find the shadowed features of Xavier in the dark corridor, his glacial eyes cutting sharply through the blackness of night.

"I don't have time," she whispered.

He allowed her to pull herself free from his grasp as his face twisted in confusion. His cheeks were flushed as if he had also been in a hurried rush to find what he seeked. It dawned that it was she he had been searching for when he followed her out into the winter night.

"For fuck's sake," she heard him mumble before she felt the gentle cloaking of an invisibility illusion fall upon her.

Despite her nausea and loss of balance, she persisted, carrying on across the icy stone towards the Clock Tower. The moon was high and full. It would be much easier to seek the answers she desperately needed. She couldn't afford to wait till morning. The stars were rattled, their whispers far more difficult to subdue than usual. They were unsettled, on the brink of a new eternal path. She knew it in her bones. She knew Theo had done something drastic.

Xavier called after her. "Dahlia..."

She shook her head, eyes brimming with tears for no apparent reason yet everything felt so horribly wrong. She had known it was Theo, yet they had all insisted it wasn't. She had known it was him, the no-name prince, from the beginning. Her Divine instinct had told her all that time ago to keep those words of the prophecy hidden from him. She had left him to piece it together on his own. She was no more of a liar than he was. She should have written him back, given him something to hold on to out there.

It could have made a difference. He wouldn't have done this.

In her heart she knew that wasn't true. He knew Draco was better for her, steady and unbreakable, yet he persisted. Theo would break all of her stars like he often promised, but he would break her all the same.

"Wait for me!" Xavier whined more loudly.

He hustled behind her like a beastly shadow. Dahlia rolled her tearing eyes. She hadn't expected him to follow her at all when she had pushed past him urgently. Her hurried step was far too strenuous for his lazy swagger.

Dahlia fired a glare over her shoulder in his direction.

"Keep up," she replied crisply.

"I received word from Theodore." His tone was rich in confidence as if meant to slow her step.

His name was a thousand cuts after seeing the seraphic colors of his face only moments, or hours, ago. Still, after everything, her stomach couldn't help but contort itself at the slight mention of him from another.

"And?" Dahlia turned on her heel to face Xavier.

He halted with a smirk, realizing he had hit the right pressure point.

"I think you owe me something first."

She crossed her arms, throwing a rare sneer. "You know I could just ask him myself."

He would answer her in only a moment. Although, it might not be the truth in its entirely, or if at all. She hadn't been able to bear the idea of giving him another chance to lie to her and make her look ridiculously naive.

She had resisted the temptation to ask him of anything. It would be too pathetic to admit in such a way that she still cared that deeply for him after everything. Her care for him would be the permission he needed to stay in his ways. It might even give him the impression that she was waiting patiently for his return, which was most definitely not the case. At least, she didn't want it to be.

Xavier took slow, sweeping steps towards her.

"Oh, you most definitely could, but you won't. You're far too prideful. Slytherin runs in your blood no matter what the sorting hat belched, Aldair. Plus, I know you wouldn't want Draco knowing how you had acquired such knowledge with those intimate journals you two share."

He leaned down, uncomfortably close for her liking.

"He's quite jealous," he whispered, taunting her in a crooked smile.

Dahlia shoved him back with a burst of fiery annoyance.

"Tell me!" She pushed him again, his too white teeth glaring bright as he smirked.

"Tell me or I'll snap your neck and punt you from this bridge!" Dahlia hissed.

Xavier laughed in amusement.

"You're vile! And manipulative!"

"No wonder you have them both so smitten. So violent..."

Dahlia reeled back, ready to fight as she saw a furious red.

"What's going on here?"

Her heart leapt in surprise as Draco emerged from his own invisibility illusion and stepped between her and Xavier. He claimed her wrists before she could slap him. Draco pressed his chest to hers to hold her back.

"I hate you!" She spat as she peered over Draco's shoulder on the highest points of her toes.

He bent down to meet her at eye level. His grip was careful yet firm.

"Calm down," he stated, tone nearing on an order.

She fussed but her maddened eyes were finally captured by his, blue as the clear and gentle waters that would weather any storm and wash her ship upon safe shores. They held the truth in their singularity across the universe. He was the anecdote, healing all her poisons. She stopped fighting and wrapper her arms around his neck. She let herself fall into the peace of his embrace for only a moment.

"Something's wrong," she whispered, true horror in her voice.

"We'll fix it. I promise," he answered, no doubt or hesitation.

She pulled back, his eyes now casted down upon her in heavy relief.

"I need to speak to them." She swallowed hard, nearly nervous he wouldn't allow it after what the Fates had done to her this morning.

He nodded once, his jaw tensing slightly with disapproval that he couldn't hide well enough. He kissed her forehead before stepping back.

"Then lead the way," he sighed.

Dahlia nodded with renewed confidence. She now felt ridiculous for thinking he wouldn't allow it. She should have woken him in the Hospital Wing the first moment she became conscious. He believed in her. Trusted her. He would follow her anywhere, from the far reaches of the universe to the small step of a dance.

"Xavier, get Eloise. Tell her to bring the candles in my bookbag."

She looked to Draco, knowing this revelation might hurt, that she still had it.

"...and tell her to grab Theo's ring from my nightstand."

Xavier nodded coolly. Draco's presence stealing his desire to tease her. He quickly glanced to the ground, newly serious. "There's something you should know."

"What is it?" Dahlia asked.

"Theo sent me a date," he answered. "I think it's when he plans to return."

Dahlia furrowed her brows. She sensed Draco still entirely.

"February 13th."

Far sooner than expected.

The candles within the musty storage room of the Clock Tower lit in unison as Dahlia inhaled deeply, centering the balance of her power.

The well within her was restless, both exhausted and anxious to be put to use. She sat, legs criss-crossed, upon the chilled floor in the center of the room with the candles circling her seated frame. Blaise, Amelia, Xavier, Eloise, Juliet and Lucas surrounded her in a larger circle. Xavier had not sought Eloise quietly, nor quickly. He had returned with far many more of their friends about an hour later than expected.

Draco kept an intense, protective gaze upon her as he leaned against the damp stone amongst the clutter and tarped statues.

"I don't remember candlelight being necessary?" Draco drawled, crossing his arms.

Dahlia opened one eye as if the simple action should shut him up.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Blaise sighed.

"Or get out," Amelia chimed.

"What a buzzkill," Xavier growled, elbowing Lucas into agreeing.

"The fucking worst," Lucas grumbled. He rolled his eyes in return.

Draco held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm asking the seers of the dead to show me what has happened. The candles should protect us from anything overstaying its welcome."

Draco grimaced, but held his tongue.

Dahlia turned to Eloise. "The ring, El?"

She nodded before digging it out of the pocket of her sweatshirt. She handed it to her quickly. Dahlia rolled it over in her palm as her heart grew heavy. The motto was engraved into the gold, the crest of the Notts etched in the center. ' Neither by chance' written on the left and 'nor destiny' on the right.

What had he done...

Dahlia placed it in front of her. She took her wand and mumbled a quick spell as she glided it across her palm. A thin cut was left in its wake. She quickly looked to Draco, who had narrowed his eyes but remained stoic. He kept his silence as she bled onto the ring — a sacrifice to her sisters who had departed from this world or another.

The flames flared, burning a shimmering white as she called upon her power.

She slowly let her head fall back, closing her eyes and she hummed in the sweet language that only she and the ether understood. She reached out to soothe the upset starlight. Her hands began to shake but she continued in a desperate attempt to make the connection despite her exhaustion.

She bit into her lip, focusing with all her strength. This wasn't right.

The old magic burned through her veins in a sweet pain. She felt unease barrel through the bond as Draco became more concerned. She heard him mumble a spell and the wooden shutters upon the window flew open, casting them in the upheaval of the stars. He then casted a false illusion over the brightly lit flames and their soft mumbles to keep their private affair in the shadows.

Her hair levitated in the newly casted moonlight. Her connection strengthened as the steady thrum of starlit whispers turned to images painted across her mind as they attempted to show her the past. She saw the violet eyes of a great beast. She jolted back in surprise before the connection severed entirely.

More. Give us more.

Dahlia opened her eyes with a choke of air. She reached for her wand, wordlessly and urgently, ready to spill as much blood required to find answers.

Lucas quickly grabbed her wrist. Dahlia halted, eying him in annoyance. Her expression faltered as she noted the fear in his matching emerald eyes, yet where hers held the creation of stars, his held the testament of death.

His throat bobbed as his greatest secret was revealed in a grave flash of resignation. "They want mine," he murmured.

Dahlia's eyes widened in surprise, identical to Juliet who was equally shocked.

Before she could ask, he responded. "I hear the dead too. It's not always your gods that answer."

She watched, stunned. He blew a breath of ice as cold as death upon his wrist while he spoke a foreign incantation — a different spell than the one she had used to draw blood. A jagged edge broke skin, cut by the chilled breath. Juliet gaped in concern, but he pulled away from her and held his arm over the ring. Crimson petals fell from his wrist and melted upon the golden ring. The wound healed as quickly as it had torn.

"Thank you," Dahlia whispered.

"Be careful," he nodded. "I'm fine," he assured Juliet as she cradled his wrist with worry. The corner of his mouth lifted as he leaned into her touch, enjoying the way she doted on him.

Dahlia closed her eyes, tilting her head back to the moonlight as the whispers cradled her. her connection to the ether renewed and strengthened tenfold.

"Show me," she demanded in the forgotten language.

Show him to me. Show me what he did to you.

Her eyes opened once more, this time glowing and bare as they showed her the unforgivable past. She saw the violet eyes of the beast again. She realized it was a dragon, calling furiously as it beat its wings upon a black rock emerging from the raging sea.

She saw the scorched earth of her step as Theo followed its path, hell-bent. The morning storm raged, plastering his dark curls against his paling skin. His black coat grazed the sand and his shined boots defiled the cavern of stars, where the souls of seers rested.

She gasped. It shouldn't have been possible.

She felt the familiar heat rising to her cheeks as she watched him strip of all clothing. His muscles were still defined and pronounced although he was cut leaner. Her heart flipped and she wished to reach for him. Call for him. Help him.

She held her breath as they showed her how he entered their home, the graveyard of the Divine. Her lips began to tremble as she saw how he had submerged himself beneath the surface. She heard their agony as he tainted their devout waters.

He was gone. He was gone. Too long. Had this killed him?

She whimpered as she saw him punch through the surface, furious and fighting. She sensed wetness on her cheek. It wasn't long before she felt warmth at her back — Draco, but it brought little comfort. She gaped in terror as a veiled creature crawled to the shore where Theo bled.

"Theo!" She bawled. She begged him to hear her cries but she knew it was the past laid before her. There was no rewriting what had already happened. She was going to vomit. They were punishing him.

"Stop! Please stop! Don't take him from me, please. Please, I beg you."

Her throat felt raw and useless as she screamed into the past. She was useless — too late.

"Don't show me anymore, please. Please!"

She tried to shake loose of their hold. She thrashed and bellowed to break the connection. She couldn't witness this. He was gone. Gone. There was nothing that could be done now.

The grudge she had held felt meaningless. All the lies were insignificant. She should have kept him from doing this. She let him down — again. How could she?

She had wanted to make him proud — proud enough to stay, yet she had been too lost in her bitterness to see that he had left to give her something to be proud of. He had thought her enough to give her new stars. She hated herself. She had done this — ruined him. She had abandoned him. The revelation made her vibrate with sickness.

The starlight kissed her forehead. It isn't what it seems , they whispered. Keep going, they urged.

They held firm, digging into her mind as her power railed against the strength of all to turn away. They kept her eyes open, forcing her to watch what he had done. She froze as the scene turned.

The veiled creature — what was it?

It pulled a crystal from its mouth, then began to forge something anew. It knew what he seeked — the no-name prince . It made what he wished possible.

"No!" She cried. She reached for the veiled figure in an attempt to pull it away from Theo and stop the forging of the creation, but Theo wanted it. He extended his hand to the dark creature.

The monster she made striking hands with monsters unknown and ancient; like calling to like. He was unafraid, bleeding dry and dying.

It was done. It was the destruction of perfection, incandescent and misshapen, moving fluidly in the palm of his hand. A god's killer.

It couldn't be possible. Gods couldn't, shouldn't, die.

She slashed the greying skin beneath the veil in an effort to strike it with enough power to end its life for what it had done to the one she loved — set him a path where the light of the horizon would be too far out of sight for him to ever make his way back again.

Instead, She immediately tumbled through the stars. Her consciousness fell through the oldest pages of time, landing with a thud upon the floor of a lush forest.

The moon hung high, drenched fantastically in orange — a hunter's moon. The nightingales sang in welcome as she pulled herself up painfully. She twisted around, searching for a way through the dense forest. Her panic rose as the nightingales song turned to a crescendo.

In a moment, all was silenced. She heard the Earth turning and the rapid beat of her own heart. She gulped as she the silence ate away at her sanity.

Then she fell to her knees and covered her ears as a shriek echoed through the forest, painting everything it touched crimson. Her vision blurred as she dug into the thick dirt. She cried out as the wind that carried the great roar cut into the skin of her back. She felt the warmth of blood trickle from her nose.

"Come back to me." She felt Draco pulling her home by their golden thread that had weaved the stars, unbreakable and endless.

"You've gone too far, my love. Come home to me."

His voice carried to her across the expanse of the universe in a gilded whisper. She followed his soothing call through the ripping current of stars, who lashed out in urgency as if all could soon be lost.

She thought of nothing but following his call, a trail of soaring silver shimmering comets, and returning to take his hand as she fought the crashing tides of cries through the ocean of time. He was an unwavering anchor in her abyss.

" Draco ," she whimpered, drowning in their pain.

"I'm here. I'm always here."

She weeped and clawed her way home upon the rocks of broken paths. She fell back into his arms and broad chest, gulping the chilled air in a shock.

He's real. This is real.

"You're okay. You're fine," Draco promised, wiping blood from her face as she shook. She squeezed the hands of Amelia, who had also rushed to her aid and held her hand through the vision. She was visibly shaken beneath her calm front.

"What happened? Is he dead?" Blaise asked, tone biting in unfounded accusations.

She only realized she had been truly screaming when she tried to find her voice to respond. The breath scratched against her throat.

Her head spun as she shook her head. Everyone breathed easy for a moment.

"Something wants him to do it," she finally wheezed and mumbled.

"What, Dahlia? What's wrong?" Amelia pushed urgently.

They wouldn't stop crying. How could she make the stars stop their cries?

Dahlia shook her head. "The paths..."

She paused to heave another breath.

"It helped him...something helped him."

Draco pulled her hair into a knot, off her glistening skin as she struggled to settle her pulse and steady her breathing.

"Dahlia, please. Don't speak in riddles," he whispered, wishing this was a private moment.

"He found a way to kill the gods. Someone set him a path." She leaned into Draco for comfort as they entered the unknown. "They warned me. That's why they're crying."

"Who is the no-name prince?" Lucas blurted as if he couldn't take something wicked pestering him any longer. The room silenced. His voice had cut through the air like a dirty question.

Eloise shook her head, a grin growing in revelation as the coincidences became too suspicious. Xavier and Blaise watched the scene unfold carefully.

"No," Draco snorted, still denying that Theo might have any destiny entangled in theirs. They were the one true singularity of time, and singularities couldn't be changed. "He's far from anything noble. He's no prince."

Dahlia shrugged in surrender, shaking her head. "It's him. I've heard it too."

She looked the Lucas who winced as if he heard the chaos within unseen realms, as well. "The gods might lie, but the dead don't."

Dahlia remained awake in bed, her mind swirling with liveliness despite the exhaustion in her bone. She sat pressed against her headboard, lilac pillows beneath her back and her journal at her knees. She looked to Draco, who once again slept at her side. He lay sprawled on his back, a hand placed on his chest where her head usually rested.

She wrote to Theo, painfully.

What have you done?

He answered quickly as she expected despite the hour nearing sunrise.

You can't possibly be upset that I've kept a promise now?

She rubbed her eyes, annoyed he found the murder of her stars and his near death something to joke about.

It's not funny, Theo. Are you hurt?

She held the quill above the page, almost writing the apology she felt in her heart as she watched him bleed out. He responded too quickly for her to put the quill to parchment.

No, Dahlia. Don't worry yourself. I'm in perfect health.

She knew that was a lie. He looked thinner, the ink more black and startling against his skin. He looked more like the dark wizard that belonged in every way to House Nott than the golden quidditch captain she had fallen in love with.

I am worried. You don't look well. Please don't do this, whatever you are planning, and come home.

She hovered over the page.

I'm sorry, she wrote. She felt like a hypocrite, unable to push herself any farther and admit what she was sorry for. It hurt too much to admit it— she had abandoned him when he needed her most.

She waited for a long moment to see how he might respond.

I'm sorry too, Dahlia. I don't wish to fight with you any longer. Please, just forgive me. You saw me?

She wrote quickly.

I found you in the past. It took a toll, but I'm fine. I thought you died and I was gutted. Theo, they're screaming so loudly for what you've done. I can't take it. End this and come back. We can talk.

She couldn't bring herself to write out forgiveness. She knew every inch of him, could recognize his face in any lifetime, but she barely knew who he was anymore.

Her stomach fell in disappointment as she read his response.

I don't trust your gods, Dahlia. Your Sight is a danger. Don't use it, especially to find me. I love you. I'll love you even in death. Don't worry about me. I'll be back very soon — in a few weeks.

She scribbled in a panic, throwing her heart against the page as she worried he might close his journal until he returned now that he had her within his grasp again.

Come home. I miss you. You don't need to do this. I'm sorry for being upset with you. I know you're under a lot of pressure right now from the Dark Lord, but it's safe here. Please come home. I was hurt that I wasn't enough for you to stay. I never needed you to prove that you could change fate. Please tell me that I'm enough for you to come home now.

She nearly shook as she finished. She eyed Draco, feeling borderline traitorous.

Tears welled in her eyes as she read his messy handwriting, curving and sloping in the shape of heartbreak.

You are everything to me, my Dahlia. That is why I cannot stop now.

— — — — — — — — — —

Theo placed his quill on the bedside table and closed the journal.

He glanced out the tall windows of his bedroom. Sunrises were always most magnificent outside his manor. Midnight blue had given way to shades of violet and lilac. Dahlia would have been breathless at the sight, but he would show her in time and she would love it just as much as he did soon enough.

He imagined it nearly every new morning. If he closed his eyes hard enough, he could hear her soft voice calling him to the balconies hanging like promises of forever off the left wing, just outside the master bedroom where they would live soon.

They would start every new day, every fresh page, seated together. He would hold her close while she sipped her tea like a lost and found treasure. He would always hold her close, never wanting to share her again. A sapphire would glimmer upon her finger as she smiled for him, her cheeks growing sore because he had given her everything. The universe, new stars and free will — he would gift them all to her and worship her every single night. He had already memorized the curve of her hip and the placement of freckles upon her skin that nearly spelled his name.

He closed his eyes and sighed, concluding that his luck had run out and Dahlia had stopped responding. He should be grateful, even though his heart constricted every time she passed on the opportunity to admit that she still loved him too.

She hadn't answered him in days. He had grossly underestimated her ability to hold his mistakes against him as their fight had spanded weeks. It had taken near death for her to lay her weapons down and reveal the truth behind her pain. It felt like they had finally made it out of the woods and they could start to begin anew. It was hope, and he snatched it viciously.

It was a knife in the heart every time she pleaded for him to return at once, but he couldn't. He was so close. Too close to give up now. They were treading the worst of the storm and love came with a price. Hearts were sewn together with compromises and forgiveness. She would have to understand. He would make her see the truth. She didn't love Draco as she never had a choice. Their love was a heinous demand from the stars that would soon be dead too.

Theo stood from the bed, grinning as he distinguished the heart of Valeria from his own as her steady rhythm swelled with life. She was awake, he noted.

The muscles in his back pulled tightly, sore from healing beneath the elegant pink line that had been home to a deep gash the day before. He was lighter on his feet as he crossed his room, the layers of crimson-colored oriental carpets more welcomed beneath his step.

He hadn't felt this urge to breathe in fresh air in weeks. He pulled on a white crewneck sweatshirt and a comfortable pair of dark grey sweatpants before heading out. Although he had just returned from hell, he had never felt more at peace.

The manor was quiet and freshly warm as he headed towards the kitchens. It was always so horribly quiet, but the golden rays reflecting through the manor made the silence much more bearable. He smiled as he pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen.

A cup of coffee was there to greet him. Left by Tatters, no doubt. The elf was growing familiar with his routines, and predicting whether they involved a barrel of liquor or caffeine each day.

Theo swiped the coffee from the butcher's block as he strolled through the kitchen, spinning on his heel as he headed through an opposite door that led outdoors to the rolling meadow that stretched to the Wolfwood. Its edges were usually dipped in a sweeping fog. However, this morning the forest seemed alive. Its bare branches danced in her cool wind. The breeze ran a hand through his curls in greeting.

Their wind now, he determined.

He cut through the field, spinning his wand as he made way to check on Valeria. She hadn't been pleased when Theo returned to her from the cavern, slick in his own blood and ghastly pale. She had mewled like a kitten as he departed to find Tatters, who had spent the greater part of the late afternoon healing him. He had felt her distress late into the evening.

He grimaced as he sipped his coffee, approaching the treeline. The elf might have been an expert within medicine, but he was a shit cook and a worse barista.

Theo set his heading towards the circular clearing within the forest. Even in the ends of winter, gold and crimson leaves remained on the supernatural earth. He found it quite poetic that the dragon preferred to rest where Dahlia had neared the likes of a god.

Theo quickly halted in surprise as he entered the clearing.

Alex glanced over his shoulder, hands relaxed on his hips.

"Hello brother," he called before turning back to the apprehensive eyes of his dragon. They were two shining amethyst within a sea of ruby trees. She eyed him suspiciously on the outskirts of the clearing, daring him to take a step too close.

"She's magnificent..."

Alex smiled, revealing the same dimples that the god of mischief had blessed all the Nott men with, although Alex rarely used them.

Theo grinned, himself. It was a rarity to see his brother struck with such childlike wonder. It made him crave the past, regardless of how awful the chapter of their childhood had ended.

"I know," Theo drawled, sipping his coffee.

Valeria's diamond pupils landed on him, narrowing intensely.

Theo stepped into the center of the clearing and spun around, holding his arms out. He felt the ground rumble as she stomped her back feet eagerly.

"I'm in one piece, love," he called out.

She huffed a hot breath in relief. He accio'd a dead rat and sent it soaring into the high sky. The thick, scaled armor of her neck extended as she opened her maw to catch the delicious treat.

"I don't know how you do it," Alex admitted, shaking his head rather proudly.

It was the closest to a compliment he might ever receive from his brother. Theo wasn't new to the surprise of his achievements. Everyone underestimated him.

Theo grinned painfully despite his best effort. The tension in the air was suffocating. It only became more obvious as the silence stretched. Not even the wildlife that remained to weather the winter snored to give them reprieve.

"Didn't realize you were home," Theo muttered, the accusations piled high in his simple tone.

Alex's face warped into something near regret. It might've settled on disappointment. His mouth hung open as his vulnerability smothered his pride.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. He fidgeted with his wand as Theo often did, deeply uncomfortable.

"I know I've been shit, and you're disappointed. I know I let you down. Fuck," he whispered, pulling at his forehead. "I know I'm always letting you down and you probably think you'd be better off if I had ignored your call for help-"

"Why did you come home, Alex? Really?" Theo interrupted.

Alex shook his head as if this burden was too heavy.

"It sure as shit wasn't to share your last moments with me," he added, uncharacteristically calm. Maybe Dahlia's constant need to either fight with him or ignore him had worn him down entirely. He was completely numb to the fact that his brother wouldn't be upon this earth for much longer.

"I know I haven't been there for you in the ways you've needed me, but I want to be here now..."

Theo scoffed, overcome with bitter sarcasm. "That sounds delightful, truly, but others have already stepped up to do your job." Theo hung his and pressed his lips together to avoid saying the wrong thing.

"Is that why you dislike them so much? The Malfoys and the others? Even Dahlia? Because they've replaced you?" He asked quietly.

Alex sighed. "Theo, it was never my job to raise you. It felt unfair at the time to be asked to manage you when I was only the age you are now. I still believed in fairness then, when I left. I don't hate them because they love you..."

Alex scoffed in disbelief. "No one could ever love you as much as I do. You're my blood. I hate them because they tempt the darkness within you. It calls to you in inevitable ways that they do not understand..."

"And you do?" Theo couldn't hide the returning sarcasm in his voice. His brother, so self-righteous in his own actions and better beliefs.

Alex stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I know what it's like to feel hatred for the world and for what it has dealt you. I know how it feels to want to punish it."

Theo angled his gaze skeptically. "And what if it deserves it?"

"It probably does, but hate isn't what pushes you to dark magic — it'll be who saves you from the darkness that'll be your ruin. Your hatred doesn't scare me, brother. It's seeing you love so recklessly. I know that you would commit atrocities for the Aldair girl, if you haven't already."

Theo thought he might have heard the screams of the stars.

"That's a load of shit, Alex. You can't honestly stand here and tell me you relate to how I feel and know what lies between me and Dahlia after you've been absent for so long. I'm no more than a fucking stranger to you!"

Valeria growled in the distance, and Theo reeled in his temper.

"Tell me something real. Tell me why you came back. Tell me why I found mother's letters and the list of Death Eaters the Order asked you to retrieve in your bedroom."

Alex's eyes widened in surprise as he froze. "How? Did you read them?"

"That's beside the point, and no. It felt like a violation of her privacy," Theo mumbled.

It was a lie. He hadn't been able to stomach the idea of their mother being anything less than perfect, and things hidden so well usually held a condemning truth.

Alex tucked his wand into his pocket, jaw tensing. He turned around as if everything might finally unfold. He was trying, really trying to be better for him for once, but it wasn't good enough. "Do you want to walk?" He asked.

"Not particularly," Theo snorted.

Alex sighed heavily before shoving Theo's shoulders back and forcing him into a leisurely stride next to him. He led him out of the clearing and through the woods towards the meadow.

"I'm done with your shit, Alex, and I don't need a babysitt-"

"I fell in love with a woman without magic when I left. That's why I never returned," his brother revealed quickly.

Theo snapped his head in surprise, but Alex looked anywhere else.

"I was searching for the eggs of Norwegian Ridgebacks for a collector when I found her in a small town, laughing over dinner with another man. I stole her, obviously," he continued smoothly, strategically placing his dimples as he most likely had that very night.

Theo held back all commentary.

"It's like she breathed into me and I had found the purpose of my whole fucking life. She made me hate a little less. I know you think me moralistic, but I've always just been better than you at hiding my hatred and my temper."

"Anyway," he sighed as they broke through the forest and into the glittering sunlight. "She was kind and furiously overwhelming — like Dahlia, or so you claim."

He held his voice in agony for a moment.

"She was sick, Theo, and I couldn't heal her with magic, no matter how dark I was willing to turn. I searched everywhere for years. I finally found a witch who practiced a rare life magic. I gave her, Bria, the rest of my life because the world would seem to hopeless without her. She'll never feel pain or weakness again, and eventually she'll die peacefully in the night."

"What happened?" Theo asked, knowing nothing would tear him from Dahlia if this story had been theirs.

"I obliviated her, so she wouldn't have to feel the grief of my death too. Then, I returned to the Order and to you."

"How did you get involved with the Order. How do you know Lupin?"

"You're far too observant," Alex chuckled. "How do you think I found the witch? I met him the same as you, at Hogwarts. I seeked him out, thinking he might know something about the preternatural healing effects when one first turns to a werewolf. It was a dead end though. Too risky to infect a human."

Theo nodded, placing the pieces together. Alex smirked, enjoying how his mind swirled to solve a mystery.

"Did you know that Wolfsbane is incredibly expensive and notoriously difficult to make?" Alex asked with a cunning smile.

"No," Theo answered plainly, tired of all games.

"I did, and luckily Snape had stopped providing him with it after he left Hogwarts, and luckily we are Notts. Nothing is too expensive for us or too difficult to create. I traded him Wolfsbane, and more willingly my allegiance to the Order for the name of the witch who saved her life."

"If you are so allegiant to the Order then why did you keep the list of those of who support the Dark Lord from them?"

"Don't be so daft, Theo," he sighed. "Because your name is on that list, and while the Order knows you are good and the mark on your arm is coerced, I would never willingly turn over evidence that could be used against you one day. I fear they will turn on you eventually. I want to help you. Protect you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Theo mulled over his claim. He was thankful for the truth, but it came too late. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his brother in return, but reconciliation was a heartbeat in the past. He had laid that part of him who wished for his brother to be his hero to rest.

He had saved himself instead, and perhaps that's what it meant to be beat the curse of the Notts. He loved his brother, but many things proved to be thicker than blood. The thought guilted him, but perhaps this was his in.

"Then help me. You know I will stop at nothing to save Dahlia as you did. Help me create a new time-turner of sorts. Don't make me die for her as you did."

Alex stopped short. The tall grass of the meadow blew against their shins. If the air wasn't kissed by ice, someone might mistake this picture for Spring. Maybe that picture might be mistakenly titled the Rebirth of Brotherhood.

"I won't stop," Theo whispered vehemently.

"I know." Alex looked at him like the notion broke him entirely.

"Theo, I'll help you, but promise me that we will use it together, and only after you see what she is capable of. I won't have you wreck this world as long as Bria breathes. After, we will destroy it. I don't want this darkness for you. Truthfully, I don't want her for you. I'm only agreeing to this because you are my brother, and it is what you wish."

Theo nodded, sealing a promise he very well might break. Then he did something unexpected, and pulled his brother into a loose hug. It was a foreign comfort. Alex slapped his back, accepting him for everything that he was, dark and hopeful.

Theo only needed to find the gods, and now he would.

"There is something you should know though, about Dahlia."

There was hesitancy in his brother's voice.

"What is it?" Theo asked in concern.

"When I ran into her that night in the tunnels, she did something to my soul."

"What do you mean?"

Alex shook his head, mystified.

"I don't know. That is what I need you to find out in return."

— — — — — — — — — —

It was far too early to be dealing with the likes of Severus Snape, but Draco knew he had no choice. When summoned, he came without question. He sat in the same old leather chair across from Snape's large desk, the material ripped and worn. His knees were spread wide as he leaned back and lulled his head from side to side, gaze focused on the trapped faeries within the jars that were stacked in the far corner, one shake from tumbling over.

"Draco," Snape's low voice snuck up behind him as his professor entered the small office.

"What?" He snapped. He should've been lounging in bed with Dahlia at this hour as she convinced him to forget about training for quidditch just a little bit longer.

Snape slapped him in the back of the head with a textbook as he billowed past for his blatant disrespect.

"Ow," he mumbled.

"What progress have you made on the vanishing cabinet?" He demanded, searching through his office as if this was no less of an annoyance to him, as well.

"Plenty," Draco answered in a dodgy fashion.

"Is that why you are so rarely in your dormitory?" Snape mocked.

Draco tilted his head to the opposite side with a smirk, knowing Dahlia's legs were more so why he rarely slept in his own dormitory now. He was far more concerned with spreading them than mending that dusty fucking cabinet.

"I'm inclined to answer yes," Draco chuckled as he lied.

Snape nearly jumped over the table to strangle him. He was a shadow moving through the room in a moment, the next his hand was wrapped around his neck.

"Have you smacked your head and forgotten what is at stake here?" Snape hissed, voice escalating.

He released him viciously. Draco took a calming breath, his own violent temper only fueled by the Dark Mark that screeched on his arm.

Draco sat up, turning serious. "I know, sir. It will be done soon."

His tone was confident, despite the fact that the cabinet was still useless.

"I'm pulling you from quidditch until it is done."

Fuck.

"And what did I tell you about Dahlia Aldair ?"

"I know," Draco replied tightly.

He had no intentions of keeping his distance, but he did need to do better at concealing their relationship. It was widely speculated, if not officially confirmed, that she was now his. Her and Theo were done.

"There has been a change in plan," Snape stated. He paused as he shuffled through papers. For once, he looked at Draco with pity.

"Theodore will be returning shortly. After Dumbledore's death, he will leave with us. He will bring the Aldair girl to the Dark Lord."

"That cannot happen," Draco replied slowly.

It was a threat. He was so irate at the thought that Snape would sentence the life of a young women to death that the desire to cut him wide open gripped his heart. He tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair to bottle in his fury.

"It will, and you will not interfere."

It was an order. His expression reflected that it was made only because he knew that he cared for Dahlia — and that was treason. The secret could mean death to both of them as Snape had sworn his life to protect him from harm.

"You should know, I have not given the same warning to Theodore, as I am only bound to keep you alive and well from your stupidity."

"A lovely reminder that I am often told," Draco grumbled. "Tell me professor, do you enjoy being an accomplice in the death of young girls?"

Rage flashed in his eyes. He had hit a sore spot, as his snide retorts often did.

Snape looked as if he might strangle him once more. Draco almost wished he would. He had missed feeling so furious. It was an old friend that Dahlia had made him part ways with.

Instead of a usual act of violence, Snape simply flipped his wrist. "Get out."

Draco drummed his hands against the arms of the char. "With pleasure."

He closed the door of the office and stalked through the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He stopped short in the threshold as Blaise slapped the morning paper against his chest.

"You have a problem."

He glared at Xavier, who was leaning against the wall with a shit-eating smirk.

Draco snatched the Daily Prophet and flipped through its pages. His eyes quickly landed on a picture of himself, and Pansy Parkinson.

'A Love in Slow Bloom' it was titled to Draco's horror, but the subline was worse. Draco didn't know he could feel such fury. The paper shook in his hands.

What fucking letters? He read the subline again:

'A story of flowering love as told through letters over the years as the surprising couple prepares for a Spring wedding next year, allegedly.'