Three: Never Hesitate

5 August 1994

Perhaps Theo's favorite thing about Draco Malfoy was his expressions. He was an easy read with his sneer and his snobbery, the way he rolled his eyes and scoffed this class is ridiculous or the way his eyebrows shot up in giddy disbelief when he'd heard Potter had passed out on the train. The performance he gave about the time when Potter fell from his broom was stellar. Draco did an exceptional Potter, he'd say so himself, though Potter wasn't half as expressive or interesting to watch, Theo thought. Harry Potter was rather like a Gringotts vault, all locked up and buried deep.

He had a nice laugh though, Theo'd give him that.

Theo gave a rather Malfoy-inspired scowl to the mirror, frowned at himself, shook a hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders to adjust the jacket. He thought fleetingly of Auror Tonks, the metamorphmagus he'd meant during cold calls a number of times, and wondered if she ever felt like this, being that she could be anyone she wanted. He wondered if he was strange or if this was normal and he would always feel like this: half-finished and incomplete, hollow almost, like he wasn't quite a person in the way others were. There was nothing wrong with him, per say, because Theo didn't believe in that sort of thing, and maybe that's just how it was, who he was. Persistently part-empty and rather removed, like he was listening to someone else's life unfold on a radio show. He'd asked his father about it once and Amadeus had roughed up his hair– something he hadn't done since Theo was quite small, before his mother passed– and said that there were some things one never forgets about being young, and that there are some questions that never have answers.

It did very little to appease Theo, but it did enough to remove the worry, given it did not seem to bother his father. Theo trusted Amadeus implicitly– he was his father after all– and knew that if there were any concerns to be had, Amadeus would have already taken action.

"Alright?" greeted the man in question as Theo went into the music room at the back of the house. Amadeus hadn't looked up from his piano, glasses on the tip of his nose as he furrowed his brow at the sheet music. A pencil was conjured from nowhere and he made some marks.

"I'm headed out," said Theo. "To Diagon."

"Ah, that so? Is it August already?"

Theo nodded, and while Amadeus wouldn't have seen it, it was no doubt understood. "Do we need anything?"

Amadeus made another mark on his sheet music. "You could pick up some African sea salt and desiccated lacewing flies. We always need more of those. What are you taking this year?"

Theo rattled his classes off, earning a half-hearted scowl from his father as he leaned on the piano top. "-Defense, Potions, Arithmancy and Muggle Studies."

"You'll want to get Perdo's edition to supplement Vector's Arithmancy text. The man's a bit full of himself and would rather teach an entire generation the wrong thing than admit the work he completed five years ago is already out of date and print." Theo snickered appropriately. "And Muggle Studies?" Amadeus asked rhetorically. "Pick up an extra copy, would you? I never took that."

"There's no textbook," said Theo and Amadeus finally looked up with frown.

"No book?"

Theo shook his head. "No, actually, I'm supposed to have you sign something– says I'm allowed on field trips and can be exposed to– to– hold on, the wording was quite good–" Theo thought a moment, dragging the mental image of the letter to the forefront, "-to foreign and unfamiliar technologies that may offend wizards and witches with certain sensitivities."

"Exposure to unfamiliar things is rather the point of the course, no?"

Theo shrugged. Amadeus sighed a world-weary thing.

"Alright, remind me to sign it when you're back this evening and, I don't know, grab me a book with the worst cover you can find."

Theo saluted, turning on his heel for the room downstairs with the floo.

"Oh, and Theodore?" He looked back at his father, though Amadeus was already back to scratching on the sheet music.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Be safe, please."

Theo laughed, and made no such promises.

Everyone and their mother was at Diagon Alley that day. Or, in Theo's case, everyone and Pansy's mother. Theo hardly knew Pansy Parkinson, only through school, but she was Draco's girlfriend and he was Draco's friend and– was that Daphne Greengrass? Oh, bollocks, this was a double date.

Theo must have done something with his face, because Draco snickered. Theo shoved him in response, and Draco stumbled sideways, still far too pleased with himself. Pansy, catching sight of them, shrieked like the banshee she was, waving absurdly, and Daphne, her blonde hair long and woven from her temples around the back of her head in a crown, blushed like a rose bloom, and that was enough for Theo. There was an extra thud to his heart and she glowed in the sun and he was smitten.

Mrs. Parkinson huffed and muttered something, and Pansy wilted inwards, her arm dropping. Theo and Draco crossed the current of people a bit quicker, Draco taking the lead.

"Mrs. Parkinson," he said, smiling warmly and taking the woman's hand when she offered it. He brushed his lips over her knuckles– so old fashioned– but Pansy seemed pleased and Daphne looked relieved, so Theo followed suit. The woman's hand, greasy with lotion, smelled like moth balls with subtle notes of cigarette.

"Where's your father, then?" Mrs. Parkinson asked, eyes flittering about. She had to squash a scowl when Draco breezed easily,

"Oh, he had a meeting. He passes along his apologies. It's rather horrid of him, isn't it? To leave you to chaperone a bunch of teenagers."

Pansy sniffed like she had something to say but her mother cut in quickly: "Not at all; he's a very busy man, our Mr. Malfoy. Why, Pansy said you usually owl your school supplies. I hope you do know what a privilege we consider it that you could make time for our Pansy, Draco."

Theo coughed, then doubled over and played it up like he couldn't actually breathe. He stepped away, earning a surreptitious brow raise from Draco, but Daphne was hiding a smirk behind her hand, and, pausing only to shoot her a mischievous grin– she blossomed for him again– he rounded the nearby corner into the shadows of an alley.

He took a couple steps down deeper and leaned against the bricks, inhaling and then exhaling long through his nose. It had been a bad idea, inhaling– the air was thick and wet, and was that–

Quite suddenly, Theo was yanked sideways and he stumbled backwards, through the brick wall and, while Theo was not usually spooked, he did have preservation instincts and they kicked in– he yelped. But the sound was choked back by a hand over his mouth and something over his ears, and Theo was struck by deja vu. The hand was big, and warm, and the thing on his head was like earmuffs, but a poor excuse for one, spindly and delicate and– was that music?

He drove his Cadillac, he went a-cruisin' down the ville–

The scent of sugar, sweet and fruity, laced the air, undercut with the rawness of smoking herbs, and Theo listened for a moment, the world stilling and content. He was aware of the presence hovering behind him and the loosening of the hand over his mouth; he gave the peace an extra heartbeat –order of the Prophet, we ban that boogie sound– then threw back an elbow sharply.

"Oof!" coughed out Macmillan, doubled over as Theo turned around to face the cadre of kidnappers: Hufflepuffs, high and rogue. He pulled the headphones from over his ears and passed them to Finch-Fletchley, who held their source: a box with a smattering of buttons and two-tone grays and the name SONY in white, blocky font.

"What's a casbah?" asked Theo, leaning his shoulder on the wall. It was a tight space back here, in between one brick wall and another. Hannah and Justin sat perched on crates. Theo was taking immense satisfaction in the fact that Macmillan was still doubled over.

"It's a fortress in cities not known for their love of foreign music," Justin pushed his sunglasses up his nose as he twisted around one muff and pressed it against his ear, hitting buttons without looking, like a guitar player fingering a fretboard.

"Or weed," agreed Hannah, dragging from a joint.

"You wankers," scolded Macmillan, trying to pretend he wasn't still trying to catch his breath. "It's the name for centers in nominally North African cities. It's got nothing to do with censorship; the song's all fiction."

"Right-o," agreed Justin. "Fiction inspired by the harsh reality of footloose-like cities full of fear for all things foreign–"

"And weed," added Hannah.

"You're just describing all cities–" argued Theo, then his brow pinched. "What is footloose?"

"Crikey, we'll be here all day," sighed Hannah, and she passed her joint around to Macmillan, who rolled his eyes and huffed.

"D'you think we'll watch that in muggle studies?" asked Justin. Hannah was inspecting her fingers and Macmillan shrugged.

"If a walkman won't work, why would a VCR?"

"Yeah, I suppose that's true–"

"There's a workaround," said Theo. The Hufflepuffs glanced at him.

"A workaround?"

"A workaround– to get muggle electronics to work in magic-leaden lands. Ministry doesn't like it, though–" Theo figured he ought to shut up, but really, Macmillan should know this– what sort of pureblood was he?

A blood traitor, thought Theo, unbidden and full-formed. There was a heartbeat, and then he frowned at himself, but the conversation was moving swiftly on:

"You mean to tell me, every year, I pack baby in a box when I could be bringing her with me?"

"It's repulsive to me that you refer to your walkman as baby. Get a girlfriend, mate," whinged Hannah.

"I didn't know there's some sort of secret," said Macmillan indignantly. "And anyways, you do just fine with the wizarding wireless."

"The– the wireless!" Justin sputtered. "I don't do just fine, I make do. And honestly, the wizarding world has what, one musician–"

Theo held up two fingers: "Two, if we're counting the Twisted Sisters and Celestina Warbeck–"

"Point! Who's to say the lot of you don't just hate music on principle because the muggles are so much better at it–"

"I believe I get another point," interrupted Theo. "We are living in a casbah."

"No, no–" Macmillan stressed, his cheeks wonderfully colored. But he ignored Theo's baiting and argued: "We've had this discussion. The Wizarding World is, at best, a sub-culture–"

"That's dreadfully unpatriotic of you," frowned Theo.

"And," said Hannah, "it's just wrong. The wizarding world is very complex and removed from muggle society–"

"It's not that a sub-culture is less–"

"That's what sub-something means!"

"Sub as a prefix means under–"

"What's the difference?" interrupted Justin thoughtfully.

Nobody seemed to have an answer, either tired with the conversation or too high to properly think on it. It's not like it really mattered, anyways.

Macmillan smacked his arm. Theo scowled at him.

"Anyways, you're taking muggle studies, right? Or are you too much of a coward?"

Theo scoffed and stuck his nose in the air. "The muggles can't possibly have anything to teach me." He didn't make eye contact with Macmillan, who was unsettlingly good at reading Theo and therefore never took anything he said seriously. By extension, the other Hufflepuffs never did either.

"Boo," jeered Hannah, thumbing him down. Theo made to retort, but a voice echoed back out from beyond the bricks:

"Theodore? Where have you gotten to? We're moving on," called Daphne. Theo wasn't looking at Macmillan, but if he had, he would have seen the flash of a frown.

Theo sighed. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Hufflepoufs, this has been fun–"

"Lame. That's oh for two, mate, you're losing your touch–" Justin interrupted distractedly, and Theo ignored him.

"-but society calls."

Hannah gagged.

"You should tell the lot of them where to stick it and hang out with us." It wasn't a scandalous suggestion, a bit harsh perhaps, but the other Slytherins (read: Draco) had definitely said far worse about the Hufflepuffs. And, anyways, from the way Macmillan went red to the tips of his ears, he hadn't meant to voice it aloud.

Theo took no pity on him; he never did. Successfully teasing Macmillan was rare and therefore usually the best part of his day. He grinned at the Hufflepuff. "In your dreams, Ernest." And he stumbled back through the wall, where Daphne Greengrass eyed him suspiciously.

"Draco was right, you were causing trouble, weren't you?"

Theo, still smiling, properly enjoying himself, linked his arm around hers. "Me? Never."

Pansy's mother had ditched them somewhere between Potage's Cauldrons and Flourish and Blotts, giving her middle daughter a record amount of attention for the day. She'd been waylaid by the Siren's Call, a boho-chic lounge that seemed closed until the right customer walked past, at which point the water features, all full of a brilliant crystal colored liquid that Theo suspected was not water at all, bubbled and whirled to life. There seemed to be no one inside, not even a shopkeep, but the door drifted open as Mrs. Parkinson approached, and there was definitely the flash of ocean blue irises.

Daphne hesitated, grabbing Pansy's arm and leaning over to whisper something to her. For half a heartbeat, a look of disappointment flashed over Parkinson's puggish features, then her upturned nose scrunched in disgust, and she stalked on, Daphne in tow. Draco was trailing behind, arguing with Potage the Younger about the supposed authenticity of the gold rim on one of their cauldrons. Theo paused, looked at the interior of Flourish and Blotts, where he would find the things he was supposed to be looking for, before turning his attention to a rickety table conjured up across the street, tucked in an overhang between two shops. The table was lopsided, a tattered moroccan stretched across it, with bits and bobs arranged in no particular order. A bald man in a ratty herringbone suit stood next to it, and he eyed Theodore greedily.

"'Ello, 'ello– lookin' for anythin' special t'day?"

"If I was," said Theo, not looking at the man, picking up a busted pin and tossing it away, "I wouldn't be looking here."

The man did not seem offended, but he said: "Oh, oh, you underestima'e Mundungus, sir. I'm quite craf'y if'n I wanna be."

Theo lifted a lone stone, putting it in the path of the sun and studying the way it cut the light. "I'm sure that's true," he said. "You are a thief, after all."

"Everythin' here was acquired legi'ima'ely, you 'ave the Mundungus Fletcher guarantee–" Theo tossed the stone away and gave the self-proclaimed Mundungus Fletcher a disinterested look.

"You'd be more convincing if you sold snake-oil, Fletcher."

"Tried tha', wasn'a profitable," said the dowdy man said with a serious frown. Theo laughed hard enough that Mundungus softened, and smiled sheepishly.

Still laughing, Theo grabbed the broken pin he'd previously tossed aside– it was easily the most valuable thing on the table– and passed Mundungus a few galleons. "Stick to what you're good at, yeah mate?"

"Theodore!" hollered Draco from the doorway of Flourish and Blotts and Theo turned, giving him a wave. He made to leave the stall, but Fletcher reached out, snagging his wrist. Theo looked briefly–

"You're the Burke boy, ain'tcha?" But Fletcher wasn't asking for a confirmation. He dropped Theo's wrist and tapped his nose. "I'll find somethin' good n' special, jus' for you." Theo wasn't going to ask why but Mundungus Fletcher offered a reasoning anyway: "Mundungus Fletcher always pays his debts, see."

"Theodore!"

And Theo took off, before Malfoy could pop a blood vessel.

Blotts was a bust.

Theo'd copied all the books he'd need for school, but, finding nothing of note about muggles, he'd dragged everyone to Obscurus (known best for their Banned and Beast Books) on the corner of Diagon and Horizont. It was proving just as fruitless.

"Just grab any old one," Draco had snapped impatiently. "I don't understand why you're even taking that class."

"It's not for class. Muggle studies doesn't have a book," said Theo, pulling out a book with a red binding that had promise. But the title sagged illegibly and the thing let out a whistle of a snore, so perhaps not.

"No book?" Draco frowned. "Suppose that's one way to make sure you won't learn anything."

"I rather think we'll be watching something called a movie, perhaps many movies." Giving up, Theo stood. "I've seen advertisements on a telly before, but I've never seen a proper film, and the Hufflepuffs say they're quite something. Like a long picture with a story to it, or a bit like a radio show acted out, you follow. I suspect you'd be quite good in one–"

Theo adjusted the bag he wore across his shoulders and looked at Draco, who was fussing with a spot he'd found on his robe.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Draco said. "Did you think I cared?" He licked his thumb and rubbed at the spot.

Theo rolled his eyes, slipping his wand from his sleeve. "You're just going to make it worse–"

"Don't you–" Theo muttered a tergeo– "dare!" Draco snapped. He glared at Theodore. "Now the fabric'll be all brittle–"

"Are you two done?" asked Pansy from the end of the aisle. "Daphne's craving a vanilla sundae and we'd really like to order the biggest size possible before my mother reappears."

Draco scowled once more at Theo before turning quick and stomping off. Pansy, lips pursed, followed, while Daphne idled for Theo.

"Lover's quarrel?" she asked softly, smiling.

Theo huffed in amusement. "I tergeo'd his spider-silk robe." Daphne gasped.

"Why, Theodore, you'll ruin the fabric that way! Didn't your mother ever teach you a good spot charm?" Theodore was saved from speaking about his mother as Daphne frowned: "How'd you even do magic anyways? I can get away with it at home sometimes, but I'd never dare to in public."

"Nott family secret," said Theo with a wink. He held the door open and Daphne stepped out into Horizont.

"Ah, yes, you are a Nott, aren't you?"

"Did you forget?"

Daphne laughed. "Everything I know about the Notts– which isn't much, mind you– just makes them– you– all seem so– dark."

"Dark or dark?"

"Either, both." Daphne shrugged. "Anyways, my point is, it doesn't suit you."

"What does suit me, then?" Theo asked, coming to a stop on the street corner. Fortescue's was just around the bend, and no doubt Pansy and Draco had already bullied themselves into the best seat on the patio.

Daphne, from the way she went red, hadn't anticipated the question. She paused, too, turned slightly towards him and fiddled nervously with the hem of her sleeve– she didn't wear robes, but instead a jewel blue blouse tucked into a button-front white skirt over red thigh-high stockings. Some of her hair had fallen loose, and Theo, thinking he didn't mind this and that he didn't mind her company, brushed the blonde strands away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. She looked up at him, eyes big and made demure by her lashes.

"Well," she started softly–

"God, Theo, just snog her– ow! Ernie! You can't hit me, I'm a girl!" Hannah's voice echoed around the alley, and Theo, spotting them through the sea of people– Justin was talking to a towering giant (half-giant, Theo dimly recognized their Beasts professor) and Macmillan was red as a tomato and Hannah was rubbing her arm– he threw two fingers up at her.

"Get lost, Hufflepuffs!" he hollered. "Go tend to your mandrakes or something."

Justin, following Professor Hagrid, headed off down Horizont towards Carkitt, and Macmillan– Ernie'd not once looked in his direction, Theo noticed– followed quick. Macmillan grabbed Hannah, who had thrown two fingers back at Theo. "We'll save you one!" she shouted at him, before turning round. Theo pushed up to his tiptoes, trying to see where they were headed, but it was no use. He lost sight of them, and, dropping with a sigh, he looked back at Daphne. Or, rather, at the space where Daphne had been. He was alone, now, he found.

So he went after the Hufflepuffs.

A/N: Chapter Title: 'Friday I'm in Love' by The Cure, referenced song is 'Rock the Casbah' by The Clash

A shoutout to guest Richasa for reviews on the last two chapters. An incredible amount of this story is already in my head; I am excited to share it, and do hope you continue to enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Thank you so much for taking the time to leave your thoughts and kind words.