Time twisted in a technicolor blur.
Dahlia and Theo appeared in the courtyard of the Nott Manor as they apparated from her own grand estate. Her surroundings came into focus as the charcoal smoke dissipated into the moonlit evening. Through the fading haze, she realized she was at the center of his home, lavish gardens encompassed by four interconnected structures. The grey cobblestone walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling arched windows. Thick ivy vines intertwined with midnight-blooming flora cascaded smothered them hopelessly.
Theo observed her reactions carefully as she took it in — his home.
She slowly strolled over to investigate the ivy exterior, enchanted and breathless. She hadn't expected this, a place so fantastical. How could such malice be buried in a place carved from sweet dreams? The land felt ancient, blurred, and ethereal. She reached her hand to pick a flower off a vine, and Theo quickly intervened.
"That's Belladonna," he murmured. "Deadly nightshade."
He quietly pulled her hand away.
She stepped back and stared upwards at the magnificent structure, her bare feet cutting against the gravel, her strappy heels still in hand from the ruined evening. She spun in surprise as she backed into a substantially sized fountain carved from natural stone.
Theo took out his wand and whispered, "Aguamenti."
Water began pooling within it. Enchanted nymphs made of opals began to frolic amongst the new ripples. Only seconds ago, they had been frozen in time. Theo grinned, delighted to have impressed her.
He took her hand with nostalgic eyes and led her into his abandoned home. They walked through a maze of hedges, forever summer green. They slowly climbed colossal stairs of cobblestone, finally reaching the grand entrance of the manor.
Theo dropped her hand.
He waved his wand, then placed his hands within indents in the center of the doors. He inhaled, exerting magic as the home drank his blood flowing through his fingertips. Dozens of locking mechanisms clicked and turned in the silent night. The home gasped as if resuscitated by a master. His muscles strained as he pushed open the wooden doors, ornately carved to depict the fall of Rome — ghastly creatures weeping in flames as the old gods fell.
Her bare feet echoed as she stepped into the dark. A chill whipped through her hair as if the manor breathed a desperate, dying breath to be saved. The home that had been forged from warmth and romantics had decayed into a desolate dustland of fallen grace.
Panelings of crosshatched oak adorned worn stucco walls. She looked up to discover massive wooden beams that held over a dozen gleaming crystal chandeliers. With the light of the moon shining through the large windows, they refracted like fractured glass, and in its broken reflection was an abandoned fairytale — the princes and heroes were long gone.
"When was the last time you were here?" She asked on a breath.
She could sense his heartache was blanketed by a tinge of bitterness.
"Maybe a year or two? I didn't bother coming back after my father was captured, and I never spent much time here, to begin with," he shared as he began awakening the home with his wand. "It doesn't appear my brother has been here either," he added, nonchalant.
"You have a brother?" She asked in quiet shock, irrationally afraid that if she were to raise her voice, a spirit might awaken.
"A bit older. He's quite estranged. His name is Alexander," he replied.
"Why haven't you told me before?"
He looked back at her as he led her further down the main hall that connected all four wings and gave her a cheeky grin. "Because you've never asked."
Dahlia mulled that over briefly. Theo deflected hard topics with humor and charm. She made a mental note to start asking him more questions.
"Were you two close?" She inquired as they came to a vast living room.
Theo began casting, alighting the chandeliers, and removing protective drapes from the furniture. When he was done spell-casting, he finally turned to face her. She raised an eyebrow to pry and entice an answer out of him.
Theo sighed.
"He had a rocky relationship with my father, as well. They disagreed often. He taught me a lot — occlumency, apparating, complicated magic, and a few advanced spells. He gave me this," he answered as he spun his time-turner upon his ring finger.
"What happened between you two?"
She took a seat in front of a massive wooden fireplace as Theo brought the flames to life. He exhaled slowly as if this were a topic he knew he would eventually have to address. He bent down and coaxed the flames to dance higher, combatting the chill of the forsaken home.
"You were very astute in your observation between myself and the thestrals. I knew I liked you then. You were clever like me," he stated, back turned to her.
Dahlia remained quiet as she wanted to push him past his deflection.
He poked at the fire.
"My Father murdered my mother in a drunken rage. My brother disappeared shortly after. I began staying with the Malfoys more often than not," he stated passively.
He sighed as he stood and sauntered towards her. She reached for his hand. He looked down upon her seated on his leather couch.
I could make a new home within this house — with her.
"We all cope in our own ways, I suppose."
He spoke as if he was still trying to grapple with his abandonment.
She stood from the couch and hugged him tightly, wordlessly. She knew all the words, and sympathies had already been spoken countless times. There was nothing she could say that hadn't been said before. Words became hollow over time; she knew it well, so she kept her embrace around him so he might feel the warmth of love again. She ran her fingers through his hair. He wouldn't be alone.
He pulled away, finding her eyes.
"We'll make better memories here now," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. He tucked her hair behind her ear and murmured, "My wildcard."
A slow smile broke across her face. Brightening his mood was the only thing that mattered.
"Should we start now?" She asked coyly.
He bent down and picked her up. He smiled as he pretended to check his watch.
"No, I think we're still scheduled for another twenty minutes of misery," he answered sarcastically.
He began carrying her up a grand staircase that split in two directions. He made a right, placing a dozen kisses across her cheeks, chest, arms, and neck as he headed deeper into the moonlit manor.
"I don't want an inch of your skin to go un-kissed. I want to love all of you," he sang loudly. It echoed in a promise.
He kicked the doors open to his old bedroom and threw her onto a canopy bed carved from rich wood. Fantastical, priceless tapestries were hung above the wooden wainscoting upon the walls. She could see the dipping moon and the night sky through the massive windows next to the bed. It bathed them in starlight. Opulent, scarlet curtains hung from their sides.
She scooted further up onto the mattress amongst the pile of oriental pillows as Theo unbuttoned his white shirt at the end of the bed. She basked in the anticipation of his touch and the thrill of having an entire manor to themselves.
What if they could just hide here forever? He could be her king of wildness, and she would swear an oath to the moon to protect their borrowed palace and stolen time from the enemies that threatened to cross the threshold. They were untouchable here, away from all the troubles that plagued their love.
He removed his shirt, flexing. Goosebumps rose at the sight of his bare chest and how his muscles seemed to dance in the shadows of the light.
She could forge their own destiny. She would find a dozen amplifiers and devour them all if that is what it took to rewrite the stars for them to be together always. She would wield darker magic until her fingertips turned black.
"Darling, stay focused," he ordered as he patted her cheek lightly to pull her out of her thoughts. He kicked his dress pants to the side. He placed his knee between hers on the bed and leaned over her. The touch of skin sent her burning. She dizzied.
She shook her head as he brushed her cheek, eyes dancing above her.
"Mhm, I promised to fuck you senseless? Yes?" He said silkily, running her fingertips across her jawline.
He nodded to remind her. He gripped her cheeks and brought his mouth above hers. "Well, I think this is that part of the evening."
She grabbed the back of his neck and crashed his lips to hers. They kissed as if they couldn't manage to get any closer. It was heady. He sat up on his knees and pulled her forward with him — afraid that a moment away from her lips, she would be lost forever. He ripped her dress zipper down and pulled it over her head.
He groaned into her mouth when he realized she hadn't worn anything at all beneath it for the entire evening. He had to get closer.
He gripped her bum as he brought her legs around his waist and lifted her off the bed as he stood on his knees. She pushed herself forward, arching against his hardness, and moaned as she kissed his jaw. He laid her down on her back again, his mouth never leaving her skin. He couldn't bear to part with her.
He kissed her breasts and traced his mouth disrespectfully along her tattoo that marked her as Divine.
He would kill them one day , he thought vehemently. She was his. She bowed to him.
He trailed his lips down her stomach, worshipping her as she deserved. He hiked her leg over his shoulder and was ravenous at the view. He loved this part. Loved to do this every fucking day to her. He brought his mouth between her legs, eyes on her open mouth. He licked up her center and watched the surprise fall on her face. She arched her back and pushed her hips into his mouth. Only he could do it this well for her, and he loved it. He wanted her to fantasize about his face between her legs when she was alone in the night.
Her legs practically shook over his shoulder.
"Does that please you, baby?" He asked with a sultry grin.
She nodded, unable to string together a response, and pushed her hips up to him again.
"Ask me nicely," he demanded in a chuckle.
"Please," she whispered breathlessly.
"And?" He smirked, squeezing the softness of her thighs.
She smirked playfully, then rolled over onto her back as to defy him. She crawled farther toward the pillows, but he wasn't having it. He pulled her foot out from beneath her, forcing her onto her stomach. He hovered behind her like a hunter.
"That wasn't nice," he scolded, leaning over her ear.
He slid his hand between the mattress and her stomach, then lifted her onto her hands and knees. He gripped her hip and bent over her from behind. He ran his thumb over her center, and she whimpered.
"Say it," he ordered behind her ear. He brushed his hand along her waist, letting his hand between her legs be missed.
She pushed back against him. She needed his touch. She was lost, directionless in his storm. He consumed her every thought. Her every need. He was her drug, towering behind her now. She was on her hands and knees for him in the midst of a freefall from grace. Perfection stripped.
"Thank you," she answered, looking back at him defiantly.
He grinned, winning.
He kissed the back of her neck in a sweet warning. Dahlia's skin chilled in anticipation. This would be rough, and everything she needed. She was without boundaries, and that felt so fucking good.
"I love you," he whispered resolutely. A vow breathed into her skin.
There was a moment of hesitation when he decided he wouldn't wait to hear her say it back.
She gasped as he plunged into her. He hissed, thrusting into her in sync with his thumb that was working her intensely. He pulled her back and forth upon his cock in long strokes. She looked over her shoulder. There was a dirty, possessive gleam in his eye as his jaw ticked like he would make sure he was the only man who ever fucked her like this or would ever even fuck her again. It made her dizzy with need. He kept one hand on her center. He gripped her tattooed skin roughly like he hated its presence before gently wrapping her long hair around his fist.
"Fuck me," he ordered smoothly.
She moved herself on him as he picked up his pace, circling her core. She was breathless. She wondered if she had ever really fucking lived. Everything besides this was a waste of time. Her breaths came uneven as he let her move against him how she liked. This was it. He was it, and she was on the brink.
"Dahlia," he groaned.
She held her breath, never wanting to breathe without him until she finally found her release. She clenched around his cock and moaned breathlessly. She sat up on her knees as he brought her back onto him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, gripping her breasts roughly as he kissed her. She ran her hand through his hair in a high better than any drug.
"I never want to be without you."
She felt his muscles stiffen, yet he still kissed her roughly. His jaw tightened further, almost as if he were angry. He got rougher in his grip on her breasts.
Then he thrust hard, lifting her up and down on his cock. She quickly tired, but his moans kept her going. She remembered she was safe here in his arms. He laced his fingers in her hair behind her ear and whispered, "I'm going to come in you, Dahlia. Would you like that baby?"
She nodded, charmed from any consequences. Her permission was all it took to get him there, and he spilled himself inside of her. He gripped her face and pulled her mouth up to his. He bit her lip as he rode through his release, moaning her name.
"You're fucking mine," he whispered.
He released her once he was finished and sat back on his knees. There was tension in the air as he pushed his hair back. The lazy expression that often followed his release wasn't there this time.
"I don't know why you would assume anything different," he scoffed quietly. "you never want to be without me," he mocked.
She read his passive-aggressive tone. Her mouth hung open as she pieced together what she had done wrong. She pulled her knees into her chest, protecting her heart. They stared at each other for a long moment. Anger bubbled in her veins. She had meant it affectionately, but his insecurities were clouding his perspective.
"Is this not enough?" She asked him, motioning around as to insinuate that she had quite literally walked with him through the painful memories of his abandoned home. She was actively going against her friend's advice, and she had left her own estate in the middle of the night to come here with him. She had dedicated almost all of her free time to him despite her less-than-stellar grades right now. Plus, he was the one who tried to leave her in the Astronomy Tower that night, and she had given him no qualms about it. Yes, there were some complications with Draco, but that was a byproduct of her Sight, which she was now newly attempting to suppress.
"Am I enough?" He replied tightly as he removed himself from the bed.
He went into the bathroom and started drawing a bath. He retched the handles on the fountains protruding from the wall. The faucets began filling an octagon-shaped tub surrounded by wooden pillars.
She watched him silently. He had created a violent tension within the space.
"Get in," he said, pointing to the tub.
He was livid with her, yet he still chose to cater to her every need. She grimaced, realizing he was now in one of his moods. It hadn't been a fleeting moment's mistake that he had let go easily. She moved off the bed and entered his bathroom. The creamy marble floor chilled her feet. She obliged his request as she stepped into the tub meekly.
He bent down, resting his head on his forearms against the ledge of the tub to meet her at eye level. It was unsettling. Her instincts told her now was not the time to start spilling truths about her and Draco. His fuse only needed a match. She felt as if she was circling and soothing a predatory beast.
"I love you," she whispered to break the horrible silence. She wanted so desperately to be back in his good graces.
He couldn't bring himself to say it back to her.
He was in too deep. He loved all of her, even the flawed parts. It was a bitter pain to have her so intimately, taking her love while forced to look at the physical reminder of what she had done to herself with Draco, what she continued to do with Draco.
She was a sham. He knew that now, but he also knew deep down he wasn't any better. He was insolent and born from a violent house of thieves. His nasty heart belonged in her half-promised hands, slipping through the cracks of her uncrossable and unsworn fingers.
He knew he would have her regardless, whatever crumbs she would throw of her Divine love his way. He only begged for the truth of it all. It wasn't good enough for her to never want to be without him. He needed her to know it — in her bones —that she would never be without him. Regardless of who she loved most, her soul would sit next to his in the night sky when all this misery was over, and their blood had finally run dry, nurturing the earth in an endless cycle.
Dahlia was nearly sick in his punishing silence.
His facial expression remained cool, but she knew the nature beneath his mask.
He narrowed his eyes point-blank and said, "I know what Draco saw in his vision at the bluffs. He told me."
Theo assumed she knew. It hadn't crossed his mind that she was blissfully unaware of the truth.
She shifted uncomfortably. He knew. He fucking knew. Since when?
She folded immediately, guilt-ridden. "I feel a physical pull to him because the Fates want us together for a larger purpose. I dream of him. He haunts me."
His expression hadn't yet yielded.
"He's my curse, but I will wake up and choose you every single day," she trembled.
Her voice filled with utmost sincerity from her heart. She knew this was as much honesty as she could offer him at the moment. She was terrified to lose it all over something that was beyond her control.
A small voice worried for herself, alone in his home, if subjected to his rage.
She wanted to reach for him, but she was too afraid despite his face being mere inches from her. She broke her gaze and sank fully into the bath, if only to get a few seconds to herself away from this tension. She emerged and looked into his eyes as to convey a promise that she would take his hand, always. It would always be him.
She shook, knowing if he took his love back now, she would never move on.
Theo conceded. Her small honesty wasn't enough for him, but the vow in her eyes had been. He sighed as he stood and walked to the other end of the monumental tub.
She felt the water shift as he sank into the pool across from her. She didn't meet his eyes as she nervously stared at her hands placed in her lap.
"Dahlia," he called softly, motioning for her to come closer.
She swam forward even though her spine tingled with premonition. He reached for her, wanting her. She prayed her thanks that she had been given one more moment to see the love for her in his eyes as she met him. He spun her around gently so her back was to his chest, seated in his lap. He pushed aside her wet hair and kissed her neck sweetly.
"Don't lie to me again," he murmured sternly, placing his lips against the hollow of her neck in adoration. "Especially about your whereabouts," he added dangerously low.
He chose to whisper, knowing it had been her secret.
Her stomach plummeted. She couldn't face him as she stilled. She glanced down to see his hand brushing her stomach and keeping her closer — the same hand that had just seduced the most intimate actions out of her. She felt him spin his time-turner against her skin.
It was the sweetest form of a threat.
—
In the hush of the night, cradled in Theo's arms, Dahlia dreamed she was in a vast forest kissed by spring. Sunlight beamed down upon her between the branches that laced the canopy of oak trees. Once again, she was in the cream nightgown. She sat upon a swing made of rough wood, frayed rope, and lush vines. Her dreamscape reminded her of a famous painting she couldn't quite remember now. She felt a hand gently push against her lower back.
She didn't want to look back and have to face him. She was tired of fighting for the evening, so they carried on like this in a comfortable quietness as he pushed her on the swing.
The breeze felt refreshing as it shifted through her silk dress in the afternoon heat. Here, it was always a lovely summer. She was at peace, true peace, for a moment, until she felt him stop pushing her forward.
Her head fell forward. Nothing could last forever.
She finally glanced over her shoulder innocently as Draco stepped closer to the swing. He was wearing the same suit from earlier this evening; only his jacket was now missing. He had untucked his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. He looked disheveled — possibly as if he had been waiting for her here for a long while.
He grabbed the hanging vine above her head, eyes serenely cast upon her.
"Is this not paradise?" He asked her earnestly, referencing his words from earlier. If this was to be their curse, was it that bad?
"This isn't reality," she answered simply, peering up, exasperated.
He looked celestial — made of stardust. His dream self left her breathless.
He bent down in front of her and placed his hands on her knees as if he might tell her a fairytale.
"It could be." There was a spark of hope in his eyes.
He grinned at her as if he carried the secrets of the universe, and he thought he did.
She shook her head to quietly disagree. She wasn't sure what he was suggesting, but he looked so confident in his belief that this dreamland could be made real.
He squeezed her knee, softly disappointed. His temperament was always so hot and cold. He gave her whiplash now as he kneeled before her after he had shoved her only hours ago. There was no sense to be found; there was mayhem in his own mind. She expected this type of behavior from Theo, not him.
"I've seen it." He nodded. He spoke boldly, sure of it.
He grabbed her hands that were placed in her lap, an action from a desperate man.
He hesitated, rolling her fingers in his like it was killing him to give up the secret.
"In my vision, after you were marked, you looked like a goddess," he breathed unbelievably.
"I can't stop thinking about it. You kissed me, and it escalated. When we were together, you showed me my future — possibilities or a past that never was."
He lowered his voice, averting his gaze to their folded hands. "You were with me in all of them, Dahlia...in this life, or others."
She shook her head, saddened he had fallen for their scheme. It wasn't possible. Singularities such as what he was suggesting didn't exist.
He placed his arm in her lap, beckoning her to push the sleeve up a little higher. A silhouette of raised black ink was nearly visible beneath the fabric as the summer sun shone harshly upon him.
She glanced at him with furrowed brows. She didn't want to see this — couldn't acknowledge it. A wash of horror pricked her skin.
With shaking hands, she shimmied up the sleeve of his shirt on his right arm. She smoothed her thumb over a single glyph that maimed his unblemished skin. It almost appeared to be a constellation not yet born. She didn't yet know that it was theirs.
She pressed her lips together. What had she done?
She looked past him in the distance. This couldn't be the work of the Divine. What dark magic had made this? She shook her head, denying the gravity of the truth. She let it roll over right over her head. This was a trick — punishment from the gods for stealing something she wasn't worthy of.
"Draco, the Fates show you what they want you to see, not always as it will be," she whispered, almost tormented.
He shook his head, scoffing.
She suddenly realized he must have expected her to fall into his arms after purging this information. Sure, they had shared intimate moments, but it didn't change his icy temper, inability to communicate properly, and all his potentially murderous tendencies. She wondered when she had embraced him on the cliffs, if that was the first moment someone had held him strictly for comfort. Did something so foreign to him alight his heart?
"Dahlia, I saw us. We were happy. I've spun you in my ballroom. I've seen you swim in my lake, and I've watched you chase children, our children, through my gardens. I've held your hand as I do now, timelessly."
She fought against a sob. He was lying. The Fates were lying. Driving them to madness for what they had done.
"It wasn't truthful, Draco. I can't be yours," she whispered gently. "I need you to let this go."
There was a bated breath. He stood, then stepped back from her.
"Are you afraid of me?" He asked, voice raising.
He hated her for ruining this moment for him. His deepest insecurities came forth. Her reaction, this reaction, hadn't been accounted for. Was he too awful for her to fathom a life with?
He remembered how shaken she had been after she had touched the vanishing cabinet. She had run from him like he was a monster.
"No-I don't know. I was afraid in the Room of Requirement," she answered honestly. She was too flustered to say much more. She couldn't bear to tell him that she still might be afraid.
He pushed his tongue to his cheek, averting his gaze from her as if he might lose it if he laid eyes on her again. He didn't speak, so she continued.
"I can't be yours because my heart belongs to him. I don't care what the Fates desire, even if what you claim is true. I know it's brash, but he's everything I need."
It was the truth she wanted, so she set it free.
Dahlia winced, waiting for his anger to lash her.
Draco sighed in frustration but kept his temper in check this time. He stepped forward and brushed his hand against her cheek. He watched as her features softened.
He replied as if pleading with her. "Dahlia, you want to see the best in him. I admire that, but he will consume you until you are nothing but a shell of yourself, and you have nothing left to give. His cost is too high."
She shook her head and furrowed her brows in pity. "So is yours," she whispered.
Did he not see that he was asking her the same thing? That he and Theo were not so different?
The only dissimilarity was that Theo had been kind and considerate to her from the beginning. Draco hated the sight of her only weeks ago. She had offered to help him in exchange for his assistance, and as a consequence, it led to him having a manipulated vision of a possible life with her. Now, he stood before her and demanded her heart. He put so much faith into her ancestors, which he knew so little about. She had been born to give divine insight. He was simply receiving it ignorantly and acting upon it irresponsibly. There would be fallout from pursuing this. Others would be hurt. It was cleaner this way — to cut ties.
Draco looked away as if he couldn't stand the sight of her. His own cruel form of pity fought against his harsh features. He thought her a fool. He shoved the hand that had held her face in his pocket. His jaw tightened in contempt. His eyes were heavy with an angry desperation.
"Please, don't let him break you. I won't allow it." His tone was biting. A promise.
Dahlia looked to her lap, the words settling on her. She blinked and wished to see his eyes again. Maybe to say goodbye — she wasn't sure. But he was gone. It was as if he had never been a part of the forest at all.
"That's not your choice to make," she responded to no one.
Dahlia kicked her feet, pushing herself on the swing.
—
She woke in the morning with an anxious pit in her stomach. She rolled over within the plush sheets to face Theo. He looked younger when he slept — untroubled. She ran her fingers through his messy hair and kissed his cheek. He was beautiful, crafted of wishes.
How could no one else see that he was good for her?
She slowly crept out of bed, careful not to wake him. She would let him sleep for a little longer. She snuck over to her luggage, which seemed to have appeared sometime in the night by the home's means. She reached into her trunk for her Father's journals, rummaging through her things.
With the leatherbound journal clutched to her chest, she quietly lowered onto the oriental rug. She thought the old carpet resembled a bloodstain. She leaned against the smooth oak of the bedpost. Feeling chilled, she silently cast a charm to light the fireplace. The dark mantel was carved to showcase The Hydra, its snaking heads reaching upwards. She looked away, unsettled, then began reading the first journal entry as she fiddled with Theo's necklace around her neck.
She remembered her mother's warnings about prophecies — that some required a butterfly to flutter its wings at a precise moment in time to be brought forth, others would come to pass regardless of circumstance. The universe would always right itself for something it wished, she had told her.
The first journal contained nothing but scribbles, prophesying endlessly about a child of eight souls, a prince of snakes. Her mother's visions got more ludicrous as the pages turned, but her Father's notes were more interesting than the prophecies themselves. It seemed her Father was using some sort of barbaric method to bring forth vision after vision too rapidly. Her heart broke. Distress was a potent catalyst. Dahlia had often begun to drift from this reality when she had an anxiety attack. Just what had her mother endured? And worse, at the hand of her Father, the man her mother had loved. Why would he do this?
She flipped through the margins, looking for the possible spell he had used, when something caught her eyes — prophecies from her mother that mentioned a daughter. She studied it more closely:
Child of the chasm, my daughter of a thousand ripped tongues, the dragon's flower, heir apparent of the void, the forger of new fates will be bathed in starlight and remade from onyx and the fury of the upended no-name prince.
Dahlia must have read it a hundred times. She had bathed in the crystalized pool of stardust. Melted the earth into her very pores...
An overwhelming sense of purpose and terror landed true within her heart. She wished she could turn the page back and unread the words. Was this her? She had to be mistaken, wishing something grand for her daughter in her silent disappointment. She relied on her friends to make her occasionally bold; it had never truly been within her.
But the urge to remove her necklace began pulsing. With shivering fingers, she reached to her neck. She swallowed with a trembling pause, then gave in. She unclasped the gold chain. The warmed metal wrapped tightly in her balled fist before setting it down beside her as a new wave of emotion emerged.
She felt phantom fingertips cradle her as silent tears fell down her cheeks. Dahlia had her eyes closed tightly when the comfort of her mother's voice entered her tired mind.
"Don't hide in the darkness ," sang her lyrical voice. She clutched the journal to her chest once more as to hold a broken piece of her.
"Dahlia?"
Dahlia opened her eyes to find the soft flames of the fire.
"Yes?" She answered, steadying her voice and wiping her eyes.
There was a confused pause that only came in the moments after dreaming.
"Come back to bed, love," Theo finally grumbled, sleep settled in his voice.
She took a deep breath, then another, letting the peace of her mother's words calm instead of frighten. Her mother belonged to the stars now, no longer in misery. Dahlia held on tightly to that silver lining. She stood when her tears had dried, leaving the necklace on the floor before crawling back into the safety of the soft duvet.
"Darling, why were you on the floor?" He mumbled as his eyes began drifting back to sleep. He was always an early riser, but not today.
"I was reading through my mother's journals," she answered quietly.
He opened his eyes a bit more now, pulling her down to his warm, bare chest. The tension from the night before had evaporated, though there were never grudges with Theo. Each morning was a chance for a new beginning, even for awful souls like theirs.
"Are you alright?" He asked gently, propping himself up on an arm.
With eyes drifting to dream and tan muscles covered in nothing but the sun and soft sheets — he was mesmerizing. She shared a cursed smile, wondering just how many girls dreamed of having this one moment with him.
"Yes, we can talk about it later," she whispered, kissing his chest.
Dahlia wanted nothing more than to lose herself. His chest rumbled with a low chuckle, sensing her intentions.
She kissed downwards as he released her from his embrace, allowing her to have her way with him. He placed his hands behind his neck and moaned quietly.
"Must you deprive me of all sleep?" He hissed sleepily at what she had done to him beneath the covers.
He ripped them back, now fully awakened, and tackled her across the bed. He lifted his quidditch shirt to reveal her soft skin. He swiftly planted a dozen kisses on her midriff and embraced how she squealed beneath him, kicking in delight.
"You'll be the death of me," he relented. "I swear it."
—
Later that evening, Dahlia sat perched upon the butcher-block countertop in Theo's warmly lit kitchen, sipping a glass of wine. They hadn't gathered the willpower to make it out of bed until the early afternoon when Eloise and Xavier had pleasantly arrived. Xavier had kicked Theo's bedroom door open as if he owned the place. Eloise had thrown herself onto the bed to snuggle with her, making herself right at home.
"I was hoping to find a show in here," Xavier had complained, eying their clothed bodies and made bed in distaste. "You're so fucking boring, Nott," he teased.
Theo had rolled his eyes. "I'm a changed man! What can I say!" He answered before he had stormed frantically through the manor, fussing about what a mess it had become as he searched for his house-elf.
"That damn creature," he had muttered. Theo finally found his elf crafting beaded gowns in the dusty attic. Dahlia heard them squabble from below the ceiling.
There was a surprised screech, "Master Teddy!"
Harsh footsteps followed, then a squawk.
The elf had been startled to have guests in the abandoned manor. He had made himself quite comfortable in the empty home. Theo had pulled the elf out of the attic, carrying him down the stairs under his arm.
"Holidays over, lad!" Theo tossed him lightly, assuming he was similar to a cat who might always land on its feet.
"We have guests!" He had exclaimed, clapping his hands together.
She now sat with Juliet on the counter much later in the evening, playing cards as Eloise searched for music to play. Lucas eyed her from across the kitchen, dressed in shades of rich cream as usual, his aura uncharacteristically touched with a dark presence. Dahlia had pried, but Juliet hadn't given her much about what had happened between them. She claimed they were just friends and she was playing the field, which was very unlike her. She was a romantic at heart.
She luckily hadn't seemed too annoyed with Theo so far, but she had only arrived a few hours ago. They sat and watched the boys attempt to cook since the house-elf hadn't been prepared for visitors.
"Look — the future of our wizarding world," Dahlia snorted, leaning into Juliet's shoulder to hide her laugh.
Blaise, Theo, Lucas, and Xavier stood around the complexities of an average stove, unclear of what to make of it.
"I think you should do it, mate. It's your house," Blaise mumbled nervously.
Theo nodded with an air of confidence, pushing up the sleeves of his black sweater.
"Incendio!" Theo yelled, pointing at the stove. A massive plume of fire mushroomed into the overhead vent. A fire erupted, and Dahlia and Juliet fell off the counter to hide behind the kitchen island.
"Aguamenti! Fuck! Aguamenti!" The boys bellowed, spilling water upon the flames.
"Fucking gods," Lucas sighed, pushing his blonde hair out of his face as he gave up and simply walked out of the kitchen.
Pansy, Daphne, and Amelia ran in from the dining room after hearing the explosion. She hadn't been too thrilled that Amelia had asked Theo if the other Slytherin girls could come, but Pansy had written her an apology for attacking her.
Dahlia rolled her eyes as the boys put out the fire. She walked over to the stove and lit the gas manually.
"You're an idiot." she pointed to Theo.
"Where did you learn to cook?" He asked with genuine surprise.
Dahlia filled a giant pot with water. The elf had only conjured them pasta noodles to boil. "My mother. I used to spend summers with her. It's much more quaint than our estate," she replied.
It was all she was willing to share. Her mother hadn't believed in owning elves, and in the end, she had often cooked for herself, eating alone in the night as her mother rested all hours of the day.
Theo topped off her glass while she dug through drawers. Xavier had brought a stash of fine wine that made her head dance more than usual.
"I think I like seeing you cook in this kitchen," Theo murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. She leaned into his embrace. This was just what she needed — a fresh page, indeed.
The front door slammed in the far distance. The hair of her skin stood in response, an invisible string returning home. Theo's arms stiffened, knowing everyone had already arrived.
They all looked at each other, quietly confused.
Juliet smiled to Theo, seated once more on his counter and now leaning her head on Amelia's shoulder as she draped herself over her friend.
"Anyone home?" His deep voice echoed, and Dahlia might have died inside.
Draco strolled over the threshold, entering the kitchen proudly. Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Dahlia could've fainted in horror as he stood dressed in Ravenclaw blue, surely to get under Theo's skin.
The steady rise and fall of Theo's chest ceased for a moment. She held his arms around her waist in hopes of preventing him from doing something he might regret. She reached back, touching his cheek.
"Be kind. He wants a rise out of you," she whispered.
He easily broke free from her grasp, unwrapping his arms from around her to leave her desolate. Dahlia braced for the worst. Theo leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. Dahlia sighed as his brick wall materialized and his cruel facade fell into place. Draco's timing couldn't have been worse as he was becoming a steady topic in their relationship.
"What are you doing here, mate?" Theo asked, horribly calm. He bounced his knee every so slightly. It was his tell that he was poorly containing a growing rage. Dahlia knew that now as she was constantly assessing his mood.
"We invited him," Juliet and Amelia answered proudly in unison.
Theo shot Blaise a grisly sneer, knowing Dahlia wouldn't tolerate harsh words thrown at her friends.
No wonder , he thought.
Juliet had been nicer than usual. She had planned this all along. Theo refrained from tossing her into the Wolfwoods outside the manor, where she fucking belonged.
"It's about time you guys solve your shit," Blaise replied with a harsh glare.
Dahlia preferred to remain uninvolved, even though this was entirely about her. Their tense conversation about Draco was still fresh in her mind. She couldn't afford to vouch for Draco even if she had possibly wanted him to stay — which she didn't.
She stirred the boiling water and rubbed Theo's arm supportively.
"Whatever you want to do, babe," she sighed. She hoped her touch and words would be enough to diffuse his temper and soothe his insecurities.
He narrowed his eyes dismissively. Of course, it would be his call. This was his home.
She smiled, regardless. Her kindness was undeterred.
Theo's eyes softened, realizing she meant to follow his lead, not grant him permission. His eyes welled with appreciation that she was choosing to support him.
He sighed, then turned. Theo grabbed three more glasses out of the cabinet behind him. He sauntered across his kitchen to hand them to Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. Dahlia couldn't watch, knowing Theo loved to pretend to find forgiveness before smashing a cheek.
"Only returning the favor since you've invited me into your home countless times," he muttered, trying his best to find a neutral tone.
Dahlia gulped her wine, back turned. She sensed Draco nod.
She stirred the pot aggressively as Blaise slowly grinned. Was it that obvious? She asked herself.
"Fuck off," she mouthed, and he snorted.
Draco kept his distance while she distracted herself with making the rest of dinner. She wasn't much better at cooking than she was potions, but that was fine. A shit dinner was what Draco deserved.
Xavier topped off her wine before she walked into the formal dining room.
"Are you ready for this?" He clapped his hands and then rubbed them together menacingly as if preparing to watch a showdown.
"Just keep my wine glass full," she sighed, only half joking.
The house-elf had been hard at work setting the table. He placed two dozen flickering candelabras upon the curving, raw-edged wooden slab. Three large, dazzling crystal chandeliers hung above them, adorned with various precious jewels. It was a wondrous atmosphere. The walls featured hand-painted murals of the midnight revels of Dionysus beneath enchanted, shooting stars.
Dahlia opted to sit in the center of the table, as opposed to either end. This wasn't her home, and it would only be respectful. Theo took a seat next to her, also refusing the table ends. He gently rubbed her thigh and politely smiled for her. He was in constant need of her touch.
Eloise sat on her other side, and Draco sat next to Juliet, who was across from Dahlia. She noted that Pansy had taken a seat next to Draco. Their situation was still a mystery to Dahlia.
They ate awkwardly in silence as Theo and Draco were a step away from exchanging growls. Theo kept a tight grip on her thigh, boiling beneath his skin.
Lucas dreadfully chose to spark conversation. He asked Dahlia from the other end of the table, "So I heard you spend some time on the east coast of The States?"
Dahlia lifted her head, shoving away her horror and plastering a desperate grin on her cheeks. "Yes! I used to stay occasionally with my mother at our summer house."
He leaned forward, putting in effort to save them all. "Did you surf at all?" He asked.
She paused, almost willing to lie to keep this going.
"Um, no," she answered honestly.
The conversation strained.
"Ever see any...dolphins?" He pushed.
It was a valiant effort to keep the awkward silence at bay.
Tatters, the house-elf, shifted uncomfortably in the corner.
"I can try and play a violin, sir," he squeaked, tugging Theo's sleeve.
"No," they all groaned collectively.
"Fucking hell," Theo mumbled under his breath. He took a giant gulp of his wine and began fidgeting with his rings.
Dahlia bit her cheek, noticing his growing irritation. She perked up and beamed at Lucas. "Occasionally! And some sea turtle-"
"You two," Amelia grumbled, pointing her fork between Draco and Theo. "Work it out. I can't listen to this anymore," she snapped bluntly.
"Alright," Draco sighed, always ready to lead. He sat back in his chair, smug and comfortable. "Thank you for welcoming me into your humble abode, Theodore."
It was beautifully served backhanded. Theo was beyond well off with an egregious fortune, and his home was quite palatial, but a rare few could say they rivaled the Malfoys.
"Be civil," she murmured sharply to Theo.
Over her rotting corpse, would she allow Draco to ruin a second dinner in a row. Dahlia kept her hand gripped on Theo's thigh below the table so as to physically keep him bolted into his seat.
Theo glanced at her, suddenly aware she wasn't wearing her protective necklace.
When had she removed it? And why had she done so? It had been upon her neck just last night.
He shook out his fist, quickly descending into chaos.
Had she removed it after Draco arrived?
The night felt more unpredictable, and he craved control. He needed her to himself. In his agitation, he singularly focused on Draco.
He removed Dahlia's hand without sparing a glance. He ran his tongue over his teeth, sensing her flinch before he had even spoken.
"Well, I guess I could thank you, too," he paused to finish his drink. "For not fucking my girlfriend despite your father's request," he finished smoothly, seeing crimson rage. "Too much of a coward the other night, mhm?" He raised one brow and smiled viciously.
No one spoke as the atmosphere plummeted. Theo heard a small inhale and instantly regretted the words. He had overplayed his cards, thinking they had put their lies to bed last night and they were unbreakable. Theo reached for Dahlia's hand, but she refused him.
She was paralyzed with dread, staring downwards as she was unable to look either Draco or Theo in the eye. Not that it mattered — they were staring vehemently at each other.
Had Draco lied about what he had seen to get closer to her only to please his Father? But he had told her to keep her distance from him. Did his Father know she was a seer? And that's how Draco had known, too? She tried to conceal any reaction, terrified of what Theo would think if he saw hurt written on her face for Draco's actions.
"Is that why you disappeared with her the other weekend?" Pansy mumbled to Draco quietly. She seemed both relieved and tense that maybe this had all been a ploy to hurt Dahlia. Theo's words had a domino effect as a different hurt quickly etched across her features, realizing he hadn't been truthful with her about the other night either.
Draco chuckled, ignoring it all. His attention was solely focused on Theo, who had played dirty and crass, but he could hit harder.
"Well, it looks like you get to break the news to him that you succeeded, mate. He'll be mildly proud," he sighed, leaning back and throwing an arm over Juliet's chair. She flinched, and Lucas almost lurched from his seat.
"Tell me, were you only trying to impress my father because your own deadbeat dad finds you intolerable?" Draco chuckled, well pleased with himself.
Theo lunged across the table, dissipating into charcoal smoke. He apparated and appeared behind Draco's chair, quickly dragging it away from the table.
It was months of fury unleashed. Draco was quick to react as he twisted to deliver a headbutt. As they came to physical blows, neither of them noticed Dahlia exit the room.
Amelia screamed as Blaise and Xavier pulled them apart. Crabbe and Goyle watched, unmoving from the ends of the table.
"Get a fucking grip!" Amelia demanded. She pushed Draco's chest. "You're fighting over someone who doesn't want you, Draco!"
Theo snickered behind her, wiping blood from his lip.
Triggered, Amelia whipped around and pointed in his face. "And you fucking manipulative psychopath! Don't get me started on you!" She spat.
Theo ran his hands through his hair, rage renewed. Blaise pulled her back protectively. Theo exhaled a shaky breath before he reached for the table, clearing it entirely and slamming lit candelabras onto the carpeted floors.
"All I've done is try to protect her!" He roared, eyes wild.
The room was strung with silent terror. Blaise rushed to put out the small fire. They stepped back from Theo, worried they had pushed him too far and that he had reached a dangerous unpredictably. Amelia kicked his wand away as it sat strayed on the floor.
Draco glanced around and realized Dahlia was nowhere to be found. He sat down in an elegant wooden chair and hung his head, "I'm sorry. Let's bury this, mate."
Theo sneered, then kicked over a chair and stormed out of the dining room.
—
Dahlia floated through the main hall that connected the four wings of the manor around the whimsical courtyard. She didn't know where she was going or how to get there, but she knew she desperately needed air. She clutched her chest, searching in a panic to find a way out of this fucking place.
She heard footsteps following her.
"Please! Wait!" Juliet's torn call echoed down the empty corridor.
Dahlia's rage flared. Could she have nothing in her life but violence?
She turned sharply, exploding. "Is this what you wanted? Why did you invite him?" She spat.
"I-"
"Is this romantic to you?" Dahlia laughed coldly, mocking her.
Juliet's face fell, hurt.
"It was Amelia's idea! She just wanted the group to get along again." She lowered her voice and slowly approached as Dahlia shook her head, doubting her words.
Juliet let her shoulders fall, the weight of her truth leaving them. "Dahlia, he doesn't show you all the facets of himself. Theo can be violent, and he is controlling. I just think you're moving too fast. I realize now that this wasn't the right way to go about it… It's just the way Draco looks at you..."
Her sentence carried off as she read Dahlia's incredulous expression.
"So you think Draco Death-Eater Malfoy is better for me?" She scoffed in disbelief.
"Your ancestors chose to give him the knowledge to help you! I know you dream about him. I hear you at night. I have to believe they want this to keep you safe," she replied, firm in her own belief.
Dahlia shook her head, condemning what she had done. Her footsteps thundered as she walked away, leaving her friend to stare up at the stars and contemplate her choices through the large windows of her enemy's home.
—
Dahlia kept pace, hurrying until she found a back entrance within the manor. She stalked into the night, walking through the grassy hills surrounding the home. She had no clue where she might go, nor did she care. A vast ocean between her and the crowd wouldn't be enough.
Theo had hurt her, sacrificing her feelings to hurt Draco. It was wool pulled from over her eyes. Juliet was right. She choked as she realized how right she was.
She couldn't think. Could hardly breathe lately.
She was always surrounded by people, especially Theo. His constant presence was both soothing and debilitating. She had assumed he was trying to make up for his actions in the Astronomy Tower, and that's why he hovered, but lately, she felt like he kept her under constant supervision only because he was afraid she might fuck everything up. He was a constant cloud. His words and thoughts seemed to drown out her own opinions.
She knew he wanted what was best for her. He wanted to protect her and love her endlessly, but her friends were right. The revelation that he had spied on her with his time-turner finally sunk in. She felt the beat of her own singular heartbeat once more the further she trekked into the woods.
Juliet's words that they were moving too quickly had plunged through her heart and hit true. She had said out loud what Dahlia had been desperately trying to hide within herself. Whenever she dared to caress that thought, she would distract herself with the physical nature of their relationship, which was always steady. Intoxicating, even.
She held herself, crossing her arms. I can't go back, she thought.
"It would be a waste," she muttered, terrified of what she had done willingly to herself with the crystal and what unknown, irreversible damage she had caused.
She swallowed the admittance that she had partially done it for a boy she had been convinced she could save after only two months of knowing him. She now knew the depths of his stubbornness and that he viewed his violent unpredictability and need for control as a strength, not a flaw. She tried not to mind for what it represented. She knew that it meant he would protect her at all costs, and safety was something that was never guaranteed now.
It was his uncontrollable urge to have all of her that broke her down. It was his inability to see her as anything other than a summer flower with an occasional thorn that he would let prick him how he desired or prune if needed. She loved how much he loved her and his willingness to stand by her even when her flaws punched through the cracks of her facade — although it sometimes felt like he was the one who was quick to paint over her gaping wounds instead of patch them properly. But where did the line get drawn?
She had fucked up by lying to him about Draco, yet he hadn't yelled or even asked for her apology. He had only pushed to control the narrative, control her. She knew her actions with Draco only instigated his need for it. It was unfathomable, conniving, that he had said nothing about spying on her until he had so casually insinuated it last night. It was an invasion of her privacy.
In her heart, she wanted to lean into her Sight if she could be brazen enough, but she was terrified of what he might do or say if she disclosed that to him since her Sight had ties to Draco.
She shook her head, gripping her new marking that had turned her bones black. She had done this for him. It would be for nothing to turn back now and break his heart. He was so flawed, but so was she. They deserved each other.
She pushed on into the misty forest. She leaned against the chipping bark of a white tree and let the moonlight breathe down upon her. She was too emotional but finally honest with herself.
"Dahlia?" A voice carried to her on the evening wind.
She glanced through the rolling autumnal fog with a jolt. She stepped back into a clearing as Draco approached, raging starry eyes fixated on her. He was a gliding reaper dressed casually, breaking through the tendrils of mist. She stiffened as he neared, cheeks flushed and hair falling and waved from the chase.
"It's just me," he whispered, almost a promise that it would always be him.
Draco stopped himself short of wrapping his arms around her, although a breath away. He spoke before she could push him back to distance herself.
"My Father did want me to get close to you because he suspected you were a seer like your mother. But I swear it, that's why I tried to push you away at first. I didn't want you to get hurt. Then you said you could help me, and Dahlia," he turned, stepping away from her and running his fingers through his silver hair.
He spun again to face her, prepared to yield.
"I fucking think about how it felt to hold you while you slept all the time. I would give anything to go back to that dingy bog. I'd spend the rest of my life there if it meant my life could be with you."
Dahlia stood frozen. The irony was that she had actually forgotten why she had walked away from dinner in the first place. She had left to take shelter under her twinkling night sky, freed from Theo.
All she knew was that she didn't know what to do, and she just wanted someone to hold her who wouldn't suffocate her.
She slowly took a step towards him. He looked down upon her tears, heartsworn. She leaned against his chest wordlessly, terrified if she spoke, she might reveal too much of her own heart.
Draco stood stunned before quickly wrapping his arms around her. He exhaled with the relief of acceptance he rarely received.
He brought his flushed cheek to her ear. "And I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so fucking sorry, Dahlia. I'm sorry for every cruel thing I've ever said to you. You're not beneath me. You are everything to me." he clutched her hair and held onto her like something precious, priceless to him.
She breathed in a sob of his sweet scent. It was solace, the promise of calmer waters.
"And if this is false fate, and they're tricking me like you claim," his hand traced down her back, "would that be so bad?" He murmured against her cheek with a slow grin.
She stilled. Her senses pulsed with premonitions untouched.
"Would it?" he mumbled, more to himself than her, as he glided a hand down the back of her hair. His warm breath against her cheek.
Dahlia realized she owed nothing to anyone but herself. She wouldn't deny the stars any longer. She would push her boundaries, walk the path, and mold herself into the heir apparent her mother prophesied. If Theo thought he could defy time, she would become the forger, and rule it unbending.
She was still nestled in his chest. She lifted her head up to him, and their eyes met, stripped of all pretending and hiding. Her hand trembled as she placed a hand on the back of his neck.
He knew what she was doing. A hint of smile blessed his lips. He knew he had done something right. She pulled his neck down so his mouth could finally meet hers. He didn't hesitate as he felt like he had done this countless times in other places, different lives.
She could feel her own heartbeat in her veins as she gambled with the cosmos to push her forth on her journey. She let her lips brush his briefly, then pulled back. She felt as if her reality had just blurred at the periphery. She wasn't sure if it was because of the immense relief she felt as she had finally stopped denying herself of what she wanted or if the winds were attempting to whisper to her where to go from here.
She peered up into eyes, terrified and testing the waters. He breathed unevenly, holding back at her mercy. She finally nodded, committing to the treason of her heart. He pushed into her mouth like he hated how long she had made him wait for this.
She matched his aggression as she dug her nails into his shoulders and pulled his silver hair. She felt him smirk against her lips as he hoisted her up to his waist effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around him. His grip was unbreaking as one hand held her up, and the other reached beneath her sweater to harshly caress down her back. She moaned into his lips, his touch of skin against her own.
He leaned her against an ancient tree, her legs still wrapped around his waist as she bucked. He brought his forehead down to hers. His grey eyes were sharpened as he calculated her every need. He kissed down her jaw, then down her neck.
A cold, sickly sensation swept down her spine.
"Draco," she called breathlessly.
He groaned in return, taking a handful of her breast beneath her sweater.
The air from the moan that escaped her was far too warm as it plumed up to the moon. Her lips went cold.
He shouldn't have pulled away , she thought.
The lure to the ether was no longer avoidable. This wasn't real? Was it? She swayed in his grasp. Did it even matter if it was? Her skin pricked with numbness.
Draco felt her start to shake in his arms. He looked back into her eyes and saw sheer terror within them.
"Dahlia, it's alright. I'm sorry," he whispered. He let go of her legs and pulled away. She swayed. Dizzy, he realized as he helped her to the ground.
"I don't feel well," she mumbled in terror. It was all she managed before she let out a blood-curdling scream in the dead of night. The Wolfwood awakened.
The last time he had heard her scream similarly was when she had welded the crystal into her breaking bones. Something supernatural and awful was occurring.
What had she done?
Dahlia felt as if an axe had split her mind. The pain was unbearable. She was no longer in her body but had transcended into a void where time no longer existed. A million paths spun out in different directions in crystallized strings. She strummed them in a desperate attempt to find her way back to him, back to home. The strum of strings played out before her in infinite scenarios.
She now understood what Draco had seen.
They were children building forts in the trees. She laughed as he spun her in a ballroom. She wrapped her arms around him as he blew out birthday candles. They swam in the ocean at her mother's house. She kissed him while he was in the middle of speaking in a library. She stumbled into his arms in a summer meadow. She laughed as he watched her kiss their children. She wept and prayed for guidance under her stars as she looked up from blood-soaked hands and asked him how he could have done such a thing...
She gasped and looked away, only to find herself tripping through the void. She fell screaming, but no sound emitted from her.
Her back cracked against a cold stone floor. No — a stone slab. The stars were restless above her in the night. She tried to get up but couldn't. She was paralyzed. This was it — this was her death. A seer's first vision is always of her death. There were ancient, grotesque symbols written on the walls in blood. She looked down and noticed the blood on the slab — it was her blood amongst the walls. A slithering void floated to her ear. She knew who it was. She closed her eyes to avoid gazing upon his wretched face.
"What a beautiful gift," he whispered in a forbidden tongue.
Here, she understood all languages. He placed his wand on her heart, and pain rippled through her body as she levitated off the stone. Her head hung back, and she saw countless spectators in metal masks. Her terror and rage that people would so casually stand by and watch this occurrence beckoned such a vicious screech from within her that the Dark Lord's eyes began to bleed. He cackled, joyful. Several people covered their ears, and she fell back to the slab with a painful thud.
A masked figure with short, silver blonde hair stepped forward to coax obedience from her. This was Draco. She felt it in her new, stronger bones.
She heard someone hush and coo into her other ear. She jumped at the voice, then whimpered as her head turned to the side, only to find Theo's unreadable, beautiful face. He smiled at her as he did intimately. She sobbed as her heart broke and scattered across the universe from the betrayal. His features transformed into her Father's, and her terror renewed. She suddenly thrashed so harshly that she found herself ripped from the illusion and falling once more. Her stomach rose to her throat as she began freefalling through blackness.
She landed in the same grassy meadow she had stumbled upon under the sun from a different vision. She stood from her hands and knees. The air was thick with summer and all too eerie.
"Run," a voice in her head wailed. Her instincts stood on edge — she was being hunted. She dashed forward. To where she was sprinting, she wasn't quite sure. Her lungs spasmed in pain as she fought off terrified sobs.
"Dahlia!" Draco Malfoy roared behind her in the distance from a large grey-stone manor. She would recognize that voice through any thread of time. She only looked forward as she ran from the brilliant flashes of his wand until there was no more.
"Dahlia!" Theo yelled.
He had run into the clearing of the woods that surrounded his property. He had heard a cataclysmic scream that sounded as if it had been crafted of nightmares and sweet nothings. He followed it. Everyone else at the manor must have heard it, too, as they all gathered around the clearing and came to an abrupt stop.
Eloise whimpered and covered her mouth as Juliet began to cry, falling to her knees.
It was the most grotesque and magnificent thing they had ever seen. Theo lost his breath as he took in the sight before him. Draco sat on his knees before Dahlia, who levitated off the ground with an unnatural arch in her back. Her eyes were a blinding white, and her hair showed starlight. She was preternaturally still except for her fingers, which twitched in a repeated pattern, threading stars. Theo approached her, but Draco was quick to shove him away.
"Don't fucking touch her!" His voice boomed through the clearing, clearly in a state of distress.
Eloise moved to hold Theo back gently. "It could hurt her if you interfere. It could damage her mind," she whispered to him.
Theo sat back in horror and came to the realization that there was nothing he could do for her but wait.
"What is she?" Blaise asked with confusion.
No one answered. There was a reverent silence amongst the horrible shock. No wonder people had traveled far and wide and sacrificed armies to discover what the oracles might whisper. The magnitude of the situation fell upon Theo. This was as close to a religious experience as he had ever come. He looked over at Amelia, who held her hands up in prayer to her lips, asking any god to save her friend.
Dahlia's lungs inhaled sharply as she was summoned back to her home plane. She fell to the ground, landing hard on her side. She peered up into the eyes which she had just been running from — Draco. She cried out in weakened terror like an injured doe as she tried to stand to move away from him. She was too exhausted, her bones too heavy. She crawled backward as Draco sat in shock. She came to a hard stop as she landed against someone's chest.
She turned to Theo and shrieked in horror. Images of his beautiful face as she lay on the stone slab flashed across her mind. Of course, his impertinent nature wouldn't allow him to wear the mask of the Death Eaters. He would want people to know how awful he could be. She knew that there was a dishonest, false part of him that could play the villain so well, even if he strived for goodness.
Tears of fear started cascading down her cheeks as she tried to escape the hushing grasp of him. Amelia ripped her away from Theo and hugged her tight. Juliet came behind her and wrapped her safely in her arms, as well.
"It wasn't real. You're okay," Juliet whispered as she wiped away her own tears. She couldn't stand to see her friend like this.
"He's going to kill me." Her voice rasped through the night air between her terrified sobs.
"No one is going to let the Dark Lord have you, I promise," Amelia soothed.
"Yes, they will." Dahlia was adamant. Her voice was laced with vengeance and disgust. Her eyes were set unforgivingly on Draco and Theo, who both claimed her heart.