The promise of winter had finally arrived at Hogwarts.
Dahlia paid the harsh, bone-aching chill no mind. It was a warm reminder of the cold reaches between stars. Snowflakes danced through her hair as she made her way up the swirling staircase to the Owlery.
It was just past sunrise. Awaking this early had been brutal but necessary. She wouldn't risk being spotted by other students. This would be a private, therapeutic moment — a loose-end knotting.
She climbed higher and higher into the grey-coated sky. The crystal dewdrops gliding through the air reminded her of her own changing hair as more and more blinding white strands metamorphosed. She hummed to herself, soothing the swift owls as they soared above.
Dahlia stepped onto the landing and then entered the domed tower filled with owls of every color and size imaginable. She never liked how many eyes peered down at her within the Owlery. It always felt as if she was under their scrutiny and silent judgment, their rounded eyes following her every move of hand.
Maybe I deserve it, she thought as she remembered how Draco's mouth had twisted when he called her a coward and a hurtful person. The truth had carved her out like a knife. His words melted deeper into her skin, branding her every thought and sleepless night. He was right — her actions had been hurtful, and she was more of a monster than a victim.
But a new flame alighted her heart — she was healing, and the desire to be better burned within her. It had been more than a month since the long weekend at Theo's home. The passage of time had been vicious to her, dragging her tirelessly through days and nights.
Dahlia had come here to the Owlery to make amends, hoping it would bring her closure. She hated how she and Draco had ended things. They hadn't spoken, even shared a whisper, since that morning. He no longer came to her in their dreams.
Occasionally, she would have a more extraordinarily vivid dream where the colors would bleed more brightly, and the wind would blow his scent of sweet mahogany midnights to her. She would heighten her hopes and search for him.
On the rare occasion, she found him, spotting his silver hair across the dreamlands, he turned out to be only an illusion that stood before her stoically. She would plead with his expressionless face to speak to her, but he never heard her words. She had become a phantom in her own dreams — their dreams. It was almost more painful to have a shell of him spin her across the ballroom or stroll with her through the gardens than to hear his biting insults.
She needed to finally come to terms with the fact that he was moving on from whatever this was between them, and she was, too. She turned her head when he carried Pansy's textbooks down the hall. She pretended she didn't see the bruises on his neck when he leaned over his cauldron in advanced potions. She knew it was only fair since she was moving on with Theo, but there was still a spot carved in her heart that would always be meant for Draco, a flowerbed only needing roots. She had to learn to live with it if she could.
She often pondered what he had done to muffle their golden thread or if he still felt it, as well. Maybe fate's touch wasn't cruel enough to ensnare a Malfoy. She had been brave, or desperate, one night and had imagined herself tugging gently on the thin thread of gold — the woven breath of stars — that led to his heart. Nothing had been returned. The aching pit in her stomach had remained. Maybe only she could sense how the wind hummed and the flowers swooned when they were close.
He didn't even seem determined to ignore her. It came effortlessly to him now. It felt like a cold knife nipping her skin every time he looked through her. The simplicity of his disregard had only made her hate herself for being so bothered by it. She used to lie in bed some nights and trace the spots where his fingertips had once brushed. Now, she had grown so resentful that she found herself scrubbing those invisible stains raw in the shower. It didn't matter how many times she placed Theo's own hands over those same sacred spots; they were his.
Draco hadn't even bothered to reach out to see what she knew about the vanishing cabinet as she had promised to help him in return, even though she wasn't quite inclined to share her knowledge. She wasn't sure she owed it to him to share that Harry was catching on to his plans.
Maybe it was better this way, she thought, to not be so involved between them and in Draco's matters.
The terror still pulsed when she thought of what he had done to her in the vision — what it might mean. Or worse, what would happen if it didn't come to pass? She was in a constant battle with her soul pulling him close and her conscious mind wanting him far. It was safer this distanced way, she often reminded herself.
She had tricked herself into believing that she hadn't wanted anything between them. He was right — she had been a coward. Always too afraid to take the plunge. Always taking the safer bets, but living with the awful truth of how she truly felt had proven to be much more difficult than she imagined. It hadn't been that much easier to stay on the dock this time, but she did it because she wanted to be better. She wanted to make Theo happy — he was the steady choice. He deserved her. Found her and led her tirelessly. Made her problems his problems and molded himself into everything she needed.
She wanted to be a better friend and spend more time with the people she loved. She was working to restore her future by improving her grades for herself, not her father. She was even strengthening her Sight so she could protect herself soon. Draco had wrecked her esteem, but upon the foundation, she was rebuilding herself brick by brick, star by star.
It was time.
She had wrapped up Draco's quidditch shirt nice and tight in grey paper, then tied it together with black tweed. She had written him a small note and tucked it safely within the folds of his shirt.
She closed her eyes and made a quick wish that her words would set her heart free for good. She vowed to bury their golden bond within the black sands of her soul so it may never be found.
She saw the silky black feathers of her owl swoop down to greet her. The owl dropped another letter from her father into her hands. She picked it up and placed it into her pocket. She would read it later and most likely deny him a response again.
Delphi, her owl, perched herself on Dahlia's arm and tilted her head to the side. Her deep blue eyes questioned her. She petted Delphi's head gently and caressed her feathers. She sighed and handed the owl the small package.
"It's for Draco Malfoy," she told Delphi, almost as if she had been bested. Finally, admitting defeat.
The owl leaped from her arm and soared upwards, dropping the package in a stone square cubby where an eagle owl was sleeping peacefully. She was sure her owl had taken a piece of her heart with the package.
She closed her eyes and told herself that everything would be better. She was tired of hearing everyone say that she would only be fine, alright, or okay.
She walked out of the Owlery and leaned over the ledge. It was a horrible sorrow and the greatest relief. She imagined what advice her mother would give her now. She reached out into the ether so as to summon her, but it seemed her mother had forgotten about her, too.
She cried for all she had lost but also for the happiness she might gain. Happiness had become such a terrifying thought — to think she could deserve it or find it without her.
She pleaded with the cold winds and the early breaths of the morning constellations to wipe her tears. They released a merciful exhale, obliging their child of the stars.
—
Dahlia sprinted as fast as she could through the late November chill.
She did this almost every day now. She had begun running with Blaise before class on the trails around the castle. He and Amelia had suggested it as a way to take the edge off of her senses as they were becoming increasingly overwhelming as they strengthened. She also found it emotionally soothing, especially this last sprint where she and Blaise would race to the end of the trail by the quidditch pitch.
"You're still slow as shit," he hissed between breaths.
They began their usual shoving and attempts to trip each other as they approached the quidditch pitch in a dead sprint. He elbowed his way forward a few more inches before they both came to a crashing halt, heaving for air.
"Blaise, you dirty cheater!" She huffed as she squatted on the ground to catch her breath.
"Run faster next time, doll," he teased as he extended his hand to help her up.
She accepted his help, and they slowly started walking back to the castle. She tilted her head upwards towards the highest peaks of the castle, slowing her breaths. She always loved the way the Hogwarts looked with a light dusting of snow.
"What classes do you have today?" He asked.
"I have tutoring for potions with Harry Potter," she groaned.
He threw his head back and let out a deep cackle. "I bet Theo gets a kick out of that," he snorted.
"Oh, he does. I have to go out of my way to keep the location and time of our sessions a secret so he can't bully Harry. Honestly, I don't even need a tutor anymore."
It was true. She had been much more focused on her studies and had been improving in all her classes. However, Professor Slughorn insisted she keep the tutoring sessions for the rest of the semester, just in case her grades started to decline again.
"Theo has been much more pleasant lately. You guys must be coming along quite nicely. Doing better?" He took a swig of his water.
This was also true. Dahlia had noticed how much happier Theo had been lately, and their love had only deepened. They had compartmentalized her abilities from their relationship. The most he had ever brought it up was to ask her if she was having any visions, but only out of concern for her health. Some days, she wore his necklace. Others, she didn't, but he never commented on it. He had been giving her more space to focus on her studies and her friends. As a result, she saw his confidence grow. It made him feel more secure that she actively chose to dedicate her time to him instead of him constantly demanding her presence. She would never abandon him, and she fortified that notion by continuing to choose him.
He couldn't always help his overbearing nature, though. He sent her fresh dahlias every Sunday with class notes he had either forced, or hopefully paid, a fellow student to annotate so she could study for the upcoming week.
Theo appeared to be in a much better headspace now. However, She couldn't ignore the coincidence between his lifted spirits and the absence of Draco in her life. Neither of them had uttered his name once since they had left his home. Draco had become the thorn in their rosy sky.
A smile crept onto her face. "Things have been fantastic! What is it they say? Distance makes the heart grow fonder?"
"I guess if you consider one level below stalking as distance," he laughed. "But I have to admit, I quite enjoy seeing him pushed out of his comfort zone," he added.
"Is it insane that we've all collectively accepted that his comfort zone is somewhere between unhinged stalker and charming dictator?" She grinned, chuckling as he shook his head.
"Speak of the devil." Blaise nodded.
She quickly glanced up at the quidditch pitch to see if she could spot him in the air. He usually practiced for quidditch around this time. She lowered her head and saw Theo walking towards them.
"You looking for me, love?" Theo grinned, raising his brows quickly at her.
He wore black joggers and his Slytherin quidditch sweatshirt. He had the hood up, but his cheeks were still pink from the whipping wind. He embraced her wind now, letting the sentient force push him around how it liked. He removed one hand from his pockets to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her warm from the winter chill.
"Dahlia, my beautiful angel, the love of my life and questionable Ravenclaw, you are wearing entirely too little clothing for this weather."
He took a bite of a pastry and pointed to Blaise. "Mate, you let her out here like this? We're going to have a word. She'll get frostbite! I'll have to drag her down the aisle one day because she won't have toes!"
Blaise rolled his eyes at Theo's dramatics.
Theo wagged his pastry in front of Blaise's nose. "I'm being utterly serious-"
Dahlia reached to cover his mouth. He bit her finger playfully, then leaned down swiftly to steal a kiss from her wide grin as she laughed.
"No, but truly, you look extra lovely today," he said smoothly. He gave her a dimpled smile that Dahlia could never resist.
"Thank you," she replied, leaning into his warmth as he pulled her close.
"Darling, I was talking to Blaise. Not you," he teased.
"Why, thank you, Theodore." Blaise put his hand over his heart and mocked Dahlia, flipping invisible hair as she often did.
Dahlia shoved Theo away, then quickly flipped her hair with perfected ease. The wind brought a fistful of her locks into Theo's face.
"Lovely, baby. Thank you," Theo replied with a full mouth.
"You finish early?" She asked as he finished chewing. If so, she was hoping to do a bit more cardio this morning. He looked most charming, with his face flushed in the cold. She could see the outline of his muscles through his sweatshirt when he had moved his arms animatedly. She knew there was nothing beneath it.
"Not quite. On my way to a team meeting. I grabbed you breakfast from the Great Hall."
He handed her a croissant.
"Where's mine?" Blaise huffed.
"Fuck off, Blaise. I couldn't quite carry three full continental breakfasts. You eat more than Hagrid. It would have been an impossible feat," Theo replied exuberantly.
Dahlia took a bite of the croissant. Theo pulled her into his arms to kiss her cheek while she chewed. A group of Slytherin boys slapped him on the back as they headed to the pitch. He grinned at them, then released her from his relaxed grasp.
"We're still on for tonight, yeah?" He asked, walking backward, away from her.
Dahlia had asked him to teach her how to apparate, and he had agreed without hesitation. She nodded in response.
"Good," he winked.
She swallowed the bite of her croissant and yelled, "Love you!"
He blew her a dramatic kiss and replied, "To the moon! Not ours — another, infinitely farther away." He turned to catch up with his team.
She laughed and began strolling back inside the castle. Neither Hogwarts nor any of the many Aldair properties were home to her anymore. Her home had only just left her briefly as he strode away and flew right into the sky.
—
Draco sat among the low clouds upon his broom. His eyes tracked a certain blonde below.
He would often watch Dahlia run about during quidditch practice. Luckily, he was a seeker, so his presence could go unnoticed occasionally as he drifted higher into the atmosphere as he pretended to search for the snitch. He would only allow himself to watch her in the early mornings as she trained with Blaise over the last several weeks. She had become annoyingly and deeply integrated into his group of friends, but he wouldn't dare ask any of them how she was doing.
He attempted to push her out of his waking and dreaming mind. Some nights, he would take a deep sleeping drought just so he wouldn't have to face her in their dreams. Other nights, he would lazily keep his distance, and he was careful to go unnoticed as he watched her spectral form search for him endlessly.
He didn't know how to reconcile or if reconciliation was even for the best. He had meant the sentiment behind his last words to her, but he wasn't proud of how he had communicated them. He had lashed out once again, but he had been deeply hurt by her choices and how she had weaponized the physical affection he craved from her against him. He had stepped over the line of his comfort zone, chasing her across dreams and residences to confess his feelings. He had told her how he felt and made his intentions clear. It was her turn if she dared. If she wanted him, she would have to come to him now.
However, this once optimistic sentiment had rotted and festered in his heart as the weeks dragged on, and he watched Dahlia fall further in love with Theo. He had been so sure that it would self-destruct naturally. But no, Theo was instead thriving. He had never seen a high of his last so long.
Maybe he was attempting to be better for her.
No, Draco knew wiser. Regardless, he watched miserably from the sidelines. He drowned himself in affection from Pansy during the days and numbed himself with whatever under-the-table substances he could gather from Xavier's dealings to cover his nights.
He felt doomed to be what Dahlia needed but not what she wanted. He stared at the strange constellation upon his arm every night, growing to hate the sight of it. He had felt her tug against his heart one particular evening. It had been late, and he hadn't pulled against the taught rope to respond. He had only imagined himself breathing a peaceful lullaby so she may find sleep as he traced the aligned stars on his skin.
He had made his own sick peace with the Dark Mark on his other forearm. He had to come to terms with it since it could never be expunged. He had slowly molded his perspective on its representation from shame to power as the days passed. The ideation that powerful men could better keep what was theirs well protected hammered deeper into his mind, forming an ideology.
He had yet to hear from Devereaux on if he would nudge her back into his arms. He had strongly implied to him that he would be interested in tying their family names together. Having a strong front of power and wealth would be critical in the war ahead, and with the Malfoy's soon-to-be-restored high ranking amongst the Dark Lord's followers, he could better keep her safe. If he agreed, Draco would only need to carefully navigate the fallout. He knew there was a piece of her that feared his ties to the Dark Lord, but to feel fear towards him was better than nothing at all. His father was in prison, and Dahlia would never have to face the Dark Lord.
If she was his, he would keep her safe.
He watched below as Theo pulled her close and kissed her cheek. It used to make him sick, but now he was numb to it. Sometimes, he would allow himself to lose focus during class only to find his mind lost in a daydream where he would be the one she smiled in surprise for. He would be the one whispering into her ear dirty, sweet nothings meant for only her to hear. In his daydreams, she would confide in him, share all of her hopes and wishes, and tell him all about her mother.
As he gazed below, he was once again reminded that she was happier. He had been nothing but a storm cloud in her life, blocking her heavenly sky from ascending. He noticed her taking part more often in classes and laughing louder among their friends in his absence. Theo's constant grin was a bitter reminder of what it was like to lose.
—
Dahlia hummed to herself as she made her way into the library. Theo had enchanted a pair of golden buds carved into acorns so she could listen to music as she pleased. She didn't have the heart to tell him that muggles called this invention headphones but used wires and electricity to accomplish such a feat instead of magic.
She waved to Harry as she approached one of the wooden desks in the center of the library. She removed her golden buds from her ears and put her book bag down.
"Headphones?" Harry commented curiously.
"Magic. Theo made them. You know he has too much pride to use anything from muggles." She rolled her eyes.
"I haven't seen him throw around any poor second-years lately. I guess Theodore has been crafting?" Harry joked.
"Word on the street is that he is much more pleasant these days, but I'll take credit for that. I blackmail him to behave properly," she replied as she dug through her bag for her potions textbook.
"What do you have on him?" Harry asked, suddenly perplexed.
Dahlia stopped her shuffling to raise an eyebrow in his direction. "It's nothing Death Eater-y, I can assure you. He's a simple man, Harry. He has simple needs." She shrugged.
"Dahlia, that is equally disgusting and absolutely appalling," Harry grimaced.
"You asked. And friend to friend, don't use the desk inside the prophecy alcove in the restricted section. I know you and your own friends visit quite frequently," she replied, throwing down her textbook onto the table.
"Are we friends?" He asked, feigning surprise.
"I know these hangouts are under less-than-ideal circumstances, but I think we could use all the friends we can manage to gather right now," she replied earnestly.
"These aren't hangouts; these are academically sanctioned study sessions," he scoffed, shooting her a dubious look.
"You know what I mean," she quipped, nonchalantly waving away his pessimism. "Don't be dramatic," she said, tossing her hair to one side.
She popped a pretzel into her mouth, and Harry quickly removed the snack bag from her hand.
"You can't eat in here," he scolded.
She sighed in irritation. She knew she often raised his blood pressure beyond what was deemed healthy.
"Any progress with Professor Slughorn? I know you said you were trying to get into his good graces," she asked, changing the subject.
"Actually, yes. He is having a holiday party for the Slug Club. I've managed to gather an invitation."
He paused.
"Actually, Dahlia, would you want to go? Since we're technically friends now," he mocked.
Dahlia laughed darkly in response as if the question had been a bad joke.
"Theodore might be heavy on the pleasantries lately, but he's still a bit deranged. He would not like that," she answered airily with love in her tone.
Harry rolled his eyes. He asked about her Slytherin group of friends every week. She didn't lie to him, but she was loyal to her friends. She had only told him that she and Draco had gotten into a fight and were no longer on speaking terms. Theo was reformed — good enough to be a Gryffindor now. The juiciest thing she had shared with him was that Draco Malfoy and his mother had attended a very awkward dinner at her home over Fall Break. She had to give him something so he would keep sharing his own theories with her.
"I'm guessing Malfoy wouldn't like it either," he shot, returning his gaze to his notebook.
"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked defensively.
He sighed like she was oblivious or stupid. "He's in love with you, Dahlia. Trust me, I've been observing him long enough for my own reasons. It's quite pathetic," he whispered with annoyance.
"Don't be ridiculous. He's with Pansy," she grumbled, brushing off his comment.
"Whom, rumor has it, strangled you earlier in the semester in a jealous rage."
He gave her a deadpan stare, willing her to accept his words.
She knew what his agenda was and why he had brought up Draco. He was probably looking for an opening into the conversation to ask if she had noticed anything suspicious lately, per his usual routine.
She met his gaze with irritation and huffed.
"I can't talk about this right now," she groaned softly but sternly. She felt as if she had been forever waiting for someone to mention his name to her. She wanted to talk about him endlessly and not at all.
"Whatever," he replied as he handed her his potions textbook.
She began writing down the notes from his textbook and turning them into her own.
He glanced around in boredom and noticed a few books on the desk that she had planned to return to the shelves after their session.
"Why have you been picking up so many books on oracles and divination? It's all you read." His tone was more curious than suspicious.
She racked her brain for an answer. Her hand instinctively went to her neck to fiddle with her charmed necklace. She noticed that he had noted her playing with her necklace nervously. She pulled her hand away.
"It just interests me, I guess. I'm also struggling with divination." She only partly lied.
"It's pretty well-known that you are one of Professor Trelawney's best students. I heard Juliet telling Hermione that you can even tell someone when they'll get married and how many kids they'll have. You'll be the Hogwarts matchmaker pretty soon." He was mocking her in an effort to get under her skin.
"Those are just rumors. I was just messing around with Juliet when I told her that," she answered inconspicuously.
"What did you even want with Professor Slughorn anyway?" She asked to change the subject.
"I'll share my secrets when you start sharing yours," he whispered back to her, but his eyes were watching the door behind her.
Dahlia felt a pair of strong hands graze her arms before settling on the wooden desk on either side of her. She breathed in his mossy scent as he leaned over her.
"Enjoying my girlfriend, Potter? She is quite lovely," Theo crooned broodingly.
He kissed her cheek as he smirked. She gripped his jaw as he went to pull away from her face. "Be nice," she demanded.
"No," he whispered sweetly as he easily pried her fingers from his face.
"You're disrupting my studies," she said lyrically with annoyance.
He sat down next to her and fumbled through her book bag.
"I was bored and impatiently waiting to start our own study session."
He leaned back in his chair. He began eating the pretzels he had dredged from the depths of her bag. She heard the crunch as he chewed. It sounded like he might have broken a tooth.
"Gods, these are stale," he grimaced as he muttered to himself. He gave her a disgusted look for having such a mess in her bookbag.
"In the restricted section?" Harry asked her sarcastically, clearly revolted.
Theo butted in, "I'm sure you'd like to watch, Potter. Could learn a-"
Dahlia rubbed her forehead and interjected. "Ignore him. We're still working on obedience. No, he's teaching me to apparate."
Theo tilted his head at her and exhaled as if praying for guidance.
"Have you ever kept a secret in your life?" He asked her rhetorically.
"Harry is my friend now, Theodore," she quipped happily.
He laughed lovingly as his smile grew more demented. "You don't have male friends that are not my friends," he chuckled lowly. His expression had gone serious. A cocky gleam hinted within his eyes.
She looked at him as she put her face in her palm, elbow upon the table.
"We talked about this," she whispered sweetly.
"Don't. Push. Me," he said slowly and seductively as he played with her hair in a protective nature.
"I'm out," Harry said as he gathered his books. "See you in class, Dahlia."
"Pleasure as usual, Potter," Theo said enthusiastically. He didn't bother to look away from her as he spoke.
"Fuck off, Nott," Harry replied.
Theo kept his gaze on Dahlia, uninterested in Harry's insult.
"I love it when you use my full name," he purred into her ear and placed his hand on her thigh.
Dahlia pulled her legs together tightly. Theo noted her reaction, and his grin widened.
"Shall we?" She asked him, standing up and motioning towards the exit from the library.
"I can't stand up yet," he replied simply.
Dahlia tilted her head in confusion. A moment later, a wicked grin split across her face as she realized what he meant.
She leaned down and whispered into his ear, "You sick fuck."
"You're just going to make it worse, darling. I can't help it. I was imagining murdering men on your behalf," he replied with a smirk.
She snorted and threw her potions textbook at him. "This should help your current situation. Just imagine Snape reading it to you," she joked.
Theo gagged as she walked over to return her books to the shelves. She watched him observe the snickering girls around him boredly. When she came back, Theo was up and ready to leave. He threw an arm over her as they walked out of the library.
"Are you ready for our lesson?" He took her hand as the doors closed behind her.
She screamed in response as he suddenly apparated them to the stands of the quidditch pitch. She could see his boyish dimples through the dissipating smoke.
"Element of surprise — the number one benefit of apparating."
"That was just rude," she replied, straightening her skirt.
He began talking with his hands theatrically. "In order to apparate you need to focus on the destination you wish to go to. Picture it in your mind."
"Obviously," she grumbled quietly. He didn't respond to her snarky comment.
"The key, though, is that you have to be completely determined to reach your destination. You have to be certain and confident. It has to be a deliberate motion. You cannot hesitate or doubt yourself."
She nodded, finally taking this seriously with a deep breath.
"Let's definitely start by using your wand at first. You can learn to apparate without it in time."
He glanced over her so as to assess her body language for any nervous tells. He began slowly walking towards a bench a few rows away. He took a seat and motioned for her to come to him via apparition.
He waited, checking his watch as Dahlia tried to muster the courage.
She hesitated too long, and it made him uncomfortable. He stood and strolled back to her, taking her hands into his own.
"You can't be nervous. To be nervous is to doubt yourself. You could get splinched through the folds of space and time, but don't worry. I would never let that happen to you. I wouldn't teach you if I didn't think you were capable."
She nodded, still a bit unsure.
He pulled her into his chest. "Dahlia, you were born to own time. You said it yourself when you read me your mother's prophecy. You've already been everywhere at once as you broke through space and reality during your vision. This should be simple for you. Just imagine what you could be capable of. You could potentially walk between worlds if you dared. You'll never know until you start learning."
He released her and stepped farther back. It warmed her heart to see him so supportive of something he once hated that she would indulge.
He took a seat on the bench and nodded to her.
She exhaled deeply to calm her nerves. She gripped her wand firmly. She centered herself and reached out to connect to her senses. She felt most confident when she fully exposed herself to her power. She brushed against the ethereal realm and focused on the spot next to Theo. She closed her eyes.
I'm already there, she thought.
Gravity slipped from beneath her. She opened her eyes. She stumbled a row in front of Theo. He clapped proudly and grinned wildly.
"Mesmerizing," he breathed as he noted the white smoke that sparkled with starlight dissipate into the frigid air. She smiled back proudly.
"Why does the smoke look like charcoal when you apparate?" She asked curiously as she noted her own smoke that manifested white as a consequence of breaking space and time. She had assumed the smoke was a party trick.
"Because I've practiced darker magic," he answered lightly.
"I have to admit, I was quite curious what it would look like when you apparated. It was like you materialized as if you were made from stardust."
"What type of dark magic have you practiced?" She asked.
He had tried to breeze over it, but she had clung to that statement.
He stiffened a little as he had assumed her tone to be accusatory. "Not as much as you, I'm guessing. Blood magic and advanced spells. I have yet to fuse a powerful, dark, and ancient stone into my skin."
His tone was conversational, but his body language was littered with agitation.
Her journey to the caves with Draco would always be a sore subject. She wondered if it bothered him so much because Draco had been the one to stand by her through such a pivotal experience.
What would her life be like now if Theo had gone with her? They had grown to know each other inside and out. She had thought of him as almost righteous all that time ago and that he would surely refuse to take her to the caves. Now, she knew his darker shades. If she had tied his hands behind his back by declaring she was going alone, if not with him, she knew he would've gone. She was unsure though if he would have dragged her back to the castle screaming and kicking or, if she truly begged him if he would have cast the dark spell onto her himself.
She wondered if the Fates would have chosen Theo had he been the one to endure the pool of starlight with her. She knew the answer in her gut — it would always be Draco. She and Theo were meant to be star-crossed. It made her heart blur with sadness for a moment. She wanted to give him everything.
"I'm not passing judgment. I don't believe that you are a bad person..."
She spoke without a doubt.
He made no move toward her; his expression conflicted. She knew there was a part of him that always strived to be the hero, but his insecurities and trauma kept him masked in darkness when he allowed it.
"I love you regardless," she said firmly. "I'll love you nevertheless," she mumbled.
He finally cracked, looking up at her with adoration as if the words alone might be enough to heal him.
"Come to me," he whispered.
She took a step forward, but he shook his head.
She closed her eyes and demanded her place in the world.
She opened them and saw Theo's own. She had apparated so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. He was enchantingly beautiful, like a star-fallen prince, amongst her smoked, heavenly haze.
He pressed his thumb to her cheek, holding her face. "You are magnificent. I love you to my madness," he murmured.
She leaned in and kissed him deeply, but he pulled away gently.
"I want to propose something," he whispered seriously.
He looked deep into her eyes as to question if this was the right moment.
She stilled and waited for him to speak, nodding.
He took her hand and played with a band of opals around her middle finger. He watched it spin as he spoke.
"I've been digging," he started. "What if you and Draco aren't bonded by fate? What if you are bonded only in the dark magic you performed?" His words were barely audible, almost like he had been pondering this for quite some time.
Of course, he had , she thought. When had he even researched this?
His mind always dared to test things that seemed unquestionable.
"Theo, that's-" she started breathlessly.
"What if we could find a way to rid yourself of it? To reverse it. Curses have cures."
His eyes fluttered to hers.
"Would you? If it was possible?" He murmured carefully.
"Would I what?" She needed him to say it more directly to her.
"Would you reverse the spell? Would you want to sever your tie to him if you could?" He questioned fiercely. His tone was velvet, luring her to agree.
Dahlia held her breath. It was so masterfully crafted. He was asking her to give up the power she had taken, earned in blood, pain, and a flash of courage. He was asking her to rid herself entirely of Draco. He was asking if her loyalty to him meant more to her than her own power. Loyalty was code to men like the Notts.
This was what he truly needed to know — that she had finally chosen him and that he had her heart fully now.
He was never the type to settle for anything less than all of it. She now regretted that she had left out key factors of her mother's prophecy when she had read it to him. He was the furious no-name prince. Draco was the dragon, and she would always be his flower. She was almost completely certain they were tied timelessly. It was possible the dark magic had exacerbated the bond, but it surely wasn't the cause.
She couldn't give this to him, though. It was her making — a calling. She loved him so much, but she was learning to love herself too.
"I don't want to sacrifice my Sight in the process," she answered adamantly. "If anything, I've been trying to learn more and embrace it. I want to become more powerful."
She noticed his jaw tick, but he quickly hid it or moved past his agitation. No matter how much he tried, he would always feel the need to protect her from those cursed Fates.
They were sworn swindlers, always second-guessing if the other had a getaway car waiting outside the wings of their love. Always questioning which cons they might have to action alone.
"If we could find a way to keep your Sight at its current strength, would you consider it?" He bargained and compromised.
She truthfully didn't know if she could bring herself to sever ties with Draco on the unlikely chance that this was a possibility. She had seen them together in so many lives. She fully doubted it was possible. She knew in her gut that Draco was a singularity in her lifetimes that the universe would right itself to ensure.
Dahlia nodded. She would give him this assurance so he could come to terms with that sad truth in his own time. "Yes, I would," she answered sincerely.
She wasn't sure if she was lying.
"But would you be able to live with my decision to keep my Sight if we can't?" She asked quietly, caressing his cheek.
It was in his eyes — the uncompromising truth.
"Yes," he lied quickly and nodded firmly, knowing he would find a way.
He kissed her forehead as Dahlia brushed through his curls. Here they were again, two imposters lying through their teeth. Their word was nothing more than a hoax, as the truth of what had once made their love so pure had been long lost.
He breathed her in, enraptured in what was his. He was better at this game than her, and he knew it. You couldn't beat a thief, but you could change them. Give them everything until there is nothing left to steal.
Her heart constricted, wanting him to be better but loving him even though she knew he might not be capable of it.
—
In the far distance, at a much later hour, Draco Malfoy climbed the stairs of the Owlery.
With each step, he gravitated closer to the stars that hypnotized the blackness of the sky. It was a stark reminder of how he viewed himself and Dahlia.
He exhaled with a moment's relief as he reached the top of the landing. He was one plane closer to her midnight palace as he leaned against the railing and looked up to the peppered starlight. His owl sensed his arrival and swooped down to greet him. He said nothing and made no move to coo the creature. They simply stared at each other as Draco crossed his arms and the owl perched itself on the stone wall he leaned against.
"Nothing?" Draco finally asked the owl with a scowl.
The owl he hadn't bothered to name spread its wings and soared back inside the domed tower. A minute later, it returned and purposefully dropped his mail at his feet from high above.
"Really?" He asked the owl in irritation.
"Dumb bird," he mumbled under his breath as he bent down to pick up his mail.
He regarded a pristinely wrapped package of grey paper tied together with charcoal tweed curiously. His mother had stopped sending him sweets sometime in his third year, and he noted there was a letter from her amongst the pile.
He furrowed his brow. His stomach alighted with nerves. There was only one other woman he knew who had the patience for perfection to wrap something this neatly.
He ripped into the package, given the current privacy of the Owlery. He saw the familiar writing of his own shirt. He sighed in frustration and ran his fingers through his silver hair.
The package was indeed from Dahlia. She had returned his shirt to him.
He wondered how long ago she had sent this. He came here several times a week to stand close to the stars.
Had he just missed her? What had prompted this precise action of absolute finality?
A wash of bitterness consumed him. He balled it up and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, not wanting the dingy shirt in his sight any longer.
He felt his hand crumple against something fragile like paper in his pocket. He dug between the folds of the shirt and pulled out a blank, ripped piece of parchment.
Something unknown within him told him to breathe on it. He hesitated for a moment in anticipation, either of dread or hope. He exhaled upon it. His breath froze and chilled in the evening air, reminiscent of a dragon breathing fire. The warmth of his breath revealed her handwriting. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he read:
I forgive you. I hope you forgive me, too.
Your tether shall you ever need rope,
D
Lethal fury settled in his stomach. He would find her now. He didn't want to wait for dreams.
He stormed down the stone steps of the swirling stairs, shoving past a group of giggling second-year girls. Once he came to the bottom of the massive tower, he inhaled and shut his eyes as he tried to focus on their fated binding that shackled him to her.
He knew he could always find her if he tried hard enough.
He heard her sickly sweet hum in the distance and opened his eyes — malicious intent set within them. With his calculation completed, he strode into the night.
He entered the boathouse, slamming the stained glass door viciously into the wall. She didn't seem to hear him, though, as he spotted her perched at the end of the dock, her feet dangling into the Black Lake below with her back turned to him. Her moonlit hair blew in the evening wind as if she commanded it. She giggled as it lifted her cloak in a teasing nature. She wrote in her journal upon her lap as she hummed a melody to herself.
She looked so peaceful, he thought. He couldn't wait to ruin it.
"Dahlia!" He boomed.
She jumped as her name tore through the calm ambiance violently. She removed something golden from her ear and turned around to face him. Her expression was rich with pure confusion and shock. He knew that he was the last person she had expected to see tonight.
"What the fuck is this, Aldair?" Draco spat, furious with her.
He held up a small piece of paper for her to see. He waited for her to process his question and raised a brow at her expectantly.
She shook her head and closed her eyes. She quickly vanished into the night. Leaving behind nothing but a haze of starlight and his bitter rage.
—
Theodore Nott sat within his makeshift lair within Hogwarts.
It was a lone, abandoned storage room within the outer perimeter wall of the castle near the quidditch pitch. He had stumbled upon it during his fourth year when he had been looking for an extra set of quidditch gloves. The only other soul he had ever brought here was Dahlia. He had fucked her on the same desk that he now had his feet perched upon now.
He leaned back in his chair as he attempted to draw out how he assumed the universe looked from a bird's-eye view. Several stolen books lay scattered about on both the desk and the floor. Pages ripped from sacred texts and pinned flippantly to the wall.
He looked at the drawing in his journal. He watched as Dahlia's handwriting formed on the page:
Did you hear about the fifth-years who were caught making out on Professor Snape's desk yesterday? Apparently, he was also caught stealing an engorging potion.
Theo grinned and laughed to himself. He could picture how Dahlia might speak the words like it was both the funniest and most mortifying thing in the entire world.
He wrote back: No, I did not. I would have paid a shitload of galleons to see Snape's face, though. Thank Gods we both know that I don't require such a solution.
Her words quickly formed: Yes, thank the gods you have been spared from such a problem, my three-second Theo.
He grinned wildly and wrote: I'll make you scream that later.
He and Dahlia were in a much smoother place. As much as it pained him to give her a bit of distance, he loved watching her thrive.
He had been on his best behavior to impress her. He wanted to prove that he was worthy of having her whole heart, and that, publicly, he was a good match for her, too. They could write off his past mistakes as troubled teen years. He didn't want to run away with her; he wanted to keep her and show her off for the whole world to see upon his lap.
He had even been making great strides with her friends, specifically Juliet. He had choked a past boyfriend of hers into admitting what she liked and then had his house elf send various muggle movies and a book on hair braiding. While Juliet swore this wasn't what won her over and that it was his behavioral improvement, he continued to send her hair care products for good measure to keep her opinions from darkening. He wasn't taking any chances.
These gifts were no effort compared to what he did for Dahlia. He sent her fresh dahlias every Sunday for her dormitory and paid students to take notes for her in class — blackmail was technically considered a form of payment.
He also made her endless inventions to make her life easier. He had his house-elf, who seemed to be fond of crafting clothes, make her dresses that she might wear one day on the Italian coast, and if she hated them, he had Amelia pick her out some dresses, too. They argued incessantly about the color palette and silhouettes that suited her best. It was an endless battle between them. Of course, Amelia charged him a nice service fee for her hard work and never-ending shopping. She had made him eat his words — Amelia was now blowing through both his and Blaise's inheritance.
But out of all of her friends, he spent the most time conversing with Eloise since their end goals aligned. He was content to let Eloise think she was doing the most research into Dahlia's current predicament. They would only call him obsessive or manipulative if they knew how carefully he combed through each text.
He had grown much closer to her friends, and Eloise often consulted him to brainstorm some ideas. She was solely obsessed with the sacred text marred on Dahlia's skin and what it meant. Theo personally thought she was asking the wrong questions, but he entertained her notion out of curiosity.
It couldn't hurt, he thought, but translating the ancient gibberish wouldn't change any outcomes.
There were two things he wished to solve:
1. How to reverse Dahlia's unfortunate ties to Draco. If he had it his way, he would also remove that nasty onyx crystal from her bones.
2. Who were the Fates? And how could he find them so he can kick their teeth in? He needed to solve how they might control time so he could do so for himself or, less preferably, have Dahlia do it for him.
Dahlia had already agreed to the first scenario, which was half the battle, but answering the second question was his foolproof solution so Dahlia could both keep her enhanced Sight and rewrite time where she no longer needed Draco. He also had to admit to himself that he couldn't wait to best the Fates, who had so ignorantly counted him out.
He took off his ring and studied it alongside the notes his brother had left behind at the manor from when he had created it. Having an understanding of how such an object controlled time might lend him clues to how time worked in general and how he could possibly create something similar on a larger scale.
He looked back at his sketch of the universe. He had drawn a sphere constructed of several bands, some smaller and simpler timelines, he assumed, and some larger and more complex. He just needed to understand the energy or the source of power that flowed through Dahlia's veins that allowed her to jump between. He imagined when she had visions, she would go to the center of the sphere, and that was how she could see all. He wondered if there were even multiple spheres — he couldn't think that far yet.
But where did the Fates reside within these spheres? Were they hiding in plain sight within the different realities? And how was Draco threaded to her in each timeline?
He sighed and threw the drawing on the floor. His tired eyes fell once again to the journal that was tethered to Dahlia's own by blood magic.
He stilled, an understanding dawning. A sporadic, abhorrent thought crossed his mind. They were threaded through the stars by ancient blood magic.
A problem, indeed.