For the first time in over a decade, a sporadic light appeared in the pristine window of the long-forgotten townhouse. Though time passed, the ivy never grew, nor did the windows smudge.

Curious neighbors murmured vivaciously into the late evening with the last sips of wine that they had seen no one enter at all.

"How Peculiar?"

They would have surely noticed, as realtors often inquired about who might own the home on the prestigious yet quiet London street. Yet no neighbor knew, and they had grown tired of whispering about it over the years as the mystifying townhouse fell dormant. Still, it remained untouched by decay.

Someone once claimed they had seen a beautiful woman on occasion, bouncing a fat baby on her hip through the wind-swept curtains of an open window. The cries carried endlessly through the nights like a ghostly echo — then quickly ceased, never to return.

No neighbor had the gall to report suspicious behavior — the house seemed cursed. Those who worried too dearly or approached the spotless front steps with a buzz in their gut were said to have later dreamed of the home in horrifying color — blood seeping from the mortar that welded crushed bricks of bone into its towering exterior, and wolfish eyes winking with a dooming hex of a strange illness that soon befell its unwanted visitors. It was a home haunted, but the residents of the quiet road loved a wild thrill.

They called each other now, with renewed excitement, wondering if the beautiful woman had made her grand return — on Christmas Eve, nonetheless.

—

Inside the oxblood townhouse, Theodore casually strolled through the fireplace into the forlorn drawing room. He removed a hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers to illuminate the all too quiet space. He grimaced, noticing the serpent accents that adorned the gold-paneled, black walls. He hadn't remembered his mother's taste to be so ostentatious. But then again, there was little he remembered about her at all.

Theo much preferred the classic romantics of their country estate, the manor. He lowered his eyes as he rested his hand on one of the many silk chaises — Dahlia had seemed to love his manor, too. Regardless of style, the reminder of his mother's presence subdued the dull ache in his marrow where Dahlia's love resided.

He slightly opened the dreary curtains of the house with a toss of his hand. He considered it a small kindness to give the bored muggles something to pathetically gossip about.

He twisted over his shoulder as his brother came stalking through the fireplace only a moment after his own arrival. Theo had hoped his sudden departure had given him enough time to cool off. By the scowl on his brother's face, Theo concluded that it had apparently not.

"I will not tolerate your antics or lies!" Alexander launched in his direction.

Theo remained collected, for once, in the presence of approaching violence. He rolled his eyes, exhausted from the evening and a bit numb.

His brother had forced him to leave their manor swiftly. Alex berated him for ruining their evening plans while also somehow simultaneously landing them in deeper shit. They were supposed to have gotten in and out of the Malfoy Manor quickly with whatever the Order was searching for, and with Dahlia in tow.

But Theo had lingered a minute too long, and it had all fallen apart. It wasn't his fault that Dahlia had worn such a distracting dress, nor did he care what his brother made of his relations. He also didn't regret their moment of delay. He only wished he had grabbed Dahlia's hand then, in the library, and catapulted her to safety. Theo had just voiced these sentiments aloud before tumbling into their London townhouse without bothering to wait for his brother.

"That's rich," Theo chuckled. "When have I lied?"

Alex ran his tattooed hands through his dark, cut curls in an attempt to calm his anger — it wasn't working. "When you didn't tell me that Dahlia Aldair was a fucking seer!" He boomed. He looked to Theo for a damn good explanation.

Theo only winced. "In retrospect, that was a bad call, I admit." He shrugged sincerely.

"You set me up, Theo! You thought we could just waltz out of that manor with something that was sold to Voldemort?"

He scoffed. "She is not something to be sold, and she is not just something -"

"She is not a witch, Teddy! She's hardly human." His hands fell to his sides in exasperation. "I've studied the dark arts long enough to know that she — it, is not born with the same magic as the rest of us. Have you studied no tales of seers? That black sorcery is karmic — it comes with a price. It's insidious in nature, Theo. She, that thing, is a threat — to all of us."

"Spare me the dramatics," Theo rolled his eyes.

"She drinks far too much and hugs too tightly, just like the rest of us. She's merely closer to perfection than most."

He walked over to the dusty bar and began pouring himself a drink.

"I must confess, I only learned her father had sold her to the Dark Lord hours beforehand. I just thought she had more time," he muttered.

Alex's jaw strained angrily at the revelation — another lie.

"Where is it now?"

"She," Theo emphasized, "is being returned to the safe, cuddly arms of Dumbledore back at Hogwarts."

"By who?" Alex raised a brow curiously.

Theo stilled as his demeanor shifted. He looked up from his drink slowly in warning. He held the glass to his bottom lip with fierce pressure to numb the invisible knife slicing through his heart.

Dahlia was with Draco, even at this moment. The knife cut deeper, bloodletting the good in him. He wasn't a fool. It had always been written on her face that she loved him. He just hoped that when he came back, with her tether snapped, she would still love him more.

He spun the ring of bone and starlight that she had crafted for him in agitation. He had traded her his signet ring, which she preferred to wear more often than her protective necklace, as she leaned into her Divine Sight, consequentially leaning into Draco.

He abruptly remembered the karmic vision she had shared with him while he had been inside of her. It came in quick flashes — strobing darkness and the scent of sweat, his own tongue drifting up her thighs. Then, a gut-wrenching clarity — a familiar, pale hand on her slender throat followed by a ceremony that wasn't his own. He was certain she had meant to show him lovelier images as she carried the weight of the worlds on her breathy moans. Maybe Draco had been on her mind, or maybe the Fates just wanted to remind him that he was nothing — but Theo soon would be something. In any case, it had hit him like an electrifying jolt and had only fueled his indecency.

Jealousy and uncertainty had hung around more often than not lately. The mutual hatred Draco and Dahlia had traded for friendship was a stab wound that couldn't be mended. His jealousy had only festered in her absence while she had been home, ignoring him all those days as she refused to hear the truth of his actions.

It was hurtful to him to think that she could so easily sleep well when they fought as if she didn't need him around at all. He never liked to go to bed on bad terms anymore, afraid something terrible might take her away as it finally had tonight.

"Your ring?" Alex asked incredulously as it emitted a twinkle off his crystal glass.

"My ring." Theo wore no hints or expression.

"You said someone powerful gave it to you. It was her?"

"It was."

Theo watched the wheels turn in his mind as his brother's brow furrowed. Theo had mentioned to him that he wanted to use the ring to build a new sort of time-turner so he might save her — their relationship.

"What are you after?" Alex shook his head, not understanding the grand scale of it all.

Theo lulled his head to the other side.

To find the person she answers to so I might kill them slowly and bend the realities to my own will, he thought. One where she never even meets Draco, nonetheless, is bound to him. However, he resisted answering him altogether.

Theo instead replied, "You know she warned me about you moments before the Dark Lord arrived."

"Do not call him a lord. He is not one."

"Tomato, potato. Semantics, or romantics — however you want to cut it. The difference between you and me is that I know to respect my elders when my life is on the line," he pointed an accusatory finger at Alex as he held his glass, "but no matter."

"That's inaccurate," Alex shot bluntly. "Potato," he muttered, shaking his head as Theo waved his hand dismissively.

"Anyway, Dahlia informed me she had a vision where she was chained and held captive." He paused to sigh deeply. "She must have seen you lurking at the party as she quite horrifically admitted that she was certain that man was you."

Alex's eyes widened nervously. "That is a wild accusation-"

"I do not believe it," Theo quickly answered. "I always knew you to be more of a damsel-saver than a sadist," he muttered. "I just wanted to share since omitting is apparently now lying."

He leaned against the wall. The flickering candlelight from the sconce framed him in a crown of shadow. "I would also like to share that I accidentally killed a man tonight who touched her, so murder is apparently not off the table for me."

Alex's head shot rapidly to Theo's eyes, which showed nothing even close to remorse. A sincere regret softened his brother's harsh features as he empathized.

Theo didn't want it. He couldn't stand to be pitied or bear any more regret as he was already brimming with it, and he was done feeling sorry for himself.

"Don't stress. It was no one important." Theo stirred his glass nonchalantly. "My point is that I believe you owe her a bit more respect. I will not work with you if I believe you are a threat to her , not it. "

Alex seemed to be at a loss for words. Theo sighed and continued, "Now, what are we doing here?"

His brother shoved his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips. "I need to speak with the Order to let them know Voldemort wishes us to free his followers from Azkaban. If we are to proceed with the task at all, we will also eventually need to meet with Devereaux Aldair. He works at the ministry and with those who operate the prison. If anyone can strike a deal and get their hands dirty with the dementors — it's him."

Theo dreaded the idea of dealing with Dahlia's father. "The dementors answer to the Dark Lord now. We only need them to look the other way."

Alex shook his head to confirm they needed Devereaux's help. "No, we need to know which wards surround the prison and a means to get in or how to orchestrate an escape from afar. We have the time-turners...perhaps-"

"I don't want our father to return," Theo abruptly blurted.

Something close to sorrow crossed Alex's face. He quickly fashioned it into indifference. There was no more leeway to take any more personal considerations into account. Theo knew he was already risking too much with wanting to keep Dahlia safe.

There was a long pause that his brother should have filled with reassurance. Instead, he sighed, "It's been a long night. Let's get some sleep. We can regroup in the morning." Alex patted him on the shoulder as he disappeared into the townhome.

Theo gulped the last of his drink, suddenly miserable in the silence. He hesitantly trudged up the stairs to one of the bedrooms to get some rest. On the way, he passed by the nursery his mother had decorated for him long before she knew just how much of a fussy child he would be. The nursery would surely be stacked tall with all the toys she had given him in an attempt to soothe his inconsolable nature.

He glanced away from the closed door, not wanting to miss another woman in his life that he had disappointed. With each step he took alone, he fell more deeply into emotional turmoil. He kicked open the door of one of the guest rooms. It was midnight blue with silver accents.

It reminded him of her. He closed the door quietly and ripped the protective sheets off the furniture that had kept the dust away all these years for a mother who would never return.

He knew — that look on her face. He was as good as dead to her. Dahlia wanted to see something good in him that just wasn't there. She had tried to convince him he was not meant for this. She had reiterated, time and time again, that he was a good person who just made bad choices. Her hopefulness was a flaw that kept her too blinded to see the truth, but it was what he loved most.

He was an awful, reckless person whose only good choice had been her. Now he knew why Dahlia hated to cry. It was an admittance to himself that he had made mistakes. He bit the inside of his cheek. He had only cried when his mother died, for the time lost and words he never got to speak as he had been a child.

He ground his teeth with a shaky breath. He could go find her, but he had no idea where she was. His heart quickened. He wanted to go back. He spun his time-turner around his middle finger in contemplation.

No, it would cause a rift in time — he couldn't go back. This was permanent. Plus, she loved Draco. It was a reality he could no longer stomach. Something had changed between them. She had admitted she was dreaming of him again, and in the waking hours, they stole secret smiles and spoke all too casually. They were effortless together, and it was a brutality Theo could no longer withstand. She had been terrified to watch Draco leave at the manor. She might as well have put a nail in his own coffin then.

No, he rallied.

He would break their bond and then return for her. He would work his brother and the Order if only to guarantee her life — and his from imminent prosecution if, on the chance, the Dark Lord fell from power. He didn't want to live on the run. It's not the life he wanted for her or what she deserved.

If she was patient, he was confident he could give her a life he could be proud of. He just hoped she would continue to push through the rough tides to the promise of calm waters and choose him once more when the dominoes fell into place.

Theo stripped himself of his ruined suit and fell back into the sea of silky, golden pillows. He stared upwards at the painted ceiling with vacancy. He waved his hand so the winged horses might flutter through the brush-stroked clouds.

He fixated on the words she had mumbled tonight — that she was okay with the love they had now, and this was enough for her. It sent his stomach plummeting with doubt. He always thought he would trade a semi-precious stone, their small love, for a diamond in his hunt to find the ending to the grand love story she deserved. He never considered the sentimental value of the stone and that he might risk losing it entirely in the quest.

Theo sighed and looked out the window to the crescent moon as the wind tapped on it. It had carried Dahlia's voice to him earlier, if only to play a mean trick for hurting one of their own.

He flicked his fingers upwards to open the window. The wind excitedly breathed into the room and attempted to tousle the hair he had trimmed. He grinned, comforted by its loving nature — at least the wind still cared for him.

He lit a cigarette and mumbled, "You better tell her I'm mad for her, quite literally."

The smoke nodded as the dancing wind agreed.

—

"I don't like this plan, Dahlia."

Draco emitted a lazy sigh as he firmly pressed his hand at the base of Dahlia's neck in an attempt to stop her from kissing down his bare chest. He placed his other arm behind his own neck as he leaned against the wooden headboard of the messy bed.

He had to admit he wasn't trying that hard to stop her. He had always wished for this moment — to see her tangled up in his sheets in the morning light.

She looked up to him with honeyed eyes, playing her best hand in order to secure what she wanted. She had laid out her plan of action — they would go to her mother's home to find answers, and then she promised with the best of her intentions to return to Hogwarts for good.

He narrowed his eyes at her, engaging in a stare-off.

"Don't look at me in such a way."

He sat up amongst the plush mattress and pulled her forward to straddle his lap. He pressed his lips to her bare collarbone.

"And what exactly would we be searching for at your mother's home?"

She shivered in the morning chill. He handed her his discarded shirt from the night before — when their world had shifted. He helped tug it over her head so he might think more clearly with her fully clothed. He made no move and showed no interest as she pushed her hips forward, and he hardened.

"No distractions." He gripped the top of her thighs to stop her as she pouted. "And no secrets, Dahlia. I want full transparency between us from now on."

She nodded solemnly as she played with the hem of his shirt she wore.

His hand gently found the back of her neck as he brought his face a breath's distance from her.

"Promise me," he murmured in the all too quiet cabin. Outside, the birds sang blissfully, and the wind thrummed with their newly synched hearts.

She raised her eyes in earnest. "I promise."

"Now, what is so important at your mother's home that we must visit?"

He sat back again and ran his hands beneath her shirt. He caressed her hips gently. He couldn't help lift himself against her. He softly groaned.

"She had rare books, and she wrote in journals," she answered breathlessly.

He licked her wrist to sense her quickening pulse. He raised his brow. "Books?"

He bucked his hips against her, and her head fell back in anticipation. "She had other things I wish to take, like divining tools. Possibly another means to amplify my powers once more," she quickly muttered.

He kicked her from his lap, throwing her amidst the sheets as he stormed out of the bed. "Absolutely not," he defied, spinning to face her.

He snapped his fingers as to order the home to deliver him a drink. He clenched his jaw and shook his head, realizing the mug the cabin had swiftly materialized held coffee — and not liquor.

"Please! I want this!" She desperately exclaimed as she untangled herself from the bed.

"Dahlia, you barely survived that bloody crystal, and the consequences were quite substantial," he pointed accusingly at her foreign ink. "We still don't know what you are fully capable of or understand much of anything about it." He was growing furious.

She rolled her eyes, then gave him a moment to cool down.

"I'm stronger than I was then..."

He pinched his forehead in deliberation. "I don't want to see you in pain."

She stepped to him and ran her hands up his shoulders. "Then we won't act brash this time. We'll consider it carefully after we obtain more knowledge."

He stepped back from her touch and sighed in angst as he went to draw a bath.

"Why do you feel such a need to be more powerful, Dahlia?" He shook his head.

"My mother told Dumbledore that they were waiting for me. She said I was boundless, but here I am, bound to you."

He shot her a sharp look. She smiled to reassure him that she didn't feel resentful about it. He looked back to the tub with nonchalance as if he didn't care how she felt about being bound to him permanently or as if he trusted her completely.

"I just want to understand mostly. I feel such a great weight that I'm not doing something right, or I'm not doing enough."

His head snapped up from where he leaned over the bath again. He held her gaze this time. "That's not true. You don't need to do anything for anyone. You answer to no one but yourself — and me, on occasion," he fired back arrogantly, a grin finally landing true.

He motioned for her to come to him.

She swayed to him nervously. This level of physical intimacy was still refreshingly new yet comfortingly nostalgic. They had stepped into a familiar rhythm as they had burned together for lifetimes.

"I see things, but I can't yet make sense of them. I want to know what they mean."

He said nothing as he pulled her shirt over her head. He threw it on the floor. He realized how much he hated seeing her clothed in the few minutes he had given her his shirt.

She began to pace. "What if I could not only see a future that keeps us all alive but also could bring everyone happiness? We've seen different realities with varying timelines. What if I could mend time — change it? Prevent things from happening — like the Dark Lord?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind to bring her to a halt. "And what if you get into this lovely bath I've prepared for you?" He murmured into her ear.

He released her and plunged himself into the tub gracefully. She rolled her eyes for the second time this morning as he encouraged her to join him. He was insufferable but irresistible.

She slipped into the tub on the opposite side to face him. She laid her head back against the cool porcelain as the heated water caressed her tired bones — they hadn't done much sleeping.

He began gently massaging her leg as he placed her foot on his chest. "You worry too much, darling. You focus granularly. I think if you step back, you might see things more clearly."

"You're right," she breathed.

"I'm always right," he quipped.

She smiled to herself and looked out the window, where grey clouds threatened to unleash a billowing storm. When he thought she wasn't looking, she noticed a faint worry crease into his sharp features. She didn't comment on it to protect his peace. She must have struck a chord, but he would come to her if and when he was brought to some conclusion of importance. Instead, she settled into the solace of their silence.

They sat so long she found herself muttering a spell to keep the water warm.

"Can we go then?" She finally asked as she assumed this was the closest to relaxed he would ever come to.

"I told you. We can go wherever you wish," he replied softly. "I will complain about it, though," he added.

Dahlia grinned. "We've come a long way," she sighed as she watched the first flurries of a grand snowfall drift upon the frozen lake. She looked back to Draco and sunk farther into the water.

He kissed her knee as his eyes pierced her own. "Too far to lose now."

—

Theo stomped a cigarette into the pavement in front of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The fog of his breath carried skywards into the murky clouds above London as he sighed with resistant obedience.

Alex rolled his eyes at Theo's display of defiance. "The Blacks owned this place."

"How charming," Theo answered sarcastically as he stepped up the worn steps. He rapidly bounced the silver knocker on the door shaped like a twisted serpent.

Alex pushed past him and casually strolled into the townhouse.

"Have you no manners?" Theo mumbled as he closed the door behind them.

Alex shrugged and strode deeper into the townhouse.

Theo looked around in curious disdain. The home sure was a shithole considering it once belonged to arguably the most powerful pureblood family.

Theo heard quiet voices as he followed his brother down the hall. A nervous chill surpassed his flippant demeanor. He had no idea what to expect.

"Wait here," Alex whispered before entering a dining room. Theo did what he was told and leaned back against the dusty wall of the hall. He popped a piece of gum in his mouth to suppress his need to fidget. He grimaced as he heard his brother express pleasantries in an unusually polite tone.

He was staring at an ugly painting of a woman when he heard a creaking from the top of the stairs. He glanced up to the landing to find Harry Potter with his smug mouth agape. Theo raised his eyebrows quickly and gave him a shit-eating grin.

"You're an awful host, Potter. I knocked fifteen times, you know?" Theo smacked his gum loudly.

"What are you doing here?" Harry answered as he made his way down the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" Theo bantered.

"I own this place," Harry quipped.

Theo stopped chewing and tilted his head, his eyes wandering the entire space as if seeing it clearly for the first time with new interest.

"Then I know a guy who could fix the patchy walls. And another who could find you some actual art."

Theo fell back into his distaste.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Where's Dahlia? I know her feral dog doesn't stray far."

Theo's eyes lit with cruel amusement. Harry had, unbeknownst, landed on a newly sore spot.

"I'd much rather be her dog than Dumbl-"

"Theodore…" Alex called from the room. Theo bottled his anger quickly and bit his cheek. He pushed off the wall and brushed the dust from his tan coat.

"You'll want to hear this," Theo rudely muttered as he pushed past Harry's shoulder.

He strolled into the dining room with a facade of innocent eyes and the charming half grin of a quidditch captain. There were a few faces he recognized amongst the small crowd.

"Professor Lupin," Theo nodded.

"Theodore," he nodded in return. "Staying out of trouble?"

"No," Theo answered bluntly with grim enthusiasm. "Quite the opposite."

Alex shot him a quick glare. Harry took a seat next to Lupin and Arthur Weasley. He noted Alastor Moody lurking in the back of the room. Lupin turned to his brother as Theo took a seat with his hands in his coat pockets.

"Shall we discuss what happened at the Malfoys then? There are rumors Voldemort terrorized the event with an unexpected appearance."

It seemed Lupin was the closest to his brother by some mystery.

Alex sighed. "The rumors are true. I was not able to find the rolodex before he arrived. He called upon us to join the meetings of his inner circle. Voldemort believes us to be loyal by blood."

The words hung in the air like dripping ice. No one responded, so Alex continued.

"He wants us to free others from Azkaban."

The small crowd glanced at each other nervously. The air was quickly tensing.

"There is something else you should...potentially know." Alex glanced at Theo, not wanting to share his brother's secrets but also twisting his arm to spill the details.

Theo rubbed his jaw anxiously as he leaned forward. He bounced his knee wildly. He couldn't force her truth from his lips as much as he wanted to assist his brother. Alex sighed in frustration at his unwillingness to comply.

"Devereaux Aldair?" Alex angled.

The others nodded, urging him to continue.

"His wife was a seer. Voldemort is hunting their daughter, who also seems to have inherited the gift."

"How does Voldemort know of a seer?" Alastor Moody whispered incredulously from the back of the room.

It was newly apparent to Theo just how rare Dahlia was and how incredibly misfortunate he, himself, was to be in this cursed situation. It lit a nastiness within.

"Because Devereaux Aldair struck a deal with the Dark Lord once he realized what his wife's words might be worth during the first war — and because that wasn't enough for him, he then sold his daughter too," Theo chimed with obvious contempt.

The room fell into a horrible silence. He refused to pity Dahlia — he knew she would hate it, so he was instead livid. He wanted to end their sad regret for something that couldn't be changed, so he pressed on.

"Professor Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Trelawney have all discovered that she is a seer. She has a marking in the language of the Fates that Madam Pomfrey inconveniently found while Dahlia was in the Hospital Wing."

"The Fates?" A woman with brightly colored hair scoffed.

Theo chuckled. "They are quite real, I can assure you. And they are foul beasts."

"What exactly can she provide for Voldemort? Beyond reading short-sighted futures?" Harry asked.

Theo narrowed his eyes. He felt he didn't have time for such ignorance.

"She can see far more than forebodings in a teacup. She can bend the stars. See other realities — endless possibilities. Nature obeys her as if she is one with it," Theo answered.

The draft in the house ruffled the top of his hair affectionately, happy to be mentioned.

Alex cut in, centering the conversation. "She couldn't bear the presence of Voldemort when he arrived at the Malfoy Manor. It made her violently ill. I believe she might be fairly gifted."

"Where is she now?" Harry asked.

"She should be back at Hogwarts, where we believe she is safest," Alex answered.

Theo looked at Harry for a moment. He wore an unreadable expression as if he found no trust in his intentions.

Theo leaned forward and placed his fingertips on the worn table. "I just need to guarantee her safety," he spoke quietly as if haunted, exhausted by his own thoughts.

"Voldemort cannot get his hands on another seer," Alex interrupted.

Theo held his hand up to his brother, belittling his statement.

"If something, anything, happens to Dahlia Aldair," he shook his head and huffed as his mind swirled in chaos. He whispered, "If she dies, then others will die too."

The room shifted uncomfortably in a newly ominous air.

"Is it related? Like a cosmic consequence if her life ends?" Harry asked curiously.

Theo bit back a laugh, leaning back as if a new thought had him relaxing a bit.

"No," Theo glanced over to Harry sharply and shook his head. "I will only retaliate — without partiality."

He nodded at Harry, vowing it. His whisky eyes were ferocious and falling off the edge of sensibility.

Lupin slapped his hand down on the wooden table to indicate all would be good and well. "It will all be fine. You're still just a boy," he reassured Theo.

"For now," Theo quipped, tilting his head with a daring smile. He chewed his gum in irritation. His boyhood had long been stolen from him.

Alex changed the topic. "Our more pressing concern at the moment is how to proceed with Voldemort's order to free more of his loyal followers from Azkaban."

Professor Lupin glanced to Alastor Moody, who spoke.

"You should proceed with ideating a heist. People will need to believe you are actively working towards the goal. Once we know how it might be possible to infiltrate Azkaban, we should be able to form a plan that frames an unsuccessful attempt."

"If we do not succeed, he will surely kill us," Theo muttered to his brother.

"Then we will bide our time, brother." Alex gave him a faux smile.

Theo narrowed his eyes. Alex knew he did not have the time he wished to spare. A tense silence befell the dining room. His brother stood, and Theo followed his lead.

"Very well," Alex nodded. "We'll be in touch," he promised.

Professor Lupin pulled his brother close for a private discussion. Theo didn't wait to be dismissed. He grabbed a red apple from the table and turned to stroll out of the dining room.

He was quietly arguing with a painting of a hideous man with a notably crooked nose when he felt someone grip his arm tightly. He stilled, fighting his natural urge to throw his gilded hand backward since he was still summoning his best behavior. He careened over his shoulder instead.

"What do you know of Draco Malfoy?" Harry inquired harshly as to interrogate him.

Theo raised his brow in surprise. He hadn't expected such a bold question.

Theo realized he must be desperate for clues. Regardless of how Theo felt about Draco, he couldn't bring himself to rat on him. He was one of the only people he could confide honestly in, and they had too many years of friendship. Theo felt he owed it to Draco for keeping Dahlia safe.

"I'm sure it has been made clear that we are not on the best terms anymore," Theo muttered as he chewed a bite of his apple. He pulled harshly out of Harry's grip.

"Because of her?" Harry leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. There was hesitation in his question.

Theo's face twisted in sourness. It was enough of an answer to send Harry soaring to conclusions.

"Because she likes him?" He asked in an excited whisper of disbelief.

Theo wasn't accustomed to such openness on sensitive topics. The company he kept typically walked on eggshells around such matters, knowing his temper could be unforgiving.

Theo leaned against the portrait. The crooked-nosed man yelped madly. He finished chewing, collecting his thoughts, and simmering his anger before answering.

Theo lowered his voice. "Dahlia meddled in dark magic, and as a consequence, she believes they are meant to be together. She loves me. Draco is merely a mistake that will be rectified."

"What do you mean?" Harry peered at Theo like he was absolutely demented.

"It doesn't really concern you, honestly," Theo replied in a belittling manner.

"However, if you would be possibly interested..."

He raised his pointer finger to Harry's face. "I would be willing to trade what I know of Malfoy for a simple request."

Theo tossed the half-eaten apple in his hand and grinned as Harry didn't even hesitate to agree.

He was such a fool, Theo thought. No one should ever blindly agree to a deal.

"I would like you to keep an eye on Dahlia for me. She's hopelessly kind, and she likes you, so it should be simple enough. None of this bullshit," Theo said, gesturing his hand toward the dining room.

"She could just use more support and good friends now. I won't be returning to Hogwarts with this nonsense going on."

Theo took another bite of his apple as he waited for Harry to digest his request. As to show good faith, he didn't wait for him to ask about Draco to hold up his end of the deal.

"Draco was in the drawing room with the Dark Lord on Christmas Eve, as was I. What and if he is plotting remains unknown to me. I can assure you Dahlia doesn't know a thing. She would have told me."

Theo carefully spun a small jewel of truth into his lie. He knew if Harry had enough time to think on it, he would come to assume that Draco most likely had met with the Dark Lord as Theo now had. The Malfoys ranked higher in the Dark Lord's eyes compared to the Notts. Theo only confirmed a conclusion Harry would come to on his own. Theo saved his knowledge of the vanishing cabinet in case he needed a much bigger favor down the road.

Theo shifted his eyes to his brother as Alex slowly walked out of the dining room, laughing with Lupin. Alex patted him on the shoulder, confirming it was time to leave.

"I will let you know if I learn anything more," Theo lied. He didn't even bother to throw on a disarming smile to match it.

A shadow in his periphery caught his attention. He looked up the stairs to discover the sweet face of Juliet Hart peering down from the hall next to Hermione Granger.

"Hello darling," Theo waved.

He reveled in the dumbstruck shock on her face as she realized Theo would not be the villain in Dahlia's story as she had so rudely assumed all that time ago. Whether she had truly grown to like him or just tolerated his presence due to the exorbitant amount of gifts he had given her was a mystery.

Juliet made no move to smile or wave. He glanced back to Harry as Alex pulled him away.

"One last thing," Theo said, shaking off his brother's hand. He couldn't help the earnest panic in his eyes as he looked back. "Don't mention to her that I was here."

"Why?" Harry tilted his head curiously as the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was officially dismissed, and its members began shuffling out the door of headquarters.

Theo swiftly turned to join his brother as he made his way to leave, as well. He shrugged as if that was an explanation enough as he stepped out the door.

Theo let the barren cold of London envelope him once again as he left number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He couldn't tell Harry his reasoning — that he didn't want Dahlia to think he had a cause.

He didn't want her to hope that he was a better person.