Draco leaned against the brick wall beneath the plaque that read Grimmauld Place. He crossed his arms impatiently as Dahlia reread the parchment within her slippery fingers — she was nervous.
"He's late," Draco remarked with annoyance. He adjusted the hood over his head, not wanting to be so easily spotted with his striking flash of hair.
"It's only eleven fifty-five," Dahlia replied in Harry's defense.
"Five minutes early is on time," Draco started as Dahlia quickly rolled her eyes and finished his newly familiar mantra. "And on time is late. I know, I know."
He grinned down at her as he adjusted the beanie she wore beneath the fur-lined hood of her black coat. She could tell it pleased him to think that she was taking note of everything he said and did, no matter how mundane.
He sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall.
"This is a thing of my nightmares — leaving you with Potter."
Dahlia squinted her eyes and shifted her weight.
"You shouldn't be here. He already suspects your loyalty."
She knew his presence would raise questions, such as how he would be privy to knowledge that the Dark Lord was looking for her. It would raise even worse questions if the wrong person saw him willingly handing her over to Dumbledore's protection.
Draco's weary expression cracked with amusement.
"What would he do if he found out I'm a Death Eater? Tell Weaselbee over a warm pillow? Tell half-deaf Dumbledore? The man is over one hundred and fifteen years old, Dahlia. He's probably giddy to kick the can. Honestly, save me a lot of trouble if he croaked and foiled my plans."
"Draco," Dahlia sighed. "Be nice, and be serious."
He narrowed his eyes instead of offering any sense of self-reproach.
"Recite the plan one more time," he demanded.
"Please," he emphasized, as to insinuate she was the only person who deserved his niceties.
Dahlia had a dozen snarky replies regarding his arrogance, but she knew their time was limited.
"When I return, I will alter the coin you gave me to let you know I'm safe. If I do not do so within twenty-four hours-"
He stood tall, kicking off the wall. "I will burn and murder every-"
Dahlia placed a finger on his lips. "You will return home to check on your mother. I will alter the coin twice a day to confirm I am still safe. You'll take the Hogwarts Express to return to school. We'll meet in the Astronomy Tower at seven o'clock immediately once you've arrived — during the welcome feast."
"Fuck the feast." He nodded.
"Fuck the feast," she chirped, grinning slyly.
She reached up on her toes, ready to lean in for one more kiss since their minutes were dwindling. The winter wind blew out a brilliant strand of golden hair from beneath her beanie.
"Dahlia?" A familiar voice called hesitantly.
She instinctively shoved Draco back — far away from her. Dahlia realized that being seen together publicly by her peers was apparently a frightening concept.
She blushed as she turned to Harry. His face had gone slack with shock.
Noticing her crimson cheeks, Draco smirked.
"Nice of you to finally show up, Potter."
"Harry! Hi!" Dahlia rubbed her hands together nervously.
Draco tucked the loose strand of her hair back beneath her hood. She gave him a thankful glance as she waited for Harry to process the situation in front of his eyes.
Draco couldn't be more smug to catch Harry off guard. Harry blinked several times, refusing to compute.
"It's, um, been quite the whirlwind," she laughed haphazardly.
She motioned rapidly between her and Draco. "This is not, er — I mean, it is."
Draco glared at her, amused as she struggled to label their relationship.
She smiled wide even though she was mortified. "Yes! This is, er, not...casual?"
Draco scoffed. "She's in love with me — always has been."
"Right. You two should work that out eventually. Dahlia, he's not coming," Harry spat. Draco's presence was enough to give him heart palpitations.
"As if I would want to return to your hovel," Draco barked. "I'm only here to ensure the Dark Lord doesn't get a two-for-one deal. Idiotic that old cow sent you."
Dahlia put a hand on his chest as Draco eyed Harry fully with disdain. She placed herself between the two enemies.
"I need to go. We shouldn't linger."
Draco's jaw ticked as he inhaled deeply. He pulled her into his broad chest. She allowed his sweetened midnight scent to numb her twisting nerves, if only for a moment. He tilted her chin up to his stern face.
"I love you. If you need me — need anything — I am only a tug of a thread away."
Dahlia nodded, struggling to mask her weariness.
Draco sighed. "Dahlia, I would tell you to be careful, but I don't need to. You can take care of yourself. I fear for anything that gets in your way."
"I'm tough," she muttered beneath her breath to push away the nerves.
"I know you are." He was completely confident as he cupped her face.
"I'm a fucking monster," she boasted, staring emphatically into his grey eyes.
He grinned proudly. "You're my little monster. Now go."
Draco pushed her back gently, knowing he might not find the will to let her go if she lingered any longer.
Harry took her arm and began to drag her away quickly. Dahlia's feet followed, but her heart stayed put.
"Draco, I love you too!" She called, afraid to reach the moment where he was no longer in her sight.
He winked before leaning back and disappearing completely into the broken bricks beneath the plaque that read Grimmauld Place.
Dahlia smirked as a few muggles coughed in the sudden black, shimmering haze.
—
Dahlia had never partaken in an interrogation, but she knew this was certainly one.
Harry had snapped a blindfold around her eyes as she had skipped down Grimmauld Place. Wordlessly, he had led her into what appeared to be a musty, decrepit townhouse. She had bitten her tongue from any snide remarks. She knew she should be grateful he was doing her any favors to begin with.
The blindfold had fallen gently from her eyes as Harry seated her in front of a large, wooden dining table. She squinted as her vision adjusted to the pulsating light emitting from the industrial chandelier that hung rather crooked from above.
Her stomach tightened with fear as she realized half a dozen others were seated at the table, as well. The instinct to run must have been clear in her features.
"It's all alright." A woman with colorful hair placed her hand on Dahlia's arm gently.
"We are here to help, not harm." She shook her head with a soothing smile.
Her old professor, Remus Lupin, was seated next to her.
Dahlia held firm in her state of alert. She caressed the well of power within her, warming it up in case she needed to make a quick escape. The chandelier shimmered as her inky, primordial power licked her spine in response, ready to obey if ordered.
Across from her, Mad-Eye Moody slowly grinned, putting two and two together. His eye whirled in a circle before landing on Dahlia's suspect glare.
He knew what she was — they all knew.
"What's your father been up to as of late?" Moody sneered.
The strangers stiffened, and Dahlia realized the question was bait. She chose to answer quickly but vaguely.
"Nothing good, I'm sure." She crossed her arms to hide her clammy palms. "Certainly not charity work down at St. Mungos."
Lupin hid a small smile as if he had found her response moderately humorous.
Dahlia grinned back. She had always liked the professor.
Lupin took it as an invitation to delve deeper.
"Why aren't you back at Hogwarts, Dahlia? One of our member adjacents informed us that you had already returned. We were quite surprised when Dumbledore sent through the urgent request."
Dahlia's eyes widened before narrowing, and he stiffened, realizing he had given up vital information.
"Theodore Nott was here?" She asked a little too loudly.
He said nothing, pressing her instead for how she came to such a conclusion. Dahlia was desperate for the truth, so she began to spill her own.
"My father demanded my return to Hogwarts on Christmas Eve to few once it was clear the Dark Lord was approaching. Theo is the only person who would still believe I have returned to Hogwarts, as we have not communicated since."
"And what exactly happened on Christmas Eve?" He pressed.
It dawned that she had the upper hand. Dahlia reached for a bowl of candies in the center of the table. She sat back down and crossed her legs before popping a sugary pink cube into her mouth.
"I'm sure the Notts have told you if I've rightfully assumed who your member adjacents are."
No one responded, so she continued once she had finished swallowing.
"So, I was with Theodore when the Dark Lord arrived that evening." She paused to pop another candy in her mouth as she reflected on that night. "His soul is foul. Its presence was paralyzing."
She began to talk animatedly. "A seer is born with blood that can be traced from the goddess of justice and her Fates. We create balance — guiding others to make the choice that has already been written to maintain the harmony."
Dahlia shook his head. "His soul was putrid — mangled as if he had defiled it."
Harry stared at her intently; words seemed to linger on the tip of his tongue.
"Anyway," she waved. "Narcissa Malfoy smuggled me out. I ended up half-dead in the woods as I was running from Death Eaters and werewolves."
She patted Lupin's hands apologetically with a shrug.
"Why would she do that?" A red-headed man mumbled to himself from farther down the table. Dahlia could only guess it was Arthur Weasley. He worked at the ministry, as well.
"She and my mother were close once," Dahlia answered.
She suspected it personally had more to do with Draco's feelings towards her, but she would be damned to raise his name first — willingly. She glanced over to Harry, who seemed to be racking up his own questions for her.
"So why haven't you returned to Hogwarts? It's been a while," Harry asked.
Dahlia crossed her arms as she ate the last of her candies. "I went to visit my mother's grave." Her tone was touched with ice. Maybe she had picked up on more of Draco's mannerisms than she realized, but it truly was none of their business.
"Satisfied?" She shot at Harry.
He nodded, eyes softening.
"So, was he here?" Dahlia pushed.
Harry sat taller with a masked expression. He quickly shook his head.
"No. I'm sorry, Dahlia. Theo wasn't here."
No one's eyes met her crestfallen gaze. She searched his body language for any indications that he was lying, but Harry only stared back with unforgiving honesty.
Dahlia flinched. She had so wrongly hoped he had done something right — good.
She had let herself believe he might even be here now once Lupin had led her to conclude he was the informant, the member adjacent. She buried the disappointment she felt mainly in herself for hoping so blindly and built a mask of coolness.
"There are rumors circulating that you are close with the Malfoys, Miss Aldair. Is there anything you can tell us as they are close to Voldemort," Lupin quietly asked.
She shook her head. Dahlia would take Draco's secrets to her grave before admitting them aloud to a group of strangers.
"They are attempting to survive — like everyone else." She paused before adding, "I cannot speak on his father's behalf, though. I've never properly met Lucius Malfoy."
She didn't want to seem as if she was purposefully misleading them as if she knew more — which she was. She placed a kernel of doubt to appear more neutral.
A silence washed the room. Dahlia's stomach turned. She hated to be made a disappointment, and their hush was deafening. It cut against her need to be useful — to matter.
"I would help if I knew how..."
Her voice drifted into the bleak aura hanging above them. "If you have plans for an attack or something, I can try to look forward."
Dahlia tugged on her hair nervously as the others appeared to be having a silent conversation of shared looks.
"We don't use dark magic," the woman finally whispered as her hair transformed from lilac to a soft white.
Dahlia stilled as the woman's statement landed. She had spoken for the group.
Was that what they believed she was? A creation of dark magic?
They might as well have branded her skin as an outcast. She was offering them a rare form of help, and they denied it because the type of magic that coursed through her veins was unlike their own.
Dahlia knew the well within her was as black as the darkest night, but from it bore brilliant, sterling light. Both gentle and deadly natures answered her call.
Everyone spoke as if the crystal she had used to amplify her Sight was a dark magic, but it didn't feel so in her body. It felt ancient and peculiar, but above all else, it felt fair and just. It hadn't allowed her to bend the stars to a selfish will when she had tried to change the choice Theo had made when he had walked away from her.
"Not everything you don't understand is inherently evil," Dahlia countered.
She held out her palm and pricked the surface of her power. It dribbled and formed a sphere made of the blackest blacks. The woman winced as if it were difficult to behold. Dahlia grinned as Mad-eye Moody leaned closer to her palm to inspect the void of foreign magic they had deemed too dark for their liking.
She pinched the top of the sphere and pulled out a string of iridescent light. It shimmered with the brightness of a newborn star. The aura it radiated was pure — unbound by any constraints of good or evil. She twirled her fingers, and it dematerialized, nestling back within her heart.
"I would like to return to school now," Dahlia sighed.
She sat farther back in her chair, relaxing a bit now. She tilted her head with a daring smile, pleased with herself and her display of power.
Lupin eyed her curiously with a touch of weariness. She glanced around and noticed they all stared at her as if a ghost lingered where she sat. Their expressions were twisted with the bewilderment of deja vu.
Mad-Eye Moody stood abruptly. Lupin startled before following suit.
Dahlia eyed Harry, waiting to follow his lead. He stood and urged her to follow him with an angle of his head. He led her up a creaking staircase. She quickly observed her surroundings. The walls and the furnishings were faded as if someone had bottled up the townhome in a glass jar and let it simmer in the sun, untouched for at least a decade. A permanent layer of dust blanketed the home, unable to be cleansed.
Harry guided her into a small bedroom that faced the front of the home. Her mouth fell open in shock as she crossed the threshold.
Juliet's golden brown hair cascaded over her shoulder as she whipped around to face Dahlia. She beamed as she stood from the bed and hauled Dahlia into her arms.
"I'm so glad you are alright," she murmured, hugging her tightly.
"Why haven't you written back to me?" Dahlia's face fell.
"I've been staying here. My parents fled. They're terrified, Dahlia."
Dahlia's attention landed on the others. She smiled warmly through her stunned haze at Ron and Hermione. They smiled back awkwardly as they shifted uncomfortably with obvious distrust. Dahlia had rarely found herself in a situation to speak to either of them before.
Juliet cleared her throat, breaking the tension.
"Did Theo bring you?" Juliet nodded towards the open window.
She smiled innocently, unknowing.
How could she have known if she didn't receive her letters?
Dahlia pressed her lips together. Before she could answer, Juliet laughed happily.
"He can come inside, you know? He doesn't have to stand out in the cold."
Dahlia stumbled for logic. "What?" She asked plainly.
She turned to Harry to make sense of it. He wore an equally confused expression.
"He's outside?" Juliet replied, asking as if to confirm that he had indeed brought her here to number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
She took Dahlia's hand and dragged her to the cracked window. Behind the decaying curtains and smudged glass, she saw him.
Her breathing halted — terrified he would disappear in the moment it took for her to exhale. Nothing stopped her as a thrill shook her bones and left her trembling. She was moving more swiftly than her mind as she stormed down the groaning staircase and flew down the unfamiliar hall ahead. Her body slammed against the front door as she fumbled with the multiple locks.
"No, no, he's going to be gone," she mumbled to herself beneath an anxious breath as her shaking hands ripped open each lock, one by one.
"Please, please be here. Don't leave," she prayed to him, herself, or anyone who would listen.
The winter chill finally greeted her, cutting across her splotchy cheeks and whipping through her hair as she heaved the door open. She left it wide for the wind to barrel through as she skipped down the steps. She didn't care who saw her or who might linger.
Nothing else mattered.
Her throat tightened the moment she saw him — still there.
Memory was cruel. She had already forgotten so much of his face and how tall he stood in the short time apart. His dark curls were hidden beneath the hood of a sweatshirt under a black bomber jacket, but his striking eyes and sharp features were unmistakable as he stood leaning against the wall of the townhouse across the street.
Dahlia shivered the moment his golden eyes alighted, registering her presence in front of him. The initial disbelief morphed into a sweetened shock.
She waited for him to smile for her, to reveal his arrogant grin that read, 'See? I told you so?' The grin that would fix everything that was still broken within her.
She planted herself at the edge of the pavement, nearly falling into the street where cars glided by, carrying their passengers home to someone. She waited and waited, arms slackened. Something within her gut held her back from crossing the road.
They stared at each other for passing seconds that felt like an eternity.
He never grinned, and her thrill died, withered into a renewed despair.
Her mouth fell open as she stumbled on anything to say. She had wanted to fight with him for days. She thought her rage would flare uncontrollably upon seeing his cutting face. She had fallen into daydreams where she screamed at him, unleashing everything her heart had to give. She had even told herself she could never forgive him, but everything she had assumed faded on sight.
Seeing him here was a fresh wave of heartbreak or healing; it broke through the wall of all of her bricks that she had painstakingly worked to rebuild in his absence.
The pain could end, she thought. We could start over.
Dahlia's heart flooded with clarity — of how it had felt to first fall in love with him.
Her breath warmed the air as she finally managed to speak. She had wanted to tell him that she still loved him — needed him — but it wasn't what broke through her lips.
"I want to go home," she called, voice quivering with shattered desperation. Her eyes threatened to loosen tears at the truth. Running with him would be so much easier than facing it all.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She hadn't seen him smoke in such a long time. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to hide his visible distress.
As he brought the cigarette to his lips, Dahlia lit the end with the snap of her fingers. She grinned, hoping it would ignite one of her favorite memories at his home — it could be their home if he would only just take her.
The back of her mind whispered a sad thought.
Is this really what I still want? She quickly shoved it down as it had to be.
He smiled glumly as the lit cigarette hung from his lips. He tilted his head as if he had taught her too well. Her stomach twisted.
"Do you still love me?" She called quietly, her voice dying as she realized she didn't want to know the answer.
He stepped forward and strolled to the ledge of the pavement on his side of the street. Her heart clenched as a familiar grin finally slipped across his beautiful face.
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away, not wanting him to notice if he hadn't already.
He shifted his weight as he halted at the curb and removed the cigarette from his lips. "Of course, my Dahlia. I still love you. I always will."
His deep, flowing voice was a craved, forgotten vice to an addict. It was smooth and polished. How could anyone resist falling in love with him?
He raised a brow, his grin falling lopsided to reveal a dimple. The same grin that had had her sealing her heart to the devil all those months ago in the Astronomy Tower.
He looked down to the pavement and up to her quickly with fear.
"Do you still love me?" There was uncharacteristic doubt in his question.
She smiled and nodded as she wiped away more tears.
"I do."
She hoped her answer would fix him, possibly even repair their whole world.
"You would come home with me now?" The confidence in his tone was newly restored. His liquored eyes poured over her in desperate curiosity as if he were contemplating the action.
The mystifying awe wore off as more words tumbled between them and mundane cars flew past. With the haze clearing, Dahlia's feet became more firmly planted on the ground. The impossibility of what he asked dawned.
She missed Theo wholeheartedly, but the urge to protect her and Draco's love towered over her like a shadow's embrace. It guided her out of the chaos and to a place where she did know the right answers.
He took a step off the curb.
She inched back warily.
He grinned ruefully as he stomped out his cigarette. The question had only been a test, she realized. He hadn't honestly considered it at all.
She stepped back until she hit the iron fence behind her. The cold metal iced the skin of her neck as her face melted to reflect the hurt from his betrayal.
With her upper hand lost, Theo finally strolled over to her. Her bones ached for his touch despite her better judgment. Her eyes fluttered shut as she was drenched in his scent at the sudden closeness. The warmth of his breath grazed her cheek as he tilted her chin upwards.
She couldn't even look at him up close. It was too painful.
The finality of what he had done — the answer to the question she had been asking herself since he left — crushed her fully. She knew, as he now stood in front of her, that she could never forgive him. Time would not mend this broken promise. She inhaled a sob that reverberated from the last shard of falling glass from her shattered heart.
"Please, just stop," she pleaded softly, eyes hanging with exhaustion from constantly applying pressure to the wound he had dealt that threatened to bleed her dry.
Stop hurting me. Stop running. Stop being someone I don't recognize. Stop making decisions I don't understand, she thought.
"I can't take it," she breathed, eyes closing.
His face pinched in thought. "I'm sorry, Dahlia."
She let his whisper try to heal the unfixable, give her a moment of reprieve, but his regret was fleeting.
His thumb caught a tear, refusing to witness his mistakes.
"I shouldn't have come," he whispered.
She bit her lips together as he spoke against her cheek. Each word was a slow, thorough plunge of a knife to her heart.
Her face contorted as she understood that he wasn't apologizing for leaving; he was apologizing for showing up. It was idiotic to have hoped he could be anything different now that she was beginning to see who he truly was.
"I hate you," she murmured on a choked breath.
He rubbed her cheek affectionately.
I hate that I love you, no matter what you do.
"And I love you." He answered her as if she had told him she loved him more than the stars and moon.
A bitterness flared as he refused to show signs that her words had wounded him, too. She needed him to feel the slow plunge of a knife as her own heart bled.
"He's better for me," she whispered spitefully.
Theo chuckled as he easily read her intentions. She had shown him every facet of herself, and he now used it against her.
"I know, but that will not stop me."
It was a promise that he would rip her from him eventually, one way or another. Dahlia stood frozen against the iron gate as he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, finding peace within his vow.
His whisky gaze renewed and found hers, fanatical. Obsessed.
"I never want to hurt you, love. I will fix everything. I promise."
He sighed, then kissed her forehead as she stood stiffly.
It was the wash of tide meant to pull her back to him, but she stood still in resistance as his affection swirled and begged to patch her up.
Dahlia glanced down and saw the ring she had forged of herself for all the good parts of Theo she wished to protect. She held his hand and kissed his fist.
She felt him release tension as he assumed she was softening to his touch.
Her stomach flipped as she took traitorous action, but she had no choice — Theo was too much of a risk. She whispered to the bone ring beneath her breath in the language of the stars, begging her light to return home.
He stiffened as he felt her lips move against his fist. The ring stayed put, answering to a new master now. A cold thrill rose within Dahlia.
Theo cupped her face, realizing she was now different somehow, her hair even lighter and eyes more vivid. The veins beneath her own skin seemed a bit more prominent with color — darker.
He grinned wolfishly, remembering he had promised to love her as she was, his equal, despite all she had done. Her smile was heart-sworn, masking her panicked terror. They were two treacherous devils discovering each other in raw form as they both schemed to protect their different shades of love.
He squeezed her hand once for the forgotten purity of their love and twice to remind her that she had vowed to follow him anywhere. She had sworn to love him, whether it healed her or painted her a lifeless grey. He had warned that she might not like who he would become once time revealed himself to her.
They stood on the cold and bustling street, the love they had built in the warmth of late summer now fighting for its last breath. She held on, gulping as her eyes told him what she couldn't admit.
"Tell me every night." Her eyes set fiercely.
He nodded only once, unrelenting and shifting almost uncomfortably as he recognized a new spark within her. "Be careful, my Dahlia."
She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch him leave again. The wind seized, and she knew.
He was gone.
—
Dahlia landed with a great thud upon a pile of ashen wood. She stumbled out of the brick monstrosity, wiping the floo powder off her face as it itched horribly. She turned, and her eyes widened.
"A fucking pizza oven? Really, Harry?"
He rolled his eyes as he helped pull Juliet out of the hole and climb down the stack of piled wood beneath it.
"It's not a pizza oven, Dahlia. Don't be ridiculous. We're in the cellar of Ceridwen's Cauldrons. There's a secret passage back inside the castle from here."
She looked around the small, dark basement. A stone pit with a crackling fire in the center of the room was the only source of illumination. Old and new cauldrons of various sizes were stacked floor to ceiling in no particular order or fashion.
Harry mumbled a quick spell and tapped his wand against a pile of cauldrons methodically. The metal of the cauldrons liquified and reforged themselves into a small door. Dahlia circled the iron door entirely as it seemed to lead nowhere. Harry kicked it open and groaned loudly. A pitch-black corridor awaited her.
She blanched with horror. "You're going to leave me to potentially die in this questionable hole?"
A rock fell from the ceiling, and the door creaked with new weight.
"It's obviously not structurally sound. I thought we were friends, Harry!"
Harry smiled bitterly. "That was before you started snogging Malfoy. And don't be ridiculous. Juliet is going with you."
Juliet's mouth slackened with shock. "I'm sorry, Dahlia. Malfoy? Please elaborate. Immediately!"
Dahlia scoffed. The tunnel was her unfortunate tipping point for the day.
She flipped her hair to face Juliet. "Old news. And you would know if you bothered to write to me or Eloise!"
Juliet shoved Dahlia's shoulders lightly in warning. "I ran away, Dahlia! My parents were going to send me to Beauxbatons! I couldn't write!"
Dahlia raised an accusatory finger. "No! I saw Coconut at the townhouse! You could've sent your owl!"
Juliet rolled her eyes derisively. "It's not just a townhouse, Dahlia! It's headquarters! I'm actually doing-"
"That's not the point!" Dahlia bellowed.
Harry rubbed his face violently. "You can work this out in the tunnel or not. It's a long walk, and I don't really care."
And with that, he shoved them into the crumbling passage and slammed the door closed. They both screamed in the darkness as they fumbled for their wands.
"Lumos," they both screeched.
Dahlia formed a glowing ball of starlight within her palm for extra measure. Juliet's anger dissipated as she beheld the glowing sphere, dumbfounded.
Dahlia smirked and extended her hand out. Juliet slapped her own hand into hers and interlaced their fingers. They slowly began walking deeper into the secret passage with renewed comradery.
"So headquarters, huh?" Dahlia grinned, poking fun.
"So Draco Death-Eater Malfoy, hm?" Juliet quipped.
Dahlia scratched her brow. "I would like to point out that Theo is also a Death Eater now, and he isn't returning to Hogwarts. He left me with Draco on Christmas Eve. This thing between Draco and I, fortunately, or unfortunately, spiraled from there..."
Juliet squeezed her hand. "I know Theo isn't returning to school. Harry told me he and his brother met with the Order."
Dahlia scowled with a sudden flare of anger. "I fucking knew it. Harry lied to my face."
She shook her head before glancing over sharply. "The Order?"
Juliet nodded. "The Order of the Phoenix, Dahlia. We're fighting Voldemort."
Dahlia shrugged. "I just, I didn't realize it had a name."
"Would you like to join?" Juliet's eyes widened with hope.
"Sure?" Dahlia snorted.
The official members hadn't seemed too thrilled to welcome her earlier, and they weren't too keen on accepting her help.
There was nothing but the sound of them shuffling through the darkness as the tunnel narrowed.
"I'm sorry about your father," Juliet mumbled finally. "Harry told us what Theo said about that, as well."
"Don't be," Dahlia replied flatly. "And I might get Harry a tea set for his birthday. He can gossip with the first years over a few cups."
Juliet's laugh echoed into the darkness ahead.
She asked hesitantly, "I'm guessing you didn't patch it up with Theo today? It seemed brutal from the window."
Dahlia couldn't help but remember how Juliet had watched her and Theo from a window the very first night they had kissed. It was nearly poetic that she had watched them fall apart through a window, as well.
She grimaced. "No, or, I don't know. He seems pretty inflexible in his decision to ruin his life. I blame his brother. Do you still hate him? Be honest."
Juliet shrugged earnestly. "He grew on me, only a bit, but if he's dead to you, then he's dead to me. I've always trusted Draco more."
"Apparently, all it took was a day alone in the wilderness with Draco to get me pouring my heart out." Dahlia groaned as a shyness gleamed in her friend's eye.
"Can I ask?" She mumbled.
Dahlia raised a brow, urging her to continue.
Juliet grinned slyly. "Who is better?"
Dahlia opened and closed her mouth. She hadn't considered it, but the question now had her cheeks heating.
"They both have their strengths," she finally answered, decidedly diplomatic.
Juliet narrowed her eyes. "Dahlia, we could die in this tunnel. It's good luck to speak your worst secrets."
Dahlia's grin couldn't be wider. She shook her head, mortified.
"Draco is just as rude, controlling, and assertive in bed as he is in everything else. Not surprising, honestly."
Juliet snorted at her inability to give him a true compliment. "And Theo?"
Dahlia sighed. "There's a reason I was completely bewitched by him since that night in the library's restricted section. And he knew the second his head was beneath my skirt that he would have me locked in."
Her need to vent took hold. She shook her head emphatically. "And that's the worst part — he knows he's good at it. I swear if you offered me a million galleons or his mouth? I would take his mouth."
Dahlia faltered. "Or I would have. I mean, Draco is...I like his mouth, too."
Juliet raised her brow devilishly. "Ever think about having them both?"
Dahlia gasped and shoved Juliet away playfully. Of course, she had, but she would be cold in her grave before she admitted it. Juliet saw through her shock and laughed loudly. Dahlia's cheeks heated.
"You can never repeat any of this, Jules. It's tunnel talk!"
Juliet wiped her laughing eyes as she settled. "Where is Draco, anyway?"
Dahlia was grateful for the change of topic.
"Back at the Malfoy Manor," she answered.
Dahlia stilled as a horde of tiny spiders crawled quickly towards them. She backed herself against the carved, rounded wall of the tunnel. Juliet followed suit, squealing in fear.
But the spiders rushed past eagerly, ignoring them entirely. She should have felt relieved, but a pit of apprehension lingered. The spiders may have deemed whatever hid within the passage too large of a threat to stop for them.
"How did Harry know this tunnel was here?" Dahlia whispered quietly.
"The Marauder's Map. He got it from Fred and George Weasley."
Dahlia raised a brow, pushing her to elaborate.
"It's a map of the castle created by Harry's father, his godfather, professor Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew."
Dahlia's stomach flipped.
"Peter Pettigrew? As in the Dark Lord's servant?" She inquired feverishly.
"Juliet, if he had a hand in the map, what are the odds he knew about the secret passages? Like the one we're in now...in the fucking dark."
She paused as she waited for Juliet to piece it together. A flash of understanding crossed her eyes, but she quickly buried it.
"You're being ridiculous. You're just spooked by the spiders."
Dahlia held a finger to her lips to hush her.
"Audorus," she muttered.
The air moved in sonic waves, amplifying the sounds within the tunnel. A rush bled into her blood as she thought she might have heard the scuff of a boot.
"We're not alone," she mouthed to Juliet.
She wished they hadn't laughed so loudly. Whoever was there was waiting patiently for her to stroll right into their grasp.
Dahlia shook out the light from her wand and urged Juliet to do the same.
She crushed the orb of starlight within the palm of her hand. It seeped to blackness like tar as it reabsorbed into Dahlia's bones. She heard Juliet breathe shakily as all light had been stolen, but Dahlia didn't fall into the same fear. She knew the darkness; it was hers.
"Homenum revelio," she casted.
She flicked her wand and sent a seed of her power drifting through the remainder of the tunnel. She could visualize it floating gently down the dark, narrow passage in breath-holding silence.
It was as if the world was muted. Seconds turned to minutes. She reached for Juliet's hand but couldn't find it. She swallowed her panic.
The small orb — the void of stars — began pulsating with gentle yet blinding light, but it hadn't drifted forward.
Dahlia slowly turned, backlit in the beacon of her own power. Whoever the spell was to reveal had entered the tunnel behind them and followed them carefully.
Her starlight radiated and darkened in the rhythm of her heart. It strobed as her pulse quickened. Her eyes widened. In the flashes of light and solitude, an ornate mask was revealed.
Dahlia stiffened with horror — a Death Eater.
In the rapid pulses of light, a wand appeared positioned in front of the masked face. It tilted, reaching a gloved hand towards the black orb that now radiated like the sun.
The sound of leather stretching pulled Dahlia out of her shock. She choked her power, hurling it towards the Death Eater. The ball of light inhaled sharply, and all was black. Then, a burst of brilliance.
The force of the light shoved the man back a great distance. He groaned as he collided with the cold ground.
Juliet wasted no time as she reached for Dahlia's arm. She hauled her forward, sprinting towards the end of the tunnel. They just needed to reach the barrier of protection that surrounded the castle grounds.
"Protego!" Dahlia formed her own protective barrier behind them as the sound of heavy footsteps emerged.
Juliet screamed and ducked as red light threatened to break their protective charm.
Dahlia didn't dare lower the barrier to cast back offensively. She ran, pushing faster than her legs could carry her, but the man was quick. He was gaining distance.
"No!" Dahia screamed as Juliet blasted through their barrier to cast a grand spark of violet. It slashed across the metal mask, charring it.
The man didn't hesitate. He cast an endless wave of a blazing inferno. It heated Dahlia's skin until she was entirely dampened with sweat. The girls ducked together as they ran to escape the fiery surge, casting behind them blindly.
She felt a questioning rage within her heart — Draco.
She halted, turning with a sneer.
"Mors ignis," she hissed, and on her tongue bore a brilliant ball of silvery flames — hellfire. It was Draco's favorite spell.
She blew and shoved it forth with her hands. It met the red inferno in a screeching crash. Juliet cast rapidly through the wall of battling fire.
"Go!" Dahlia yelled. "I'll be behind you!"
"I'm not leaving you!" She sobbed.
"Confrigo!" She cast.
With a grunt and the clink of falling metal, Dahlia knew it had landed true. The bloody flames weakened, and through their whisps, Dahlia saw familiar features.
The fissure in her heart deepened until it hit the molten well of her sickly power. It licked the back of her neck, begging to be summoned.
Dahlia allowed it, letting it control her entirely.
She roared as it erupted, turning the silver inferno into a dripping void of black. The flames were outlined in an unbearable, blinding white. It devoured his weak fire, and he was thrown to the ground.
"Go!" Dahlia called out. She didn't look back to see if her friend obeyed.
Dahlia strode over as the flames collided with the man she knew and pinned him to the floor in a gummed blackness. Her power crept up his neck like liquid coal and threatened to gag him entirely.
"Avada kedavra!" He hissed but was unable to lift his arm.
Dahlia kicked his wand away and stepped on his wrist. She bent down over his face.
"He thinks you're human," Alexander Nott chuckled.
"But I know you are nothing but a creature born in the blackest pit of hell." He spit up at Dahlia's face, yet she didn't flinch. "A deceitful bitch. I've met another of your kind. All disgusting."
Dahlia tightened her jaw into a snarl. She had been right about him. She had been foolish to let others convince her otherwise — she was born with precise instincts.
"I won't kill you because you're all he has left. Consider it a kindness," she seethed.
His handsome face twisted with a mocking laugh. He looked so much like Theo that it pained her. She clawed her nails into his forearm and marked him a traitor — soul-cursed.
His laugh morphed into a grunt of agonizing pain.
She bent over him once more and whispered, terribly sweet, against his cheek, "I wasn't born in hell, Alexander. I made it."
She touched his eyes before he could turn away from her touch. She saw his beginning and end and flashes of Theo surrounded in loving light.
She stood, confident in her decision to leave him alive as she had seen the love he had for Theo. This would be a warning.
She stormed forward into the darkness of the tunnel. Her lip quivered at the betrayal — at the fact that Theo would never believe her.
She found herself running, dead, sprinting towards the safety of Hogwarts. She sobbed as she choked for air.
She finally caught a glimpse of fantastical light. It was the tip of Juliet's wand. She waited patiently by a stone ladder carved into the back of a flat wall.
"I couldn't leave you down here," Juliet cried.
Dahlia nodded in gratitude as Juliet climbed the latter towards a concealed door.
She retched it open, and they both crawled into a massive, rounded cast of bronze. They glanced up to discover the statue of Gregory the Smarmy hovering above them. The secret tunnel had spit them out within his gilded cauldron. They were in the Central Hall of Hogwarts.
Juliet wrapped her arms around Dahlia, thankful for life. Dahlia reached into her pocket and pulled out Draco's coin. She kissed it, letting him know she was well and in one piece.
Dumbledore peered over the edge of the cauldron. His curious smile planted in its usual place as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
"What took you so long?" He griped.
"Just the usual, headmaster." Dahlia sighed as she beamed with sarcasm.
"Any troubles?" He asked lightly, extending his hand as she climbed out of the cauldron.
Dahlia hesitated, still in shock but reeling to protect Theo. If she revealed Alexander Nott might be loyal to the Dark Lord, Dumbledore might remove a guiding hand from Theo, as well. The Order was the only source of goodness for him to cling to anymore. Plus, Dumbledore may not even choose to believe her, knowing Alex is both a Death Eater and an informant to the Order.
"There was a Death Eater in the tunnel, sir," Juliet answered hoarsely.
"Did you get a look at his face, Dahlia?"
"I, uh, I don't think so. I'm sorry," Dahlia replied in a small voice.
Dumbledore raised a weary brow before casting a welding spell over the hole leading into the secret passage. The metal of the cauldron stitched itself together.
"I must be on my way to find Mr. Filch immediately. I trust you to find your way back safely." He turned and walked swiftly down the corridor.
Before disappearing with a crack, he added, "and welcome home."
—
Showered and free of all filth, Dahlia sat on the familiar bed within her dormitory.
She rubbed the silken fabric of her pillow, remembering the last night Theo had slept in her bed. Her heart ached as a remembrance of the foul day and the last time he had looked truly happy collided in her mind.
She stood and opened her trunk that her father had luckily been able to send to her. She unwrapped a sweatshirt and found her enchanted journal. It glowed at her touch, ready to reveal its message meant for only her.
"I love you," she mumbled to herself as she read Theo's sloppy handwriting aloud.
It was freshly written. He had held his word for the first night of many to come. He had sworn with a nod to tell her he loved her or was safe every evening, but Dahlia now knew how flexible his promises were. She fought the urge to get her hopes up.
She knew he wouldn't believe it, but it was worth something to her to at least try.
She wrote back a warning: Alex made an attempt on my life. He is loyal to no one. Do not trust him entirely. Please, come back.
The plea disappeared into the page as if he was ready and waiting to receive a reply. Dahlia closed her eyes tightly.
For a moment, she let herself believe it was just like old times. She let herself naively believe that he would always come for her.