The Great Hall was filled with the usual sighs and echoes of whispers that accompanied the dinner hours. The blackness of the moonless night gave way to a darker shade of candlelight. The shadows attempted to draw her attention to their favorite soul through the rose glow as she entered the hall alone, yet she refused their lure, and Theo remained safely in her periphery.
Dahlia quickly spotted Xavier and quickened her step. He was seated at the Slytherin table with a lazy arm thrown over Eloise's shoulder, back turned like prey. By the looks of it, he was on his third helping of dinner. She waited for him to finish chewing as she silently approached behind him.
"I told Snape to get a manicure before laying hands on me," he gargled before swallowing a large bite of meat, unaware she stood behind him. Dahlia took a fistful of his raven hair and pulled roughly. He screamed girlishly as he dropped the turkey leg.
"Ow, ow ow," he squealed. Dahlia only pulled tighter.
"You are lucky she loves you, or I would have you chained to the bottom of the Black Lake," Dahlia whispered, nodding to Eloise.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Xavier begged.
Dahlia felt the eyes of others upon them. She looked up and caught Theo's curious, amused glance. He stood at the end of the Slytherin table, arms crossed and one foot upon the bench as he shifted his weight in bored conversation with Daphne Greengrass. As soon as she met his eyes, Theo averted his gaze. He smiled quietly for Daphne even though she could read in his body language that whatever joke she had just told he hadn't found funny. Her gut twisted, regardless. With a quick kick of rage, Dahlia released Xavier.
"I don't want to know," Blaise chimed, shaking his head and scooting over to make room for Dahlia at the table.
"I knew he'd break," Xavier whispered as she sat down. He winked as she glared with a curl in her lip. "Just took a little blood—a minor injury." He shrugged.
Theo's emerald cloak swayed behind him, catching candlelight as he neared. He rarely wore his cloak, even though it made him all the more frightening. Dahlia watched, silently plating her dinner as she realized he planned to sit with them.
"Civility, Dahlia," Blaise said curtly, elegantly sawing off a piece of turkey from the bone. "Just as we practiced."
Dahlia rolled her eyes. Blaise had pretended to be Theo on their morning run so she could try out saying 'excuse me' or nothing at all when he shoved past her. She wasn't sure where their exchange earlier had left them.
Lucas slapped his shoulder as Theo sat down across from Eloise. His rowdy laugh went dull as Theo pushed back his growing curls with a rough hand, the bone ring that held her life shimmering upon his middle finger.
Theo ignored her, and Dahlia ignored him just as she practiced.
Blaise patted the top of her head like an obedient hound. "Very good," he choked with a mouth full of food.
Where are you? Dahlia tugged on the bond as she violently stabbed a piece of broccoli.
"Around," Draco answered vaguely. Unsurprising.
Dahlia chewed slowly and skeptically as she watched Theo mouth an apology to Eloise.
"I'm sorry," he almost whispered.
His mouth hung open for a moment as he held his breath. Dahlia bit the inside of her cheek as she locked away the thought of what it might be like to steal it with her own open mouth. Briefly, she pondered what deranged and depraved thoughts of her might have kept him up all those nights, lips parted like that with a hotter breath.
No, she thought. I definitely can't meet him alone or after dark.
Theo raised his brow, and his expression relaxed, making him seem rogue and boyish as if he was dumbly capable of miscalculations and mindless mistakes. But Dahlia knew better now, and so did Eloise.
Eloise swirled her goblet, elbow on the table. "Go fuck yourself, Nott," she answered.
Xavier revealed a feline grin, hanging on her every word as if it were gospel. He was horribly neutral as he appreciated chaos for the sake of it, but Dahlia thought he might truly turn on Theo if Eloise demanded it. He tucked strands of copper behind Eloise's ear, smitten to the bone.
Where is my own smitten demon?
Dahlia shoved away the bland broccoli and stabbed her fork into a large slice of vanilla cream cake that Xavier had forgotten about. Theo's honey gaze met her mouth.
"Cake for dinner?" he asked, as if he were concerned about the health implications—or worse, her weight.
"I agree with, El," Dahlia answered, sincere and saccharine behind a hand as she chewed. "Get fucked."
"I'd love to," Theo answered, eyes blazing into her like a good hate fuck might fix her—fix all of this. She rolled her tongue as she chewed in a rippling silence.
"This is not what we practiced!" Blaise held an accusatory fork in Theo's direction. Blaise's tone was definite that the prodding ended here, but Dahlia couldn't miss how Theo's eyes drifted past her like she was a broken toy. She didn't have to look to know that there was something that shined new behind her. A girl who might be thinner and probably taller with the right shade of blonde he missed. Maybe someone more obedient who thought the right things, not only said them—everything she had conned him into believing about her so he and the world would love her back.
But was she now not his own bitter and mean creation?
The whispers in the Great Hall became more hushed, and soon, a cool, silver touch rested on the warm skin of the back of her neck. It was gentle, an endearment, and every bit possessive. Draco kissed her temple as he stood behind her like a lovely and wicked shadow, and Dahlia leaned into the brush of his lips.
I love you, she thought to him without much musing. A necessity, her love flowed effortlessly to him like the falling of water. She was a fool ever to have fought gravity.
"And I love you," he whispered in her ear with the certainty of the stars aligned.
"I don't like that he stares at you." Draco's words fell into her mind like the threading of silk. He sat beside her with effortless grace, shoving Xavier over and giving no hint of their conversation as his steeled glare bore into Theo.
"You stare at everyone...quite murderously..."
"I stare because I'm disgustingly in love with you, and I'm vigilant about who else might be."
Draco reached down the table and snatched the last piece of chocolate cake. He pulled her vanilla slice towards him and placed the new chocolate piece in front of her.
"Why are you eating vanilla?" He asked, perturbed by the choice because he knew he preferred chocolate.
Dahlia shrugged, appetite lost, or so she willed herself against it. She shifted and pulled on the buttons of her skirt beneath the table.
"Eat, baby," Draco mumbled as he took a bite of the vanilla cake, pretending that Theo wasn't marking their every move, cherishing how their foreign and gentle silence forced Theo to imagine how they might pass the time together. What they might talk about and how she might pull him into her differently. Theo probably assumed her time was selfishly his, and she was wasting it.
Draco half-grinned as if Theo had never graced this planet.
"Would you love me if—"
Draco shook his head. "Don't ask stupid questions. I'd probably love you more because you are quite annoying as you are now."
Dahlia simpered proudly. Draco grinned like he had just fallen in love with her, mystified and obsessed with every crass imperfection and pleasing insecurity. He loved her mean. He preferred her bitter and brave.
He set down his fork and reached for her hands. He pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and inspected her skin closely. He nodded to himself as if he truly appreciated the expertise in Theo's healing abilities. Her stomach tugged in every which direction, but there wasn't anger or frustration when his cool eyes lifted to her.
"Why are you so ridiculously stubborn?" He sighed lightly.
"I prefer to call it insatiably determined," Dahlia answered, voice weak.
He thumbed the fresh, unblemished skin and shook his head.
"You haven't thanked me yet, Dahlia." Theo's deep, swooping voice cut through the peace.
Dahlia shot him a pleading glare as he rested his face on his fingertips, hiding a smirk behind a hand that matched Xavier's. He winked as he read the exhaustion on her fallen face. Somewhere in his deranged mind, maybe he thought she enjoyed this, too.
"Thanks for patching her up," Draco answered for her. An airy confidence rang soul-deep in his gratitude, yet his eyes were chilled. Only a Malfoy could deliver such a sophisticated punch, lacing 'fuck you' so elegantly beneath the same breath. He grinned; a gleam in the grey of his eyes conveyed that a Malfoy always wins.
A punishing smirk pulled on Draco's lips as if the thought of weary doubt was laughable. Dahlia saw the message received in Theo's white knuckles: I'm written in the stars, and you are not.
—
[Thursday, March 7th, 9:38 PM]
I no longer wish to see you this evening.
[Thursday, March 7th, 10:02 PM]
My Dahlia,
I do apologize if I was too harsh this evening. Forgiven or otherwise, I will still be coming for you.
Regretfully still yours,
Theodore Nott
—
A hare's hop past midnight, a wind blew through Ravenclaw Tower. Dahlia watched wondrously as the rusting latch of her stained glass curiously turned and the window gently opened by a phantom hand.
He was coming for her. She smiled despite her better judgment.
Approximately fifty-two minutes had passed since she first sat on her stone windowsill in a sea of silky lilac, cream, and paisley pillows. She pulled her knees to her chest, still unable to commit to lacing her shoes. It was too quiet—too inviting for destructive thoughts. Juliet and Eloise were somewhere else within the castle, most likely with Xavier and Lucas as it neared a lover's hour.
She was alone, kicking herself for waiting for a liar. But then again, she had always been his favorite liar.
Draco is going to kill me, she thought.
But you'll get answers, she thought again.
Dahlia thought of his eye shifting to another—someone better for him.
He won't move on, a smaller whisper from a rotten place added. She was selfish and unable to help it.
Dahlia massaged her temples, feeling the need to fidget. The moon bore brightly upon her to either beg her to heed its warning or give her its blessing. Dahlia couldn't convince herself true of either alternative.
She closed her eyes, taking a breath to calm her nerves. She counted to one hundred once, then twice.
Eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine...
"Dahlia!"
His voice came like a sharp command that had her bouncing out of her skin. She covered her mouth. If Theo knew he had scared her, then he would do it regularly with delight.
Dahlia smoothed her freshly curled hair, then hung her head out the window.
Theodore Nott stood like a devil one might find at a crossroads, leaning against the stone ledge of the landing below Ravenclaw Tower with his ankles and arms crossed. He wore black pants and his emerald sweater with the Slytherin quidditch emblem knitted into the front. Dahlia knew 'captain' was stitched in silver along the back in tiny letters just beneath the golden skin of his neck. He was so confident, too confident, that he would win that title again.
She desperately fought the smirk that flirted with her lips. With just enough starlight to break through the shadows that always graced him, Dahlia saw the way he smiled for her. It was a crooked, sinless grin as he fought his dimples. For the fleeting stuttering seconds beneath her window, he appeared untroubled and pure—a vision of what he could have been.
He was nervous, she realized. He was so rarely caught off guard or left speechless.
That's when she knew that nothing good ever happened just past midnight, that she couldn't go to him with that dream-like look on his face, like he might ask her one more time, with starry promises in his eyes, if she would run away with him.
"I changed my mind!" Dahlia rasped in a loud whisper, unable to outrun a grin.
She leaned over the ledge of her window a little more, hair blowing less than ideal as blonde strands danced across her face.
Theo rolled his eyes. She knew he did so even though they were several stories apart. He said nothing as he dug through his pockets and pulled out a cigarette. She stopped herself from lighting it as he brought it to his lips, even though he waited a moment before doing it himself.
"This is a one-time offer, darling," Theo replied with a smooth breath of smoke.
"This Romeo won't be back." He shook his head, teasing lightly.
Dahlia reeled, then chose to deflect. "Stop smoking! You're going to kill yourself!"
"Come here and make me," Theo quickly fired, still smug as he hadn't moved an inch from the ledge.
"No!" Dahlia defiantly whispered.
He stalled a moment with a chuckle to call her bluff before he shrugged and kicked off the ledge. "Have it your way," he called up as if again falling into a dreary boredom with her—of her.
Her heart sank. No, no, no.
She needed answers, maybe closure. She needed something or anything from him.
"Fine," Dahlia groaned as he sauntered to the door.
Theo stopped his step and tilted his head back with a fantastical grin.
"I don't want to play games, Theo," she whispered loudly.
He held his hands out as if calling a truce or trying to convince her he wouldn't bite. With a cigarette hanging from his lips, he called up to her, "I wouldn't dream of it, love."
Dahlia hesitated, gripping the latch of the window with a slippery hand. Theo's face fell when she disappeared to quickly lace her shoes.
"I'm either the biggest idiot or a masochist," she murmured beneath her breath. "Probably both," she admitted while roughly tying a double knot.
She returned to the window and held a finger high, motioning for him to wait.
"Take the stairs, Dahlia. I won't have you splitting open once more," he growled, skulking back to the ledge.
Dahlia smirked, readying to do the opposite only because it would annoy him. Truth be told, she hated apparating as much as he appeared to hate the idea of her doing it. Her consistent state of nerves usually left her splinched and torn. Despite the risk, she reached for him, contorting herself through the universe that separated them.
Theo didn't flinch as she materialized in front of him in a stolen second of his time. In fact, he looked rather bored and unimpressed with the feat as he watched the glimmering haze of pure smoke dissipate. He breathed in deeply as if it might absolve him.
"Don't," he emphasized sternly, "do that again."
He soaked in every detail of her In the moonlight, drifting his amber eyes from her freed curls catching wind to the laces of the trainers she wore. His gaze lingered intently where her long-sleeved shirt met the waist of her jeans and the skin that might be revealed.
"What are you—planning to raid Gringotts later?" he snorted, noting her all-black ensemble. She didn't admit that wearing pants instead of a skirt was a thoughtful strategy—a precaution.
"I don't know! I dressed for the cover of darkness!" She whispered, placing her hands in her back pockets and shrugging awkwardly.
"Only the worst criminals dress for the occasion, love." He grinned, chuckling lightly.
"Well, you would know," Dahlia retorted.
Theo looked over his shoulder as he blew out a wave of smoke. It was a distraction to keep him from having to meet her eyes, but eventually, he owned it as he swiftly looked back at her.
"I guess I would know," he answered, refusing to budge from where he leaned against the cold stone.
A long pause drifted between them as he blew smoke to her stars, taunting them to do their worst. Dahlia refused to speak first, knowing Theo hated silence and would fill it.
"I can't kick it," he admitted.
Dahlia stepped forward, and he tensed as she removed the cigarette from his lips.
"You never really tried," Dahlia muttered as she smeared ash beneath her shoe, anointing the ground as if this place were sacred. Maybe their strings had gotten crossed and knotted out here the night they had first flirted with the idea of falling for something that wasn't meant to be. It felt so long ago now.
He bit his lip and went quiet as if the small comment had gotten under his skin. His truth and the real truth were never quite the same.
As if I can judge, she thought. Denial had been her most familiar ghost.
"Walk with me?" He extended his out for her to take. "I have something I want to show you," he said softly.
Dahlia stepped back, growing concerned. "I just wanted to talk."
Sensing her apprehension, Theo stood tall and took a step too close. He took her hand, whether or not she wanted his own in her palm. "I'll tell you everything. Anything you wish to know on the way," he whispered.
His touch ran rough over her knuckles despite his attempt at gentleness. It only reminded her of Draco's inherent gracefulness, where the touch she needed came intuitively. She used to like the idea that she and Theo had to try to be better people for each other—try to change for each other to catch just one moment of perfection. Now, it all just seemed exhausting.
Their eyes met earnestly, and Dahlia felt like she was standing on the precipice of a grand regret. What if she didn't go? And what if she did?
He parted his lips, and the silent wind carried the words, 'I'm still in love with you,' so he wouldn't have to bear their weight.
She couldn't help but want to show him how she had found peace despite her supposed flaws, show him how happiness could still be found, even for the lost.
Dahlia nodded, and the gold in his eyes alighted to paint her a fool. She pulled her hand out of his and took a deep breath. "Lead the way," she whispered.
—
With permission to speak honestly, she and Theo had walked closely in weighted silence through the entire castle beneath Theo's disillusionment charm. It was a struggle to admit that the excuse to be near him, to breathe him in, was as good as any high. Theo could have easily taken them wherever he pleased with a touch of hand, but instead, he had chosen to walk with her so he might share in even the shortest minutes of her time.
Once out in the open beneath the castle's spires, Theo stepped ahead and put distance between them. She had never known what it was like to walk by his side in peace. The screaming quiet usually meant that he was displeased—angry with her for laughing at another man's joke or rolling her skirt too short as Amelia did, but now it just seemed that maybe he didn't want to be the first to speak to keep her questions at bay. Regardless, she appreciated the covert chance to study him again.
The night outside the Room of Requirement, when he had hovered over her in the black of night with a firm grip on her throat and hip, felt like the first true moment she had seen him how the rest of the world might. She had been frightened, if only for a second. The carving and constricting of his muscles, the height and the harsh and pointed angles of his face—all so unforgiving.
She padded down the stone steps behind him, avoiding his shadow from even the smallest sliver of moonlight. Her eyes drifted to the tension in his upper back as his arms swayed loosely, leading her to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Dahlia stopped short as they neared the treeline, the lover's spell of the silence falling undone. "What could you possibly want to show me in the forest?" She almost laughed in disbelief.
Theo halted a few steps below her. He turned, then chuckled with a grin. Dahlia's skin prickled with a fresh current of nerves. His teeth shined white. The rippling night did incredible things with his smile.
"Is that truly the first question you have for me, darling? After everything?" His voice was soft, riding all the highs and emphasizing the lows like reading a poem.
Dahlia crossed her arms to fight the chill, stumbling to find a question or an answer that felt right. She stepped onto the next stair, shortening the distance and coming to height with his shoulders. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming like he had found a fellow fox to play.
"This better be worth it," she grumbled, pushing his chest lightly to keep him walking. Dahlia fell into step at his side, tired of walking behind him.
They were slowly creeping into the forest when Theo chose to ask her something simple to break the ice. She hadn't realized the silence was so unbearable for him.
"Where's Draco this evening?"
"Take a wild guess," Dahlia retorted. She knew she could have spared the sarcasm for Draco's sake, but he had focused on nothing but the cabinet since Theo had returned. It had lit his competitive nature.
Theo smirked, eyes alert as he looked out into the forest ahead. "Does he know that you often pay the Room of Requirement a visit without him?"
Dahlia quickly diverted the question. She wouldn't give him the upper hand by begging him to keep her secret. "Still spying on me?" She asked, weighted in amusement that he still cared so deeply.
"Another bad habit, I suppose," he answered, exhaling into the crisp night as he tilted his head back to the budding branches high above, arching as if reaching for each other. Spring was almost here.
Dahlia shook her head as if he were a lost cause. "Do you even have any good habits?" She grinned, teasing him even though it was a layered question. She had stayed up many nights listing the good versus the bad, trying to find a reason he might be better for her than Draco but always coming up short.
He barked a laugh, and his shoulders relaxed. "I know I'm awful, but it's for the right reasons."
He climbed a fallen tree, hoisting himself onto the mossy log, then extended a hand to help her. The light of her stars did their best to keep him in the dark, rippling in a way that only made him appear inhuman—a dreamlike vision.
"Is that why you went knocking on The Order's door? With the Dark Lord's ink still fresh in your arm?" Dahlia climbed the log with ease, leaving Theo's extended hand untaken. "For the right reasons?" She mocked.
Dahlia hopped off the log and wiped her hands on her jeans. Theo jumped down, and when he neared, Dahlia could see the resentment in his eyes. She took a step back, breathless and a hair frightened.
"I went to The Order to bargain for your safety. They aren't exactly fond of you, you know?" His voice was pointed like the tip of a knife held against her throat. "And they can be equally awful for what's right," he whispered.
She was enveloped in him entirely—his indignation, the mossy scent that was home until they burned it to the ground. His jaw tightened, and his eyes turned with tragedy that only they could understand. It was a pain that was relentless. She knew what her heart wanted to say might be the wrong thing, but she said it anyway.
Dahlia reached up and gently touched his neck. To her surprise, Theo leaned into it, so she stood on her toes and hugged him tighter than she ever had. "I'm so sorry, Theo," she whispered. "I can't fathom so much loss."
"He wasn't a good man, Dahlia," he whispered back. She felt him fill his lungs with her like he couldn't take enough of the scent to last him until he held her next. His hands fidgeted at her waist as if he desperately wanted to slide beneath the fabric of her shirt just to truly feel her uninhibited, to know she was real, to feel her warmth.
"Don't say that. Please don't say that," Dahlia murmured against his ear, running her fingertips along the back of his neck as she held him tight.
"I mean it, Dahlia. He was a disgrace. I'll never be anything like him."
His breath was a lovely graze upon her neck. Dahlia closed her eyes. He tried to pull away, but she stood taller on her toes and held him harder for a moment. She squeezed her eyes shut and embraced the silence to let it heal what it could.
She couldn't hold him hostage, so inevitably, she picked her chin up off his shoulder and leaned back. He let go of her waist. Dahlia held his face while he stared at her wordlessly, and in the dimmed moonlight, she saw just how hopelessly and deeply he had buried this loss. His eyes—benumbed.
"I just want you to be okay," she cracked in a forced breath.
He nodded, wrapping his rough hand around hers and pulling her touch away from his face. Her heart fell, but he quickly laced his fingers with hers as if sensing it might please her.
"What happened out there?" She asked nervously.
Theo shook his head, shifting his brows together as if he still needed to piece it together for himself. "The Order wanted him dead, I presume. They knew about Azkaban and planned to kill the prisoners once freed. I was obviously not privy to the entire plan." He took a long pause as if he pondered the truth of himself. "They knew I would never let them kill my father," he finally added.
Theo was unpredictable—rogue. It made him impossible to trust, which was maybe all he truly wanted. Dahlia soured, puckering her lips in thought. It was tragic.
He pushed his tongue to his cheek and stopped himself from saying anything more. Dahlia knew it wasn't the whole truth but couldn't bring herself to push the topic.
"You can't play both sides," she murmured. "You'll just get hurt."
Theo exhaled, and his breath fell into a beautifully ironic laugh. His heart, fully fortified in a blink. The rouse of him falling back into place. He kissed the top of her hand. "Darling, I've always been on one side—my own."
He held up her wrist so her skin might catch a small glimmer of light. He traced her fingertip down a darkened blue vein shimmering through her unblemished skin. The corners of his mouth perked up, almost ruefully.
"What did you get up to when I wasn't around to keep you on your best behavior?"
Dahlia slowly removed her arm from his grasp and stepped back. She raised a brow, turning on her heel to keep walking through the forest.
Theo chuckled, understanding the game. He would have to give to receive.
He jogged to catch up to her, only because he had watched her sway a moment too long. "I met with your father while I was away," he whispered into her ear.
"So, I heard?" She mused.
He gave a curious glance. "Finally writing to Daddy again? Did he spare any compliments about me?"
"No, I'm not," she answered pointedly with a roll of her eyes as he pulled back a bare branch for her to pass through a thick patch of forest. "Xavier Grey just has a gossiping problem."
Theo nodded as he strolled, hands in pockets as he kicked mossy stones out of their way. "Ah, yes. I did ask the grim reaper—sorry, your father—for assistance."
"And," Theo emphasized. "He even asked me if I would make an offer to have your hand one day, as the Malfoys did. I personally believe the idea of arranged, pureblood marriages is outdated, but I think your father quite likes me..."
"Theo!" Dahlia scoffed, gobsmacked.
He nudged her side with his elbow and raised a suggestive brow. Theo would never partake in the theatrics of politics. Dahlia imagined him sending a crumbled piece of parchment to her father that simply informed him he would be marrying his only daughter if only to demand he be put in his dying will to cash in.
Dahlia's eyes widened. "Wait..."
She was suddenly stuck in place, a kernel of hope igniting inside her bones. "You were in my home?"
Theo angled his head with a perplexed glance, then nodded casually.
"Did you find any more journals?" Her voice was simple, small, and entirely wistful.
His face fell, heart-stricken and as if he had forgotten something important or said too much. "No, Dahlia. I'm sorry." He swallowed, his throat bobbing with unfortunate news. "Your father burned the rest of them."
"What?" Dahlia breathed. "Why would he do that?"
Theo shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. "I don't know. I wanted to kill him over it." He ran his hands through his curls. "There was probably something he didn't wish for you to know. Or, possibly, since we found them, he assumed others would find them, too."
Unknown words of her mother—gone. Dahlia had thought she had gotten every piece of her until she found those journals, and now they had gone to waste. Her mother had endured so much suffering and pain for those journals, now for nothing. Years compiled into ash.
Dahlia could scream. She could feel her cheeks heating as she ground her teeth.
Theo stepped forward. "Dahlia, love..."
"No." She held out her hand to stop him. She was too furious.
"Please," she sighed. "Just tell me something else."
"Well," he said lightly. "I think I have something that will cheer you up." He spun slowly, gathering his bearings. "Yes, just over there." He pointed, squinting to the distance blanketed in blackness.
Dahlia pinched her forehead. She had come too far to turn back. She took a step toward Theo, and they continued on. He held her hand as they carefully navigated the slippery rocks in a small stream. They were covered in wet algae, only visibly by the light of small, buzzing creatures that hung over their heads.
"Complicated dads—trust me, I get it," Theo admitted, making light of it to temporarily brighten her mood.
"And where is your lovely brother?" Dahlia grumbled as she hopped off the last stone and onto dry land. She squeezed his hand and hoped he wouldn't let hers drop from his. It was a terrible thought, but one she couldn't help when he showed promise that he was redeemable.
"Alexander? Gone." He shrugged, tensing and pulling his hand away to fidget with his wand. "I don't really fucking care," he added.
Dahlia winced as she realized she had hit a sore spot. Apparently, they weren't on good terms, and she surmised that he wasn't going to tell her what had happened.
"So you don't know where he is? Dahlia asked, unsure if it would only push him away further, but she needed to know. Her stomach turned at the idea of him out there, unaccounted for, and wishing her dead.
Theo caught her weariness and softened. "I'd kill him before I let him near you again," he answered coldly. "Even though it was clear you could handle him by yourself."
Dahlia grinned, proud of it. Theo had always thought he needed to keep her safe. She would have loved to see the surprise on his face when he learned that she had whipped his brother in a duel.
"What did you do to him?" Theo asked curiously. His tone was all too light. He was dying to know. It was an easy read in the thrumming of his wand across his knuckles.
"I cursed him. I wish I could tell you I regret it," Dahlia answered honestly.
"Should have saved your breath," he mumbled to himself. "A problem for another day, I suppose."
Dahlia opened her mouth to ask another question, but Theo hushed her with a gilded hand upon his lips. His eyes quickly gleamed with a thrill unfolding.
"Come close," he ordered in a low voice.
He extended his hand out for her to take. Dahlia surveyed their surroundings more closely. Just ahead, she could see a great cavern hidden away beneath fallen trees, most likely from a mudslide. Inside was the blackest shade she'd ever seen, darker than a bottomless sea.
Dahlia faltered, taking a nervous step back and transfixed by the blackness.
"It's okay, Dahlia. You're safe with me," he called out as he slowly approached her. He took her hand and squeezed it tightly. "I promise, love."
Dahlia mustered her courage. If he had brought her out here for anything nefarious, she could handle herself—most likely. And if he had brought her out here to steal her away, then so be it. If she was naive enough to fall for this scheme, then maybe he had won their grand game fair and square. Plus, Theo was already on the top of Draco's 'to be murdered' list. Draco would find her eventually when she and Theo inevitably fell apart—again.
Don't think that. Draco is good to me. He's the one.
He's getting to me, Dahlia thought as she took his hand, and he rewarded her with a heaven-struck smile. He was so gorgeous without trying that it made her insecure half the time. He pulled her close, holding her hand behind his back like a shield.
They slowly approached the dark cavern, light on their feet in a silent wind.
He began to whistle the lullaby he had said his mother used to sing when he was a child. He stepped aside and held Dahlia to his chest. "Don't be frightened," he whispered against her cheek.
A cold chill slipped down her spine, and Dahlia closed her eyes briefly to let the sensation pass. Nothing could be better than falling back into him, if only for a second.
When Dahlia opened her eyes, she found a pair of glowing amethysts slowly blinking within the blackness. They appeared like colored gems in a void of black ink. Dahlia went stiff, frozen in horror and awe as the beast's eyes landed on her, the ground trembling as it prowled from the hidden cavern.
"You-you're dragon?" Dahlia managed through her terror. She had seen these eyes before, hovering above in a dream. She had seen the same dragon soar above, higher than her stars even. It had landed in the forest and watched her then from a distance.
The beast's pointed and scarred snout poked through the lushness that hung from the fallen logs above the cave. No wonder the dragon had remained so well hidden. Its scales were as black as the darkness of the cavern.
Dahlia flinched, pushing her face into Theo's chest as he whistled. The wind carried the sweet tune to soothe the beast. It made a low rumble, a clicking of sorts that pulsed through her veins. Theo held her tighter and ran a comforting hand through her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut as the dragon shimmied out of the mouth of the cavern.
Theo stopped whistling, and the ground went still. Although she could still feel the heavy vibration of the dragon's breathings upon the earth, she reckoned the beast had settled.
"It's okay, Dahlia. Look, darling," Theo cooed.
Dahlia opened her eyes slowly and finally came face to face with his beast. Her heart raced as she processed the sheer size of the dragon. The height of its snout was taller than her. Each battled and shimmering scale was the size of at least a large textbook. It was massive. Its tail alone could wrap around Ravenclaw Tower.
Theo guided her forward so very slowly, although the dragon remained unphased by their presence. It slowly breathed out a stream of hot steam from its nostrils as it rested its head upon the dirt and moss of the clearing.
"Can she pet you, my love?" Theo asked the dragon.
The dragon slowly blinked, its reptilian eyes finding Dahlia's as if to weigh her soul. It huffed a large breath and tilted its nose towards her.
Dahlia held a scream and covered her mouth, the movement frightening her.
"It's okay, darling," Theo laughed.
He pushed them forward and brought their hands, still intertwined, to the dragon's scales beneath its eyes. It was rough yet smooth with weathering and age. The shimmer of the scales left her breathless.
"This is your dragon?" Dahlia asked quietly, disbelief heavy on her tongue.
"Yes," Theo whispered behind her, pushing himself against her.
Dahlia shook her head. "How the fuck..."
Theo snorted behind her as he held in a laugh. "It's a long story, but I promise I'll tell it to you. I bonded her to me. Isn't that a marvel?"
Dahlia nodded, enchanted, as Theo let his hand that held hers fall to her waist.
"Does Hagrid know?" She asked.
A sly smile revealed in his tone. "Been driving the oaf fucking mad. He can't find her nest, and she's been eating all the chickens."
Dahlia nodded, laughing under her breath as she gently massaged the same pattern of scales. Theo watched as the dragon nuzzled into her touch.
"She already knows your heart. She likes you," Theo whispered.
He brushed back her hair and pressed his lips to her temple. Given the tenderness, he might as well have voiced his love. Dahlia read between the lines. The dragon only liked her because he still loved her, and he and the dragon were bonded. He influenced this great beast.
Dahlia didn't protest as he kissed her temple once more, maybe because she liked it or maybe because she was too mesmerized by the rareness of such a moment. How could a creature this magnificent exist in a world with dark tides?
Dahlia's mind eased in the quiet of the crickets, and she remembered the words in his letter. "You named her Valeria?" Dahlia whispered.
She felt Theo nod behind her. He stilled as if waiting for her to condemn him for it or thank him. Dahlia did neither. She pressed her lips together as her heart ached, full and at peace with the responsibility she carried, even if she wasn't entirely sure what that meant for her yet. Mistakes or not, her mother would be proud of her for giving herself grace, being brave, and following her heart. Even if that beat did lead to mistakes, at least she was striving to live fully and trying to learn.
Dahlia relaxed into him, just happy to be held. "I think she'd be proud," Dahlia whispered. Regardless of whether Theo disagreed, she felt him smile. "And I think your mum would be proud of you, too."
Theo breathed a warm breath that ruffled strands of her hair, and then he pulled her into his chest more tightly. "Do you believe thieves can be heroes?" He asked, lips pressed to her ear.
Dahlia did everything she could to pretend this wasn't intimate.
"What is it that you always say?" She spared a relaxed smile, even though he couldn't see it with her back to his front. "It's all relative?" She teased.
His chest rumbled low with a soft chuckle. "I just want to be your hero," he whispered, his tone soft, slow, and heady. He knew he was laying his ace.
Dahlia placed her hand over his, spinning the bone ring upon his finger. There was still so much that painted her his pawn.
"How did you learn the ring I gave you carried my life?" She voiced the question an octave higher than the silent wind, worried she would ruin whatever this moment was.
He didn't pull away as she spun the ring, and he answered quickly, nonchalantly. "I didn't know anything until I met another seer. She was a sneaky hag who seemed to know too much about you—about us."
Dahlia became weary with surprise. Her kind was so rare. A million questions soared through her mind. She could be properly taught, and she wouldn't have to make gut decisions without guidance.
"Can I meet her?" Her voice was nearly desperate.
Theo bristled, guffawing at the idea. "Sure, Dahlia. We'll waltz into the dragon pits full of criminals who want to serve you on a platter to the Dark Lord. It'll be breezy with ease."
His sarcasm couldn't be missed, and he sensed he had left her disheartened. He sighed and gave her a tight, worrisome squeeze. It was apparent the information he was about to reveal kept him up at night.
"She said the spell you used to make the ring was ancient," he started more seriously. "She said it was from before the gods fell and when the water still spoke—whatever that means. She talked in riddles—and also led me to vampires."
A shot of adrenaline had her head going light. Dahlia wiggled within his grasp to face him. This was serious. "Wait, what riddles? Please, Theo. Tell me."
His eyes danced curiously as she looked up in desperation. He gave in.
"She knew I wanted to go to the pool of stars, as you did. She called it the Bath of Voices but said it had been silent for generations until you and Draco went there. She claimed you consumed the heart of it and killed it, but I think they wanted you to do so."
"Who?" Dahlia nearly croaked with urgency. So close. She was so close to solving this puzzle, but Theo shook his head in earnest, upset that he couldn't please her. He didn't have the answers for once.
"I don't know, Dahlia. She had also amplified her Sight, but she claimed you were not the same as she." He paused, contemplating a sense of growing horror. "She didn't want to steal this ring—steal from you—and she wouldn't help me. She said she should kill me, but it wasn't her place to do so."
The question of whose place that might be fell between them. What future was in store for all of them? Dahlia only saw traces—all horrible things. The burned image of Theo clasping to her in the tall grass when her heart giving out, refusing to beat. How all the rage reared through the cracks of his soul and ripped him in half. Only dogged chaos could remain. What would become of him then? When he reached the break point of the prophecy. Maybe 'prince' was only a mockery of his bad fortune.
It fired. Dahlia's mouth fell open as her face slackened. Theo angled his head, eyes willing to give anything for her thoughts.
He hunts. He hunts. He hunts.
Dahlia reimagined the moment Theo, the nameless prince, had freed her from the croaking weepings of her ancestors as they possessed her. They warned her—it was him. He was the No-Name Prince, but what if he wasn't the one who freed her from the cage of voices that night? Who hunted the hunter? Were they all pawns in the game of fallen gods?
A flicker of the veiled creature, gargling for air as it crawled from the Bath of Voices to Theo, a faithless man who desperately needed something to believe in and enjoyed a good fight. What if they had made him this way for this purpose?
"Dahlia..." His face knit with concern. She didn't even know where to start.
Dahlia shivered, suddenly cold. "Theo, there's something I didn't tell you. There is a piece of the prophecy you don't know."
It beat in her mind as she pictured her mother, eyes white as snow as she channeled the stars.
'child of the chasm, my daughter of a thousand ripped tongues, the dragon's flower, heir apparent of the void, the forger of new fates will be bathed in starlight and remade from onyx and the fury of the upended no-name prince.'
"I know, Dahlia," Theo whispered, cupping her face. He swallowed with regret. "I know the full prophecy. I saw it when I was with Eloise."
Dahlia shook her head. It was a feeling nestled in her spine that ticked like a clock. Did he know who he could be? Or how he was tied to all of this on a perfect string? The history—lost. The Bloodwood, so curiously forgotten to most.
"Baby, I don't believe in your gods," he murmured, reasoning with her. He smiled, golden and perfect. Too perfect.
"It wasn't you, was it?" Dahlia's heart fell, veins burning. She spoke beneath her breath, knowing the answers. "Who saved me from the voices when they possessed me to warn me of what you had done when you went to the Bath of Voices?"
Theo shook his head, confirming the worst. Weary apprehension was evident in his features, slowly morphing into agitation that someone may have fooled her into believing they were him. "Tell me what happened," he ordered.
"The Bloodwood," Dahlia mumbled. "What do you know?" Dahlia asked desperately as she recalled falling into the earliest page of time, where the moon hung high, drenched fantastically in orange — a hunter's moon. How she had fallen to her knees, and a shriek had gusted through the forest, so sharp it broke skin on her back and painted everything ruby red.
A goddess—dying.
"I know what you know," he answered. "I told you where to find the book on the potion I made." He took her hands and kissed them. "I'm being honest, Dahlia."
The Bloodwood cursed the god slayer for an eternity, but he was no god, and only gods lived forever. She hadn't looked hard enough to see it, this whole time. Theo had always claimed to be cursed with misfortune. The Notts, an ancient house with a sorrowful, brutal history.
"You're bloodline—it's cursed. The Bloodwood cursed you." She let out a small gasp as she put together more clues. What if the god slayer had to be remade, just as she, a fellow heir apparent, to become something more? He had desecrated the waters that made her to partake in his own rite.
"You're truly the No-Name Prince," she whispered. "But you know that..."
If he knew, it wasn't shown. He rubbed the pad of his thumb across her cheek to settle her down as if the night had gone off the rails. How many hours had he pondered these same questions? How long did he have the answers?
Her eyes pleaded for an answer, a nod, a crumb of truth he had promised to give.
He sighed, nonchalant and without anything close to reverence for her gods.
"They prefer to call me the God's Killer," he whispered.