"Good evening, Theodore."

Although Juliet had whispered her greeting rather pleasantly, the supposed Death Eater trainee flinched as if she had screeched instead.

Without any consideration, Theo kept his eyes focused on the monstrous and unmarked beaten book in his lap, ignoring her completely. She fought an eye roll, despising the moment she had come to—asking him for help.

She had found the youngest Nott in the farthest reaches of the library, nestled in an alcove on the highest floor. A window peered out to the tides of Black Lake. Tonight, the waters were briefly illuminated, rippling with clues that a party was kicking off in the Slytherin common room.

You could hear a quill drop. The silence persisted as no one preferred to spend the first evening of the weekend lost in textbooks, except maybe Hermione Granger—or a better Ravenclaw than herself. Regardless, the silent library was an inviting scenario for the inky whispers of the dead. They reached for the back of her neck like wailing smoke.

Juliet grimaced, careening behind her, paranoid she had been followed. When she turned back, Theo marked the purple pools beneath her eyes, then quickly returned to his reading without a lick of concern.

He was silently slumped in a withering leather chair, one foot placed on an ornate side table. The legs of which were gilded with tiny painted frogs that expelled a croak every now and then. The table was probably priceless, crafted a century ago by splintered hands—only to victoriously withstand the tests of time for this pompous shithead to leave dirt upon it. The tabletop quivered beneath the heels of his boots.

Painfully and with great effort, Juliet held her tongue and shared a nervous smile as he patiently waited for her to disappear.

A truce, perhaps.

She stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. It was evident Theo no longer felt the need to be kind to her now that Dahlia had dumped him. There was no point in winning her approval—as if he would have ever fully gained it. Her gut instincts were never wrong, even if she had seen him at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, even if he had showered her with extravagant gifts that were more of a bribe.

"Why aren't you in uniform?" she asked as she noted his all-black ensemble. She didn't know what else to say—not an apology. No situation would warrant an apology for Theodore Nott, even if she had called him stupid and ugly on the flipside of a compliment.

Theo let out a spectacularly bothered sigh, and his eyes lifted to hers a moment past politeness. He wore a cold frown, eyes drowning in self-pity. His hair parted wildly, and curls fell astray as if he had run his hands through them too many times.

"Miss Hart," Theo finally answered, clearing his throat. "I know you may find critical thinking a bit challenging, but does it appear that I want to be found?"

He tilted his head to the side. A crabby grin teased on his lips.

Juliet's face scrunched into a cordial sneer. She was more annoyed with herself that she had attempted civility instead of violence with him, but proper etiquette and manners had always irked him the most.

Juliet slowly smirked as her eyes razed coldly over his thin black shirt and matching bomber jacket, wrinkled trousers, and creased boots. "Do you think you're too clever for this place? Or perhaps too exemplary to wear the same uniform as everyone else?"

His golden eyes lit, cracking upwards like a whip. He exhaled through his grin and shook his head, letting the book fall to his lap as he lifted his arms and stretched. "You are the last person I might make privy to what I think."

His newly relaxed posture suggested she had made her point, a careful admittance that she was probably correct. Her observance or cleverness proved that she was worthy of a few minutes of his time, even though he had more hours than most.

"What do you want?" he asked plainly, annoyed. His eyes shifted and narrowed as he crossed his ankle over his knee. He was unsettled, half here and half stuck on the topic he had been reading.

She sauntered to the accompanying worn leather chair and slowly sat, crossing her legs appropriately like a proper debutant and with the unnatural grace of a ballerina.

"Why are you sitting?" He demanded as his gaze followed her every move.

"Why aren't you at the party in the dungeons?" she shot back, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

She couldn't help it. She knew why—Dahlia. And it felt good to throw it in his face that she had been right all along about Draco being the best choice for her if she only wished to choose between Death Eaters.

He smirked impressively as if he had won something grand. "Who says I'm not?"

His gaze stood still on her, chuckling happily enough as he purposefully removed his jacket to reveal a short-sleeved shirt. She didn't want to glance at the Dark Mark even as its presence was made known. He was smug. He assumed she had never seen a Dark Mark in person. The writhing serpent made her prickle with nausea. It was unsightly, yet she held her composure. His arrogance and the gall were disgraceful, but he wouldn't intimidate her.

"Are you in two places at once? Doesn't that disrupt the natural order of time?" She asked, unable to help her curiosity.

He eagerly entertained her question, either out of love for the craft or desperation for a new set of ears to complain about Dahlia.

Theo leaned forward.

"Right now, Dahlia is sitting in Draco's lap, rolling a lucky die for him as he kisses her neck and gambles. I'm somewhere, currently ingesting three lines of a suspicious powder that is definitely not what I presumed it to be. Much later, you'll be holding Dahlia's hair back over the toilet in my dormitory. I'll pretend to be asleep like Draco in the bed next to mine, listening to her drunkenly spill tears—over my decisions."

Juliet opened and shut her mouth, at a loss for words. Theo continued on, a glimmer of his heart peeking through in his tone. His voice was soft—terribly unusual. It raised the hair on her arms.

"It doesn't have to be disruptive to be in two places simultaneously. There's no risk of creating a paradox if I just simply wish to escape reality for a moment in a lonely place." He sighed ruefully. "That is until you showed up."

Juliet angled her eyes to meet his lingering gaze; fire snuffed out.

"It's all quite sad, isn't it?" Juliet murmured. Her heart almost broke for him, even though he was suffering in the mess he and Dahlia made together.

He didn't respond as he stared out the window, pinching his bottom lip. He was lost in the brief reflection of light on the Black Lake. Juliet made herself more comfortable in the chair by bringing a Persian pillow to her lap, quickly catching his attention.

"Please, make yourself at home," he snorted sarcastically, mood changing faster than a flip of a coin.

Juliet marked how color seemed to be returning to his skin. His arms looked stronger than when he had first returned, more tanned since he now had the freedom to fly near the sun and captain the skies.

"You shouldn't pout so loudly, Theodore. It doesn't suit you. I heard you huffing from the first floor."

He exhaled, exasperated by her.

"Gods."

He rubbed his eyes. He threw his hands over the arms of the chair and tilted his chin to the side with a dramatic flare. "Please. What do you want, Juliet?" His voice quivered with resignation as if he had grown tired of himself, too.

A knot formed in her gut. The first time a secret was spoken was always difficult, even if gossip and secrets came easily to her, but this was different. She opened and closed her mouth as she glanced anywhere but at him.

"Lucas needs your help," she mumbled, far from courageous.

Juliet glanced back at him, uneasy but a bit desperate. Theo's eyebrows were pinched together in thought. He saw right through her and her intentions. Luckily, he played along in a moment of uncharacteristic kindness.

"Well, Lucas is a dear friend," he started in that foreign, velvet tone. "There is little I wouldn't do for my friends—or those they love."

If it benefits me, she thought, finishing his sentence with the part he might have left out.

Juliet twiddled at the hem of her skirt.

It's not too late to leave. I can manage on my own for a little longer.

But what was the point if, in the end, she would come to the same conclusion?

She turned to look at him, trying to determine what his help was worth and whether he would help her at all.

"I hear a lot of things—carry a lot of secrets. What's one more?" he countered quietly.

It must have been evident that she was weathering a storm within herself. He meant to comfort her, but it was unnatural to him. There would never be enough nurturing to undo his nature. Juliet slowly filled her lungs and held it, studying him as if she might see what made Dahlia so determined to try.

The shifting candlelight and the gold in his eyes would give most poets something to write about. The effect had given Dahlia many nights of restless sleep from the start. He haunted her as Juliet was truly haunted, but Dahlia's haunting felt more permanent since it was a scar of the heart. It was more cruel since her haunting wasn't wholly senseless.

They shared a quiet moment, stifled by silence as if it were a hug too tight. Maybe there was poison or an incantation in his pointed grin. He was bitterly attractive, unlike any hero she pictured in her mythology textbooks. Yet, his features held no flaws. All of him was sharply symmetrical, crafted with precision and purpose. There was a harshness that would never mirror elegance, although he left most women breathless.

"I wouldn't betray your trust—on behalf of Lucas."

Her spine skittered as his earnest, boyish smile reached true to his dimple, and for a moment, Juliet could imagine what Dahlia might have seen in him—something too beautiful to be a monster, someone capable of some shade of skewed redemption.

"I need your help," she finally admitted in a whisper.

"I want something in return." Theo was quick, eyes sharpening towards her. His irises melted like poisoned honey.

"No," Juliet scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Friends should help friends without a cost."

Theo squirmed in his seat, crossing his arms. "A favor?" He lifted a brow. "Perhaps?"

"No." Juliet crossed her arms, steadfast in defiance.

"All you have to do is answer a question. Don't Ravenclaws adore answering questions?" He taunted as a gorgeous grin reappeared on his arrogant, stupid face.

"One question," she sighed firmly, shaking her head.

"Two?"

"Theodore!" She threw her hands in a burst, nearly pushed to his level of insanity.

"Fine, very well," he finally reasoned. "You go first, even though I'm fairly certain I already know what it's about."

Theo wiggled his finger, assessing her head to toe with disgusted reservations. "That thing inside of you is something I want absolutely nothing to do with. You're lucky you've caught me in a generous mood."

Juliet floundered, taken by surprise. "How do you even know? Did Lucas tell you? Have you been spying on me like a foul peeping ghost?"

She leaned over and smacked him with the pillow in her lap.

Theo chuckled, slumping farther into his seat. "No, you idiot. You've made it rather obvious, flouncing into the classrooms late, grinding your chair across the stone every minute to run to the loo, looking as green as a toad."

"You're despicable," Juliet spat.

"No." He shook his head, growing far more serious. "I'm right to be cautious of anything the dead have a hand in."

Something cold trickled between the bones of her spine, utterly chilled. She wished he hadn't said it aloud. "Don't frighten me," Juliet almost pleaded. "It doesn't necessarily feel wayward, but they won't stop whispering to me."

"What do they say?" Theo asked in a hushed, curious breath. His eyes peered up beneath thick lashes, begging her for knowledge—leverage.

"I don't know. They whisper in words I can't understand." Juliet fell quiet, only wishing she had more clues.

Theo inspected her again like a broken artifact, noting her silky hair tiredly loosened from her usual braids, her sunken eyes peering through day-old makeup, and her sapphire cloak clasped around her sickly pale-pink neck.

His spine straightened a hair, uncomfortable with the realization that he might be like everyone else and find her beautiful like most students. Dahlia had grown to be the most striking, but Juliet had been cursed from a young age with a perverse, sweetly naive beauty that only ever led her to misfortune.

She shrugged helplessly, slowly fluttering her doe eyes and exhaling a sigh through her button nose. This is how she got her way more often than not. She would stoop to his level.

Theo rubbed his eyes again as he leaned against the arm of his chair. "Alright then. I'll send an urgent note to Tatters to send a certain talisman from home. It's one of my grandfather's inventions, but I must warn you—talismans have a price."

Juliet slumped with relief but quickly stiffened. "Theo, I don't want anyone else to know of this," she whispered.

"Your secret is safe with me—and the elves."

He cracked a loose smile. It did nothing to soothe her weariness.

"Thank you, I guess, but you do know the elves love to gossip?"

Theo kicked his feet on the table again. "So do I. How do you think I know so much?" He teased.

Juliet snorted, laughing quietly with Theo as she imagined him in the kitchens with the elves, shaking them down over Dahlia's whereabouts. He studied her intently for a moment, biting his lip as if weighing his own vulnerability.

Juliet patiently nodded. To be kind was to be polite.

"Do you think—do you think I'm a good man?" Theo slowly asked, stuttering on words he found wretched together.

Juliet's eyes widened. Why would he ask her that? Was he so desperate for any validation?

She settled and shook her head. "You know who you are and what you are capable of," she whispered gently and sternly.

He contemplated her answer as he silently spun Dahlia's ring around his finger. She rallied herself to take a risk, knowing it may result in a sour reaction.

"Being with Dahlia won't change you. She thinks you have a good heart, but you make terrible decisions. I can't entirely agree with her. Violence runs thick in you; I believe this is only your beginning." Juliet's eyes fell to her lap. "You'll just disappoint her."

He froze, locked on that word. "Is that why you sided with Draco? Do you consider his lineage any less violent?" Theo asked sarcastically.

Juliet snorted, fiddling with the thread of the pillow. He was missing the point.

"Draco isn't a good person either, but I do believe he would ruin his name and give every drop of his magic for Dahlia. Unlike you, I believe he values her life over his power."

"I told her I would give her the world."

"Will you ever learn?" Juliet bristled, exasperated by his stubbornness to let go of what had been rotted from the start.

Juliet sighed. "Move on."

Theo was quick and resolute. "That's not an option. I can't."

She steadied her tone to comfort him, attempting to empathize. She reached for his hand and squeezed it tight. "I've heard you're quite capable of impossible things. I think you can. She's not the only one who loves you. You have Narcissa, your brother, your friends, even Professor Snape and Lupin back at the Order."

She watched his eyes soften, drifting away into thought as he averted his gaze.

It was gone in a moment. He quickly shook his head, shifting in his seat to bounce his knee. "I could, but I won't. Maybe I never deserved her, but I love her. I love her when she fucks up, or when she's lost and confused. I love her whether she's mad, spiteful, sick and tired, broken or whole."

"Theo, I'm-"

With a sharp sneer, he cut her off. "You're wrong about me. My means may be brutal and divisive, but my intentions are good. She's always in my mind. I might be greedy, obsessive, even bitter, but..."

Juliet's lips parted, eyes brimming with pitiful tears. Still, Theo continued in a maddened rant.

He leaned close, rubbing his palms together with loosened lips. He was about to share something he shouldn't: a secret without a price.

"Dahlia is connected to Draco only by blood magic. Everyone thinks I'm wrong and that I'm insane for thinking it's just a curse, but I know it's true. I would bet everything I still have on it. Everything. I can't help but wonder what the circumstances might be if I had been the one to heal her in that cave..."

"How exactly are they connected? How do you know this" Juliet breathed, nervous for him to continue speaking. She had to remember his next words to relay to Draco properly.

"Dahlia's blood is different. Darker—aged by that old curse. The texts I've managed to find on her kind are riddled with bloodied trees, spells written with bleeding ink, prophecies contingent on blood moons—spilled sacrifices. The universe is built upon blood ties and bloodlines, or so I believe. I even read about a binding spell wizards would use to hold a seer, other creatures, captive for life."

Juliet leaned back in her seat. She crossed her arms, trying her best to display nonchalance, although she was freaking out. "That's just a theory, Theo."

She chuckled gently as if he was spinning folk tales.

Theo cut her a sharpened look, eyes relentless. "Only one way to find out."

Dahlia wiped the liquor from her mouth, nearly finishing off the crystal glass Draco had filled for himself.

"Dahlia!" He groaned, fumbling with his playing cards as he quickly reached for his now-empty glass. She lifted it above his head as if he couldn't reach it with ease, even with her seated on his thigh.

A drunken squeal escaped her as he fought for it. He nearly threw her off his lap. Dahlia gripped the back of his neck for balance, and in one smooth motion, the glass was out of her hand and on his lips. He sipped the last of it. The crystal threatened to crack as he slammed it on the table.

"That was expensive, and you are a pain," he teased with a grin, half-annoyed, his mouth pressed to her temple. He tucked away a few messy strands of hair. "A gorgeous, drunken pain."

Dahlia trailed her finger against the edge of the empty glass. "Oh no!' She teased. "It's empty. I guess I better go find more." She stood from his lap, fighting his tightening grip.

"Dahlia," he warned. His eyebrows raised with enough concern to reach the pitched ceilings. "No apparating. No slapping. No more whisky, and definitely no eyes rolling back vision shit."

Dahlia nodded once with a sarcastic salute.

He tapped the constellation marked on his forearm beneath his sleeve—a sign for her to reach out through the bed if she needed him.

"Don't drink and duel!' Blaise hollered across the table as Dahlia stumbled off into the crowd. "Fucking hell," he grumbled, almost out of earshot. Xavier's sharp squawk still managed to reach her as she drifted. "She drinks with the same decorum as Hagrid."

She glared back to the table, sharply swiveling to look over her shoulder.

"Yeah, but she looks better in a skirt," Draco retorted, rolled paper hanging from his lips.

She turned back, deciding to let it go with a flare of her nostrils. She pushed through the throng of bodies, overtly swaying her hips to the thrum of the music. The crowd's heat radiated through the Slytherin common room, the chill of the frozen Black Lake quickly dissipating as Spring arrived.

She took a deep breath, reveling in the drunken lightness until it made her warmly sick.

"Excuse me," Dahlia mumbled, contorting through the rowdy crowd as she attempted to get to the mild coolness of the glass windows near the back of the common room. There was also a bar cart back there, but getting to it felt nearly impossible in the push and pull. "Sorry," she mumbled, stepping on toes.

In the dark, Dahlia could hardly tell who anyone was. Usually, that would be a comfort, an escape, but now, the thought filled her with panic.

A dry choke locked her throat.

All of them could be dead soon. Indistinguishable.

It was intrusive. She gasped, the reddened eyes of the Dark Lord unwelcome but lingering in her mind. A dizzying sensation numbed her fingertips, and Dahlia worried she might toss up Draco's expensive liquor.

No, no, no.

Her mouth sickened.

Fuck.

With a final shove, Dahlia broke free of the bodies. She took tiny breaths through her mouth as she held up her hair and leaned against the cool glass. Whatever lurked in the Black Lake was none of her business, and she didn't plan on turning around to take a look anytime soon.

She tilted her head up, placing a hand on her chest. She picked at the lace trimming of her dress as the shouts turned into a lull.

I'm fine. I just drank too much.

The aquatic scent calmed her rising panic until cologne filled her nostrils.

"Theo," she groaned, eyes still closed.

"Are you feeling well?" He asked, deeply concerned despite the small distance he kept between them. Usually he would be leaning close, lurking around her neck to get a rise out of her.

"Theo, did you follow me to this corner?" She whined, still miserably nauseous.

She peeked through the closed lids of her eyes and caught him chuckling in disbelief as if he had never resorted to stalking before.

"No," he answered, taking one step closer. "Believe it or not, I was here long before you." His tone suggested he was prowling, either for drugs, liquor—or worse.

Her stomach twisted in knots.

Dahlia snorted despite the sting. She wouldn't open her eyes to find out if he was only teasing or being cruel.

"Doing what?" She snapped. "Shouldn't you be snorting or fucking something? I remember you being quite unreachable at these parties."

Dahlia finally tilted her chin down, eyes smoldering in his direction.

He whistled with a sick grin. "That was not nice, my Dahlia."

His attention strayed, and her throat tightened. Theo took a sip of the bottled beer in his hand, looking around the room. Dahlia swallowed as she watched his mouth.

"I need another drink," Dahlia blurted. It might have been her worst idea yet.

Her heart was racing, and her stomach was unsettled with a new wave of panic.

Theo glanced back at her. Before he could even assess her state, he offered her another drink. "Here, love. Take mine."

Dahlia brought the bottle to her lips, afraid to look away from his golden eyes this time. The sweet shade was like honey.

I could drown.

It was a frayed thought in her haze, but still, she couldn't help how her skin heated. An awkward silence bloomed as she fumbled with her emotions, reeling herself in. She tried to forget about his mouth.

Theo cleared his throat, filling the silence. They had said so much, but it felt as if nothing much had even been accomplished.

He placed a casual hand in his pocket. "You and Draco look—"

"I don't like where we ended things," Dahlia croaked.

Oh gods. Oh fuck.

She was emotionally vomiting, unable to stop herself. She exhaled shakily. "I don't like it," she repeated in a broken whine.

Theo's eyes widened, lighting like fire. He took an unexpected step back. "Don't do this to me right now," he begged, attempting to chill his tone. He shook his head.

"I just—I..."

Her chest caved, unable to breathe out any more words. He thought she was manipulating him, but all she wanted was his company tonight, to hear him laugh. Pathetically, she wanted to know he wasn't mad at her for what had happened in the forest. She didn't want him to punish her for loving Draco, for begging him to take her to the man she chose over him when she was injured.

She stepped forward, hands falling bare at her sides. She was practically begging him for some hint of affection.

Theo shook his head. "Dahlia, please. I'm not in a good headspace at the moment."

Dahlia lurched forward and took his cheeks in her hands—not that it mattered. He was too high, too numb to feel her touch. His pupils gave it away. He was as fucked as she was.

She let her hands fall to cradle herself at the waist. He loomed over her, tall and brooding. "Theo," she whispered.

"Don't say my name like that," he begged. "I need to be free of you for one night—just one night. Please, Dahlia."

Dahlia slowly stepped back, hitting the cool glass. It chilled her to the bone. Theo carefully stepped into the crowd. He kept his eyes on her, worried she might do something reckless or unstable. Dahlia could only imagine what she looked like, confused, maybe drunkenly broken and tainted in a black dress that was too revealing for his liking.

"I'm sorry, love," he mouthed.

Her ears rang, and Juliet's voice broke through the muffled crowd.

"Dahlia!" Juliet held her face between her palms. "What's wrong? I'm here!"

Dahlia looked down and took note their hands were laced together. She squeezed Juliet's fingers tightly.

Nothing should be wrong.

"I'm fine. Please don't worry. I'm fine," Dahlia reassured. Juliet nodded, disbelieving.

She wiped the sweat from her palms on the front of her dress. Dahlia peered back to the crowd, a moment too late to miss the slender hand caressing the back of Theo's neck.

Dahlia went cold, blinking hard as if the image would magically go away. Maybe she was hallucinating.

"Oh," Juliet mumbled, eyes widening as she followed Dahlia's gaze to the crime scene. He was going to kiss that girl. He was kissing that girl.

Her heart might have cracked in two. It was unfair for her to mind who he carried on with or be hurt by it, but Dahlia didn't care. There was no rationality to her stomach plummeting—or was it rising?

Just the other night, he had stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, and he swore that all he wanted was to be her hero. He had whispered at her bedside that they could always start a new tomorrow.

What was this?

Theo had promised he would always love her—as sick and selfish as that was for her to count on. Was he stooping low to get back to her? Was her heart always just a game? What was the fucking point of all of his efforts if he just wanted to throw it away?

Juliet gently rubbed her arm, concern tightening her lips into a line. "We should find Drac-"

Dahlia inhaled a rough, slick sob. It was utterly mortifying to be this publicly upset. Still, images of him kissing another, taking off her clothes, telling her how he wants it while Dahlia disappeared from his mind entirely. It was too much.

"Dahl!" She would recognize Amelia's voice anywhere, always coming to save her when something was horribly wrong in her heart. Her commanding tone brought her relief—too much of it.

Amelia shook her head. "I love you so-"

Dahlia lurched forward, hurling up all of Draco's liquor at her feet.

Dahlia groaned, unfortunately finding consciousness in the morning. She slowly cracked open her heavy eyelids. The emerald green curtains of Draco's canopy above his bed greeted her kindly, although they nearly matched her complexion.

"Fucking hell," she quietly croaked, gripping her forehead as the room spun.

Fates be fair.

Her throat felt dry, and her eyes all too puffy. Then, the events from the night before came flooding back—Theo, that other girl, Juliet and Amelia managing her drunken hysterics in the bathroom as they tried to keep quiet.

Why am I so embarrassing?

Dahlia wiped the sleep from her eyes, adjusting her vision in hopes of finding more soberness. She was far too nauseous to find sleep again, but Draco's arm was locked around her waist to keep her close. Safe.

Dalia squirmed, trying to shimmy free.

The bed was too hot. He was too hot. Finally, Dahlia roughly shoved Draco's arm off her waist. He grumbled as she rolled over to the cooler side of the bed—and there he was.

Theo, shirtless and still asleep, his hand resting lightly on his chest over his black heart. He was gorgeous. Too gorgeous for her or anyone. His hair was untameable as his head nodded off the pillow facing her. She had always loved him most when he was sleeping. It was the only time he was at peace with the world and himself.

She shamelessly stared, so relieved to find him alone in his bed.

The room was quiet, with an occasional snore from Xavier in the corner. No one else was awake or would be anytime soon, so Dahlia studied how his chest rose and fell. His breaths were sharper than Draco's own, and his skin was warmer too. Dahlia let her eyes linger over every exposed inch of him. She had remembered how lean he felt when he had returned, but now he was filling out with much more muscle. Maybe that's where he spent all his time, burning off rage while he trained. Dahlia counted the rings on his rough fingers and admired how the color had returned nicely to his skin.

Dahlia flickered her eyes to his handsome face and sharply inhaled as Theo stared back at her, sleepy but awake. His eyes refused to budge from her flushed cheeks and reddened eyes, although his expression was unreadable. Dahlia didn't dare to move, afraid someone might stir and break this moment that felt so fragile. Perhaps he was assessing the damage. Maybe he was aware that she had cried all night over him while she slept in someone else's bed.

Who would pity her? She was committed to Draco, crying over the person he probably hated most. Theo didn't really owe her anything, but it didn't sit right with her that he was whispering sweet things and promising her the world only to go fuck someone else.

Dahlia hated her petty side, but she couldn't help it.

Dahlia kicked a foot from beneath the duvet, exposing her bare leg while holding his steady gaze. He only blinked, unfazed by some skin he had seen several times.

But Dahlia stretched her back, pulling up Draco's oversized shirt she had slept in. She let it drift all the way to her waist as she arched her back. Theo's eyes finally dipped. He gave in. His intense glare fell on the pink thong she had briefly displayed. Dahlia slid her hand across the soft skin of her lower stomach and then relaxed.

Theo's golden eyes lifted to her pouted frown, placed perfectly with upset eyes. He quickly lifted his fingers and motioned for her to come to him. He nodded towards the door of their dormitory.

"Can we talk?" He mouthed.

For once, she found him predictable. All it took was some skin to turn the tables. Maybe it wasn't kind, but Dahlia didn't care.

She rolled her eyes, then turned away from him. She nuzzled close into Draco's back and closed her eyes.

She thought it sounded like Theo was quietly shuffling out of bed, but Dahlia ignored it. It wasn't until she felt his presence looming over her that she held her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to look.

He reached out and gently rubbed his thumb from her temple to the tip of her ear. She felt his lips softly press against her bare shoulder.

Dahlia hid a shudder, eyes tightly closed and lungs burning for more breath.

"I love you," he whispered, his lips upon her ear so the confession would more quickly reach her heart before he slipped away.

Dahlia swallowed, pulling Draco closer.

Game on.

"Come on, baby."

His hands held her waist. A firm grip that could only belong to Draco.

Dahlia panted, basking in the rays of the sun beating through her dormitory window. Draco licked the salty sweat from her neck as he lifted her forward and back on his cock. Her head fell back, attempting to drown everything from her mind.

This is all they had done today into the late afternoon. Again and again, proving to herself they were perfect together. They were, annoyingly so. He moved all the right ways. Said all the right things and meant them.

"I can't," she finally whimpered, falling into his slick chest as he leaned back in her desk chair.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him, breathing deeply. She felt the flutter of his heart racing. She gently shook with exhaustion, Draco still inside of her as this seemed to be coming to an anti-climactic end for the first time.

"What do you need from me, baby?" He murmured.

She shook her head against his chest.

Nothing. She was numb and dog-tired, but something still felt hungry within her, and she was eager to satiate whatever it was. Fix whatever felt wrong.

Draco gathered her flushed cheeks into his hands and lifted her face to his. Her hair was a mess, tangled in his fingers and silver rings. Dahlia's breath slowed. The light was fantastical around them only because it was gleaming off him. Everything always seemed to halo them, sunlight to snow.

Dahlia pushed his falling hair back away from his face, lips parted for him.

"What do you need, Dahlia?" His eyes were clear blue, dancing over her with nothing but will to please.

He was so giving. Patient. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her, and at the end of time, Dahlia was certain she would die to save him. Because he deserved it. She felt the perfection between them, flowing as one—equals.

Dahlia's breath caught in a choke for air or a sob. Finally, she nodded, leaning her forehead to his. The late sun hit her back like whip, and a bead of sweat rolled down her spine.

With a shaking hand, Dahlia ran her fingertips down his jaw, following his skin to his hand on her face. She nodded again, slowly moving her hips against him as she guided his hand to her throat.

Draco knitted his brow, falling curious before slowly smirking. Teasing.

"Is this what you want?" He whispered, squeezing the delicate skin of her neck a bit harder. He taunted her by holding her mouth just a breath away from his. He licked her bottom lip as he dug his fingertips into the top of her thigh and pushed himself deeper.

Dahlia inhaled sharply, almost choking. She nodded and reached forward to wrap her fingers around his neck. His smirk only grew.

"Do you like this?" She asked breathlessly, almost revealing her apprehension.

"Yes," he answered, smirking and falling into his own pleasure as she gripped the base of his neck and lifted herself forward and back. It was a morbid kick to hold each other's life in the other's hand. Desperation on the verge of ecstasy. Maybe that's what it was like to die. Maybe that's what she was chasing with Theo.

Dahlia worked harder, escaping his stupid gorgeous face and the thought of him panting beneath another girl like this. This was all she needed. When she was with Draco, nothing else mattered.

Dahlia shook as Draco scratched down her spine just as Theo always had. It was rough and primal as he held her close and stole her air. This was what she missed.

"You're mine, Dahlia." He spoke firmly, arrogantly, yet it was a promise. He took care of what was his.

Dahlia nodded, submitting to him.

"Now come."

It was a gorgeous morning, at least it would be if it wasn't Monday.

The clock towered tolled while Dahlia strolled down the stairs of Ravenclaw Tower. She paused to glance out the arched window to the blooms and branches flooding the forest. She closed her eyes, reeling over how quickly seasons seemed to change—how much had changed and still could.

The events of this past weekend had ignited something still unknown within her. Maybe it was apprehension, something seemingly close to dread. All she knew was that it had become more apparent than ever that they would all have to make hard choices soon as life returned to the earth, leaving the brutal winter behind.

Dahlia opened her eyes as the wind chased the pollen from the trees. It was a day one could only dream of having—full of sun and potential for the new season. She'd be lying if she told herself she had never daydreamed about sitting beneath the swaying vines by the lake with Theo all those months ago during the dreary winter. A small piece of her wanted to spot him now, peeling off his shirt or sweater to jump into the Black Lake on a foolish dare. He would smile back before he dove in head first with that gleam in his eyes that chided her—chided everyone—for thinking he wouldn't do it. She wanted to see him happy, at peace for once. Selfishly, she wanted to know how the warm sun threatened to gild his golden skin entirely because it loved him as much as she did.

She let the warm rays of sunlight caress her cheeks like the shimmers of light were Theo's roughed knuckles. It was traitorous, but how could she resist when the sun was bright and had her craving its heat against her skin?

She hadn't seen him since Saturday morning. He hadn't even bothered to open his journal as her ink grew stale from the extremely late and drunken hours of Friday night, begging to know how he could do this to her. If she could erase it, she would. There was quite possibly nothing more embarrassing she had ever done.

She hated herself for feeling so sick over the thought that maybe he had finally tried to forget her, even just for a night. He had told her more truths than he ever had in the forest; still, they had found no common ground. Maybe they never could, Draco aside.

This was their horrible pattern, though. The web they weaved for each other like a game she no longer willingly wished to play. She had grown addicted to the high of believing their last words had been spoken. She had settled for the last moment he would really, truly look at her like he loved her, only to be proven wrong days later with a gasping wash of relief. It was a euphoric sickness she couldn't shake. He was demented, more terrifying than she had bargained for. Theo feasted on her self-loathing to be more brave and her darkest desire to self-destruct, to fuck it all and be mad with him.

She should be entirely more grateful to have Draco. He was steady, completely certain in everything he did. He was safe waters. He had healed the deep, aching grief within her, walked with her to her mother's grave, and braved the worst to save her from the bog. How could she still possibly even entertain a thought about Theo?

A bereft sigh fell from her as the wind failed to push the lake's black water to the end of the shore as low tide persisted. She turned away from the window and abandoned the warm sun as she continued to make her way to the dungeons.

"Good morning, Dahlia!" A group of fourth-year girls called out as she passed. She recognized a young student she used to tutor when she was fourth-year herself. The girl had only been in her second year then.

"Hello, Emmaline!" Dahlia chirped, willing a pleasantness to take hold despite her mood.

The girls giggled, ferociously grasping at the Daily Prophet in their hands—no doubt, they were reading the latest gossip column from Rita Skeeter. Dahlia could only hope it excluded her name for once.

Dahlia rummaged through her bag in search of one of Theo's inventions she had kept. She found the golden acorns hiding in the most petite pocket and quickly popped them into her ears. She repeated her new mantras for the day as the charmed golden devices looped her favorite song.

I will be more sane than yesterday. I will only have one muffin today. I will limit my cursing to ten words before noon. I will not stab a Slytherin man today...only Xavier if he deserves it.

Dahlia hummed along. The Advanced Potions textbook was pressed to her chest as she skipped down the steps of Central Hall.

"Hi, Puddles." Dahlia patted the stone leg of the unicorn, rearing up from the fountain in the center of the stairs leading to all the different wings. With a swish of her skirt, she turned left and headed down the stone staircase that led to the dungeons.

Dahlia entered the classroom, already in a much more pleasing mood. She saw Draco lazily seated upon his stool at the station, legs spread wide, one foot on the stool's rail and the other kicked out. He didn't turn, but she knew he sensed her as she always sensed Theo's arrogantly bored gaze upon her.

She removed the charmed buds from her ears as he shamelessly stared, all too aware that she was delivering him a sense of satisfaction on a silver platter. Dahlia noted the rutty red creeping up his hollow cheeks as he refused to let any emotion cross his face. She assumed he was freshly showered from an early workout or quidditch session.

Dahlia averted her eyes to Draco, opening herself to their bond to let his love wash over her, maybe cleanse her if he could. The adoration that bloomed between them almost knocked the wind from her chest. It was such pure intimacy to swim in the other's emotions.

She tossed her textbook on the station next to him as she approached. He didn't flinch at the projectile or bother to glance upwards, but she knew she had made him smirk. Dahlia flung her arms around his broad shoulders lazily. She slid one hand downwards and flattened her palm against his chest so she could feel his heart beating. His hand was there, already waiting to fold over hers.

He held her tightly as she stood draped over his shoulders, chin nuzzled in his neck.

"Good morning," she whispered into his ear.

"Good morning, Miss Aldair," he crooned silkily with a wide grin. "I didn't expect you to arrive on time, nonetheless early for a class you're no longer failing."

"No thanks to you." Dahlia feigned a soft laugh, a sourness he adored. "I only gave myself ten curse words this morning, and I suspect I'll be directing all of them towards you."

He raised a brow and slid a hand to cup her face tightly. "Say something foul for me," he murmured, teasing in a relaxed manner. Dahlia breathed all of him in. The damp midnight sky and dark cedar were a much-welcome reprieve.

"I won't be partaking in your kinks before breakfast," she mused, scrunching her nose as if he were disgusting.

"I love you most when you're cruel to me," he bantered.

Dahlia snickered as he pulled her into his lips. He licked the roof of her mouth as he breathed in the last of her laughs. It was a broad and public display of affection—something she had once craved from him.

She kissed him back, leaning farther into him as she felt eyes upon them. He squeezed the back of her thigh before she gently pulled away, untangling herself from his grasp. She shouldn't have minded, but it felt wrong in front of Theo. She Wishfully, Dahlia hoped that's not why Draco had done it. She could be petty but not nearly as cruel as him.

He quickly returned to finishing his assignment given in the last class. He rested his wide hand on her thigh as she took a seat next to him. It was a casual habit he had fallen into, an equal display of devotion and possession—something Dahlia could never let herself forget.

Dahlia squirmed, suddenly blushing as she spotted Amelia's death grip on Theo's arm. He smacked a piece of gum in a state of snide restlessness as he looked anywhere else but in her direction. He kept his usual facade of rogue disinterest in anyone or anything firmly in place as he smoothly chuckled with a quidditch teammate at his side. Still, Amelia feared his temper as she did. His genuine emotions were always shallowly buried within himself, and no doubt, he would be snogging another girl in front of her before noon.

Dahlia took a deep breath, shifting focus back to Draco as she had attempted to do so several times this morning—all weekend. Theo had shaken her more than she had initially realized. For a second, she forgot that she had cried on his bathroom floor.

Dahlia winced.

She leaned into Draco as he feverishly scribbled his assignment. "Can we please spend some time outside today?" She asked softly.

Without a glance or hesitation, Draco smiled at the page. "Of course, darling. Whatever you wish."

Dahlia exhaled a small smile as Draco finally tore his gaze from his textbook and parchment, a light seriousness crippling his grin. "I have something to tell you in private, as well."

Dahlia scrunched her features in question, jumping when Professor Snape's voice clapped like thunder behind her.

"Mr. Nott!"

It was an order.

Draco and Dahlia swiveled on their stools. Snape stood behind them with a frightening sneer on the threshold of his old classroom. Professor Flitwick was cowering at his side.

"You, as well." Professor Snape pointed in their direction, not even meeting Draco's sneer, as if he couldn't be bothered to lift his hand entirely for a Malfoy.

Draco sighed angrily, stood, and gathered his things. This wasn't the time or place to be smug or defiant.

"Not you, Mr. Malfoy," Snape slowly snarled. "Sit. Back down."

Dahlia stood up straight, expression wiped clean. Her eyes went wide as she pointed to herself in denial.

"Yes, Miss Aldair," Professor Flitwick confirmed with a solemn nod.

Dahlia stood and collected her things, mood crashing back down.

"Fuck," she muttered as Draco glided a hand down her back. "I'll find you later," she whispered to him.

"Don't worry," he muttered, handing over her textbook. "I'll sort it for you."

Across the classroom, Theo wore a taunting smirk, suggesting that if Snape wanted him so badly, he'd have to drag him out by force. Snape obliged with a flick of his wand, tightening Theo's loose tie around his neck. Theo reached for his throat, violently choking. Snape released him once his face was almost blue.

"Fine. All right," Theo grumbled, tossing his book bag over his shoulder. "No need for violence, Severus," he added for good measure. He did his best to get under Snape's skin.

Professor Flitwick motioned for Dahlia to follow him as Snape turned on his heel and billowed down the hall. Theo joined her, walking casually at her side behind the two professors as if there was nothing to be said. They were perfectly fine.

They carried on in silence to Professor Flitwick's classroom. Dahlia counted the seconds, minutes, as they passed in heaviness. Theo glanced around and even inspected the polish on his shoe as if he knew the silence would tie her stomach in knots.

Dahlia lost herself in thought. What was happening? What had she done? What the fuck was wrong with Theo all the time?

She was startled when he leaned close unexpectedly.

"You look rather lovely," he murmured, undaunted.

Dahlia turned away, escaping the sudden heat of his breath near her cheek.

"Thanks," she mumbled, feeling unwarrantedly guilty for some gods-awful reason. He's the one who should be groveling. Maybe. Honestly, she wasn't too sure anymore.

"Warm weather suits you." As she looked elsewhere, he playfully tugged on the lilac bow in her half-up hair. "Reminds me of your pillows in your bedroom."

Dahlia attempted to hide her growing blush as Theo smirked, probably remembering how it felt to have her kneeling in front of him on said pillows at the foot of her bed that morning.

"You're disgusting," she snapped.

He snickered to himself, quite amused with his teasing.

Dahlia quickened her pace to leave him behind.

The Charms classroom was empty. Their footsteps echoed as Flitwick graciously motioned for Dahlia to take a seat at the long desk. Snape wasn't as kind, shoving Theo into the seat next to her.

Dahlia held her breath as the air wavered with his cologne. She didn't want to breathe it in.

The two professors stood before them, crossing their arms in unison. Dahlia held in a snort. Snape towered over the desk. Flitwick was far less menacing in his attempt at acting tough.

Professor Snape raised a hand. "Do not speak. Do not interrupt. I do not care for the reason, as ridiculous as it might be." Snape slowly grated. "You both are just as entitled as your fathers."

Dahlia turned to look at Theo as he winced but quickly recovered.

Flitwick nodded proudly, affirming the sentiment. His face became uncertain as he processed Snape's last words, finding them rather inappropriate.

Snape shook his head back at him, daring him to interrupt the show. He would not stand to be corrected.

Snape sighed heavily, as if he didn't willingly choose to teach year after year. He practically tormented himself.

"There have been reports of you two galivanting through the forest Thursday evening like two merry fools," he snarled. His voice echoed through the empty hall.

"Reports?" Theo questioned with a proud smirk, making himself comfortable as he slumped in his wooden chair, crossing an ankle over his knee.

Dahlia shoved his thigh away from her. "Ew," she grumbled.

Snape slapped his wand on the desk, breaking the skin of Theo's knuckles.

Flitwick jolted, and Theo held back a growl as his temper flared.

Flitwick stepped between Snape and Theo.

"This is all quite enough," he huffed.

Flitwick turned to her. "I am very disappointed in you, Miss Aldair. You are a delightful, bright witch who should know the dangers of the forest."

"Fifty points from Slytherin!" The Charms professor proudly announced.

"One hundred points from Ravenclaw," Snape sighed.

"Er," Flitwick shuffled, wiggling his finger at Theo. "Fifty more points from Slytherin."

Theo rolled his eyes as if strapped to his seat at a circus performance.

"Thank you, professor. Very merciful as always." He nodded cordially to Flitwick, then glared with a crude smile at Snape.

Theo stood as if they were finished here, but Snape shoved him back into his seat.

"Detention. With myself. Two weeks."

Dahlia's mouth fell open as Theo snorted. "You're joking?" He demanded it angrily. "I have quidditch. I'm your captain," he chuckled.

"You just mean detention for him, right?" Dahlia asked, panic rising.

Theo grunted as Snape whipped his wand across his cheek. "Five o'clock every evening," he slowly ordered. Snape then turned to her. "And no, Miss Aldair. You are not above the rules, despite how you stomp around the castle without regard."

Dahlia's jaw fell open, and she scoffed. "You cannot be serious! I will require solitary detention!" She yelled as Snape stomped out of the classroom. "I refuse to breathe the same air as him! There will be violence!" Dahlia hollered after him.

Theo sneered, seething over his removal from quidditch training. Dahlia sat stewing in her dread as Theo stormed out of the classroom.

Two fucking weeks worth of detention.

This was worse than mandated tutoring from Slughorn. Theo would be relentless for the next two weeks, taunting and crippling her every thought.

I'm an idiot. I should have never followed Theo into that fucking forest.

Flitwick patted her slackened hand on the desk. "All will be well again, Miss Aldair."

"Snape gave you detention?" Draco's worried eyes snapped towards her.

A moment ago, he had been admiring the scenery and the ripples of the Black Lake a small distance away. Dahlia sat at his side, ripping off the strings of dandelions blooming beneath them. He was on his back, propped up on his elbows. His long legs were crossed at his ankles. His eyes shone more blue than grey in the glimmering sun, his skin already welcoming a tan.

Dahlia grimaced. "Two weeks."

Draco whistled and shook his head. "And Nott?"

Dahlia crunched a dandelion in her hand as she tilted her head, giving him a knowing side-eye. Tension filled his jaw as he sucked on his cheek, biting his tongue. Dahlia knew she should have known better. He didn't need to rub salt in the wound.

"I can see if I can get you out of it..."

"How?" Dahlia bristled rhetorically. There was no way.

Draco shrugged. "An old-fashioned bribe?"

He smirked proudly, on the brink of a smile as she laughed off his suggestion.

"Not everything can be bought." Dahlia shook her head.

"Trust me, I know, I've tried." He pulled the dandelion from her palm and brought it to his lips. He roughly blew away any wishful thinking.

Dahlia leaned forward and tilted her head above his, her hair falling like a curtain for privacy. Draco brought his palm to her face, brushing his thumb across her cheek. His expression turned serious, contemplative.

"I don't like him near you," he admitted in a low voice, afraid the wind would hear him and whisper it back to Theo to give him any satisfaction.

"I know." Dahlia wasn't sure what else to say that wouldn't be a lie. "I love you, Draco. He can't take that from me."

Draco watched her expression as she played with his hair.

"I remember the first time I saw you," he started after a long moment. "You sat on that broken stool with that mangy sorting hat falling in front of your eyes. Your spine was so straight, and your shoulders were pushed so far back I thought you might fall off."

Dahlia matched his smile, happy to know every last one of his thoughts.

"You had such a snotty look on your face. I thought for certain you would be Slytherin," he chuckled.

Dahlia nodded, covering her face. "I was quite insufferable. I'll admit it."

Draco shook his head. "No. I think I knew then that I had met my match," he joked. "Maybe that's why I spent all my time hating you."

Dahlia leaned down and pressed her lips to his, hoping he would let her deepen the kiss. He allowed it briefly as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He faintly moaned before letting his head fall back.

"I hate him." He swore it with no kindness in his eyes. "I don't want to know, Dahlia. Not really."

"Draco-" She searched his face for clarity. "What do you mean?"

She studied the weary lines on his forehead and the smoothness of his skin as she traced the angles of his jaw. He remained pragmatic, refusing to crack. He was stubborn sometimes, and his pessimism could be stifling if he was in the wrong mood.

She ran her fingers through his silver hair, admiring his features. He was so elegantly handsome. It was no wonder the Fates had chosen him.

Dahlia opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"Two weeks is a long time. It would be best if you tried to figure out where he's keeping the potion." He took hold of her fingers upon his chin. His eyes were lethal but firm in his love for her.

Dahlia stilled, gut dropping quickly. It ached within her—desperation.

He doubts me.

Draco shook his head, fighting through her boiling emotions. "I don't, baby. I don't," he reassured her.

"Draco-"

"Let's be done with it," he cut in sharply. "Persuade him to give you the potion, Time Turner, or whatever else he has that could kill you. Do you understand? The sooner we destroy them, the better."

The wind shook the vines of the willow tree above them, blowing loose strands of hair across her confused expression.

"Do you understand me, Dahlia?"

She closed her mouth, biting her lips together. She nodded, more out of obedience than agreement. Her spine was nearly vibrating from the whiplash of their emotions swirling as one. She guarded her self-doubt under lock and key in the farthest corner of her mind. She wasn't entirely sure she could trust herself to do what he asked of her—but she had to believe in herself. She wasn't the same vulnerable girl she had been when Theo had sunk his teeth into her.

"We'll leave in June," Draco firmly concluded, finally sitting up. He slid his hand across her waist and gripped her hip as he hovered above her, and Dahlia leaned back. "Then, none of this will matter," he whispered against her mouth.

But that would never be true.

"We won't return here, Dahlia."

"Where will we go?" She asked, hesitating.

"We'll marry one way or another, and whatever you wish to do with the balance of darkness, the stars, time, and the fates, I'll be at your side. This world is bigger than Hogwarts—bigger than Theo. It's ours."

Dahlia giggled, the tip of her nose pressed against his cheek. "That's very inspiring."

"Have you considered what you'll do?" The gravity of his tone sent a cold shiver through their bond. Draco tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Hogwarts won't be safe much longer."

No.

She could barely sort out her present life. She couldn't fathom her future and wouldn't dare use her Sight to determine his or her destiny. It felt invasive and unnatural, like cheating life. Draco would never ask her to do so on principle. If he did, he thought himself no better than the Dark Lord. However, swearing allegiance to the Dark Lord, however false it might be, is precisely what he had asked her to consider.

Dahlia gently pushed him back as she sat up, changing the subject entirely. It was shameful that she hadn't spent her nights strengthening her abilities so that she might be fucking useful for once.

"Do you want to come over later? Lay around? Maybe Xavier and Eloise will want to play cards?" She asked Draco lightly.

Draco rubbed his jaw, growing frustrated.

Dahlia reached for his book bag to steal a candy, determined to eat her feelings.

Draco lurched forward, but Dahlia held his bag to her chest, bemused. She threw back the flap and rummaged through his things as he watched her carefully, yet maintaining a calm demeanor.

"Maybe I'll let Xavier win a round this time..." Her voice drifted, brows furrowing in confusion as she spotted his favorite pair of seeker gloves.

"Why are you still carrying these?" She pulled them out to showcase the evidence.

Her instinct screamed as horror washed over her, but her mind couldn't keep up. She made sense of it and wished it wasn't true. Snape would only allow him to fly for Slytherin on one condition.

He winced as he read her despair. "I fixed it, Dahlia."

She froze, skin beginning to prickle. The gravity of what he had just told her was too much to process. "Who knows?" There was little life in her tone.

"Snape and a lowly associate at Borgin & Burkes for now," he answered with calm precision. His expression was grave.

Dahlia shook her head, unable to bear the pressure of the future—the choices she would have to make. "I don't want to talk about this."

Dahlia shoved his bookbag into his chest. He caught her wrist. "Darling, we have to talk about it. We need a plan."

Dahlia pulled her hand away. "The only plan I want to discuss is what we are wearing to the Spring Ball." She knew she was acting childish, but these weren't easy decisions he was asking her to make for them. It always came down to her.

Draco lowered his voice and softened his tone. "Have you considered what we discussed about making a deal with him?"

Dahlia scoffed, desperate to take control of the conversation. The idea haunted her, but she wasn't anywhere near close to choosing a path.

"Have you considered wearing a white shirt instead of black with your tux?"

He took a long breath, battling his annoyance. "I'm wearing a cream shirt with silver buttons. Does that make you happy?"

Dahlia fell quiet. "Yes," she answered, chewing on an almond. "And I'm still considering the proposal."

Draco nodded, mildly disappointed, but he understood he couldn't push her. His understanding and willingness to let her follow her own heart were what she loved most about him—why she chose him.

"Do you have a dress already in mind?" He asked, tone lifting with a stressed sigh.

Dahlia fiddled with a loose string on her skirt while she chewed. She didn't have a dress. She wasn't entirely sure if she would survive till the ball.

"Do you think he'll come for me?" She whispered, eyes shining desperately up at Draco. She was lost and couldn't find the way.

Draco shook his head, denying the truth they both knew. "I won't let anyone take you from me. I'd burn this whole place, stone and all."