A/N In this chapter Marcus smokes a cigarette. I do not know what a cigarette is referred to in Britain. So, I am just going to call it a cigarette. I have read some stories where people call it a fag, but for some reason I don't like using that word. However, if you are reading this and fag is correct or you know the correct term, please feel free to let me know. Also, I know a lot of people use terms like, shag and snog. But being an American, I am not sure if those terms are proper, or would be used by Daphne and Theo. So as not to be incorrect I am going to stick with the American words I know to be correct for us. If you know of British words that would enhance my story, please feel free to share. Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains implications of child abuse and sex.

Chapter 6: Research

Daphne sat on her bed with her back against the headboard, trying to keep the sheet up to cover her breasts. She couldn't explain to herself the need to be so modest after sex with Marcus. After all, he had just seen her in the most intimate way, but it felt wrong somehow to let him continue to see her naked. She watched him get dressed, as thoughts of a conversation with her sister came to mind. She and Astoria had been drinking wine one night, and Astoria told her details about being with Draco. Daphne had tuned most of the story out, not really wanting to hear about Draco's bedroom behaviors, but what she had taken from the story was the cuddling. According to Astoria, they would lie in the bed together, naked! Sure, Daphne wasn't the most experienced woman when it came to sex. Marcus was only the second man she had ever been with, still, she couldn't imagine, just lying here with him, no clothes or sheets covering them. Of course, even if she had wanted to, Marcus was always up getting dressed right after. He had never spent the night. Why had she never questioned that before?

"Marcus, do you have to leave?" Daphne brushed her hair out of her eyes.

Marcus sat down on the bed, lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag. "I have practice in the morning. It's easier if I just go home. You know that. Why?"

"I just thought, we could cuddle. You know, lie here together and talk." Daphne patted the bed beside her.

"I don't cuddle, Daphne." Marcus held the cigarette in his mouth, bending over to put on his shoes.

Daphne waved her hand in front of her face. "I would like to try it. Haven't I asked you, not to do that inside?"

Marcus turned, blowing the smoke from his last drag, in her face. "I don't think I should have to go outside. I already told you I don't cuddle."

Daphne closed her eyes, while she held her breath for a few seconds. "That was rude."

"I thought you were used to my brand of rude, Baby." Marcus laughed.

"That doesn't make it less rude." Daphne pouted.

Marcus shook his head at her antics. "I have never liked a pouty female. Guess, that's my cue to go."

Daphne grabbed his hand to stop him. "Don't go. You always have to rush off, and I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Whatever it is you want to buy, just get it." Marcus pulled his hand away.

Daphne scoffed; he always assumed it was about shopping. Okay, perhaps it was. This time though, she really didn't want him to go yet. Which was unusual, they had a routine. He would show up, eat dinner, they would have sex, he would leave. No talking, no cuddling, like her sister described. She was lucky if she got a kiss goodbye. Normally it hadn't bothered her. She would get up after he left, make tea and take a bath. But tonight, it bothered her. For the first time in their eleven-month relationship, it bothered her. She wasn't sure if it was because of lunch with Theo coming up the next day, or if she just finally realized it should, but it defiantly bothered her. For some reason, she felt as though what she had just done with her boyfriend for almost a year was wrong, or dirty somehow.

"Marcus, kiss me."

"What, we just made love. I already kissed you plenty." Marcus put his cigarette out in the ash tray he kept on her nightstand.

Daphne looked at it, she figured if she really wanted to get him to stop smoking inside, she first needed to make it harder for him. "I don't mean like we just kissed, I mean romantically. Kiss me, like you're trying to sweep me off my feet. Make me unable to stop thinking about you, and that kiss after you're gone." What she didn't add was, 'Kiss me like Theo did the other day.' That, she kept to herself.

"Why? What has gotten into you?" Marcus crossed his arms in front of him, a look of disgust on his face.

Daphne blushed. "I just wanted to know what it felt like. Astoria always talks about kisses like that."

"Your sister reads too much. I refuse to believe; Malfoy knows a romantic kiss from any other kind." Marcus snorted with laughter at his own joke.

"It's fine Marcus, never mind." Daphne fidgeted under the sheet, trying to adjust it so it didn't slip down showing her bare breast.

Marcus looked at her, noticing something was definitely bothering her. He really didn't care what it was, but he didn't want to lose a good lay whenever he was in London. Besides, he really did like Daphne, he wouldn't call it love, but it was more than lust. She was the only one of all his women, he gave the title girlfriend to. Of all of them, she came from a Pure-Blood family, and was the most proper. In fact, if it had become advantageous to take a wife, and his father had not already secured a betrothal for him from Daphne's father, she would most likely have been the one he would choose. Of course, Daphne had no idea a contract had been drawn up, just waiting for her father to force her to sign it. Marcus snickered to himself as he thought about it.

Marcus decided 'what the hell, better get used to this sort of thing." He sat back down on the bed, leaned forward, pecking her on the cheek. When Daphne smiled back at him, he attempted this romantic kiss she was going on about. Marcus pushed his lips against hers forcefully, that's what romance was to him. Daphne stiffened under the pressure, then tried to relax, once she realized he was trying to do as she had asked. This kiss was almost painful though, not romantic at all. She wanted him to kiss her in a way which would have her falling asleep to thoughts of him. As it was, now she was kissing Marcus while thinking about Theo. Damn Nott, why had he felt the need to kiss her that way? Marcus pulled away smiling, satisfied he had just accomplished the task she had asked of him. Thankfully, he mistook the look of fear, on her face that he would know she was thinking about someone else, as a look of contentment.

"Now, you'll be missing me all night." Marcus had the look of lust on his face. He was actually thinking he may need to take his pants back off. Instead, looking at the time he, decided to change the subject so he could calm his arousal back down. "I have to go away with the team again. We have three games over the next sixteen days."

"Marcus, I have a fashion show at the end of the month. You promised to escort me." Daphne was thankful he hadn't stripped back down. She was ready for her bath.

"I will be gone a no more than the sixteen days. Your show is in eighteen, I will be back in plenty of time." Marcus leaned over to the nightstand, pulled another cigarette out of the pack. "Don't worry, I love getting to show you off. Besides, having the starting chaser of the Canons as your escort, should speak volumes." He blew smoke over her head again.

"Most of these people won't know what a chaser is. However, I promised Daddy, you wouldn't miss it. He doesn't like the idea of me being around so many Muggles without you." Daphne tried to sound like a damsel in distress, appealing to his ego.

"You don't have to worry, love. I will be there." Marcus had heard something he couldn't wait to tease her about, now was the perfect moment, "Oh, by the way, I hear Nott is back in town." Marcus smirked devilishly.

"Oh, he is?" Daphne bit her bottom lip. What if he knew she had already seen Theo and planned to meet with him again? She had planned on telling Marcus tonight, it just hadn't come up yet.

"That's the rumor. I would love to see the look on his face when he finds out I got you after all. Maybe, I should send him a letter letting him know what you feel like, since he was never man enough to find out." He reached over and pinched her nipple through the sheets.

Daphne smacked his hand, "Marcus, that hurts."

"You weren't complaining a little while ago." Marcus smiled at her, and reached for her nipple again, this time not being quite so rough. After a few seconds, the look of lust reentered to Marcus's eyes, he pulled the sheet down off Daphne, while reaching for his fly, undoing his pants. 'Guess, I won't be telling him about lunch with Theo, right now.' Daphne thought to herself, as Marcus settled himself between her legs.

Daphne found herself lying there, while Marcus found his release for the second time that night. This time he hadn't bothered to take off his shoes. She bit the inside of her cheek trying desperately not to think about Theo, unable to think of anything but. Once Marcus was gone, she took a long bath. How was it possible, she felt like she had just cheated on her boyfriend. She had done nothing wrong. Lots of people fantasize about one person, while lying with another, right? The closer Friday afternoon got, the more impossible it seemed to think about anything but, Theo. As she lay, there daydreaming about what her lunch the next day was going to be like, she realized, she didn't feel like she had cheated on Marcus. It was the other way around, she felt like she had cheated on Theo.

Daphne told herself she was being ridiculous. She and Theo had not been together in more than five years. Okay, so maybe it had not been by their choice. Maybe, her father had made that decision for her. Maybe, she had spent the first summer apart from him crying herself to sleep every night. Still, they had never had sex. That's not to say, they hadn't had hot and heavy make out sessions with each other, but she had left London just after she turned sixteen. She was twenty-one now. Shouldn't she be over him? The more she lay in the tub trying not to think about him, the more she thought of nothing else. Theo had always been a perfect gentleman, never pushing, or doing anything which she wasn't ready for. He had always been the one to say they had all the time in the world for sex. She laid in the warm water, remembering one day in their fifth year after Pansy had sworn, she and Draco had just done 'it' in a broom cupboard. Pansy always made it sound so passionate and wonderful. Daphne wanted Theo to need her like that, to want her as desperately. She had found Theo, pulled him into an empty classroom, pushed him in too a chair, straddling his lap. Once she had his heart racing, one hand in her hair, the other up the back of her shirt, she had reached down to unbuckle his belt. Theo had stopped her; she sunk down in the bath water thinking about what he had told her.

Theo had pulled her hand up to his face, kissed it gently. "Daph, I don't want our first time to be like this. I love you too much. You deserve far better than me taking you in a classroom, or the back of the library, like I don't respect you. I would never do that. I want our first time to mean something, to make you feel as loved as you make me feel."

After, Daphne never paid much attention to Pansy's stories. Instead of thinking her and Theo's relationship needed to be more like the one Pansy claimed she had with Draco, Daphne thought Pansy's and Draco's, needed to be more like Her's and Theo's. She smiled lying in the tub, remembering she had thought on more than one occasion Pansy had made up at least half of what she claimed her, and Draco did. Funny, all this time later, Daphne had found out from the great prat himself, Pansy had made up almost all of it. No wonder her friendship with Pansy had ended, when Draco started dating Astoria. Pansy wasn't jealous, she was scared Daphne would find out the truth.

Daphne had spent the first two years she was separated from Theo, depressed, missing him terribly. Right after graduation, she had met Luc. He had been her first. Daphne never loved Luc and was sure he didn't love her. But he had been hurting the same as she. They helped each other get over their pain moving on. Somehow though, even knowing it was just about sex, and companionship with Luc, he never made her feel inadequate or dirty the way Marcus, the man she claimed she loved, had tonight. Daphne finished her bath, made some tea, sat down trying to work on the sketches for a dress she had been toying with. Finally, she decided she couldn't concentrate and went to bed. Instead of lying in bed with thoughts of Marcus like she had hoped by asking him for the romantic kiss, she lie there with thoughts of Theodore Nott Jr., smiling at her while sitting on his Harley.

xXXx

9 Years Ago

Clair sat on the couch in her living room, while she read essays her students had written. They were about the American Revolutionary War. Although, the students would go on to Hogwarts to become wizards and witches, they still had to have an understanding of British history. Many of the wizarding world worked closely with Muggles. Instead of grading the essays, she stared at the last letter from Theodore, which had come a few days ago. He was on his way back to Hogwarts next week to start his third year, and was excited to tell her the news he and Daphne had become a couple over the summer. Clair always knew Daphne would be Theodore's first girlfriend. She truly wished she could be there to share in his happiness. Theodore deserved someone who made him happy. He had always been such a lonely child, sad and shy. However, she had seen an enormous ability to love if someone just gave him the chance. Lost in thought, she finally came back around as a loud knock sounded on her front door. 'Who could that be?' She thought, as she got up and crossed to the door. When Clair looked through the little peep hole she saw Timothy Hamilton, as he paced back and fourth in front of her door. 'What in the world?'

Clair opened the door, "Healer Hamilton? What are you doing at my flat?"

Hamilton stopped in front of her, "I need to talk to you, now!"

"Okay, come in." Clair backed up, opened the door wider so he could go passed her.

Healer Hamilton walked quickly passed her, he began to pace back and fourth in her living room. "You need to see this!" He held a file up to her and shook it.

Clair took it, with hesitation, "What is it?"

"Theodore's last visit to the hospital. Something has to be done, now!" He continued to pace. "I have looked up the men and now understand what you had tried so hard to tell me." His hands shook, "I now know Nott owns part of the hospital and his factories provide our supplies. The hospital is more dependent on his family than anyone would like to admit." He threw his hands in the air, "The jerk, won't let me near Theodore, and the administration backs him up, not me!" Hamilton practically yelled however, Clair was sure it was not at her. "As for Malfoy," he scoffed, "where to begin? He has far too much influence in the ministry. I know getting anyone to listen and do something will be a long shot, but I have to try. Something must be done, Clair. May I call you Clair? I feel like I should call you Clair." He talked a million miles an hour.

Clair blinked at him, and tried to keep up. She knew from previous dealings, this man was passionate, but until right now, she hadn't known just how much. "Please, sit down." She gestured to her dinning room table, which was little more than a small table which could seat two people. "Certainly, you may call me Clair, if that helps. Just try to relax. I have water on, we can have tea in a moment."

She sat in the other seat, opened the file and begun to read it. As Clair looked at the file, she was beyond shocked. She had expected it to be bad if Hamilton had come to her home, but this, this was worse than she expected. Four broken ribs, a punctured lung. Fractured jaw, fractured eye socket. Possible, eye sight damage to the left eye. His injures were awful, but being a witch, the lack of healing the healers did was what made tears run down her face.

"Stitches?" Clair looked up at Hamilton, "Does this say he was sent home with stitches?" Hamilton nodded affirmative.

Clair continued to read the file, the healers set the ribs, and healed the lung. They had stitched his cheek, performed a healing charm on the eye itself, but not the tissue around it, leaving it swollen shut, and bruised. At one point she put her hand over her mouth, when she started to cry hard enough, she hiccupped. According to the file, Theodore had picked a fight with a group of muggle boys.

"Theodore would never pick a fight with a bunch of boys, Muggle or otherwise." She had not really been talking to Hamilton at that moment, just out loud.

He answered her anyway, "I didn't think so."

Clair put the file on the table, while she closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw a little eleven-year-old Theodore seated on his bed as he shook, and told her 'If you leave, he'll kill me.' Finally, she looked back at Healer Hamilton, "Theodore was right. That bustard is going to kill him." She handed the file back, "What do you need from me, Healer Hamilton?"

Hamilton took the file from her, then grabbed her hand, "Call me Tim. I think we might as well put some of the formalities aside. Don't you?" Clair nodded yes. "I need you to make a statement and be willing to testify, if necessary."

Clair looked at their hands, Tim held hers very tightly. "Ask your questions healer, uh, Tim. I am ready to answer."

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, then let go of her hand. "Do you have something I can write on. Sorry, but in my rush to get here from the hospital I left my briefcase in my office." He grimaced.

Clair smiled at him, "Certainly." She went over to her bookcase, on the second shelf she kept parchment and ink. Clair brought it back over to the table, handed it to Tim, "Where do you want to begin." She went into the kitchen to make the tea.

Tim watched her, then shook his head. He was a professional, why in the world had he stared at her ass while she made tea. What the hell had gotten into him? He turned his focus to the paper, "Perhaps, you could tell me the first time you saw Nott hit his son."

"When Theodore was four." Clair, turned to face Tim, and wrung her hands, while she answered the question.

Tim looked surprised. "He was only four?"

"Yes. Four. Not long after his wife died." Clair looked sad when she mentioned Claudette Nott.

"So, Theodore lost his mother at four. I had known he was young, didn't ever know how young. Nott never hit him before that, then?" Tim was trying to understand.

Clair wiped another tear away, "No, not before his wife died. They were such a happy family when they hired me. Theodore would have been six months, I believe. Lady Nott had an effect on people. You couldn't help but be happy around her. She would quite literally light up a room, when she walked in. I remember, Lord Nott being so in love with her. He didn't really care for all the Muggle things she brought in the home, but she had a way of making him allow it. When she got sick, he changed. He went from a happy man, who smiled all the time and played with their son, to a man who wanted nothing to do with his child. A man who was always angry. Honestly, I would say Theodore Nott Sr. died when his wife died. All that was left, was the shell of a former Death Eater. He didn't really abuse his son or do something excessive though, until Theodore was six. At that time, he beat him with a toy racing broom."

"Six, years old. My god. His hospital chart shows him coming in once he was eight, there is no record of any age earlier than that." Tim cleared his throat.

Clair thought for a while, "That sounds right." She walked over to the table, put the tea down and took her seat. "Up until Theodore was eight, I could take care of his injuries. At eight, Lord Nott found out Theodore had borrowed a broom from a friend to teach himself to fly. As punishment for lying, Nott made him fly as high as he could, at eight that was maybe ten feet, then his father knocked him off the broom."

"So, this was the time in his chart, where Theodore said he fell off his broom?" Tim was writing everything down as quickly as he could.

"One of the times he claimed he fell off his broom." Clair, reached out, put her hand on top of Tim's to stop him from writing, "What is your plan? You know, after I answer all your questions, what do you plan to do?"

Tim looked up at her. "I made an appointment with the Child Protective Department at the Ministry for tomorrow at eleven. I anticipated your willingness to help." He looked down at their hands, "I hope I didn't overstep."

"What if I had not? Been willing to help, that is?" Clair hadn't moved her hand.

"I would have gone anyway. Like I told you, I have to try." Tim turned his hand over, so he was now holding Clair's hand, "It has gotten to that point, Clair, someone has to do something. I know, it may not do any good, but I can't not do anything, any longer."

"You're right. We have to try. I will go with you." Clair put her hands in her lap. "What's your next question?"

Tim watched her hand as it left his empty on the table, he looked up at her, tried to smile, but went on with the interview. "There was a time, he claimed he fell off a balcony, can you tell me about that."

"The balcony," Clair took a deep breath, "that was the first time I was honestly afraid for Theodore's life," She looked down, "and mine." She looked up to see worry in Tim's eyes. Apparently, the man had never thought she was ever in any danger. "Why else would I not say anything, all this time?"

Tim shook his head. "I don't know. I have never been in your position." He suddenly felt a wave of anger towards Nott he had not felt before. Oh, he was plenty angry with the man, but this was a more primal anger. With a hand that shook from anger, be placed it on Clair's cheek, "I promise, I will not let him hurt you. If he threatens you at all for helping, he will have to face me." Tim removed his hand and smiled at her. He hoped to lighten the mood. "I am a pretty damn good wizard."

Clair allowed herself a soft chuckle, "Most Americans are from what I understand." Clair smiled, but quickly stopped, where had that come from? She had most certainly never heard any such thing. Had she just flirted with him? She closed her eyes, took a deep breath then opened her eyes and told the story. "Theodore would have just turned ten. You should know, Lord Nott is very accomplished at wandless magic. Theodore had made a friend, a few years earlier, and the two enjoyed writing to one another. One night, they stayed up later than they should have, owling back and forth. Theodore had gotten out of bed to send one last owl to her. His father found him on his balcony with the bird. I heard him yell at Theodore and ran in. Lord Nott had picked Theodore up by his neck. He liked to do that; Theodore couldn't get free. When I got in the room, I pleaded with him to put the boy down, he threw me with his magic against a wall. I got up and tried to get over to them again, he simply waved his hand at me, throwing me across the room. That time, I hit my head pretty hard on the banister of Theodore's bed. It took a few minutes for me to see straight, but once I could, I saw Nott, throw his son, off the balcony." Clair trembled, while she told the story. "Somehow miraculously, Theodore only broke his leg."

Tim had forgotten to write all this down, he was too wrapped up in his desire to kill Nott, and his desire for some reason to hold this woman and protect her. They sat in silence for a moment, until Tim finally started to write everything down. He didn't speak again, until the whole story was on paper.

Through the course of the afternoon, Clair told Healer Hamilton everything she knew. She had agreed to meet him for breakfast the next morning and go with him to the ministry. When they said goodbye that afternoon, Clair honestly hoped the ministry would listen to them. Although, she knew their involvement was less than likely.

Clair sat down to write Theodore back, but ended her letter short, only a few paragraphs before she sent it. She went into her bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Clair looked at herself in the mirror, annoyed. Her thoughts should honestly be on Theodore, not the piercing blue eyes of some American wizard, she barely knew.

A/N I absolutely loved writing this chapter. Isn't Marcus an ass?