“I’m attracted to the extreme light and the extreme dark. I’m interested in the human condition and what makes people tick. I’m interested in the things people try to hide.”

- Johnny Depp

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“So, have the nerves kicked in yet?” Ophelia asked as they settled into their table at the far back of the small coffee shop.

“For what?”

“The wedding. Not long now.”

“A little,” Draco answered, hoping his voice didn’t betray how nervous he actually felt. He got like this whenever someone mentioned the wedding to him. Sure, he could think and think about it, but thoughts were just thoughts, even if they made him a little anxious. But when people, like his mother, Natalie or Ophelia, tried talking about the marriage to him, Draco found himself shutting it out as best as he could. Speaking about it out loud was what made it real.

Suddenly, she leaned across the table and gingerly covered his hand with hers. At his questioning gaze, she half-smiled. “It’s all right, you know. I’m not my mother or yours.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” he said flatly, thinking maybe she would get the message and leave it. 

“I just wanted a cup of coffee to get to know you better, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable –”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he said quickly, but she only ignored him.

“– I just thought, seeing how we’re both going through this, maybe you’d want to talk about it.” She leaned back in her seat, shrugged, then signalled for a waitress. “It could make this a whole lot easier for ourselves.”

He watched her, thinking over what she’d said. Could he really talk to her about it? Could he really allow for himself to say what’s on his mind? Would she use it against him and tell her mother?

The waitress came over to their table, not before looking at her watch with a very bored expression, and asked for their orders. In spite of her less than welcoming expression, Ophelia smiled at her like she was an old friend, and Draco supposed maybe she wouldn’t use what he told her against him after all.

As the waitress wrote down whatever it was Ophelia ordered, she did a double take and a look of recognition crossed her face. “Hey, you’re the Hopkins’ kid.”

‘Kid’ was a bit strange coming from her, considering she looked like she was still in Hogwarts.

“I am, yes,” said Ophelia.

“I saw what your mum did for Giant Rights, and I gotta say, it was pretty cool.” She gave her a faint smile and turned to Draco. “What’ll it be?”

“Just coffee. Black,” he said. When she walked away he snorted. “Giant Rights. Potter would love that.”

Ophelia glanced up from the menu she was examining. “Potter? Are you talking about Harry Potter?”

“Sadly.”

“He was the one who gave my mother the idea about the giants.”

“Of course it was,” he muttered, before a truly terrible thought occurred to him. “You’re not friends with him, are you?”

She smiled at the childish question. “He drops around the house occasionally but I don’t know him personally. Seen him, never actually talked. Mum on the other hand… she adores him. She’s always saying how the world needs more Harry Potter’s.”

It took more self-control than Draco knew he had not to bang his head on the table. “Make a mental note for me,” he said grimly. “If we marry, lets move out right away.”

He did not notice his mistake. Might never have, had it not been for Ophelia’s lack of response. Mentally, he cursed, and before he could explain, the waitress appeared with their order, oblivious to Draco’s discomfort.

“That’ll be all, then?” she asked. 

Ophelia smiled, a smile that looked so real Draco wondered how long it took to perfect something like that.

She took a long slip of her coffee, too long really, because Draco’s was far too hot to even attempt drinking it, and when she set it down softly, she spoke just one word.

“If?”

It was his turn to fall silent.

“Why mightn’t we marry, Draco?” she asked. She did not sound accusing, or even hurt. Only curious.

“Your mother could decide she doesn’t like me. That’s what I meant to say,” he lied.

Ophelia brought the china back to her lips and drank. Draco mimicked her, and in silence, both chose to ignore the lie.

***

He saw her again after that. And again and again – until afternoon coffees with her became a regular occurrence. It was mostly because of his mother’s delighted expression when he’d informed her of his first afternoon spent with Ophelia that motivated Draco to schedule another meet up. After the second one Ophelia called the shots and they began arranging at the end of every coffee the next time they would meet. 

He didn’t hate seeing her. On the contrary, he thought maybe he could really begin to like her if only Draco could forget the nagging voice in the back of his head reminding him who she was, that he would be marrying her, that it was essential to like her. And it was these thoughts which got in the way of truly enjoying her presence. Draco could see himself becoming friends with her, even go as far to see each other simply because they liked it. But he could not imagine a lifetime with her.

He didn’t really know the whole reason behind that, aside from the fact that they were being forced together, but somehow he felt it went deeper than that. She was missing something. And for a long time he had no idea what that something could be, until one day they went to sit at their usual table, only to find someone had left their book there.

Without much thought, Ophelia picked up the book and tossed onto the next table. Draco could only stare at her, wondering why she hadn’t looked more closely at it, why her eyes didn’t light up at the sight of it, why she didn’t try reading the back to see what it was about or why she didn’t sniff the pages. He imagined the look on Granger’s face if she saw such little regard for a book and snorted out a laugh. Ophelia shot him an odd look, he sobered quickly, and it was only much later, when he thought back on this small and seemingly insignificant moment, did it dawn on him that maybe he secretly knew what she was missing all along. 

On their seventh meeting, Draco left later than he normally would have done. The sun was setting, shops were closing, people were going home, and the temperature was dropping rapidly to a frosty chill. Still. It was nothing unusual. Nothing to suggest anything would happen.

He was walking along, hands in his pockets and boots crunching in the snow as he thought over what Ophelia had said earlier, about how she was going to Longbottom and Lovegood’s wedding.

“You aren’t going?” she’d asked him.

“No.”

“Don’t you like them?”

“Not really. Why are you going?”

“Well, they are the ones who helped Harry Potter throughout his years at Hogwarts. Mother’s always saying how we need to be on good terms with the war heroes.”

“You see Longbottom often?” he asked, practically dreading the answer.

“We talk sometimes, yeah.”

Again, it had been hard not to bash his head on the table and fall to his knees, screaming and asking why fate was so cruel. Now, he can’t not only get rid of Potter, but he’s stuck with Longbottom and Lovegood too.

He was still thinking about this awful new development when there was a shatter of glass breaking, quickly followed by a scream and then shouts. Reflected on the store window in front of Draco were the flashes of spells; red, blue, purple, orange, yellow, green. He turned in time to see people running away from something, screaming and yelling and shoving each other out of the way as others fell to the ground. Then Death Eaters came into his view, hot on their heels were Aurors. Before he could be seen (because it surely wouldn’t take long for at least one to recognise him) Draco quickly hid at nearest alley and around the back of a store. He peaked around the corner and watched as some Death Eaters successfully managed to run up the street to the Apparition point and disappear. Others weren’t so lucky, a few actually Disapparating just as an Auror grabbed their arm or leg and taking them with. The whole scene only took a minute tops, and then eventually everybody had ran elsewhere or Disapparated until the street was deserted, leaving nothing but disrupted snow.

But before Draco could do anything, there was the sound of multiple footsteps on snow and hushed whispering. He glanced again around the corner to see three more stray Death Eaters. 

His right boot stepped forwards, ready to leave and slip back around the other side of the shop, because time was quickly ticking away, and he only had seconds before they’d reach the end of the alley and find him standing there.

Then, by some ridiculous impulse, he took that step back until he was against the cold stonewall. What are you doing? the rational part of him demanded. Run! But Draco did not move. He would not be chased off. Feigning the most convincing nonplussed posture he could manage, he crossed his arms lazily and leaned into the wall.

And when the Death Eaters reached the end of the alley and started towards the opposite direction, completely missing him, Draco yelled out, “Does it ever get hot wearing those masks and capes?”

Two of them turned simultaneously. The middle, Draco noticed, was more reluctant.

“You!” The one on Draco’s left, who was slightly shorter than the other two, started to march over, his hand plunging in his robes, when the middle and tallest Death Eater pulled out his wand, and just as Draco made to grab his, he realised that the wand was not even pointed at him, but the short Death Eater.

With a lazy flick, there was a slash of purple light and the short one gave a yelp and grabbed his buttocks with both hands.

“What’d you do that for?” he yelled.

“Calm yourself,” the middle replied, and though Draco could not see through the mask, he knew he was amused. Probably even smirking.

“Calm myself?” the left repeated in disbelief, still holding his bum.

The middle did not reply and only stared thoughtfully at Draco.

“Well, well, well,” he said finally. “If it isn’t the Malfoy heir.”

“Double crossing bastard,” the right and most muscular one sneered.

The tall one strolled casually forward. “We seem to be running into quite a lot of Malfoys lately. How’s daddy doing?” he taunted.

Draco could not stem the anger the question provoked. It was because of these people his father could not remember. It was because of them he had to watch his mother wail and sob while he had to try and feed her lies about how it was going to all right, lies even he did not believe in. They were the reason his father would drift off mid conversation with that vacant and lost look in his eye, the reason he had to see his mother’s bright smile falter for only a second and then reappear and pretend she hadn’t seen it. It was all their fault. His fingers twitched, itching to ball themselves into fists and smash something. But he could not let them see they’d hit a nerve and instead, Draco forced out a calm and collected, “Fine,” before his voice took on a colder and sinister edge to it. “You should know better than anyone. I will find out what you did to him, and when I do, you’d better watch out. All of you.”

“A bold thing to say considering you are, forgive me, quite alone and lacking the normal fan club you carry about,” said the middle icily. “Where’s Zabini? Has he finally grown a mind of his own or have you killed him too? I’m hoping for the latter, quite frankly.”

The other two sniggered stupidly, reminding Draco of Crabbe and Goyle.

“Don’t forget Parkinson’s back on their good side,” the right one said.

Draco’s attention was still on the middle, and very slightly, he thought he saw his shoulders tense, just the faintest bit.

“Would’ve thought she had more sense,” said the left, sounding rather disappointed.

The right one scoffed. “She’s always been thick, that one. Can’t say I’m all that surprised.” 

The middle glanced briefly over at the Death Eater on his right, his posture suddenly not as arrogant as it had been. “Parkinson’s back with you?” he asked Draco, void of any real emotion.

“Yeah,” answered the short Death Eater instead. “But this time, she’s fallen for his friend. The Zabini bloke.”

Draco watched the middle’s fists clench and unclench, like a cat flexing it’s claws, and this time his body definitely stiffened. Draco felt he was beginning to know who was under that mask.

The muscular one snorted, oblivious to his companion’s reactions.  “Lucky man, he is. If Zabini hadn’t already been friends with Malfoy, I’d have said he was only there because he knew Parkinson would go back to him. I would’ve pretended to like Malfoy just to get on her good side, if you know what I mean.”

The sleazy way in which he said it made it impossible to not know what he was implying, and Draco felt angrier. Pansy was, after all, his best friend. And nobody could talk about his friends in such a dirty context. He saw, again from the corner of his eye, the middle one have a similar reaction, though much more worse because he seemed to be shaking. 

As the other two snickered at their own joke, still unaware of what was really happening, Theodore suddenly lost all pretence and stepped forwards. With a squish of his wand his mask was removed to reveal the face Draco had been suspecting to be there all the time.

“So,” Nott spat out, his height towering over him. “She’s with Zabini now? I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked, she’s had you, then me. It only makes sense to get the last remaining male in our group. That way she’s been with us all now, hasn’t she?”

Draco stood a little taller. “She’s with someone who finally appreciates her. Blaise puts her needs above his own. Blaise gives her the attention she deserves. Blaise makes her laugh. Blaise is someone she can trust. Blaise is someone who’d never pick joining up with this mob,” – he gestured to the other two Death Eaters still idiotically staring – “over his own girlfriend.”

Somehow, he got satisfaction seeing the hardening of Nott’s eyes, knowing he was getting at where it hurts most. Seeing him again, in a Death Eater cloak and remembering the silver mask, triggered a hate he didn’t think was possible towards someone who’d once been a best friend. It was not like in the park when Draco had thought maybe Nott would stop and come back to his senses (because he had always been smarter than Draco). This time, there’d been plenty of time for Nott to turn around and go back to Pansy. So much time to realise what he was doing was wrong. But he hadn’t. He chose to leave behind Blaise, the tall and gangly kid who’d first suggested he sit with them in Potions. He chose to leave behind Pansy, the girl who always walked by and ruffled his hair, or who sat beside him to copy off that nights homework, the only crush he’d ever had. Hating Draco was one thing, but to flick off people who’d once meant so much to him like they were bugs was another.

“You wanna know something?” Nott said softly after a pause. “You’ll never know what we did to your pathetic father, but I’ll tell you this. He screamed. He screamed and cried like the pitiful human being you’ve always been too blinded to see. And this isn’t the end.” There was a dark glint to his eyes now. “We’re going to make everyone you love scream. Because after what you did to us all Draco, it can’t be and wont be forgotten. Betrayal is something we don’t take lightly, and things are going to get very dangerous for you. Maybe not straight away. But eventually, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“You betrayed us first!” he hissed, if only to cover up the fear he felt as his hand inched into his pocket now, unable to contain himself.

“No, you betrayed us!”

“We were friends!”

“Yes, the biggest mistake I ever made!”

He cursed him.

Nott went flying backwards in a flash of red, then, before he could see how much damage he’d done, the short Death Eater furiously raised his wand, apparently waiting for his chance all night, and in no time at all spells were shooting out in every direction, crumbling the walls as they hit, sending snow flying, and illuminating the dark area with a flash of colours like they were at a Weird Sisters concert.

Draco avoided each and every spell, having to duck a few times, as they backed further down the alleyway. A jet of red light from his wand missed the left Death Eater only be inches and he fell in the snow in his effort to escape. Draco was allowed a second to think that maybe he could actually get away from this unscathed, when the force of the Crucio hit him hard from behind, and the impact of it had him falling to his knees.

It was one of those times when he was reminded of why he could never become an Auror. He’d forgotten that he was very much alone. Forgotten what Moody had drilled into their heads about constant vigilance all those years ago, about never having your back to an opponent – to always know where your enemies are stationed. Because at some point during his duel, the right Death Eater had snuck up behind him, and nothing could prepare Draco for the wave of pain.

He twitched at first. Then thrashed and withered in the snow, and try as he might, he could not stop the cries of agonised pain that escaped him. He twisted around on the ground so much that soon he felt the back of his skull slam into the wall. He did not mind though, because any sort of injury, anything at all to take his mind from the current situation was bliss. But the sharp ache was only there for a second before the burning torment of the Crucio caught up with him.

It seemed like a very long time before it stopped. Draco’s vision swirled in front of him, faded to black and then refocused again. It did this several times through the newly found ringing in his ear until he caught sight of some blurred shape. Everything went black, and then focused again, only this time, the figure was standing above him, and Draco gathered up enough sense to let his gaze travel upwards and into the face that was Theodore.

It took a minute, maybe more, as the scene slowly came a little clearer, despite that everything was blurred and fuzzed around the edges, and he gradually spotted two dark figures lying in the snow a few feet away.

He opened his mouth to ask, but found that it was not only filled with blood, but was far too hoarse to get sound out anyway. Draco leaned forwards and coughed the scarlet substance into the snow, where it stained. He must have bitten his tongue, except he could not be sure through the throbbing in his own head and the aching of muscles that still seemed to twitch. He slanted back on the wall, breathing hard.

“You should have run while you had the chance,” said Nott, eyes following the trickle of blood seeping down from Draco’s mouth, trickling down his neck and into the collar of his shirt.

Draco did not reply at first, and Nott started to back away, wand held high to lift the protective charms that had no doubt been placed over the area (it was the only reason as to why they weren’t caught), when Draco managed to croak out, repeating what Theodore had said in the park, “You don’t kill your own side.”

He’d taken out the other two Death Eaters for him, why he didn’t know and was too bloody sore to figure it out anyway, but Nott had, and it rose a feeling of hope inside him, thinking that maybe, just maybe, his friend was still in there somewhere.     

Nott spun around in fury and kicked Draco in the side, who grunted in pain. “I’m not on your side. Perhaps once, but never again. You hear?”

But he couldn’t help himself. “I thought you said the next time you saw me you wouldn’t hold off your Death Eater pals?” he panted.

Theodore punched him in the jaw before grabbing his collar, holding him so close that their noses almost touched. “The next time I see you, Draco. I swear I will kill you. You and her.”

Given that Draco had had years and years of practise hiding his feelings, essentially for times like these when it would be dangerous for anybody to know when they’d hit a nerve, it was amazing how, once she was threatened, that training managed to slip. Just for a second. Perhaps even only half. But in spite of what Draco liked to think, Nott knew him, and judging by the cruel smile that appeared across his face, he’d seen Draco’s giveaway.

“You kill my girl. I kill yours. Only fair.”

He carelessly let go of Draco, whose head hit the wall again, and for the third time that night went to leave. But he stopped at the last moment, just before he could reach his two Death Eaters, looking over his shoulder at Draco.

“A girl could get herself into serious trouble, being with you. Because the Dark Lord may be dead, but there’s still a lot of people you’ve ticked off, and there’s a lot who’d do just about anything to hurt you. And by hurt I mean to break you. Physically, emotionally, mentally, everything – to rip your insides apart piece by piece. And Granger, well… Once they realise she’s the key to achieving that, she’ll be in a lot more danger than even you.” He paused. “Just something to think about.”  

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No preview because I couldn't find one that wouldn't give too much away :/ I like Theodore in this for some reason... random hahah, but anyway, thank you for reading, comments, and votes C: