Lover of the Light

Chapter Twenty-Three: Lover Dearest

Feeling guilty and miserable is not a foreign combination to him. Theodore Nott was conceived by obligation and rigid affection. He was brought to life by pushes of hatred, raised in greed, showered in indifference, and taught by pureblood history. Guilt and misery came naturally with the things instilled in him. And as he grew up, appearances became his best friend.

Guilt was damning himself for being born, especially when his mother and father pulled him left and right, shoving lectures and names down his throat, refusing to coddle him because respectable, pureblood boys never need the embraces of care. Misery was damning himself for being born, especially because his mother and father did not love him, because they never provided him with a protecting kiss at bedtime or words of praise to give him confidence.

Guilt transformed itself in teenage confusion, especially when he was taught to be a man, taught to want and need a suitable, pureblood witch to provide him with heirs and a hefty amount of gold, but never wanting any girl around him. Misery transformed itself in teenage confusion, especially because he was taught to be a man and he found that he would never fully be one because of his wandering eyes and erratic heartbeats whenever a handsome boy caught his attention...

Things, however, did not remain that simple. He was used to guilt and misery, they were his faithful companions, but then other emotions surfaced; blindsiding him as they forced their way into him.

He met Fate one night in Sixth Year. Misery had been keeping him company that evening as they both hid in a dark crook of the muggle section of the library. The aisle was hardly ever visited, especially during those days of worried knowledge that the Dark Lord was alive, but he'd chose to hide there for those reasons exactly. He'd known then that it was only a matter of time before his father dropped dead or found himself in prison. The scam Theodore Sr. had pulled on his fellow Death Eaters would not go unnoticed, and when that moment came, Theo knew he'd be the one to suffer for it. That was a responsibility—a burden—he would not be able to bear.

'A Slytherin in the muggle section? That's rich.'

Fate had made her appearance when she walked into the lonely section of books where Theo sat brooding with misery, bringing along with her a tall boy with damp, tousled dirty-blonde hair in his striped pajama bottoms and a black jumper. He had ire in his eyes, but a leer on his lips.

'A Hufflepuff in the Hospital Wing? That's normal,' Theodore had responded to the intruder, pointing the wand that'd been previously resting beside his extended legs.

The blonde had only scoffed. 'Nott, if I hadn't seen your ghastly wand-work in Defense today, I would possibly be scared. But seeing as you are terrible at being a wizard, care to piss off? This is my sulking spot at night.'

Theodore simply glowered back, keeping silent for a moment. What could he have said? His participation in Defense Against the Dark Arts class had been downright embarrassing that Snape had deducted points and threatened to have him kicked out of Slytherin House if he ever did measly work again. Theo had just sauntered off scowling and blamed it all on his father. The worry of what was going to come, fretting over their draining vaults, had been enough to block his magical abilities.

'Seriously, Nott, piss off. I've got a day's worth of annoyance to distress from.'

'Well, you can fuck off somewhere else, little Hufflepuff, because I'm currently occupying this spot.'

Two minutes and seven seconds. That's all it took for Fate to convince her blonde friend to take a seat on the floor of the muggle section of the library, rest his back against one of the shelves, and glance over at the Slytherin with less than half of the annoyance he'd been previously displaying.

'Don't make this a habit,' the Hufflepuff added. 'I already have to share this spot with Granger, I'm not sharing with you, too.'

Saving grace came to his rescue one disastrous night in Seventh Year. It seemed like the final battle was raging on all around the world, every nook and cranny was exploding, every person was dying or fighting, and nothing was safe. He'd made it out of the castle completely in tact, overjoyed—an unknown emotion—that he was going to live to see another day, wanting only to apparate home and see his little brother, but that never happened. The sons of Death Eaters were called to stand by the Dark Lord's side and he was no one to disobey that order. Nor did he have a say when the Dark Lord decided to punish the Death Eaters that had failed him by sending their heirs into battle for his purification cause. In he went, one of the first teenagers to be called, without even getting a look of sorrow from his father or any hint of regret for what their life had become.

Theodore reacquainted himself with Defeat when he saw him hanging out with Misery by the destroyed and dangerous entrance of the Great Hall. They had been waiting for him patiently, smiled when they saw him, and each one had put an arm around his shoulders to accompany him inside. They had whispered words into his ears, not positive ones, words that ran along the lines of 'until the end, and this is the end, my friend'. They watched as he cursed whatever and whoever he could. They watched his shotty skills miss people he was supposed to hit, and they watched the result of his lack of concentration when was hit by a rogue spell and was knocked down.

His arm broke when he fell, but that hadn't been the intended damage the hex he took had meant. The effects of the curse was the blood gushing out of his mouth, ears, and nose. It was the internal hemorrhage that was currently releasing all the blood inside him. He could've sworn he and Misery were screaming when Pain joined the party, the bastard, but he couldn't hear himself. His ears, clogged with blood, made everything but the sound of Death's footsteps disappear. When he fell back down after a failed attempt to stand, to move away from the falling bodies and shards that used to be something, was when he met Saving Grace. She came hollering: she cussed Death out, made him go find someone else to bother, she told Misery to tone down the screaming, and she ignored Pain for the moment being, the bitch. But alike a night a year ago, Saving Grace seemed to have had a friend in common with Fate because she was tagging along with a familiar, tall, dirty-blonde boy.

'I should leave you to die,' was the first thing the Hufflepuff said when his blue eyes found the dark, bloodshot eyes of Theodore Nott, 'but I doubt I'd be doing the world a favor.'

The Slytherin had only coughed up blood as a response.

'Granted, there would be less dimwits in the world, but who am I to make that decision? In any case, you seem like you most likely will get yourself killed on another occasion. Your spell-work really is terrible, Nott.'

Spewing up more blood, Death peeking his cloaked-covered head from his distance a few feet away, Theo frowned at Saving Grace. Why the hell had she brought the irritating Hufflepuff with her? Honestly, she did not make a good first impression.

'Or maybe you just don't want to kill anyone,' the Hufflepuff spoke again, but this time it was a serious murmur. 'Susan Bones always says there's more to a person than what they show...Maybe you're not just a bigoted, idiotic twat.'

And before Nott decided to either swallow or spit out the blood that pooled in his mouth to shout at Saving Grace for ruining his death by bringing the Hufflepuff with her, the blonde boy pulled out his wand and started chanting something that burned him from the inside, but was sucking the blood back to where it belonged.

Being best friends with Guilt and Misery, familiar with Fate and Saving Grace, Theodore didn't meet Hope until the fourth day of his stay in St. Mungo's. He had been lying in bed, cuddled with Boredom, when she knocked on the door of his room. She didn't wait for his call; she opened the door and stuck her head in and smiled. She was beautiful—her only flaw was that she was friends with that boy that he kept coming across.

'You again?' Theodore huffed, narrowing his dark eyes at the figure that had just entered his room.

The Hufflepuff rolled his sapphire-colored eyes and said nothing as he shut the door behind him. His appearance seemed to improve every time he walked into Nott's hospital room. The bruising on his exposed skin was now a faded yellow rather than a disgusting green, the scar that ran from his left temple to the corner of his eye was thinner, and his nose had corrected itself from its swollen state. He now stood there with his messy, dirty-blonde hair perfectly washed, he wore his usual black jumper and black jeans; tying it all together with the usual smirk on his face that was incredibly annoying every single time Theodore saw it.

'Who else?' retorted the Hufflepuff. 'It's not like anyone else is hurrying to come and see you.'

Theo said nothing, just stuck his finger out crudely and pulled himself up onto a sitting position.

'Your Healer said you're responding well to the new treatment. Not one internal hemorrhage since yesterday morning. That's good.'

'I haven't seen you since last time I got one,' Nott said with clear disdain. 'Maybe you should leave, I think you bring them on. Oh...Ow...Hurry...Ow...I'm dying! Get out!'

The Hufflepuff snorted in his intolerant attitude as the Slytherin clutched onto his chest dramatically.

Seeing as the blonde hadn't made an action that indicated that he was going to fuck off, Theodore grunted with building frustration. 'Why do you keep coming back? Do Hufflepuffs have a need to take care of the sick? You're not getting a plaque of community service out of coming here, you know.'

'I saved your life, you ungrateful tosser,' snapped the blonde. 'It might be hard for you to believe, but decent people care for the well-being of other people. I saved you from drowning in your own pool of blood, the least I could do is make sure that my effort wasn't wasted and that you're still living. Not that that did much good. You're so aggravating, Nott, that I honestly wish I would've left you to become a corpse.'

Boredom left his side only to get replaced by Truth. Truth placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and reminding him of something that Truth kept singing to him every night since he arrived at the hospital. And the lyrics to the song was the repeated no; no one visited him. His mother was preoccupied with his father's arrest, his brother was probably trapped in his bedroom under the care of a house-elf, and he had no real friends that cared enough to even ask what had become of him.

'You should've left me, then,' responded Nott in a tone he hated, one that was caused by the influence of Truth and his melody of reality. 'No one else noticed me. I was as good as gone. You shouldn't have bothered.'

'Yeah, but I did notice and I did bother.' Leaving his place by the door of the hospital room, the Hufflepuff approached the Slytherin in calms steps. 'I saw when you got hit, I saw the blood coming out, and I had the chance to look away and follow after my best friend, but I didn't...I didn't because I saw that you weren't trying. I don't know whether or not you wanted to fight, but I saw that you were waiting to die.'

Theodore did not utter anything back. It was hard for him to recall that night because, maybe, maybe somewhere inside his head, he did want to die. He wasn't a complete idiot with magic, he was actually talented in various aspects, but he'd been done with everything for years. Maybe there had been an expectation, an open invitation for Death to come and visit him whenever he wanted that led him not to try. His Shielding Charms were never strong enough; he always purposely left holes in them. That was the truth. He welcomed death from the start.

'You're a complete twat, Nott,' continued the Hufflepuff, 'but so am I. I'm stubborn, righteous, a coward, easily angered and annoyed, but I have friends. If it wasn't for them, I reckon I'd be in your place...What am I saying is, everyone deserves a friend. That's why I come back.'

The blonde had made it beside Nott's bedside and extended his hand out. The Slytherin watched it with a frown. He knew that Truth was an arrogantly accurate bastard, but he didn't need to pity him in the process. So when he was about to reject the Hufflepuff, show him how much of a git he could be, Hope cleared her throat from the corner where she watched and scowled expectantly at him. Two minutes and seven seconds later, Nott was shaking hands with the Hufflepuff as Hope laughed joyfully and Truth nodded with approval.

Like a cliche of all cliches, Love came skipping down a hill to introduce herself one summer day. He was sitting under a lilac tree, glancing briefly at the petals raining down and washing the grassy green of the ground with its color. He had his back pressed against the bark of the tree, looking out ahead of the open field and at the sun that was still beaming with its full potential. He had never found nature beautiful before, but that day he realized that he could see what all the fuss was about. It was breathtakingly simple and easy. Exactly what he yearned his life to be.

'You're staying for dinner, aren't you?'

Theodore had turned away from watching the sun and the way it ignited the sky, only to find himself staring at a mirrored image in the eyes of the Hufflepuff sitting next to him. 'I can't,' he replied hesitantly, uncomfortably. The blonde still had that intolerant gleam to his eyes, but they had an uncanny similarity to the sky during summertime. They were blue, blue, blue. They were intense and vibrant, calling out to anyone that would look. They even reflected the tints of the lilac petals on the grass and the orange gleam of the sun up above.

They were enchanting, Theodore had come to realize that. One of the many things he'd come to realize about the Hufflepuff—things that were driving him crazy.

'Why not?' asked the blonde impatiently.

'I've had dinner here all week. Your parents probably think that I'm homeless and you're doing the noble deed of helping out a starving bloke. I'm neither, so stop treating me like I'm a charity case.'

The Hufflepuff chuckled mockingly. 'Nott, I would try to save something that had actual potential of making a difference. You'd be the worst charity case in history. Besides, my parents have been nothing but welcoming. The more the merrier, remember?'

'Will Bones be joining us, then? I haven't seen her all week. I'm starting to think that I've upset her and that's why she isn't coming around.'

'Susan's just...busy,' said the blonde after a short second.

'With what?' scoffed Theo. 'You're her only friend. I doubt she has anything else going on.'

'Can we not talk about Susan?'

'So she is upset with me? Look, I know I made fun of her crush on Finnegan, but it was just a joke. I'll apologize or whatever.'

'You're just brilliant at forgiveness and friendship,' the Hufflepuff said sarcastically.

'I owe it all to you.' Theodore took his hand and clasped the blonde's shoulder, taking his triumphant turn to smirk. 'I'll fix it, mate. Don't worry.'

'You don't need to fix anything! Susan is not mad, Nott. She's keeping away for another reason.'

'Don't tell me she finally snagged Finnegan, then? I know I gave her banter over it, but she honestly can do much better than the Gryffindor.'

'You're impossible. I don't know why I bother.'

'I've been telling you that since St. Mungo's,' Theodore told him casually. 'Now that I think of it, perhaps you're the charity case. Since we've made acquaintance, I've definitely improved your life. I know you saved me from dying and all, but what if I'm just that tad of cheer you needed? Face it, you would've spent your summer locked in your house or as a third wheel to Bones and Finnegan.'

He was being difficult on purpose, that was obvious. Were it any other person, Theo was certain he would've gotten a hex to his manly-bits or a punch to the jaw. But with the Hufflepuff...What he got from him was way off his assumptions. The blonde smacked Theo's hand away from his shoulder, but held onto it. He pulled it with a force, and then...And then he kissed him. His right hand was clutching the Slytherin's and his left hand had flown to the latter's face and held on roughly. It was a paradox, his hold on him, because the way his lips were moving was completely gentle with just a tiny hint of nervousness.

Theo's eyes were wide open, his ears only heard the echo of his banging heart inside his chest that was bruising his bones with its velocity and force. A part of him wanted to kiss back, but he'd suddenly found that he did not know how. He'd kissed two girls before and a couples of boys before, he'd heard that he wasn't bad at it, but in that moment he couldn't remember how kissing worked.

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to feel if he'd never felt anything quite like that before?

The Hufflepuff released Theo's captive lips when Love launched herself at them and made them fall away from each other.

'Go home, then. You're not invited to dinner tonight, you clueless twat.' That was all the blonde said as he stood from the grass, narrowing his blue eyes at the Slytherin, and then marched off.

Love squealed loudly, waving a hand at the Hufflepuff's back as she and Theo watched him leave.

She rested her head on his lap, and all Theodore could remember after that was frowning at her and saying, 'Nice to meet you, you importune bitch.'

'I'm importune?' she had laughed. 'Fate was the one that set all this up. I'm just moving things along.'

Fate, Saving Grace, Hope, Love—they were all cruel bitches. What gave them the bloody right to march into his life and start moving things around? He was comfortable with the way things were set up. He was used to guilt and misery and the other occasional emotions. He was used to seeing things through foggy darkness; he didn't ask for their light to help him see. At least without them, at least if he had never met them, he would have foreseen the upcoming events and not be so surprised by them. It wouldn't have hurt as powerfully as it did when he found that he was betrothed to Aria Zabini—better known as Hermione Granger—and that he had to leave the Hufflepuff. He wouldn't have hurt as strongly, as terribly as he had when he realized that his aspirations and promises were always meant to be void; that they were never going to come true.

The night that marked the two week countdown before returning to Hogwarts was when he became estranged with all of the four bitches that decided to light candles along his path and paint him a starry night rather than the stormy one he was accustomed to see...

'What do you mean we can't see each other anymore?'

'It means what it means,' said Theodore to the blonde as he stuck closely to the fireplace inside the latter's bedroom. 'We can't be together anymore.'

It was past midnight that night, a sleepover between the Hufflepuff and the Slytherin was not uncommon by then. They spent every second of every day together since their first kiss. It was that simple and that easy. There was no questioning and no fighting. It was just right, just close to perfect.

Awaiting for that routine, the blonde had not expecting to hear what was leaving Nott's mouth.

'Why?' Though the Hufflepuff's voice was collected, there were flashes of panic in his gaze. 'Is it because I want to tell my parents? Theo, they wouldn't care. They've known for ages that I'm—'

'I found someone else.' He was a bastard. He should've never said it the way he had, he should've never made it a lie. But a lie was what it had to be. If he didn't lie to him, Theodore knew that the blonde would never let him leave. One thing that was absolutely certain was the fact that the Hufflepuff was stubborn: he would fight it all if Theodore told him the real reason of why that night was their goodbye.

'You...You what?'

'Found someone else,' repeated the Slytherin. 'Maybe we have been spending too much time together, you're absolutely slow these days.'

The blonde glared, standing from his bed. 'You did not find someone else, Nott. You've spent all your time with me. There can't be anyone else. This is about me wanting to tell people we're together, isn't it? You're scared.'

'No. I'm just done here.' He saw Guilt fly in through the window of the bedroom, ready to return to his side without a second thought. 'I've had a nice time and all, but I'm sort of committed to this person now. I think she's the one.'

The Hufflepuff's jaw squared off, tensing like he was preparing himself to take a punch. His blue eyes, however, were being introduced to Pain and Heartbreak. Fear appeared to make his acquaintance, too.

'It's serious, you know. I...I just wanted you to know in person. You deserve that much, don't you?'

'...You said you loved me,' the Hufflepuff muttered, his palms now into fists.

He had a grip of Floo Powder in his possession from the moment he came through the fireplace. He hadn't known how anything was going to work, he'd just known it was going to be the hardest thing he would ever do. That's why he was prepared before he even arrived. He had his escape at the ready.

'I lied,' Theodore mumbled, throwing in the powder and letting the flames eat him up. He left Love and Hope crying, Fate and Saving Grace clutching onto them, trying to calm them, as Heartbreak started beating the Hufflepuff without remorse.

Since then, Misery has been the only friend that he traveled with...

"Didn't I tell you this is my sulking spot?"

He had been clunking his head on the bookshelf behind him, eyes closed, recalling the events in his life that changed everything, when he heard that voice. He remained silent for a moment, trying to decide if the voice came from his memory or if it really was just a few measly feet away.

One: Its not real.

Two: Its too close.

Three: There was only one way to find out.

He opened his eyes and found that dirty-blonde boy scowling at him from midway of the muggle section of the library. Instead of being accompanied by Fate, the old acquaintance he hadn't seen in months, Theodore saw that the boy was ahead of a pair of students; one Gryffindor and one Slytherin.

Bang, bang, bang went his heart. It played that hectic, unstable, painfully captivating song that it had written and only played in the presence of the boy with the blue eyes. If the Hufflepuff didn't consume him all, then maybe he would've been able to say something coherent. Or anything at all, really.

He had to sink his top teeth into his bottom lip and bite down. He wouldn't be broken Theodore Nott if he wasn't always on the verge of a breakdown, would he? His misery, his guilt, his memories, the blonde's presence—it all drove him mad with pain.

"I told him the truth." Theodore had closed his eyes, but he knew who had spoken and even how her face looked when she said it. He'd spent so much time with her in past weeks that he learned her habits; learned all the emotions that ran her.

Everything remained dark. "...You shouldn't have."

"He deserved to know."

"But I didn't deserve for him to know."

She sighed. He didn't have to take a wild guess to know that she was torn between frustration and sympathy. "It wasn't fair, Theo. It wasn't fair that you had to give up everything—that you had to give him up—because of this stupid contract. You're living with this heartache out of obligation. You're suffering, watching and feeling him hate you, when all you had to do was tell him the truth. All you had to do was tell him that you're marrying me because it was set before our birth, because you were threatened, because your brother's happiness depends on—"

"Why are you doing this, Hermione?!" In a flash, Theodore was on his feet and using his now open black eyes as daggers to stab right through the Gryffindor's. His hands were shaking, legs wobbling, heart beating frantically, mind rushing, and he still wanted to cry. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. "Why are you making this worse for me?!"

The anguish in Theodore's voice and eyes was more than evident; it reached out and swatted the other three students. It also wrapped around them, making them feel the smallest shred of the powerful shocks of misery, of loneliness, of madness that the Slytherin felt on an everyday basis.

"Why did you bring him here when I can't have him?!" Tears had appeared now and betrayed him.

Because of his tears, Hermione's own eyes filled with some, too. She bit her quivering lip, feeling terrible.

"Nott." But she wasn't the one to speak. He spoke. Zacharias Smith spoke. His tone was small, firm, yet on the verge of breaking and dissolving into his own version of misery. "I knew...I didn't know it was something as fucked up as a betrothal, but I knew it was something grave to make you leave. I didn't hate you. I was enraged, of course, but that's because you were hiding something. You should've told me, you twat."

Theodore took a step back from the blonde Hufflepuff, shaking his head. "Don't," he warned. "Don't look at me like that. Don't you both stand there and act like you're doing me a kindness. Don't act like I deserve this!"

In unison, Hermione and Zacharias took a step forward and opened their mouths to say,"Theo—"

"You haven't spoken to me in weeks, and you're doing this?!" Theodore interrupted them. For a moment, he locked eyes with Hermione only. "I sent you to your death multiple times, Hermione! Are we ever going to talk about that?!"

The brunette witch tightened her lips into a line. The forgotten Slytherin in the background, her half-brother, stiffened and glared with intensity at his fellow house-mate. "I know perfectly well why you did it. I would've done it, too, Theo. For my brother, for my family...I would've done it, too."

"You can't be that forgiving, Hermione," snapped Nott. But he knew opposite of that. He knew, in fact, that Hermione was composed of forgiveness and second chances. She was light. "Don't act the saint."

"Don't act the foe!" Hermione frowned at her betrothed. "Stop seeing yourself as the monster, and start realizing that you're the victim in all of this. Open your eyes, Theo, and see that you were manipulated by your mother and my aunt into all of this. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve to give up love and accept the hate. You were never the one to blame!"

The tears that had been building in his sockets finally fell. They raced down his cheeks in their own speed, in their own steady rush. Theodore felt the breakdown, he recognized all the signs, all the pain fighting to get out, but then someone took his shaking left hand into theirs and distracted him from it.

Zacharias Smith was holding on tightly to his fingers, looking him square in those black eyes of his that held more beauty than what most people thought darkness consisted of.

"I can't have you," whispered Theodore to the blonde. He willed himself not to clutch his hand back. "The magic gets stronger everyday, Zach. I have to be with her."

"Worry about that later," spoke Hermione from her distance. "If I can have moments with Malfoy, you can have a moment with Zacharias."

"What exactly does that mean?" Cutting across through all the drama and sentiment, Blaise furrowed his brows and stared skeptically at his sister. "Specifically, what do these moments with Malfoy consist of? And why are you having moments with the tosser, anyway? You're an engaged woman!"

"For goodness sake, Blaise," huffed Hermione, "get your head out of the gutter, would you?"

"I will not! You know why? Because Malfoy lived in the gutter for years! He might seem like he's a decent bloke now, but I can assure you that the git is the landlord of the bloody gutter!"

Rolling her eyes at her brother, Hermione graced Theodore and Zacharias with a gentle smile. "I died briefly days ago, and the one thing that I couldn't get out of my head, the one thing that I learned from it, is that all I wanted to do is be with the one that makes me...that makes everything better and brighter. Enjoy your moment. Don't let the betrothal interfere with what you feel."

With her kind smile, Hermione raised her palm and gave them a gesture of goodbye. Before she could turn on her heels, signaling that it was okay to leave the premises, she narrowed her eyes dangerously at Blaise and nodded towards the Hufflepuff and Slytherin a few feet from them.

Blaise sighed. "I'm sorry for being a bloody barbarian," he grumbled. "You had no control over your actions. And...you didn't deserve everything I said."

Theodore stared back indifferently at his house-mate. Something else was being processed in his head, and it was nothing that Zabini was saying, but what his sister had previously mentioned.

He nodded at Nott. "Oh," he turned back to them as Hermione began to make her leave with a satisfied look in her eyes. "For the record, I would've supported you if you came out of the broomstick closet at any time. But, mate, a Hufflepuff? You can do much better."

Zacharias glared, pulling out his wand, but Zabini was already swaggering away. A mocking laughter echoed behind him.

"Your future brother-in-law is a bigger twat than you are, Theo."

"She was dead." Theodore turned rapidly to the Hufflepuff, his neck cracking from the aggressive gesture. "She was dead!"

He was warned not to, but not heeding those words of caution, Theodore slammed Zacharias onto the bookshelf and snogged him to test the theory his mind had just created.

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"This is our last weekend at Hogwarts and you're spending it locked in here?" In front of the mirror, like usual, Blaise Zabini glanced briefly and uncaring at the shirtless blonde sitting on his four-poster with two open bottles of Butterbeer on his nightstand and an open book on his lap. "Pathetic, mate. Even Goyle is out and about tonight."

"There's nothing better to do," and just as uncaring as Zabini, Draco Malfoy was barely paying attention to his fellow Slytherin as he continued reading the left page of his book.

Adjusting the collar of his patterned button-up, Blaise zeroed in on the wrinkle on the left shoulder. He frowned. The bloody house-elves weren't as reliable as they were years before. Just because they were being paid now did not mean that they could do a half-assed work and leave wrinkles on his clothing. Next time he saw Hermione he was going to give her a talking to. This was unacceptable.

"Old hag McGonagall is allowing all Seventh Years to go to Hogsmeade until curfew, and you're telling me there's nothing better to do? Did you not hear about the clandestine party the Gryffindors are having at the Hog's Head? It's suppose to be mental."

At that, Malfoy stopped reading his book to raise a judging, pale eyebrow at Zabini. "You're attending a Gryffindor party? Bloody hell, Zabini. You're actually friends with Potter and the Weasel now, aren't you?"

"Don't insult me, Malfoy. We are not friends. We simply have a mutual understanding that—"

"Next thing you're going to tell me is that the reason you've been mumbling and trying everything in your wardrobe is because you're meeting a girl there. And at this rate, that girl might just be Loony Lovegood."

It took Blaise almost three seconds before actually reacting. And in that time, in the time that it took him to turn, looking like he'd been smacked across the face several times or like someone told him that the shiny shoes he was wearing weren't actually made out of authentic dragon skin, Malfoy took the opportunity to smirk and then mask it.

"We understand that Hermione is your sister and that it's demanded of you to get along with the Dimwit Duo and their Gryffindor mascots, but that nutter? Hermione can't stand her most days, why do you? Hanging about with her is ruining your reputation. You're either testing a theory, or you're looking to serve community service. If it's the latter, you can always volunteer at the Ministry. Don't inflict yourself with the humiliation that comes with being around the Ravenclaw."

Malfoy felt a sharp jab in his ribcage but he ignored. He instead chose to release his smirk and hateful eyes to openly provoke Zabini. "For fuck sakes, Zabini, don't tell me you shagged Loony Lovegood? Is she not leaving you alone, mate? You don't have to be nice to this one. Do what you've done with all the others: tell them they're not important and that you can do—"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy!" Shouting, Zabini pulled out his wand from the right pocket of his perfectly ironed trousers at the same time that Malfoy felt a harsher sting on his side.

"There's no one here, Zabini. No one heard that you shagged Lovegood. Don't be ashamed, your secret is safe with me."

A jet of light escaped Blaise's wand, but it was blocked by an instant bubble of protection that appeared around Malfoy's four-poster. The dark-skinned Slytherin was so enraged, so ready to murder, that his mind did not process the fact that Malfoy's nonverbal abilities had never extended beyond the ability to open or close doors and cause a tickle to his human targets. He should've not been able to protect himself, especially since his wand was flat beside the bottles of Butterbeer.

"I did not shag Lovegood, you fucking crude prat! We're friends! And even if I had—even if my attempts to get a lay with her actually worked—I wouldn't ditch her! She's not like the others! She's important and special!" He took a threatening step forward, wand at the ready to hex. "And she's mine! Watch your words when it comes to her, Malfoy, or you won't live to see another day."

With that warning, with an almighty glare in his emerald eyes and a hex that smashed the bottles of Butterbeer, Blaise stormed out of his dormitory.

"You are unbelievable." A cloak appeared on the floor of the dormitory, revealing a very pissed off brunette.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her. "You told me to find out if he was interested in Lovegood or not. I got you your answer, didn't I?"

"You didn't have to be a complete prick about it! Luna is an incredible girl, not the common trash you and Blaise are accustomed to around Slytherin House. Never talk about her that way again, Malfoy."

With the wand she'd previously been using as her weapon to stab Malfoy with, the brunette cleaned the mess her brother had made. Malfoy's lips were tugged into a dark smirk, but his silver eyes watched her carefully; like they were afraid they were going to miss one of her every movements if he blinked or didn't pay the perfect amount of attention. "Parkinson and Greengrass are going to be extremely flattered when they hear what you think of them."

Hermione was still scowling at the Slytherin as she picked up the Invisibility Cloak from the floor. "I'm off. I cannot be around you when you're being a git."

"I'm the git?" Draco was frowning now, too. "Your idiot of a brother ruined our night in, Hermione. If anyone is to blame, blame the high-maintenance twat that had you hiding for over an hour while he tried to match his socks with the color of his hair."

"I wouldn't have had to hide if you would've accepted the invitation to the pub Ginny gave us earlier. There's nothing wrong with my friends, Malfoy."

"Everything is wrong with your friends."

With her patience destroyed, Hermione mimicked Zabini's glare and turned for the door. But just before she could reach it and twist the metal handle, Draco was out of his bed and picking her up like she was a feather. "Why are you so annoyed, Hermione?" He asked with a serious expression as he yanked the Invisibility Cloak from her fingers and tossed it onto Goyle's empty bed. "You were quite content with me before Zabini marched in."

Sighing, Hermione allowed herself to be laid on Malfoy's mattress without protest. She waited until he joined her side, picking up his silky emerald sheets and tucking them both in comfortably. He was a cold-hearted bastard most of the time, by appearance distant and serious, but there was something that melted his iciness when they were in close proximity. She never voiced it, but she knew that he loved to have her in his bed. There was nothing adulterous about it; he just genuinely showed who he really was and how much he needed her when they were both lying together, her head on his chest and his arms around her body tightly.

The brunette rolled onto her right side to cuddle closer to him, placing her head on his exposed chest. "We don't have long before this all ends, Draco," she whispered, familiar tears accumulating. "And all we have been doing is hiding. My friends know about us, but beyond that we're always going to be a secret. We're never going to be a truth."

"A secret is not necessarily a lie," he responded tensely. "Nothing about you and I is a lie, Hermione. None of this changes just because my ring is not the one on your finger."

She clutched her palms tightly, hiding them from him under his sheets. Figuratively, the engagement ring was on, but in reality Hermione had it hidden at the very bottom of her trunk.

With a knot in her throat, the witch managed to choke out a, "I'm not ready to say goodbye yet, Malfoy...I'm not ready to accept that we're running low on moments. I don't want to accept the fact that in three weeks time I'm going to be a married woman. I can't."

The thought of her in a white dress, walking down the aisle, Nott waiting at the end of it, only caused rage and raw pain to travel through his veins. All along he knew that his time with her was borrowed, that she didn't belong to him, that she was going to end up laying beside someone else on a bed that wasn't only theirs. He knew from the beginning of this beautiful disaster that he was going to lose. He was never going to get her. He was never going to end up with her: holding her hand in public was a step they were never going to take, snogging her properly was never going to occur a second time, sleeping beside her would only come in his dreams, and he was never going to legally bind his soul with hers.

Once again, he was on the losing side of war.

"Ron suggested for Nott and I to move away after the wedding," Hermione spoke in murmurs again. "He knows I will never bear to have you so near...I don't know if that is the wisest thing he has ever said or if he's as clueless as always."

For a moment, the shortest on a clock but the longest of his life, he focused on her caressing fingertips drawing circles on his shapely stomach. How could something so simple cause such bliss and devastation at the same time? How could he feel fully alive, yet on the verge of a horrific death?

"You don't have to go anywhere," he responded, avoiding her eyes that flickered to stare at him. "There's no reason why it's you and Nott that have to depart. Your entire life is in Britain, Hermione. Your friends, the Zabinis, the Grangers...It makes sense that I should be the one to leave."

A selfless act from Draco Malfoy was rare. How she hoped this act of unnatural kindness did not involve both their broken hearts.

"...You'd do that?"

"If things were different, I'd drive you out of Britain. But the reality is that you're the only thing keeping me here. Once you take Nott up as a husband, there's no reason for me to stay. I'm not welcomed hardly anywhere, not with the Dark Mark burned on my skin and the memories of the fucked up actions I decided to take. Having you would make me stay, losing you is the only initiative to leave that I've got."

She stopped drawing invisible patterns on his skin. "Draco," she breathed so brokenly that his silver eyes found their way towards her brown ones. "Draco, if I never have another moment to say it...If this is our last night together, I want you to know that I...that I...that I lo—"

Bang.

Kicking the door of the dormitory open, Theodore Nott appeared with wild and frantic vibrations. His dark eyes were wide, his chest heaving like he'd run miles to get there.

"Don't you knock, Nott?"

Returning the annoyance, Theodore rolled his eyes at the blonde Slytherin. "Forget my lack of manners, and I'll forget that you're in bed with my betrothed."

Hermione's cheeks were pink. Previously she had been on the verge of sobbing, her broken heart throbbing and sending pain everywhere inside her chest, but now she felt embarrassed and in an awkward predicament. "It's not what it looks like, Theo. We were just going to sleep—actually sleep."

"Yeah, your virginal card is shortly going to get smacked off the table, Hermione." Walking towards them, Theodore raised his right hand in the air so the two students on the bed could see the archive that his fingers were harshly gripping.

"What is that?" The brunette asked as she sat up.

"The result of your death." Handing her the folder of documents, for the first time in a long time, Theodore saw Fate come out of underneath Malfoy's bed and smile at him.

Hermione's heart stopped as she opened the folder. "This...This is our betrothal contract."

Theodore nodded. "The binding magic of the betrothal can only be terminated if one of the participants dies or if both parents of the two participants agree to mutually cancel the contract. You died in St. Mungo's, Hermione. For ten minutes, Aria Zabini was dead."

"But...But I'm alive." She glanced up at him, all her senses were going into overdrive. "They brought me back, Theodore. I'm alive."

"But you died as Aria Zabini, Hermione. The person legally bound to this betrothal died. You were taken to the hospital by your Zabini relatives, identified as an heir and you died as her. When they brought you back, when they discharged you from the hospital, they released you as Hermione Granger. By law, Aria died and Hermione survived. This contract is not valid anymore, Hermione."

Thunderous thoughts were ricocheting off every corner of her mind. Every brain cell, every coherent process of thought was spinning in circles. She couldn't concentrate on anything. She couldn't even breathe.

"To assure this, I spent all morning in a prison cell with my mother and our lawyer." Hermione was in a frenzy, so Theodore turned to Malfoy. If he was as unstable as the brunette, the Slytherin Prince masked it perfectly. "If Hermione ever decided to legally take the Zabini name, the contract would resurrect itself. We would be set to marry like before. The only honorable thing I could ever do for her is give her her freedom and a chance to publicly accept her biological family. And the kindest thing my mother could ever do for me is to sign that contract and release me from that obligation. And she did."

She spotted Regina Nott's sharp signature on the document, right beside Deon Zabini's and a stamp of legal approval.

Gripping onto the archive, Hermione brought it to her face and she began to sob. The echoes of her crying bounced off the cold walls of Malfoy's dormitory, but by the way that Theo's friend Fate was bowing, taking credit for the joyous moment that was a few seconds from exploding, both Slytherin boys knew that she the emotions that were making her sob was that of relief, hope, and happiness.

They were finally free.