1. wynie

It was September 1st - a day that marked the return to Hogwarts for most young witches and wizards. But for Theo and Talwyn, it also meant something else entirely. It was their seventeenth birthday. A milestone most would celebrate with laughter, gifts, and cake. But for Talwyn, it felt more like a countdown clock had just started ticking.

She had been dreading this birthday for years. Seventeen wasn't just a number in her world, it was the age where her father would finally begin courting her off to other pureblood families. He made no secret of his ambitions. She was expected to marry by eighteen, expected to make a "smart match," one that would benefit the family name. Love had nothing to do with it.

It was an old, outdated tradition, one Talwyn never truly understood. What was the point of being courted and traded like a prized hippogriff, only to end up shackled in a loveless, miserable marriage? Her father's marriage had been no fairy tale, more like a cautionary tale. He was cruel, controlling, and hollow. Her mother had once been bright, lively. But over the years, she had dulled, worn down by the constant berating and manipulation. She had stayed, endured. And then she died during their fourth year. Talwyn had never quite forgiven her for that. Not for dying, but for staying as long as she did.

Now, in their sixth year, the looming pressure felt unbearable. As if exams and O.W.L.s weren't enough to stress about, she now had to worry about which stuck-up, inbred, pureblood prude her father would push into her life next. Every moment felt like another string tightening around her throat.

It was just past eight in the morning. Trunks were being closed, owls hooted impatiently in their cages, and the familiar chaos of back-to-school buzzed through the halls. Theo and Talwyn stood at the top of the staircase, gathering their things in silence. Their father had yet to acknowledge the significance of the day, and deep down, neither of them expected him to. He rarely spoke to them unless it was to scold, punish, or threaten. Blunt, but true. His voice was like a blade: sharp, cold, and always meant to hurt.

The only warmth they had ever known in that house came from Essie, their aging house elf. It was Essie who snuck them birthday scones and hot chocolate when they were younger. Essie who sewed back the ripped seams on Talwyn's robes. Essie who cried the night their mother died and quietly rocked Theo when he couldn't sleep.

"Do you think he'll come with us to the station?" Theo asked, slinging his bag over one shoulder.

Their voices still carried the faintest trace of their Italian heritage, though the years in England had softened the edges. The mix of lilting vowels and clipped consonants had once made them easy targets when they first arrived at Hogwarts, but neither of them had cared.

Talwyn shook her head, her long dark hair brushing over her shoulders. "Only if he's coming to push me into the arms of someone ten years older and twice as boring."

Theo grimaced. "Maybe he'll trip and fall into the tracks instead."

She snorted. "One can dream."

They headed down the stairs together, passing the cold portraits of grim ancestors and stiff-faced relatives who looked as if they hadn't smiled in centuries. Their footsteps echoed too loudly in the silence.

Essie was waiting by the door, her large, wrinkled eyes shining with something close to sorrow. She held out two small parcels wrapped in pale blue paper.

"Happy birthday, Master Theo. Miss Talwyn," she said quietly. "I is wishing you safety and joy at school."

Talwyn knelt to hug the elf tightly. "Thank you, Essie. For everything."

Essie patted her back. "Miss Talwyn is strong. Essie knows it. Essie sees it."

Theo crouched down beside them and gave Essie a rare, gentle smile. "You're the only good thing about this house, you know that?"

Essie wiped her nose with a squeaky sniff and nodded.

As the three of them pulled away, the sharp sound of a cane tapping against the marble floor echoed down the corridor.

Their father had arrived.

He looked as cold and composed as ever, dressed in deep green robes with silver cuffs, his expression unreadable. He stopped a few feet away from them, giving no greeting, no nod, not even a glance at the gifts in their hands.

"I will be sending an owl with details of your first appointment, Talwyn," he said flatly. "Make yourself presentable. And remember, our name is not one to be tarnished with foolishness."

Talwyn didn't flinch. She had learned long ago that showing emotion only gave him more power. "Yes, Father," she said evenly.

With that, he turned and vanished down the hall as swiftly as he'd come.

Theo muttered something under his breath that Essie gasped at, but Talwyn only stared at the door, her jaw tight.

"There's our answer to if he's coming or not," Talwyn scoffed. 

Theo nudged her gently with his elbow. "Happy birthday, Wynie."

Wynie. A name only he called her. A soft remnant of their childhood, from when their accents were heavier and their worries smaller. A nickname that meant safety, familiarity—love, even when the word was rarely said out loud.

She glanced at him and offered a real, if small, smile. "Happy birthday, Theo."

They stepped out of the manor together, the ancient doors groaning as they closed behind them. Outside, the early morning air was crisp, brushing against their skin like a whisper of freedom. A sleek black car waited for them in the circular drive, the family crest emblazoned on the side in silver.

One of their father's drivers, silent and stiff as usual, opened the door for them. They loaded their trunks into the back, the weight of them nothing compared to the weight of everything else they carried.

They slid into the back seat, the door shutting with a soft finality.

For a moment, neither spoke. The manor grew smaller behind them as the car pulled away, swallowed by the iron gates and the misty road ahead.

Then Theo muttered, "Five galleons says the first guy he tries to pair you with has a receding hairline and calls you darling in a voice that makes you want to vomit."

Talwyn laughed, the sound short and sharp. "Only five? You really think he'll start with the 'charming' ones?"

Theo grinned. "I'm being optimistic. We deserve something on our birthday."

Talwyn leaned her head against the window, watching the trees blur past.

"Maybe this year will be different," she said softly. "Maybe it won't all be awful."

Theo looked over at her, his smile fading into something more sincere. "If it is... we'll survive it."

Because that was the truth between them. They always had.

As they boarded the Hogwarts Express, the familiar hum of chatter, the screeching of owls, and the clatter of trunks filled the air. The twins moved through the train's narrow corridor, peering through glass doors and nodding at familiar faces as they passed.

It didn't take long to find their compartment. Nestled near the back, the usual crew had already gathered: Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire, sprawled out and bickering over something ridiculous, and Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, who were both seated gracefully with sweets and glossy magazines in hand.

"Happy birthday, Notts!" Daphne grinned, her pale eyes lighting up. Pansy gave a slight wave, more reserved but still cordial.

The others chimed in with birthday wishes as Theo and Talwyn stepped inside. The mood was warm and familiar, a soft contrast to the sharpness of home. Theo dropped his bag beside Mattheo and collapsed into a seat, while Talwyn slid in beside Daphne, kicking her legs up onto the seat across from her.

"How was your summer?" Lorenzo asked, stretching his arms behind his head like he owned the train.

"The same as always," Talwyn said dryly.

"Awful," Theo added with a shrug, "but it had its moments."

"Oh, you mean the part where you stole all of Father's socks and hid them under the floorboard in the attic?" Talwyn said with a laugh, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Exactly. Psychological warfare at its finest," Theo said proudly, throwing an arm over the back of his seat. "The man thought the house-elf was going senile."

"Hey, you have to find joy where you can," Talwyn added, her smile lingering a little longer than usual.

A soft knock on the compartment door cut through their laughter. All eyes turned toward it.

Before anyone could respond, the door slid open, and standing there with matching grins and eyes full of mischief were the infamous Gryffindor twins: Fred and George Weasley.

Talwyn's expression immediately shifted to guarded amusement. She crossed her arms and leaned back.

Here we go, she thought.

They'd known each other since first year. Never friends, but not quite enemies either. More like opposing forces on a chessboard; constantly ribbing, occasionally teaming up when it suited them, and always competing. Slytherin twins versus Gryffindor twins. It was practically tradition.

Fred beamed. "Just the people we were looking for."

George leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes already locked on Talwyn like he was ready for a duel, or something worse. "We've got a once-in-a-lifetime offer."

The Slytherins exchanged glances, confusion on Daphne's face, suspicion on Pansy's, and a full-on eye roll from Mattheo, who already looked like he regretted not closing the door fast enough.

"Two bags of these delectable candies," Fred declared, holding them out like a salesman at a Muggle market, "free of charge, just for our favorite set of twins."

Talwyn raised an unimpressed brow. "How thick do you think we are?"

George smirked. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Try it and you'll be spitting teeth before we hit Hogsmeade."

Theo let out a low whistle. "Starting strong this year."

Fred looked between them, amused. "Ah, young love."

Talwyn made a face. "More like mutual loathing."

George stepped into the compartment now, just slightly, close enough that his presence was noticeable, but not so much that it was a threat. His eyes flicked over her, just for a second. "Shame. I always liked sparring with you, Talwyn. Your insults have a certain... bite."

"And your face has a certain punchability," she replied sweetly.

There was always something sharp in the way Talwyn and George spoke to one another, something pointed. Too witty to be harmless, too personal to be meaningless.

The Slytherins snorted. Mattheo, for once, looked pleased.

"We'll leave these here," Fred said, placing the bags on the luggage rack as if this weren't the fourth time they'd tried to trick the Notts into eating their inventions. "Just in case your curiosity gets the better of you."

"Or you decide to use them on someone more deserving," George added, eyes still on her.

"Maybe I will," Talwyn said. "Got anyone in mind?"

George smirked, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them; challenge, understanding, something hotter beneath the surface. It vanished just as quickly.

"See you around, Tallie," he said, deliberately using the nickname only her friends were allowed.

Talwyn's smile dropped an inch. "You wish you were on nickname terms with me."

Fred grabbed George's arm, laughing. "Alright, before someone gets hexed."

As the door slid shut behind them, Talwyn leaned back with a groan and rubbed her temples.

"Merlin, those two are exhausting."

Daphne giggled. "They're entertaining, at least. I like how they rile Mattheo up."

"I hope their candy makes Draco grow antlers," Theo muttered.

Talwyn shook her head, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips despite herself."They'll keep trying," she said, her voice quiet.

And whether she admitted it or not... George always did manage to get under her skin.

The rest of the train ride passed in a blur of laughter, casual teasing, and a few heated rounds of Exploding Snap. Talwyn leaned her head against the cool window glass as the Scottish countryside blurred by, green and golden in the late summer light. The nerves had settled somewhere low in her stomach, part dreading her father's promised "appointment," part... something else. 

By the time the train screeched to a stop at Hogsmeade Station, the platform was bustling with students spilling out into the cool evening air. Lanterns floated above their heads, glowing softly as the thestral-drawn carriages lined up for the upper years.

Theo nudged Talwyn as they climbed into a carriage with Mattheo and Lorenzo. "We're back."

Talwyn gave him a sideways look. "You sound like you missed it."

He shrugged. "Better than home, isn't it?"

She couldn't argue with that.

As the castle loomed into view, its towering spires lit golden by the setting sun, something loosened in her chest. Despite the stress and the expectations and the relentless pureblood politics, Hogwarts was still the only place that felt remotely hers.

The Sorting Ceremony and feast crawled by at a glacial pace. Talwyn barely touched her food, her mind elsewhere, already skipping ahead to the only part of the evening that truly mattered. Around her, the chatter was filled with half-hearted enthusiasm for the first years, bets on who would cry first, and quiet whispers about who'd grown into themselves over the summer. Typical Hogwarts return chatter.

But under it all, everyone, particularly the fifth and sixth years, was counting down the minutes until the annual Slytherin back-to-school party.

It wasn't official, of course. Nothing sanctioned. But that was what made it legendary. Every year, the upper years hosted a party deep in the Slytherin common room, the kind of party where rules blurred, rivalries ignited, and secrets never stayed hidden for long. The dungeons were far removed from the rest of the castle, and the professors either didn't know or chose to look the other way. By tradition, it was open to fifth and sixth years, though seventh years often showed up to pass on a little chaos before NEWT stress swallowed them whole.

It was always wild.

And tonight felt like it would be no exception.

Back in her dorm, Talwyn stood in front of the mirror, eyeing her reflection with a cold, critical gaze. She wore a short, black silk dress that clung to her figure like it had been made for her—tight in all the right places, showing just enough to keep eyes lingering. She let her long, dark brown hair fall loose down her back and over her chest, the ends brushing just past her breasts in soft, effortless waves.

Her makeup was heavier than usual—dark, smoky eyeshadow that made her eyes look sharper, more dangerous. A touch of deep burgundy gloss on her lips. She looked like a threat dressed in silk.

Perfect.

Daphne and Pansy were finishing up beside her, both equally stunning in their own ways—Daphne with her icy elegance, and Pansy with her sharp, tailored charm. The three of them looked like they could walk into a war and come out untouched.

When they descended into the common room, the party was already in full swing. The low-ceilinged stone chamber had been transformed with glamoured candles that flickered in shades of green and silver, casting strange shadows along the walls. The music thrummed low through the floor, bass vibrating in their chests. There were charmed drinks in crystal goblets, enchanted to refill themselves, and trays of suspiciously glowing sweets floating from group to group.

The room buzzed with tension and excitement. People were already dancing, already laughing too loud, already vanishing into corners they shouldn't be in.

Talwyn's heels clicked against the floor as she walked in, heads subtly turning as she passed. She didn't smile, didn't nod, didn't need to. She was known here; respected, admired, envied. And tonight, she wasn't in the mood to be nice.

Theo was standing near the bar, already drink in hand, grinning when he saw her.

He eyed he as she walked up, leaning on the counter next to him. He slid her a drink before speaking. "Father would kill you if he saw you right now." He commented. 

"Thank you," She said with a smile taking it as a compliment. He chuckled in response. 

"I'm gonna go give Lorenzo his drink. Can I find you later so we can go have a smoke?" He asked her, starting to back away. 

"Sounds perfect," She said with a small grin, pressing her lips together. 

She stood there for a moment before a familiar voice spoke to her. 

"Nice dress," George said, his voice low, amused. "You wear that to intimidate or to kill?"

She didn't turn to face him. "You'll find out if you don't stop breathing down my neck."

He chuckled. "Still the sweetest girl in the room."

She kept her eyes on George, eyes narrowing slightly. "Still not over the fact I wouldn't eat your cursed candy, I see."

"That candy was a gift," George replied, holding a hand to his heart dramatically. "You wound me."

"You tried to turn my teeth purple."

"Allegedly."

Talwyn raised a brow. "I have witnesses."

George leaned a little closer, voice lowering so only she could hear. "And yet, here you are. Talking to me anyway."

"I'm bored," she said flatly, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

He smirked, clearly catching it. "You know, I think that's the first time I've seen you almost smile. I should throw you off balance more often."

"You'd have to get on my level first."

George let out a low laugh, not offended in the slightest. "Careful, Nott. People might start thinking you like the banter."

She sipped her drink, eyes locked with his over the rim. "Careful, Weasley. You might start thinking you're special."

A flicker of something passed between them, too quick to name and just as quickly ignored.

A Gryffindor girl passed behind George, grabbing his arm with a flirtatious smile. "Dance with me?"

George looked back at Talwyn briefly, like he was expecting... something.

But Talwyn only arched a brow. "Don't let me stop you."

And just like that, the moment snapped. He gave her a crooked grin and let the girl pull him away, though he threw one last glance over his shoulder.

Talwyn turned back to the bar, rolling her eyes as she took another drink.

"Pathetic," she muttered to herself.

But her heart was beating faster than before, and she absolutely hated that.

She downed a couple shots and polished off her drink before making it into the heart of the crowd. The bass of the music thrummed in her chest, and the air was heavy with a heady mixture of enchanted incense, firewhisky, and sweat. Talwyn moved with purpose, with ease, slipping through the bodies like she was born for this.

She rarely felt nervous and almost never cared what anyone thought of her. That was the best part about nights like this, there were no rules, no expectations. Just music and magic and mischief.

She danced alone at first, eyes closed, letting the rhythm pulse through her limbs. Her dark dress shimmered under the flickering lights, catching eyes whether she wanted to or not. Throughout the night she casually pulled people into her orbit - some friends, some strangers, some boys who lingered a little too long. It didn't matter. Her confidence was magnetic. She didn't chase attention; it followed her like smoke trailing from a wand tip.

At some point, maybe an hour in, maybe more, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She spun around quickly, instinctively on guard, only to see Theo standing there. He didn't speak, just gave her a small smile and lifted a brow, tilting his head. That's when she noticed the two cigarettes tucked behind his ear.

She gave a tiny nod in understanding, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek, and followed him out without another word. They slipped through the crowd like shadows, moving through side corridors and passageways they'd long since memorized. Avoiding Filch was child's play at this point.

By the time they made it to the astronomy tower, the party's noise was a distant murmur behind them, swallowed by stone walls and cold wind.

They sat on the edge like they always did, feet dangling into the night sky, the castle glowing beneath them like some fairytale dream wrapped in fog.

Theo handed her a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his wand. She took a drag, letting the smoke settle her nerves, her gaze locked on the stars.

"Did you open your letter from Father?" Theo asked quietly.

Her body tensed, just slightly. She didn't look at him, just exhaled slowly and watched the smoke disappear into the sky. "No," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I'm scared."

"I know," he said without hesitation. His arm draped lazily over her shoulders. "But I'm not letting you marry someone like him."

She turned to look at him, her expression unreadable for a second—then a small, tired smile curved on her lips. "Thank you. I'm sure you'll be very intimidating when the time comes."

Theo rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away dramatically. "Fine. I won't protect you, then. Didn't want to anyway."

Talwyn let out a laugh, nudging his shoulder. "You big softie."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the stars wheeling slowly overhead.

Then came footsteps.

Two sets.

She turned her head as Fred and George Weasley came into view, strolling across the tower like they had every right to be there. Typical.

"Seriously?" Talwyn muttered under her breath. "You two again?"

Fred gave her a cheeky grin. "Don't flatter yourself, we came for the view."

George shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Didn't expect to find Hogwarts royalty already occupying the best spot."

Theo raised an eyebrow, not rising to the bait. "You two planning on gatecrashing every Slytherin tradition this year?"

"Only the good ones," Fred said with a wink.

George's eyes flicked from Theo to Talwyn. "Didn't mean to interrupt your smoke break. Just needed a breather. Common room's a bit loud."

Talwyn arched a brow. "Too loud for the Weasleys? Didn't think that was possible."

George gave a quiet laugh. "Even chaos needs a break sometimes."

George offered her a flask casually. "No tricks."

She took it with a skeptical glance. "I remember last time someone said that."

"Yeah, but I didn't say it last time," George replied, deadpan.

Talwyn took a sip, handed it back, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Still could've been Veritaserum."

George smirked. "You'd be a lot more fun if it was."

She narrowed her eyes, but there was no real venom behind it. "If that was a joke, it needs work."

"I'm off duty tonight," he said with a shrug, then turned to Theo. "You know, you're a lot quieter than your sister."

"That's because I enjoy peace," Theo replied smoothly.

George chuckled. "Figures."

Before any of them could add more, Fred flopped down dramatically in front of them, completely unbothered by the lack of invitation.

"What are we chatting about? Something fun, I hope," he said, grinning like he was in on a joke only he found funny.

Talwyn glanced sideways at Theo, their eyes locking. They both widened their eyes ever so slightly, their silent sibling language reading loud and clear: Can you believe them?

"Nothing important," Theo replied, voice dry.

"I heard something about Theo's intimidation skills," Fred said, clearly fishing for details and enjoying himself far too much.

George finally sat down beside them as well, confirming they had no plans of leaving any time soon.

Talwyn sighed. If they were going to invite themselves into the conversation, she might as well have a little fun. "My father's started courting me off," she said plainly, watching their faces closely.

Fred choked on nothing, eyes wide. George blinked, then broke into a sharp laugh.

"You're joking, right?" George asked between bursts of laughter. "That's a plotline from a Victorian novel."

"That's shit from the 1800s," Fred added, shaking his head, still laughing.

Talwyn gave them a humorless smile, tapping ash from her cigarette. "Unfortunately, the Nott family didn't get the memo that we're in the twentieth century."

George's amusement faded slightly as he looked at her more seriously now, even if the smirk still tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That's mental. Are you actually going along with it?"

Talwyn tilted her head, her voice casual. "Depends. Do you think they'd take Fred if I offered him in my place?"

Fred gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. "I'm offended. I'm worth at least two dowries."

Theo snorted.

George cracked a grin. "That might be true if you could brew a love potion without blowing your eyebrows off."

Talwyn let out a low laugh despite herself, the first genuine one of the night.

The four of them sat there in an unexpected, oddly comfortable silence for a moment. The cold wind swirled through the open air, and below them, the lights from the dungeons glowed faintly.

Fred suddenly stood, stretching like he'd just finished a hard day's work. "Well, I'm heading back down before someone spikes the punch with Boomslang skin again."

Theo stood up too, brushing ash off his robes. "We should go before someone realizes we're not supervising the party and sets a couch on fire."

George lingered for just a second longer before standing and offering a hand to Talwyn.

She glanced at it, then took it, more out of surprise than anything, and let him help her up. His hand was warm.

"Try not to marry anyone before breakfast," George said lightly, the teasing back in his voice.

She raised a brow. "I'll try, but you know how impulsive I can be."

He gave her a crooked smile. "I'll keep my schedule clear, just in case."

The party was still raging by the time they returned to the common room, but Talwyn had had enough. Her heels were starting to ache, her head was buzzing from the shots and smoke, and that uneasy weight in her chest had returned like a familiar shadow.

She slipped past the crowd with practiced ease, brushing off Theo's questioning look. He didn't follow, but she knew he'd be up soon. He always gave her space when she needed it.

The girls' dormitory was blissfully quiet, the heavy stone muffling the music from below. Talwyn shut the door gently behind her and exhaled, finally able to breathe without the weight of everyone else's energy pressing in.

Daphne and Pansy weren't back yet, which was a rare blessing. She peeled off her dress and tossed it onto the edge of her bed, trading it for a pair of soft black pajama shorts and one of Theo's old t-shirts—stolen years ago and never returned.

The letter was sitting on her trunk. She'd seen it earlier when they arrived, unopened and innocuous in its cream envelope, her father's handwriting elegant and rigid across the front.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at it for a long moment.

Then she opened it.

~

Talwyn,

After a lot of consideration, I have chosen who your first meeting will be with. It is someone I feel as though would be a perfect match. He is one year younger, but his father tells me he is a mature and respectable boy. Your first meeting will be in two weeks. Theo and I will both attend, and you will wear the dress that your aunt is sending you.

He is from an extremely powerful family, so please be on your best behavior. 

The boys name is Draco Malfoy.

Do not embarrass me.

– Father

~

Her stomach twisted.

Draco Malfoy.

Of course it would be him. Young, arrogant, cruel when it served him. The perfect little puppet for his father. Just like she was supposed to be for hers.

She stared at the letter a moment longer before her fingers slowly curled around it. Not delicately, fiercely. Until the parchment crinkled under the pressure of her grip. She didn't cry. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

The door opened behind her with a soft creak, and Theo stepped inside, rubbing his eyes, hair still tousled from the party. His eyes landed on her, and then on the letter in her fist.

"You opened it."

She didn't look at him. "Yeah."

Theo crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. "What'd it say?"

She held it out to him without a word. He took it, smoothed it out on his thigh, and read silently. When he got to the name, his entire body tensed.

"Draco?" he repeated, looking over at her.

Talwyn let out a short, bitter laugh. "Apparently, he's mature and respectable."

Theo tossed the letter onto the nightstand with a grimace. "He's a prat. A spoiled, pointy-nosed, broomstick-up-his-arse prat."

She gave him a tired smile. "But from an extremely powerful family, so obviously that makes it fine."

He didn't laugh. He just looked at her with something heavy in his expression—anger, yes, but also helplessness. He hated that he couldn't protect her from this, not really. Not when the threat wore a family name and held all the power.

"I'm not letting it happen," Theo said softly. "I don't care what he wants, or what they want. You're not marrying someone like that."

Talwyn leaned her shoulder into his. "We'll figure it out?"

"We always do," he murmured.

And in the silence that followed, the weight of the letter seemed to hang in the air like smoke—thick, cloying, impossible to ignore. But at least she wasn't carrying it alone.