11. return

Talwyn's POV:

The gates of Nott Manor loomed ahead like iron teeth, slick with cold dew and rusted with time. The carriage that had delivered them slowed to a stop, wheels creaking in the silence that stretched like a noose around Talwyn and Theo.

The moment their boots hit the gravel, it was like the temperature dropped. The familiar weight of the manor's magic pressed down on their shoulders, suffocating and stern. Not welcoming. Never welcoming.

Theo adjusted the strap of his bag and gave his sister a brief, sidelong glance. "Ready?" he asked, though they both knew the answer was irrelevant.

"No," she replied honestly, her voice brittle.

They stepped forward together.

The doors opened before they could knock.

Lord Nott stood in the marble foyer, clad in long, black robes. The light from the sconces above cast deep shadows on his face, sharpening the lines of his jaw and hollowing his cheeks. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked on to them as if they were strangers.

"You've returned," he said, voice low and devoid of warmth. "That, at least, is something."

Neither of them spoke.

He stepped forward slowly, his boots echoing through the silent house. When he stopped before Theo, he looked him up and down with evident disgust. "I expected better of you. You were meant to set the example."

Theo didn't flinch, though his jaw tensed. "I came back, didn't I?"

"You came back late," Nott Sr. snapped. Then he turned to Talwyn, eyes narrowing. "And you... a disgrace to our name. You hide with blood traitors, you disappear without word, and then have the gall to return like some wounded child expecting forgiveness?"

Talwyn stood straighter, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep her composure. "We came back because you threatened the people we care about."

A sharp silence followed.

Then, without warning, her father's hand struck her cheek. The sound cracked through the air like lightning. She staggered back a step, but didn't cry out.

Theo lunged forward, rage igniting in his chest, but Nott Sr. raised a wand and pointed it at him.

"Move again, and you'll suffer worse."

Theo stopped, but not because he was afraid. Because Talwyn shook her head at him. Don't.

Lord Nott stepped back, straightening his cuffs. "You are both confined to the east wing. No wands. No letters. No meals with the family. You will serve your sentence in silence. There will be lessons; private, brutal, and without mercy. You will be reminded of your place in this world. If you behave until the next school year I might consider letting you go back to Hogwarts, but if I hear that you are hanging around the same people, I will show even less mercy than I am now."

Talwyn's cheek burned, and not just from the strike. Her entire body trembled, but her eyes never left his. "Even when we turn eighteen?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You'll do as you're told, unless you'd rather forfeit your name entirely."

Theo laughed bitterly, hollow and sharp. "You mean we haven't already?"

Their father didn't reply. He simply turned and walked away, his black robes sweeping behind him like a shadow that never left.

Two house-elves appeared and silently motioned for them to follow.

As they were led down the dark corridor of the east wing, past cold stone walls and locked doors, Talwyn reached out and grabbed Theo's hand. He squeezed back, hard.

Neither of them said a word.

They didn't have to.

They had survived worse.

But barely.

And now, all they could do was wait, for time to pass, for strength to return, and for the moment they could finally escape for good.

Their new room, if it could even be called that, was stripped of any comfort or warmth. Two narrow twin beds were pressed against opposite stone walls, thin blankets folded neatly at the ends like the beginnings of a cruel joke. There was no window, no light save for a single flickering lantern hung by the door. The air was cold and unmoving, and the silence was so complete it made the crackling flame feel deafening.

It felt more like a cell than a bedroom. Because it was.

Theo moved first, unpacking what little he was allowed to bring, mostly plain clothes, a few books, nothing personal. Nothing that might bring comfort.

"It was nice, huh?" he said after a long silence, his voice quiet but not hollow.

Talwyn turned toward him slowly, her fingers still clutching the edge of her bed. "What was?"

He looked up, met her eyes. "Pretending this wasn't our life. When we were at the Burrow. Even with all the shit... it was like we could breathe."

She didn't respond. She didn't have the words. Her throat tightened, and her eyes blurred with tears she had been trying so hard to swallow. The memory of the Burrow flashed in her mind; Molly's warm hands, Fred's terrible jokes, George's laugh, the way the fireplace crackled at night, Ginny's giggles, Ron's passive aggressive comments,  how it smelled like cinnamon and old wood. A home.

A real one.

Now here they were. Back where their father's voice echoed louder than their own thoughts. Back where their names were chains.

Theo noticed her silence and crossed the small space between their beds, sitting beside her on the mattress that barely creaked beneath him.

"I keep dreaming we're still there," he said softly. "Then I remember who we are."

Talwyn let out a small, broken breath. "I didn't want to come back," she whispered. "Even when the letter came... I thought maybe we could just keep running. That someone, anyone, would stop him."

"He's too powerful. Too careful," Theo replied, his voice tightening. "But we only have to obey for few months. And then it's done." He mocked their father voice when he said the word obey.

"Do you really think he'll let us go?" she asked, her voice fragile, childlike.

"He can't say no if we act perfect. We used to be pretty good at that," he said. 

They sat in silence again, the weight of their father's house pressing in on them from every wall. But in that silence, there was still something shared, an ember between them, fragile but burning.

Talwyn wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt and glanced at the cold stone walls. "Do you think they miss us?"

Theo didn't need to ask who she meant.

He nodded slowly. "Fred cried. I know George will too when he finds out. I don't even want to think about Mama Weasley's face when she see's that we're gone... yeah. They miss us."

She smiled at him saying 'Mama Weasley', he had seen her as a mother figure just as quickly as she had it seemed. 

She curled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "I miss them more than anything."

"I know," he said quietly. "Me too."

There was a long pause, then Theo stood and reached for the dim lantern hanging on the wall.

"Get some sleep," he said gently, softening his tone. "We'll need it."

As the light dimmed, the room plunged into darkness. The only sound was their breathing, steady and slow, as they settled into the cold beds—two children forced into the roles of prisoners for the crime of disobedience.

But in that darkness, a promise had been made.

Soon, it would be over.

And next time, they wouldn't come back.