17. tragic

The morning after always came, whether she was ready or not.

The sun was just beginning to slip through the cracks in the heavy curtains, casting a golden haze across the Gryffindor dormitory. The room was still, quiet save for the soft breathing of the two sleeping boys inside.

Talwyn stirred gently, her bare legs tangled in the sheets. George's arm was draped over her waist, warm and heavy, his face slack with sleep and peaceful in a way that made her heart ache. She traced his fingers lightly with her own, trying to memorize the moment.

Fred was back in his own bed, facing the wall. Whether he knew or not, whether he'd heard them come in, or sensed something in George's voice when he returned, she didn't know. And she didn't want to find out.

Talwyn slipped out from beneath George's arm as quietly as she could, holding her breath as she sat up. The floor was cold against her bare feet. She found her red dress crumpled at the foot of the bed, and slipped it back on with shaking hands, smoothing it down and trying not to let the shame settle too deep in her bones.

The air in the room was heavy. Like guilt.

She gave George one last look, his lashes fanned across his cheek, his lips parted, hair tousled like he hadn't slept that well in months, before she slipped out the door and into the hall.

By the time she made it down to the dungeons, the adrenaline had worn off. Her feet ached. Her head buzzed. She just wanted to crawl back into her bed and disappear.

But as soon as the Slytherin common room door opened, her stomach dropped.

Draco Malfoy sat lazily on one of the green leather couches, his robes perfectly arranged even this early, a smug, knowing expression on his face.

"Well," he said casually, "looks like the dress code for the morning has gotten more... revealing."

Talwyn didn't respond. She walked past him, but his next words stopped her in her tracks.

"Let me guess. You were with the Weasel again."

Her shoulders tensed.

He stood, slowly, stepping in front of her, blocking her path. His pale eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest curl of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Your father won't be pleased to hear that."

She met his gaze, jaw tight. "You're not going to tell him."

"Oh?" Draco cocked his head. "Because last time I did, he doubled your probation and threatened to disown you. What makes you think I won't do it again?"

"I'll give you a reason," she said, stepping closer, her voice low and dangerous.

But Draco didn't flinch. "I'm sure you think you're clever, Nott. But you don't have much leverage anymore. You're already walking a thin line, and if he finds out you're back with that blood traitor-"

"Don't call him that," she snapped, louder than she meant to.

He raised an eyebrow. "Touchy."

Talwyn clenched her fists, her heart pounding. "What do you want, Draco?"

He took a moment, pretending to think about it. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe just a little reminder of where your loyalty's supposed to lie. You know, for your own good. And Theodore's."

Her blood ran cold.

He leaned in, voice almost a whisper. "It would be a shame if your brother lost all the progress he's made... because of you."

She stared at him, fury and fear swirling like poison in her chest.

Without another word, she pushed past him and disappeared up the stairs toward her dorm. Her vision was blurry, her heart in her throat.

Everything was tangled again. And now, Draco had a grip on the threads.

She didn't sleep.

Even after she changed into clean clothes, a simple dark sweater and trousers, her hair pulled back hastily, the weight of everything clung to her skin like fog. Her dress from last night lay crumpled at the bottom of the wardrobe, like some kind of broken memory she couldn't stuff away fast enough.

The Slytherin common room was empty now, mercifully. Draco was gone, or maybe just asleep in his dorm. The early morning silence outside the dungeons beckoned her like a breath of air.

Talwyn made her way up through the corridors, heading toward the Great Hall. The castle was still mostly asleep. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, cool and pale, catching on the stone walls and throwing long shadows. Her shoes echoed faintly as she walked, the only sound for what felt like miles.

But when she turned the last corner before the entrance to the hall, someone stepped into her path.

Mattheo.

He had a lazy posture, hands shoved in his pockets, but the sharpness in his eyes said he hadn't just randomly ended up here.

"Oh," she said quietly, stopping in her tracks. "Hi."

He looked her over, the way her hair was still a little messy, how tired her eyes looked, the soft red marks just barely hidden beneath her collar.

"Been looking for you," he said flatly.

Talwyn shifted her weight. "I ended up not feeling well last night, I just needed some air."

"Right," he said. His eyes flicked toward the entrance of the Great Hall, then back to her. "Didn't realize when someone said they needed water it meant they were disappearing for the night."

She didn't answer.

Mattheo tilted his head slightly, a sharp edge sliding into his voice. "You left me. At the Ball. Alone. Without saying anything."

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "It wasn't planned, I just-"

"Was it George?" he asked, cutting her off. His tone wasn't neutral anymore. It was clipped. Wounded.

Talwyn swallowed. "Mattheo-"

"Don't lie to me," he said, his voice low now. "I saw the way he looked at you all night. Like he was seconds away from walking through fire to get to you. And you-" He stopped himself, exhaling sharply and dragging a hand through his hair. "Merlin, Talwyn, was I just a distraction?"

She looked at him, a pleading look in her eyes. "No- no. I didn't mean for it to happen."

His jaw tightened. "But it did."

Silence stretched between them. The air was cold, but her face felt hot, flushed with guilt.

"I was trying to move on," she said quietly. "I thought I had to. I thought it would make everything easier."

Mattheo scoffed. "And instead you just made everything messier."

"I didn't plan it-"

"You disappeared!" he shouted. "One second you were there, dancing with me, laughing like you meant it, and then you were gone. And now I see you wandering around like nothing happened, like I'm just some footnote in this pathetic little love story you're writing."

"Mattheo-"

"I was good to you," he bit out. "I tried. Even when I knew you weren't all there, even when I saw the way you looked past me. And still, I showed up. I stood there like an idiot in a suit watching you walk out the door for another man."

She felt her own temper rise, breaking through the weight of guilt and exhaustion. "What was I supposed to do, Mattheo?" she snapped, voice raw. "I'm out of my mind in love with him, and it's killing me, and I've tried, Merlin, I've tried to stop, but I can't."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated how exposed it made her feel.

Mattheo stared at her, stunned. His hands clenched at his sides, jaw tight enough to shatter.

"Do you even hear yourself?" he asked, cold and quiet. "You shattered him. And now you're crawling back into his bed like nothing happened?"

She flinched.

Just then, footsteps echoed down the corridor, fast and familiar.

Theo.

He came around the corner, stopping dead when he saw them. His eyes flicked from Mattheo's tense form to Talwyn's tear-rimmed eyes and immediately caught the storm hanging in the air.

"What the hell's going on?" Theo asked slowly.

Neither answered.

Mattheo scoffed, stepping back. "Ask her. I'm sure she'll give you the tragic version."

Talwyn turned sharply, her fists clenched. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to act like I wanted any of this to happen."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have ran to his bed the second he looked at you," Mattheo snarled.

"Stop," Theo said, stepping between them now. "That's enough."

But she was already backing away, every nerve lit with fury and shame and something heartbreakingly close to heartbreak all over again.

"I can't do this," she muttered, turning on her heel.

And then she was gone, storming down the corridor, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater, determined not to let either of them see her cry again. Her boots echoed harshly against the stone, each step carrying her farther from the weight of their voices, their judgment, their disappointment.

She didn't stop until the castle doors closed behind her with a soft thud.

The wind hit her like a wall. Sharp and damp, it whipped her hair into her face and bit at the skin beneath her jumper. She wasn't dressed for the cold, a thin sweater, pants, no cloak, but she didn't care. Her blood was already running too hot to notice.

She walked without really seeing where she was going, her legs moving on instinct, her chest tight with too many things she didn't know how to name.

It wasn't until she reached the edge of the Black Lake that she let herself stop.

Her favorite place.

The sky was still gray and heavy with mist, the early morning sun just starting to peek over the treetops in a thin ribbon of pale gold. The water was calm, almost unnaturally still, like it was holding its breath.

She sat down in the damp grass without thinking, hugging her knees to her chest. The cold soaked into her bones immediately, but she welcomed it. It was real. It hurt. That was something she could handle.

Everything else was too much.

Mattheo's voice still rang in her head, sharp, wounded, furious. He had every right to be angry. She'd used him, hadn't she? Not intentionally, not maliciously, but it didn't matter. The outcome was the same.

And Theo, the look on his face when he walked in. He had no idea what she'd been hiding. She'd been keeping so much from all of them for so long, it was a wonder she could still breathe.

She thought of George.

Of the way he'd held her. Of how warm his hands were when they traced her back. The look in his eyes when he said her name. The way he whispered that he loved her like it was a truth written into the stars.

She had gone back to him, yes. But what now?

What had she done?

"Fuck," she whispered, shoving her hands through her hair, tugging slightly at the roots as her eyes stung.

She stared out at the lake, the stillness of it mocking her. A few birds skimmed across the surface, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear the soft rustle of trees.

She should've stayed in bed. Hidden. Let the castle eat itself with gossip and rumors and whispers while she pretended none of it touched her.

But no. She'd walked right into it. Just like always.

Her teeth began to chatter, but she didn't move. She didn't deserve warmth. Not right now.

She needed space. Time.

She needed the silence, the ache of cold air in her lungs, the sound of nothing but wind and water and the far-off caw of a crow.

Because maybe, if she sat there long enough, she'd figure out what the hell to do next.

She didn't know how long she sat there, time blurred, minutes bleeding into one another like ink on wet parchment. Her fingers were red now, stiff with cold, and still she didn't move. The wind had picked up, tousling her hair around her face, whipping at her already tear-streaked cheeks.

"Wynie."

She froze.

The voice was quiet, but the nickname unmistakable.

She turned her head slowly.

Theo stood a few feet behind her, hands deep in the pockets of his coat, shoulders hunched against the wind. His dark hair was messier than usual, like he'd run a hand through it a dozen times before finding her. His expression wasn't angry. It wasn't soft, either. It was something else, something unreadable, but deeply familiar.

"How'd you find me?" she asked, voice hoarse.

"You're predictable when you're miserable," he said with a shrug, but his voice was gentler than the words. He walked closer, his boots crunching against the frost-covered grass. "I checked the Astronomy Tower first. Then the corridor by the greenhouses. Figured this was next."

She didn't respond. She just looked out at the lake again.

Theo didn't press. He sat down beside her in silence, pulled his coat tighter, and stared out at the water like he could see whatever it was she was looking for.

They sat like that for a while.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," she said quietly. "Mattheo."

"I know," Theo said.

She blinked. "You do?"

He nodded. "I mean, you still did. But I don't think it was on purpose."

Her lip trembled. "I didn't even want to go with him to the ball. Not really. I just... I needed something easy."

Theo let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "And you picked Mattheo Riddle?"

That pulled a small laugh from her throat, broken as it was.

"I didn't say it made sense," she muttered.

Theo looked at her then, really looked at her, the red around her eyes, the rawness in her voice, the slight shake in her limbs. "You're freezing," he said, and without another word, he unzipped his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She stiffened, but didn't protest. She was too cold to argue.

"You want to tell me why you really ran off with George last night?" he asked, softer now.

She hesitated.

Then: 

"Because he's on of the only people who's ever made me feel like I was allowed to fall apart without apologizing for it."

Theo was silent. He turned his gaze back to the water.

"And because I love him," she added, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "Merlin, Theo, I love him so much it makes me sick. And I ruined everything, and I still went back."

He looked over at her, eyebrows raised slightly.

"I'm not judging," he said. "I think you've done enough of that to yourself already."

She let out a shaky breath and leaned her head against his shoulder, letting the quiet wrap around them.

"I don't know how to fix this," she whispered.

"You probably can't," Theo said. "But you don't have to fix everything right now. Just... stop running."

Talwyn sat still for a long moment, the weight of the coat around her shoulders making her feel safe enough to finally speak the words out loud.

"There's more," she said quietly, her voice barely carrying over the wind.

Theo didn't move. "Alright."

She took a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the edge of the coat. "When I got back this morning... Draco was waiting for me in the common room."

Theo's jaw flexed, but he didn't say anything yet.

"He asked me where I'd been. If I'd been with the boy my father wouldn't approve of." She paused. "He didn't say George's name, but he didn't have to."

Theo's brows furrowed. "What did he say after that?"

Her voice dropped lower. "That he'd tell him. Again."

A sharp silence followed. The cold wind gusted across the lake, but Theo was still, his hands now clenched into fists in his lap.

"He's really going to do it?" he asked, a rare edge in his voice.

"I don't know." Her throat tightened. "But he looked at me like I was some stupid girl playing a game she doesn't understand. Like I was a liability to the family."

"You're not," Theo said quickly, firmly.

"I am," she whispered. "At least to them. To our father. To Draco. To whatever bloody image they've spent years building." She laughed bitterly. "And George, George still has no idea what he's about to get caught in the middle of."

Theo was quiet for a long beat, and when he spoke again, his voice was low. Controlled.

"He's not going to do anything," he said. "Draco's a snake, but he's not stupid. If he drags George into it now, he risks exposing everything else. He's bluffing."

She looked at him, doubtful. "And what if he's not?"

"Then we make sure you're not alone in it."

Talwyn stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, emotions churning behind her eyes. "Why do you even care?" she asked finally.

Theo sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "Because I remember who you were before all this. Before our father twisted our world into something cold and breakable. And I hate watching you pretend you're still surviving it when you're barely breathing."

Her eyes stung, but she didn't look away.

Theo stood slowly, then extended a hand to her.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go inside. We'll figure it out. You're not doing this alone anymore, Tal."

She took his hand.

Maybe for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel completely alone.

As they walked back toward the castle in silence, Talwyn felt the chill settle deeper into her bones, and it had nothing to do with the wind anymore.

They barely made it through the entrance when a sharp whoosh echoed through the hall. An owl, black-feathered, lean, and unmistakable, dropped low from the rafters and circled once before dropping a thick envelope directly into Theo's hands.

His entire posture shifted.

Talwyn didn't need to ask. Her stomach turned before he even opened it.

Theo's jaw locked. "It's from him."

He broke the wax seal with a practiced flick, eyes scanning the parchment. His expression darkened with every line. He didn't speak until he reached the bottom, then held it out for her to read.

~

Theodore and Talwyn,

You're to attend a meeting. Tomorrow night. It's very important, there will be many important people there. No excuses. Wear the ring.

-Nott Sr.

~

Talwyn read the words twice. Her vision blurred, but she didn't cry. Not now.

"The ring," she whispered. "The last time he told you to wear it was the last major Death Eater meeting."

Theo nodded stiffly. "That means it's serious."

It felt like the ground shifted beneath her feet. Just hours ago, she'd been tangled in sheets and laughter with George Weasley. Now the shadows of her real world were closing in again.

Theo then departed from Talwyn, going back to his dorm to start packing while Talwyn decided to walk around a bit, hoping to get her mind off of things. 

Talwyn hadn't even turned the corner before she felt someone watching her.

She looked up, and there he was.

George was standing by the archway near the Charms corridor, hands in his pockets, hair a little messier than usual. His eyes softened the moment they landed on her.

"Hey," he said, stepping forward, voice lower than usual. "Been trying to find you all morning."

She stopped, heart catching in her throat. "Yeah... sorry, I've been- I needed some air."

George didn't press. Not yet. He just nodded, then glanced down the hallway before looking back at her. "Do you think we can talk tomorrow? I would say today but I promise Fred I'd head to Hogsmeade with him. I don't want to push you, I just- I'd like to be near you without feeling like I'm guessing everything."

Talwyn looked away, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She hated lying. But this- this wasn't something he could know about.

"I... I'm going home tomorrow," she said, keeping her voice even.

George blinked. "Home? Why?"

"Just for the night," she added quickly, holding his gaze. "One night. That's all. It's nothing bad, just... family things."

He didn't look convinced. 

"Family things," he repeated, like the words tasted wrong.

"I'll be back the next morning," she said, her voice gentle. "I swear."

George stepped closer. His hand brushed hers, fingers curling around her pinky.

"You're not safe there," he said quietly. "I don't trust them."

Her throat tightened. "I don't, either."

He opened his mouth to say more, but she reached up and touched his cheek, grounding him.

"I'll come find you the moment I'm back," she whispered. "We'll talk. I want to."

He nodded slowly, but the look in his eyes said he was already bracing for something to go wrong.

"Okay," he said finally. "But if you don't come back..."

"I will," she said, cutting him off, more certain than she felt. "I promise."