Chapter Text
Theodore slipped down the stairs quietly, making his way to the Common Room. This had become a part of his routine. He'd wake up at those odd hours where night and day seemed to blend into each other, both too late and too early, and walk down the stairs to clear his mind. He was unsure of what else to do. His roommates were always asleep, and even still, he did not much enjoy their conversation otherwise. He'd considered reading, but it only further clogged up his mind. He did not have the space to accompany the tribulations of another. And so here he was again, looking for a change of scenery. There usually was an assortment of people downstairs as well, none of whom he'd ever spoken to. They'd nod in a simple greeting.
Not tonight.
On the velvet green couch sat Daphne Greengrass, her blonde hair long and straight against her back.
She noticed him before he had a chance to flee.
"Hi, Theodore," she smiled. Immediately, his insides began to flip.
Oddly, this feeling was becoming part of his routine as well. He shrugged it off, attempting to regain composure.
"Daphne," he uttered. Formal and apathetic. Good.
"Can't sleep?"
He shrugged in response.
She appeared unfazed by his lack of reaction. He did not understand this about Daphne. She never seemed to be shocked or confused about anything, always five steps ahead of whoever she was with. It both unnerved and intrigued him. He supposed that was how everything was with Daphne, though. Sometimes he would find himself watching her. Or, more specifically, the way that her green eyes would focus in on something. The way she always left her hair down. The way she stood a bit taller, a bit surer, than everyone else.
With an uncomfortable feeling, Theodore realized that he had missed studying her. Was that creepy? Christmas break had only been a few weeks. But, then again, Theodore reminded himself, he only had two true friends to claim, of which Daphne was one. And he hadn't seen her at all the way he'd seen Pansy.
"I missed you at the Christmas— well—," he started over, catching himself. She smiled again. He wished she would stop doing that. "I just mean that I didn't see you at the Christmas party. None of your family, actually."
"It wasn't just a party," she replied, shrugging. A strand of her hair slipped off her shoulder.
He considered lying but wondered the use. Daphne was a pureblood, after all. She was aware of some of the intricacies, the alliances. Perhaps moreso than him. And also, although Theodore acknowledged this with less enthusiasm, she was a person he believed to be worth his trust.
"I heard my father talking about it," he said. "Dangerous not to attend."
"Your father is dramatic."
He could not fully deny this. His father had always been slightly unhinged, but he'd spent those few weeks during the holidays with a particular discomfort, constantly checking his sleeve, having conversations in dark corners. Admittedly, Theodore only understood what was occurring in broad strokes. Something seemed to be happening, or more accurately, happening again. His father and all the other purebloods straddled between excitement and fear at the prospect. The Christmas party had been a loose method of establishing a consensus.
Yet, the Greengrasses remained uninvolved. Her father had been rumored to be a Muggle sympathizer when he lived, an idea which only strengthened when he died in an accident involving Muggles. And yet, the family was wholly untouched. Maybe she was right.
He simply shrugged at her, not wishing to look weak. She smiled in return. Like she'd won.
"Anything else to discuss besides a boring party? How is your family?"
Theodore froze, once again considering his options. It would be so easy to say nothing, to shrug it off and tell her that he was tired after all. But for some odd reason, he felt himself rooting himself further to the ground, adjusting so that he stood comfortably. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to be honest with her. Unsure of what to make of it, Theodore shook his head.
"Oh, come on," she complained.
"If you must know, my mother left."
Suddenly, Daphne's face fell completely, and Theodore knew he was not imagining how she looked at him, deep care in her green eyes. She stood up, leaning on the edge of the couch, and grabbed onto his hand. His eyes fell to where they were touching.
"I'm so sorry, Theodore. I didn't know."
"She knows who my father is," he said simply, not choosing to elaborate. He figured Daphne would understand. "She doesn't want to be apart of it."
She moved her hand then and Theodore had to fight the urge to reach back out for it. He stuffed his hand into his pocket.
"And so she left without you?"
"Too suspicious if we both leave."
"She's a liar."
"She's my mom."
She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it and decided to simply rest her hand on his arm instead. "I won't tell a soul."
"I know," he found himself saying.
She dropped her hand. "Does Pansy know?"
"No, just you."
"I owe you a secret owe now."
He moved to pull away, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked for hers. But she simply frowned, squeezing his arm again, "You will have to remind me. Goodnight, Theodore."
He felt his face growing warmer. He shook his head. He really did need to get some sleep.