Archive of Our Own

Moonlight trickled through the open window, illuminating the dusty lunascopes carelessly tossed in an old wooden crate between stacks of moon charts, star charts and rolls upon rolls of parchment. Ginny ran her fingers absentmindedly over the brass of a particularly beat up specimen, barely registering the cool touch on her fingertips. The cold breeze up on the astronomy tower made her feel like she could finally breathe.
No one ever came up here anymore, not since Dumbledore. She shook her head, shaking off the thought.
Nights up here were silent, peaceful, the only sounds the howling of the wind and the rustling of the trees. And the footsteps right behind her.
She was on her feet instantly, wand in hand, pointing at the dark shadow.
“Who’s there?” She could physically feel hear heartbeat. Had the Carrows found her? They would love an excuse to cruciatus her. Not like they actually needed one, but it seemed to make it more fun for them. She didn’t breathe, eyes frantically scanning the dark room.
But it was neither Amycus nor Alecto. Instead, out of the darkness stepped “Theodore Nott. I believe we have not had the pleasure.” The dark-haired Slytherin theatrically bowed, his eyes fixated on her. “You are Potter’s girl.” His lips pulled into a smirk.
“I’m Ginny, Ginny Weasley”. Potter’s girl, it is all she had ever wanted to be, and for a brief second she had been. But was she still? He had left her after all. For a mission, an important mission, probably the most important one, sure. What could be more important that defeating You-Know-Who? She hated herself for wishing the answer was her. That she had been the most important thing to him. He could have taken her with him. She could have been useful, they could have been together. But he had chosen Hermione and Ron. And Ginny was left behind, as usual.
“A pleasure to meet you, Ginny Weasley.” His smile was exceptionally charming, and as fake as she had ever seen a smile be.
“I was here first, Nott. Leave.”
“Seems large enough for two,” he said theatrically turning his head left to right, as if there was any need to examine the room they were so familiar with, never once dropping the charming smile, as if she had not just been extremely rude to him.
Because if looks could kill, Theodore Nott would be dead. Her nostrils flared in indignation when he casually sat down, only several steps from her, and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
She could leave herself, she probably should leave, but she had never been one to back out. And that left her only one option: She sat back down, as stiff as a broom, and stared into the vast night sky. And only an arm’s length from her sat Theodore Nott, Slytherin, Death Eater son, nonchalantly unstopping a bottle of firewhisky and humming a song, not a care in the world.

Theo should have left, left her to wallow in sadness in her little sanctuary. He knew he was unwanted, he always was. Nothing new there. But his day had been utterly shite and he really wanted to ruin this day for someone else too. His shaking fingers fumbled with the stop of the bottle of fire whisky he had stolen from Malfoy Manor during the last stupid death eater meeting. His father had started bringing him along young, promised him to the dark lord before he could even write his name. It was a great honour, his father told him. And he was to bring great honour to Nott family. Except he didn’t. His father’s efforts to raise him as a proper little death eater had been in vain. Nurture fought, but in the end nature won, and he turned out soft, weak and useless. Just like his mother was, at least that is what is father said. He called it his curse, his only son turning out like this. He hummed a melody his mother used to sing to him before she passed to calm himself down.
The redhead looked scared. Her shoulders pulled so far up they almost touched her ears. Her chest raising and falling so rapidly, he could almost feel her shallow breathing. His heart sank with regret.
With a flick of his wand he conjured two little glasses, simple with only tiny constellations of stars engraved, like the sky in front of them, poured firewhisky into both of them and levitated one towards her. She startled but did not make a single noise when the glass gently tapped against her arm. Furrowed brows and an inquisitive look met him in return.
“I haven’t poisoned it.” He smiled at her as he raised his glass and took a sip. Warmth instantly spread through his body. She was either easy to trust or had nothing to lose because this seemed enough for her to accept the glass and take a sip herself. Theo watched her attentively as she closed her eyes and tension slowly left her shoulders.
They sat in silence, taking sips of the amber coloured liquid while looking at the stars. Whenever her glass emptied, he would levitate the bottle over and refill it for her. She would nod in acknowledgement, without ever looking at him. They sat alone together for what must have been hours. And when she rose, it was surprisingly steady. She turned around and gave him one last nod, but this time she looked at him. And then she left, the little glass with the constellations in her hand.

His head was pounding when he woke up, engulfed in the green glow of the lake that emanated off the windows of his dormitory. He barely remembered sneaking back in. The dormitory was empty. They would of course never admit it, but he knew they had been avoiding him for a while. Ah, the curse of being a Death Eater! There was no loyalty there. A little fall from grace and suddenly everyone treats you as if you have Dragon Pox.
He stretched his arms up towards the velvet green ceiling, wondering exactly how late he was for his Dark Arts lesson which nowadays came down to the Carrows making the Slytherins test forbidden curses on the younger students. He could do without that, but how many more times could he feign illness before they got suspicious? He leaned over the side of his bed and reached for the watch on his nightstand when his gaze fell upon the little glass sitting there. He laughed out loud at the bizarre fact that, Theodore Nott, Slytherin, Death Eater, had shared a drink with Pott- no, with Ginny Weasley.
“These are truly insane times we live in” he almost toasted to himself as he laughed manically, his choice made that the Carrows and their Dark Arts lessons could both get fucked.

Ginny moved the same blob of porridge from left to right and back left again for the tenth time without putting any in her mouth. Why the hell did she stay? Why the hell did she drink something Theodore Nott had offered her?And why the bloody hell was she hoping he’d be there again next time she went up to the astronomy tower?

She sat at the exact same spot as last time, her knees pulled up close to her body, arms slung around her legs, her chin resting on her knees. The little glass sat next to her, anxiously waiting as time passed. Would he come again? She didn’t give him much reason to. She had not exactly been nice to him, she had not even thanked him. But why should she? His father is a Death Eater and he is probably just waiting to follow into his footsteps. Coming here had been a terrible idea. What was she even doing? Lips pursed she snatched up the glass with more force than necessary and got up to leave, turned around - and there he was. With sad eyes and a crooked smile he lifted both his hands, one holding a bottle of crimson liquid and the other his own glass. She nodded and reciprocated his smile as she slowly sat back down and waited for him to settle next to her.
“Wine today?” Her voice was unusually quiet, laced with awkwardness.
“Mhmmm”, he nodded, “Elf made. Probably expensive. I stole it from the Malfoy’s cellar” his sheepish face looked proud of the tiny act of rebellion.
“You stole Lucius Malfoy’s wine?” Her mouth gaped, eyes wide open in - not indignation but in awe. She bit her lip and giggled.
Theo poured the wine into their glasses and offered her one. She raised her glass and toasted.
“To Lucius Malfoy - may he rot in Azkaban.” her brown eyes flickered with fire as she fixed her gaze on him, challenging him.
“To Lucius Malfoy - may he rot in Azkaban.” he repeated the words without hesitation and threw back his head pouring the liquid into his throat.
She did not ask any questions, or press him on it. It was clear she had just gotten an answer to a question she did not know she meant to ask.
Instead they talked about trivial things, which staircase is the most annoying, their favourite subjects (Ginny’s was Charms and Theo’s, to her surprise, was Astronomy), they debated which ghosts were secretly in love with each other and what flavour of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans was the absolute worst. Week after week. They never talked about the war. Or Harry Potter. When they sat up here, none of that existed. They were just two teenagers, young and dumb and untouched by war, sitting on the edge of the world.

“So is this a constellation too?” She lifted the little glass he had conjured for her on the first night they met.
“Of course it is. What did you think it was? Just random dots?”
“I guess, yeah.” She shrugged “Why did you choose this one?”
“Mhm…” He averted his gaze. “No real reason. It was the first thing that came to mind I guess. This is Ophiuchus.” His fingers traced the little dots etched in the glass.
“Well, I like it.” Her smile was genuine and contagious. It was hard to not stare at her.
Ginny leaned over him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” She gave a tiny nod and wrapped her arms loosely around him resting her head on his shoulder and looked up into the sky.

He felt the spiral of the earth. Theo was unsure if he was still physically able to breathe. Her head resting on his shoulder, red hair cascading over his shirt, his cheek on fire where she had just planted a kiss. What was he supposed to do with his arm? And when he figured it out, would he still be able to move it? Should he try? No, wait, if he moved his arm she might think he wants her to move her head. And he most definitely did not want her to move her head. Did she want him to hug her back? What if she felt rejected because his arm was just lying lifeless next to him? Would she even want his arm on her if she knew the mark that was etched into it? What was he supposed to do? And why was he such an idiot? Bloody hell, just hug her back, Theodore. He lifted his arm, which seemed to suddenly be composed of lead and gently wrapped it around her shoulder. Could she hear his heart beating? Silly question, the whole castle probably could. He swallowed. But she didn’t move an inch. Her head stayed where it was, peaceful, her breathing slow. He felt her arms slowly slide off his shoulders. She had fallen asleep. Fallen asleep on him. No firewhisky in the world could recreate the warmth that spread through his body at the realisation that she felt this comfortable with him. Hours passed while he held her close to him. The approaching winter brought colder winds but he didn’t dare reach for his wand to cast a warming charm. He was afraid she would wake up and remember who he was. Remember what he’d done. He grew up with a feeling that what’s good must be fleeting. But he desperately wanted to hold onto this a little longer. He looked up into the night sky and the stars shining bright. So constant and fleeting at the same time, because at some point each one of them too was going to die. Enjoy it while it lasts, he thought to himself as he brushed the faintest kiss on the top of her head.
In this exact moment, he did not want the war to end. He prayed for more thunder and another night under cover, so they could stay huddled here like mice, below this unforgiving sky.