Mission Insane: The Promise of Dawn (Weather Series Part 4/5)
Title: The Promise of Dawn
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG
Characters: Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass
Pairings: none, pre-Thedoore/Daphne
Era: May 3, 1998
Word Count: 1172
Prompt: mission_insane Weather: 4.Wind
Summary: The aftermath of the Final Battle of Hogwarts, continuation of “Pure”
Warnings: Minor character death
Although he could not hear their voices, Theodore was quite sure Millicent and Adrian were discussing something important. There was something about the way Adrian jerked the girl’s head that seemed strangely controlling and intimate at the same time. It was an interesting scene to watch play out, and for a moment Theodore was captivated by two of his House mates and able to ignore the flurry of activity that was going on around him. He was so wrapped up in the spectacle, that it took Daphne three tries to get his attention, and a fourth to secure it completely.
“Your father?” she asked, her voice scratchy and dry, as if she hadn’t slept in days. The seer blood in her probably alerted her to the battle. Most likely, the poor girl had known of Voldemort’s coming long before the last of the Gryffindor seventh years disappeared completely, and that was weeks ago. Her eyes looked sightless and misty, unshed tears overlapping weeks of sleepless nights. Her skin was paler than he was used to seeing and her hands shook slightly as she raised her left one to push a stray lock of filthy, limp hair from her eyes.
A major reason why Daphne and Theodore got along so well was her ability to be blunt and say things exactly as he needed them to be said: coldly and concisely. Most likely, his best friend knew that his father was dead. It was less likely that she would know Theodore had uttered the two words that took his father’s life, but then, with Daphne, one never knew. He learned at a young age that keeping secrets from her was impossible, and most likely trying to deny the facts would only lead to a fight.
“Dead,” he answered, the word coming off almost like an endearment. He wasn’t exactly glad that his father was dead, but then, he was quite overjoyed that he wasn’t. Being dead would decidedly hamper many of his goals in life, such as marrying Daphne and restoring the respect of the Nott family name. Teaching at Hogwarts would have still been a possibility, if Professor Binns was anything to go by, but a part of him figured it would be able to teach the students while alive much more easily than if he couldn’t grasp his wand. “I…” for some reason the words stuck in his mouth, holding on to his tongue like a bad potion and trapping themselves within the confines of his lips. He coughed once, trying to dislodge the rest of his sentence. “That is to say, I killed him.”
For her part, Daphne did not gasp in shock, or cry out in pain, or even look surprised. Instead, she nodded, as if accepting something as trivial as a potions’ grade, and handed him a blanket. “For the cold,” she explained, even thought it was the beginning of May and the temperature outside was just shy of eighty.
“For the shock,” Theodore amended, wrapping the blanket around him regardless. It didn’t stop him from shivering, just enough for Daphne to see the movement in the darks of his eyes and the lines on his face. Snape told them they all looked old before their time. He said that was one of the worst side effects of fighting. Theodore was quite sure his potions’ master had it wrong. Their premature aging was one of the worst side effects of not dying. There were others, of course, but none quite as severe.
After a moment, he invited her into the folds of his blanket and they huddled together on the floor of the Great Hall. People didn’t look at them, she was innocent beyond a doubt and he had just killed his father. Maybe, somewhere, someone was proud of both of those Slytherins who forsook their reputations and fought for the Light, but if that someone existed he or she was lost in the chaos of the hall. The most sympathetic look either of them got was Mrs. Pomfrey shaking her head at the both of them as she passed. Theodore thought he heard her mutter something like, “Who’ll care for them?” but he wasn’t entirely sure.
A part of him was wondering the same thing.
“What are we going to do now?” he asked Daphne, almost, all but, voicing the question aloud. He was now an orphan, a poor one most likely, once the Ministry froze all of the accounts associated with Voldemort and his cause. Daphne still had a family to go back to, but it was one that consisted of a deranged mother, a brother that had been imprisoned for six months, and a little sister who still almost believed in all that nonsense her father used to spew about blood purity. There was a reason Theodore’s murder of his father didn’t phase Daphne: she was the one to clear the wand her mother used to end her father’s life.
Daphne looked at him, not a passing glance or with any true form of emotion. She looked at him as one looks at a child, or a grandparent, or an invalid. It was almost as if she thought he was asking a stupid question, but they both knew Theodore was the smartest of the Slytherin boys and therefore incapable of the mere act of stupidity. She smiled at him, as if indulging a child and said, “We’re going to work, of course.” It was a simple answer, but there were so many ways in which it could fail. For one, neither of them had their NEWTs, for another, they were both connected to Death Eaters. Who would hire them now? The simple idea of holding a steady job seemed impossible.
He was quiet for a moment, but Daphne learned a long time ago how to read Theodore’s silences, and she knew that this time he was thinking. She allowed him the privilege for a few seconds longer, knowing that, eventually, he would make her privy to his thoughts. “What if we can’t?” he finally asked, rewarding her and disappointing her at the same time. The look on her face made him realize that she hadn’t thought that far ahead.
She shrugged, trying to nonchalant but failing miserably. Theodore watched her choke back a sob and he tried to ignore the tears that painted her eyes a darker shade of gray and made the rest of the world seem monochromatic. “Then we’ll think of something,” she returned, her words infused with a sense of finality he knew better than to argue with. Instead, he pulled her tighter into his arms and kissed the top of her forehead.
“Of course,” he whispered into her war torn knots caked with mud and blood and mudblood blood, “What was I thinking?” She smiled, and he could feel it much more clearly than if he could see her face. For a moment, everything seemed as if it were going to be okay, even if both of them knew it wasn’t.
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG
Characters: Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass
Pairings: none, pre-Thedoore/Daphne
Era: May 3, 1998
Word Count: 1172
Prompt: mission_insane Weather: 4.Wind
Summary: The aftermath of the Final Battle of Hogwarts, continuation of “Pure”
Warnings: Minor character death
Although he could not hear their voices, Theodore was quite sure Millicent and Adrian were discussing something important. There was something about the way Adrian jerked the girl’s head that seemed strangely controlling and intimate at the same time. It was an interesting scene to watch play out, and for a moment Theodore was captivated by two of his House mates and able to ignore the flurry of activity that was going on around him. He was so wrapped up in the spectacle, that it took Daphne three tries to get his attention, and a fourth to secure it completely.
“Your father?” she asked, her voice scratchy and dry, as if she hadn’t slept in days. The seer blood in her probably alerted her to the battle. Most likely, the poor girl had known of Voldemort’s coming long before the last of the Gryffindor seventh years disappeared completely, and that was weeks ago. Her eyes looked sightless and misty, unshed tears overlapping weeks of sleepless nights. Her skin was paler than he was used to seeing and her hands shook slightly as she raised her left one to push a stray lock of filthy, limp hair from her eyes.
A major reason why Daphne and Theodore got along so well was her ability to be blunt and say things exactly as he needed them to be said: coldly and concisely. Most likely, his best friend knew that his father was dead. It was less likely that she would know Theodore had uttered the two words that took his father’s life, but then, with Daphne, one never knew. He learned at a young age that keeping secrets from her was impossible, and most likely trying to deny the facts would only lead to a fight.
“Dead,” he answered, the word coming off almost like an endearment. He wasn’t exactly glad that his father was dead, but then, he was quite overjoyed that he wasn’t. Being dead would decidedly hamper many of his goals in life, such as marrying Daphne and restoring the respect of the Nott family name. Teaching at Hogwarts would have still been a possibility, if Professor Binns was anything to go by, but a part of him figured it would be able to teach the students while alive much more easily than if he couldn’t grasp his wand. “I…” for some reason the words stuck in his mouth, holding on to his tongue like a bad potion and trapping themselves within the confines of his lips. He coughed once, trying to dislodge the rest of his sentence. “That is to say, I killed him.”
For her part, Daphne did not gasp in shock, or cry out in pain, or even look surprised. Instead, she nodded, as if accepting something as trivial as a potions’ grade, and handed him a blanket. “For the cold,” she explained, even thought it was the beginning of May and the temperature outside was just shy of eighty.
“For the shock,” Theodore amended, wrapping the blanket around him regardless. It didn’t stop him from shivering, just enough for Daphne to see the movement in the darks of his eyes and the lines on his face. Snape told them they all looked old before their time. He said that was one of the worst side effects of fighting. Theodore was quite sure his potions’ master had it wrong. Their premature aging was one of the worst side effects of not dying. There were others, of course, but none quite as severe.
After a moment, he invited her into the folds of his blanket and they huddled together on the floor of the Great Hall. People didn’t look at them, she was innocent beyond a doubt and he had just killed his father. Maybe, somewhere, someone was proud of both of those Slytherins who forsook their reputations and fought for the Light, but if that someone existed he or she was lost in the chaos of the hall. The most sympathetic look either of them got was Mrs. Pomfrey shaking her head at the both of them as she passed. Theodore thought he heard her mutter something like, “Who’ll care for them?” but he wasn’t entirely sure.
A part of him was wondering the same thing.
“What are we going to do now?” he asked Daphne, almost, all but, voicing the question aloud. He was now an orphan, a poor one most likely, once the Ministry froze all of the accounts associated with Voldemort and his cause. Daphne still had a family to go back to, but it was one that consisted of a deranged mother, a brother that had been imprisoned for six months, and a little sister who still almost believed in all that nonsense her father used to spew about blood purity. There was a reason Theodore’s murder of his father didn’t phase Daphne: she was the one to clear the wand her mother used to end her father’s life.
Daphne looked at him, not a passing glance or with any true form of emotion. She looked at him as one looks at a child, or a grandparent, or an invalid. It was almost as if she thought he was asking a stupid question, but they both knew Theodore was the smartest of the Slytherin boys and therefore incapable of the mere act of stupidity. She smiled at him, as if indulging a child and said, “We’re going to work, of course.” It was a simple answer, but there were so many ways in which it could fail. For one, neither of them had their NEWTs, for another, they were both connected to Death Eaters. Who would hire them now? The simple idea of holding a steady job seemed impossible.
He was quiet for a moment, but Daphne learned a long time ago how to read Theodore’s silences, and she knew that this time he was thinking. She allowed him the privilege for a few seconds longer, knowing that, eventually, he would make her privy to his thoughts. “What if we can’t?” he finally asked, rewarding her and disappointing her at the same time. The look on her face made him realize that she hadn’t thought that far ahead.
She shrugged, trying to nonchalant but failing miserably. Theodore watched her choke back a sob and he tried to ignore the tears that painted her eyes a darker shade of gray and made the rest of the world seem monochromatic. “Then we’ll think of something,” she returned, her words infused with a sense of finality he knew better than to argue with. Instead, he pulled her tighter into his arms and kissed the top of her forehead.
“Of course,” he whispered into her war torn knots caked with mud and blood and mudblood blood, “What was I thinking?” She smiled, and he could feel it much more clearly than if he could see her face. For a moment, everything seemed as if it were going to be okay, even if both of them knew it wasn’t.