FIC: Saudade [Theodore/Millicent - NC-17]

[hpraremod]

Title: Saudade
Author/Artist: swanseasempra
Prompt: 56 by nightfalltwen
Pairing(s): Theodore/Millicent
Word Count/Art Medium: ~18,000
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s)/Content: traces of alcoholism, depression, mature scenes, language
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Big beta love to JS and SA for their patience, devotion, and time on this! Yall keep me going and I appreciate you! Also a thank you to AR for her help with a difficult scene!
Summary: Millicent’s monochromatic life changes when a figure of her past collides with her in Paris, causing her world of familiarity to peel away, and exposing the vibrant persona she couldn’t paint alone.

Saudade: a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent



The air was thick in the crowded room; women done up as spotlights on magazine covers gathered on the sofas and chairs, squealing and giggling in delight at yet another wedding announcement. Millicent smiled outwardly at her picturesque friends, congratulating the most recently engaged familiar. The group of women had been friends for the better part of their years; through childhood and school, surviving the war, now into their adult lives. Millicent had always felt somewhat on the outside of the circle. Though her features were soft and cheered externally, her thoughts ran wild with disconnection and longing. Envy.

“Pans! It’s gorgeous! Who knew the Weasel could afford such a ring?” admired Daphne
holding Pansy’s overly decorated hand. Pansy was wiggling her fingers to help exaggerate the diamond’s sparkle, and her smile gleamed in equal comparison.

“He didn’t,” she said, grin still evident on her features, “My father did, but Ron assured me he would pay him back.”

The other girls exchanged expressions of doubt, but Millicent, ever supportive, subtly defended her best friend.

“Well, I’m delighted for you. Ron seems to make you very happy,” she said holding a smile in place to her excited friend, “Do you have a date planned?” she continued, hoping to shift the topic to anything but how Pansy came to acquire the ring.

Pansy beamed at her, “Yes! It’s going to be in the spring. I know that doesn’t give us a lot of time, but I can’t wait any longer for my big day!”

Millicent couldn’t help but drop her features. How was it she could be completely surrounded by her friends and still feel alone? Her emotions warred inside her for dominance. Half of her wanted to, was, happy for her friend - truly. But, the other half was filled with bitter disappointment. Could it be she knew this would be another event where she sat on the bench rather than by her friend’s side at the alter? She never had the opportunity to be a bridesmaid, let alone a bride. She understood, she supposed, the need for that perfect wedding party photo. She was, after all, no size four and she was never classified as a “beauty”. Her features were round, and her curves were ever prominent. She could never make the bridesmaid dress look half as flattering as her friends. Still, it hurt her to know she was never fully included in the wedding party.

She sighed audibly at her musings, catching the attention of the youngest Greengrass sister.

“Sorry, you say something, Milli?” she asked with condescension in her soft, ice blue eyes.. Her head was bent to the side, waiting for Millicent to respond with slight impatience. She reminded her of an owl waiting for it’s treat.

“No, I mean yes of course, Astoria,” she lied, “I only just noticed the time.”

Astoria squinted her eyes slightly before she smiled, “You’re right! Daph, we should be going. We have dinner with The Malfoys.”

Daphne halted mid-sentence to exclaim airly, "Oh! Is it time already? Dear, we must be on our way. Our parents would simply Avada me if I delivered Astoria late,” she said standing up and gathering her things.

Millicent was relieved her lie had worked, and made to say her goodbyes as well. Once Pansy was free from the blonde duo, she smiled at her.

“Oh Milli, I’m so glad you came! Lunch soon?” said Pansy, still beaming. Millicent forced a simple smile across her lips, and hugged her friend.

“Of course, Pans. Same time each week,” she said with a wave, walking over to the fireplace and taking a handful of floo powder. She gave Pansy one last smile before disappearing behind the green flames.

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Millicent was met with eager eyes as she was guided to her usual table by the window, in the same bistro they had been meeting at since leaving Hogwarts. Pansy was smiling, and stood to embrace her friend in a tight hug.

“Milli! I’m glad to see you!” said Pansy beaming, “I was afraid it was too short notice!”

Milli gave her friend a sincere smile as she sat down at the small square table. It had been a little under a week since she saw Pansy last at her bridal announcement, and was surprised at how much time was lost.

“Of course, Pans,” she said simply, “our lunch dates are the highlight of my week.”

Pansy flipped her hair in her debonair grace and picked up her tea.

“Same for me, Milli! I wanted to get your thoughts on some wedding ideas I had,” she said, cutting to the chase. Millicent didn’t mind discussing it. After all, this was important to Pansy and she wanted to support her, no matter the outcome.

“What did you have in mind?” Milli said, staring off into the window. She listened as Pansy ran through her long list of ideas, nodding at appropriate times and giving her input where needed. The sun reflected blindingly off the shop windows in the open plaza as strangers were bustling by in their elegant robes, walking with a purpose, a purpose she desperately wanted to understand. She eyed them intently, longing to catch up to the falling sands of time.

“...Milli?” she heard Pansy say, snapping her fingers and knocking Millicent from her musings.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry, Pans. What was that?” she said pulling her attention back to her dark haired friend. Pansy sat back in her chair, eyeing her intently before clearing her throat.

“I said, the wedding party is still up for discussion. Ron wants that dreadful Hermione woman included in the ceremony. He knows we never got along, especially since they attempted to date those years back,” Pansy’s pouty expression matched her whiny tone and Millicent frowned: she had dreaded this conversation about the wedding party, knowing her name would never be on that list.

“Well, those were tough times for all of us, Pans, and they’ve been through alot together. I’m sure if there was anything still going on, he wouldn’t have asked for your hand,” Millicent forced a smile on her face, hoping it reached her dejected eyes. Pansy seemed to agree reluctantly.

“Of course you’re right, Milli,” she said, features rising again, “I’ll have to put her in. It will not do well to argue over such things before our marriage bonds are final.”

“So, you’re going for the ancestral pureblood wedding ritual then?” Millicent asked sitting up perfectly straight. The pureblood ritual was ever bonding, and a beautiful collaboration of old magick and tradition. Formalities drawn from deep in the vaults of pureblood ties. Being a halfbood, Millicent would never have the luxury of being a part of something so intricate, not that she was even close to being in a position of marriage of any form. She sighed, and Pansy leaned forward, placing her hand over her friend’s.

“Milli, you alright? You spaced out again. Did you even hear me say yes? Ron was actually all for the idea,” the wave of concern on Pansy’s face washed away as swiftly as it came, continuing the focus on her future plans. Millicent responded with a smile, she was truly happy for her friend, but couldn’t help but feel that burn of envy in the pit of her stomach once more.

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She found herself in her flat, keys in hand, with no recollection on how she got there. Her mind was filled with pain, yet completely empty. She was a hollow shell, going through the motions day by day, conforming to the society around her like a sheep in line for the slaughter. She ached for something more; something meaningful, and she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it was she had dug herself in so deep. She was a pencil sketch of gray in a world of vibrant watercolors, and she longed for something to fill her with color. Her eyes stung with unfallen tears as she drug her way further into her flat, setting the keys on a side table and removing her coat.

Another day disappeared from her life like a drop of rain in a storm. She stared out into the night, curled up on her window nook with a book and a cup of tea, and sighed into its porcelain. The pages of the publication were stained with damp circles of the fresh salt of her tears, and her tea no longer held its steam. With swollen eyes, she watched the heavy flow of droplets run down the pane of glass, finding sanctuary in the sound of the constant streams hitting the window.

Her small, antique clock chimed, waking her from a nap she didn’t realize she had taken, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust. The room, full of dancing shadows on the walls from her nearly burnt candles, was otherwise still. Once the clock’s chirp diminished, the room fell victim to the sound of the rain outside once more.

Millicent laid back pressed against the wall and rubbed her eyes. Her legs had fallen, bent to the side, and her book was spread out on the floor. With her hand still cupping her tea, she placed it on the railing and sat up. Her cat, Attis, seized this moment to leap up onto her lap, rubbing his head under her palm for attention.

“At least I have you,” she said lightly, giving the creature what he demanded before standing up in a stretch. The clock’s chime had indicated the hour was late, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep right away. She threw on her coat and made her way to the door. She paused, looking at her fireplace and contemplated using the floo instead, but quickly voted against it, choosing a walk in the open air beneath the rain.

She walked for many blocks, umbrella in hand, and relaxed under the night sky. She passed many shops, most of which were closed up, and only saw the occasional passerby with their obvious destinations. Rainwater was rushing down along the curve of the street, splashing lightly at the slightest of turns. Looking down, she caught sight of a magazine, drenched completely with the water passing over it. The tabloid stuck to the concrete, some waterlogged pages pulled from the spine all together, and flapped under the current. She cocked her head at the page that stuck out to her: the Eiffel Tower lit up and loomed over the city of Paris. She longed to be there, to be surrounded in a place known for love and acceptance. Perhaps… no. That idea seemed preposterous. No one goes to Paris alone. Do they? Millicent never imagined leaving the safety of London. She had friends here, a life. But what life was that exactly? A life that she repeated day in and day out; time evaporating around her as she stood still. This wasn’t a life. It was a routine. Taking in the pages on the ground, stained with colors bled together, watercolors, she made a vow to change it.

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He sat, slouched in a booth towards the back of the pub and sluggishly held a glass tumbler in his right hand, contents sloshing about as he swayed in his seat. His cigarette laid forgotten in the ashtray on the table, burned to the filter, and left a perfect trail of ashes along the oak surface. His face held a smile as a tall, blonde slid in beside him, caressing his chest as she snuggled into the booth. Her plush, ruby lips grazed his ear, and not minding the attention from onlookers witnessing the seductive displays of risque affection.

“Come, love,” she began, hand still on his chest, fingers sliding between the buttons of his oxford and twirling her nails lightly over his flesh. He laughed into his glass, and went to sit up, spilling the whiskey as he overanalyzed the angle of the table, squinting under hazed eyes as he made to stand.

Stumbling, he found the support of the wall beside him and braved a step forward, then another, until he found his focus with one eye open, and zigzagged his way to the exit of the pub. The blonde, with an arm looped around his waist, struggled equally, but somehow managed to keep up with his long strides.

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Theo woke to a smokey hotel room, sheets scattered about the floor, and a pounding headache. Without lifting his head, he reached his arm across the beautiful stranger snuggled up to his side, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey left open from the night before. Carefully, he shifted his body as he slid from under the sleeping naked blonde, and stood up slowly, taking a large swig from the container. He shook his head vigorously, trying to wake up, but quickly regretted the decision, as he felt as though the room was turning on its side. He took a clumsy step forward and silently searched for his trousers.

Pulling up his britches, he gathered his remaining belongings, and left the room. Smelling of sex and leftover booze, he made his way down the narrow, low lighted hall towards the elevator, shoes and shirt in hand. He didn’t risk apparating with this hangover, the last thing he wanted to do was splinch and leave his precious lower half behind.

The sun was bright and Theo found himself squinting against the harsh rays beaming down on him. The sun mocked him as he made his way down the sidewalk, casting shadows on the ground as he walked; everything appeared to move in slow motion compared to Theo’s ever moving mind. He wouldn’t be here much longer, as he never stayed put for long. The past would catch up to him.

Theo dropped off the radar shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts those seven years ago, and he refused to go back to the turmoil that was his life. He had been one of the fortunate ones, in their words, that was released from suspicions thrown upon them due to their parent’s horrid decisions: only being locked up behind the greasy bars of Azkaban for a few short weeks until the trials were completed. His mind had cracked under those closed walls, and even now, in the open streets of Florence, he felt constricted: confined in his own head and the never ending bedlam.

He tried therapy, it’s what the Ministry had suggested to help “break” him of his habits, his thoughts of blood purity and rid him of his desires for “power”. Only he didn’t believe nor want any of those things. He was lost then, and he’s lost now, even without his father’s harsh influence to weigh down upon him. Nothing seemed to help. Nothing but booze and fleeing: fleeing from one place to the next, where no one knew his name, his past, or his conflictions.

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Theo leaned against the side of the Ponte Vecchio, one leg bent, propped against the stone while his arm lazily held a bottle of firewhiskey at his side, covered in a paper bag. His lips engaged in a long drag of his cigarette, watching as people sauntered on their way. He’s seen enough of this town, and he bored quickly of the intricate Renaissance styled structures, and their crowded shops. The muggles eagerly spending their father's’ money. He curled his top lip into a snarl as he exhaled his cigarette, smoke fading and blending into the night air. He turned from them then, and leaned his arms over the side of the ledge, looking down into the dark waters of the Arno River, specks of moonlight dancing gracefully over the ripples of waves.

He brought the bottle to his lips, taking down a large swill of burning liquid, feeling as it slid down his throat. He winced at the potency, but recovered quickly, dropping his hand back down to the railing and taking another drag of his cigarette. The setting mocked him: the people, the water. They moved so casually, slowly, and he felt like the last grain of sand to be dropped from an hourglass, impatiently waiting for the the freedom to fall.

Flicking his cigarette over the side to fall into the water below, he pushed himself from the ledge, walking expeditiously with hands in his pockets, head low to stay unheeded. He turned down the narrow street of Borgo S. Jacoponi, suddenly feeling confined as he made his way between the tall buildings of shops on either side. He remained close to the walls, careful not to brush too closely to the muggles surrounding him and avoiding his gaunt reflection in the shop windows. When the extended stucco wall opened to an empty covered patio on his right, he leaned hidden behind a pillar, and disapparated.

He landed in a pop! Holding his head and stumbling a step or two before regaining his center. Theo walked over the dimly lit and uneven cobblestone street where buildings evolved to trees on either side, eventually facing a dead end that lay empty besides a light post and a large squared fountain. He paused, looking around before stepping up to the concreted base. The fountain’s center was a delicately carved stone statue of the twelfth century wizard Cosimo de’ Medici, known to muggles as Cosimo the Elder. He stood proudly on a tall square pedestal, his head cocked to the side and facing downward towards the large pool beneath him, surrounded by water spilling over on all sides. In the pool, lay four smaller plinths holding children carved of stone, who were all reaching up, hands cupped together over their heads towards the wizard in the middle. The fountain showed age, fading some of the once intricate details and reflecting shades of green over the formerly white stone.

Theo stood a moment, pulling his walnut wand from his sleeve and aimed it towards the Elder.

“Aparecium,” he called, observing as the fountain’s water ceased its flow over the center pedestal, revealing an opening below the ancient wizard. Theo stepped into the now empty pool, and disappeared into the dark archway, the water spilling over once more.

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Millicent stood, waiting to hand her ticket over to the muggle stewardess to board her flight. She wore a jumper that, even for her, appeared to be two sizes too large and loose fitting trousers. Though the look was unflattering, she hid her voluptuous curves behind the comfort of layers. She gazed out the large wall of windows onto the runway: a perfect line of planes in their terminals, waiting to be filled with eager travelers, and preparing to fly to various destinations.

“Miss?” said a soft voice behind her, knocking her from her musings. She turned her head at the petite woman in line behind her as she’s pointing at the stewardess with a weak smile.

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry,” she said stepping up and handing over her ticket, “I’m a little nervous. I’ve never flown before.” She was playing the part, as she has flown countless times. The difference lay in the fact that when she flew, she didn’t have a fancy reclining cushioned seat or a movie to pass the time. She had a stick tucked beneath her, wind blowing her hair in her face and struggled to keep her balance. She never did well on a broom, and avoided it as often as possible, choosing the floo or aparation instead.

She walked the narrow tunnel and boarded her plane eagerly, finding her seat in first class with ease and sat down by the window. She immediately looked out, biting her lip as her nerves caused her throat to close up. She was about to embark on something entirely out of character for her, but she kept telling herself that this was what she needed; change. She was tired of ending every day the same, only to repeat it again. The plane took off leaving London behind her, and though unaware of it then, leaving her former self at the gate as well.

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Theo emerges into a courtyard where two small structures lined either side. On the opposing end in front of a blank stone wall, a man was leaning against a rusted black iron street post, floating flames dancing shadows over his form. He eyed Theo through squinted slits, a cork pipe dangled from the side of his thin lips. Theo strode confidently towards the older man, his walnut wand still held tightly at his side.

“Masta Nott. Back again, boy?” said the graying man, pulling the pipe from his mouth and tapping it on his faded black slacks. His eyes never left Theo’s, but his rough features seemed to soften as his vision took in the young wizard before him, noticing the familiar gold shimmer of an old medallion against his chest, hanging loosely from a tarnished chain Theo had around his neck.

“You knew I would be, Nunzio,” Theo replied, tugging his wand back up his sleeve, “Can’t stay away from you for long.”

The wizard, Nunzio, curled his lips into a toothless grin, wheezing a laugh that echoed around the courtyard. He popped the pipe back into his mouth as he turned from Theo, pulling his wand and waving it lazily over the blank wall. Theo looked on with unamused eyes as the wall begins to come to life with colors in a mural of sorts: a small, green sprig sprouts at the wall’s base, widening and changing to the dark brown bark of a tree trunk, thin limbs branching out and hanging and blowing in an emulsion breeze, and blossoming lush leaves in various shades of green.

Nunzio side eyes Theo, puffing his pipe, “Well boy? Where to now?”

Theo approaches the wall, now painted in great detail of a large willow tree. He scans the leaves along the branches, eyeing the city names now embossed in gold lettering across the various bracts. When his eyes stopped on a particularly vivid green leaf, he placed his thumb over it, and looking back at Nunzio, he smirked.

“See you in Paris.”

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Millicent stepped off the plane with her head held high. She quickly made her way through the terminal and grabbed her bag. She was shaking from excitement as she took in her surroundings, admiring the busy streets in awe. Her pace was swift, unable to contain the elevated animation in her steps as she walked the main street towards her destination: a small cafe displaying a sign with seven roses, their stalks entwined in the center, creating a knot of thorns. It read Le Noeud des Épines beneath the floral bundle. She smiled, remembering what Tom from The Leaky Cauldron told her about the entrance to Ruelle Sinueuse, the wizarding alley, safely hidden behind the petite cafe. She took a breath, and walked inside, the sound of small bells chimed overhead, drawing a plump woman from the back kitchens.

“Bonjour,” the lady called throwing a cleaning cloth over her shoulder, “what can I get you, love?”

“Oh, I’m looking for the rose without thorns,” she said in a low tone. Tom had told her that was the phrase used by the locals to enter Ruelle Sinueuse. The barmaid clicked her tongue and eyed Millicent suspiciously before gesturing to the back with her head and led her to the kitchens in silence.

Stopping at the utility closet, the older witch opened the door to reveal a few brooms, an old mop, some buckets, water pipes and valves. How… anticlimactic, Millicent thought as the barmaid pulled back her sleeves, tugging a simple oak wand from her apron. She waved it over the green valve, where it began to turn clockwise, creating steam between the bolts. Then the red valve, turning it counterclockwise twice and producing a sound not unlike a screeching owl as the valves reacted to the wand’s touch. Suddenly, the rusted pipes came to life, twisting and bending to reveal an opening in the center..

“There you are, Mademoiselle,” said the older witch unamused, tapping her wand on her palm impatiently.

Millicent thanked the woman and quickly tugged her bags behind her through the now open doorframe to the alley. She took in the blending aromas of herbs, florals, and coffee that swirled in the airy breeze. The petite, ivy covered shops held a softer impression over Diagon Alley, and she found she loved the bright colors and simplicity in its designs: nothing seemed out of place. Her grin was permanently pressed on her face as she strided happily to the inn, L'âme Perdue, to throw her bags in her room. The inn was larger than that of The Leaky Cauldron, where the main lobby was home to marble statues and large floral arrangements, lots of bright, natural light, and chic shiny wooden furniture.

Her room was no different and was a display of patterns and elegance: striped pastel pink wallpaper decorated the walls, and a small crystal chandelier hung in its center. A tall white four post bed with a seafoam green duvet adorned with light pink roses was against the wall beside the door. The room was also home to a dainty white vanity, a white and silver chevron plush chair, and a large window with a seat.

She set down her bags, and fluffed up her hair, anxiously planning her day and determined to turn her life around. The biggest step had already been taken and she hoped she could keep the momentum going. Millicent took a deep breath and, with newfound confidence, strided back out to the alley for a bit of sightseeing.

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Theo dropped at the base of a large wisteria tree, landing hard on his back on the ground.

“Damnit, Nunzio,” he said getting to his feet and dusting the grass from his trousers. His eyes wandered, taking in the scene: the cheery looking street of Ruelle Sinueuse was particularly lively that afternoon, and he desperately wanted a drink, feeling the effects of his hangover fully. He patted down his worn leather jacket, and pulled a small potions bottle from the side pocket. Popping the cork, he drained the bottle of its contents before throwing it over his shoulder, not waiting to hear it shatter on the hard stone before walking towards the inn for a room.

Being advanced in potion arts came in handy with aiding his habits, as he possessed the perfect concoctions for a “quick fix” when booze wasn’t within arms reach. He found he tolerated the dull world around him easier whilst under a hazed countenance. It kept the demons at bay, and his thoughts from spilling over to dangerous levels. He would never forget that moment he first escaped London, the disastrous incident in a muggle pub where his mind unleashed, and the rampant rage ignited against the very thing he was running away from. There was too much in London that reminded him of the past that plagued his mind. The inner warfare of a man facing his problems as a boy, trying to escape the one thing he is trying to forget; his own self adversary. He shook his head at the memory and shrugged his shoulders in an effort to forget.

Theo entered through the light oak wooden doors. He sneered at the overly gaudy display of floral chic in the main lobby and walked up to the innkeeper, a tall, lean man of his forties, and requested a room. The man loomed over him, but Theo stood indifferent. He was distracted by the dull ache in his head and his desire to find the inn’s bar.

“Yes, monsieur, I have a room available for you,” he began, leaning over the counter and at the floor as if looking for something, “do you need assistance with your bags?”

Theo responded with a bored expression, holding his hand out for his key. The man cleared his throat, passed the fancy metal key over and gave a faux smile that laced with elements of a disgusted sneer. Turning from the counter without a word, he strode up the stairs towards his room. He was in desperate need of a shower, and his mind was shutting down from exhaustion. He ignored the sound of another’s door opening in the wide, bright hall, focusing only on his destination.

Once in his room, he scowled at the display of florals and pastels, but shrugged as this would not be his residence for long. Striding to the en suite, he showered off the previous night’s encounter, before crashing hard in his ridiculously large plush bed.

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Millicent spent the next few days in both magical and muggle parts of Paris. She explored the Eiffel Tower, climbing her way to the top, and feeling completely free as the breeze that caressed her skin. She lost herself in museums, taking note of the beautiful works of art and feeling connected to the colors in the paintings. The murals displayed in and around the city, admiring those with the time and passion to transform buildings into masterpieces. The structures and the complex detail in their designs, the beauty in the many gardens, flourishing with greenery and flowers of all varieties sang to her.

By the time she fully realized it, three days had come and gone, lost in the beauty Paris had to offer. Millicent had explored most major points of the city, and was relaxing outside on the terrace of a cafe in the magical side of Paris. Steam rose from her tea as she sat tranquilly holding her cup and puffed a peaceful breath. The sky was crystal, and the stars shimmered overhead. Overcome with a harmonious mind for the first time in years, a smile imprinted upon her lips as she admired her view of the tip of the Eiffel Tower that could be seen in the distance, and esteemed in the way it resembled a perfectly placed centerpiece.

The breeze that brushed her cheek could not have been more refreshing as Millicent gently swayed to the faint melody of a violinist in the distance. It had faded behind the now busy street as locals and tourists alike gathered at the neighboring tavern that sat only a few meters away. The cafe she was settled in had long since closed for new customers, and she was grateful her waiter was accepting of her equanimity position. Since her table was on the patio, he allowed her to remain there outside at her small corner table without interruption, and she seized the opportunity to continually soak in the atmosphere.

The people who began to crowd the tavern were an interesting collaboration of trendy and free, and Millicent considered each individual in their entirety. The realization of her standing out was apparent, what with her casual pastel jumper and jeans. The style of the french woman was that of dark and tight fashions, and cigarettes hung loosely entwined from most manicured hands. She bit her lip, wondering where their ambitions for the night would lead them, and contemplated joining them in their endeavors. Take the risk.

Millicent straightened her back and lifted her chin as a wave of unfamiliar confidence consumed her, and she made her mind up to indulge in the locals’ watering hole. She stood, smoothing the creases from her jumper as she set her focus on the busy tavern entrance. Her feet felt of stone, and each step was a challenge, draining her of all physical strength before she even made it to the door. Somehow, she found herself crossing the threshold, biting her lip as the smell of smoke and stale booze invaded her senses.

Strangers surrounded her in crowds, bumping her shoulders as they shifted to and from the exit, not waiting for her to proceed out of their way before she found herself colliding into another. She swallowed hard, stumbling forward as another squeezed their way to the bar. The scenery was not as pleasing to the eye as her adventures around the city had been: wood paneling lined the walls and blended into the bartop, shining under the low set lighting from drinks long forgotten, and covered in stray ashes from flippant flicks of cigarettes.

Millicent’s eyes were wide, she was there and she made it, taking another step to exploit her new life she pledged she would take for herself. She rocked slightly in her place, feeling the weight of uncertainty leak into her introspection and she soon questioned what to do next. Awkwardness arose in her movements, and her throat closed up almost entirely from nerves. For the first time in what felt like ages, her body swiveled to face the exit, and she hastily retreated to the door.

Colored stars danced in her circle of vision as a sharp pain shot up the side of her shoulder, and she collided hard into the wall, pinned between the wood paneling and the dead weight of a stranger. She pushed back, trying to regain her footing and catch her breath, struggling with the incongruous notion that she was blocked from her exit with someone she does not know. At least so she believed.

The man reclaimed his balance, to a degree, and pulled back with his hand smearing down his face. Millicent heard him groan, and she almost felt pity for the drunken fool. He stumbled back a step, toppling backwards and almost losing his standing again had she not gripped him by the seams of his worn leather jacket.

“Hey, you alright?” she heard herself saying, her voice drowned out by the noise of the bar itself. The man responded with a shrug, and he dropped his hand back to his side to prop himself against a stool and exposing his face to Millicent for the first time. The sound that escaped her shocked expression penetrated through the clamorous tavern like a plucked string from a violin.

“Th-Theo?” she asked, her hand cupping her mouth as she felt her breath hitch. He looked bloody awful, like he had been dragged through the war every day since it supposedly ended those seven odd years ago. She had flashbacks of the ash and blood that had stained the minds of all who were a part of it, and she felt herself losing her own footing.

His eyes slowly glided up to meet her own, his person swaying drunkenly as deep blue bore into her. Her knees buckled and he teetered backwards, blinking wildly as he turned to leave without saying so much as a word. He didn’t make it far, losing his footing and toppling into the wall, knocking two strangers out of the way as he bolstered himself against the hard, worn paneling.

Millicent hesitated only briefly before breathing a sigh, reaching for Theo out of impulse and throwing his arm around her neck as she pulled him up. She eyed the angry patrons of the bar, who were staring agitatedly at their assailant who was too incoherent to apologize. She furrowed her brows at them, embarrassment washing over her in a wave of obligation for her old housemate. A housemate she hadn’t seen since the day the Dark Lord fell.

With difficulty, she guided him from the tavern, and it took all her strength to keep him steady as they walked through the threshold. She was thankful for her size for the first time in decades, outweighing her familiar as his dead weight collapsed against her side again. Once in the open air of night, the movements came easier for her to navigate him back to the inn. She couldn’t help the pull of purpose inside her, grateful she had been there to ease him into a safe place for the night. Merlin only knows where he had ended up had she not braved new endeavors and entered that tavern.

She took the chance of apparating, holding firmly to his hand around her neck and to his side against her waist, thinking with preciseness for the destination of the inn. With a pop! they landed at the quiet and safe entrance. Not prepared for the harsh spinning and bending of the earth around him, Theo lunged forward on their landing, releasing the fullness of one too many drinks, and retching a full night of mistakes onto the cobblestone street.

Millicent’s face was scrunched into that of disgust and worry as she pulled him back into a standing position, trying desperately to get him up the stairs. She tugged her wand, casting a quick scourgify over him before carefully leading him to her room. She hadn’t thought the entire plan through, but knew she couldn’t leave him in that state as Theo had appeared to be alone in that tavern. Her heart wept for him, and clarity slowly coursed through her mind. He had vanished so many years ago, and she could only imagine how many nights ended with him in similar vulnerable and blank state.

Once in her room, she laid him down over the duvet as gently as she could, keeping him on his side and removing his shoes. Theo instantly fell prey to sleep, entering whatever nightmares he veered off by drowning them in drinks of unthinkable amounts. Understanding the trials their bloodlines faced time and time again, she didn’t fault him entirely on how he dealt with it all, but couldn’t deny the shameful pull of pity in her stomach as she watched him sleep heavily on her bed.

Biting her lip, she moved to the tall chair by the window, and laid down, resting her head against the plush back cushion. She kept a watchful eye over him, making sure he remained on his side before falling victim herself to the sleep she hadn’t realized she needed.

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Theo woke with a start, eyes wide and the weight of a thousand hexes on his brain. He should be used to this by now, the harsh mornings after a full night of drowning oneself in whiskey and beer, but they never got easier. He blinked, and glared under heavy lids as he took in his surroundings. The room was familiar in design, but not his own. Sighing, he scrunched his face as he hurled himself up into a sitting position, bracing his head against his palm.

The sound of running water turned his attention to the closed door on the opposite edge of the room, and he knew he had lingered too long. He got out of bed with hindrance, his head pounding behind his skull as he made for the door. He overdid himself last night, remembering the short lived prior evening before the night grew to fragments and static snippets of memories.

He remembered a sassy redhead and two blondes in a tavern, who were all too friendly with his bar tab, and indulged in countless games that involved soaking shots off their flesh. He shuddered as the lingering taste of whiskey rose to the back of his throat and he stumbled closer to the door, holding his head in place. The amount of holes in his previous night’s indulgence agitated him, and he strained to remember what happened after his three lady companions vanished in the crowd, more than likely searching to prey on the next fool who drunkenly flaunted their money.

Music bellowing through the speakers, making conversation close to impossible, still pounded in his eardrums as he remembered wandering aimlessly to flee the growingly crowded tavern. Dark eyes, his name, the war.

Tripping over his shoes, he ungracefully scooped them from the floor, not realizing the amount of noise he caused in the process. All he knew was he had to leave before whoever’s room he was in found him awake.

“You’re up,” he heard behind him and he froze, unable to shake the impenetrable clash in his head. He slowly turned his head, squinting under the harsh lighting of the room. The woman was no one he remembered from the tavern at all. She was tall and had curves for days, but something about her seemed so familiar. Her hair was braided loosely to her side, and she stood in a large, white robe. Struggling to focus, he could see her tugging uneasily on the material to keep her covered.

He swayed, suddenly feeling nauseous where he stood, and before he had a chance to react, she was there by his side, holding a glass phial out to him in her hand.

“Take this. It will help with the hangover,” she said albeit too calmly. He could clearly see it was a revitalization draught, and he almost scoffed at the notion that she would assume he knew otherwise. Wordlessly, he claimed the phial for himself, and took back the contents.

“Thanks,” he said boredly, his voice rough as stone. He raised a brow at her boredly, his features morphing to that of surprise at the revelation. “Bulstrode?”

The dark haired witch preened, biting her lip and tugging her braid nervously.

“Hi, Theo.”

Widening his eyes, he took a step back from her, shaking his head. Surges of emotions coursed over him, the familiarity of all that he turned from seeped from his pores. His past has caught up to him. His mind plunged into the the past, of walking the halls of Hogwarts, bullying Draco’s mudblood, and excelling in potions. Taunting, brutal images of her with them, coinciding with the very demons he swore to distance himself from.

He made for the door, sweat beading on his neck as he reached for the handle. He didn’t need to thank her, he didn’t even like her. She represented everything he fought so hard to forget.

“You don’t have to go, Theo. I was actually surprised to have run into you. It’s been so long.” her words slid across his conscience like the blade of a dagger, slicing his flesh to cut deep into his system. “Theo?” her tone was lower now as she took another step towards him. He didn’t owe her anything. “I was hoping you would join me later. I don’t know anyone in the city and it will be nice to catch up.”

Catch up. Reminisce the past. The past he loathed, the past that forced him back to the darkness. Run. Keep moving. His features turned to solid stone as his mind reverted to everything he had buried within. His head was pounding, he wasn’t prepared for an encounter of this measure, not after the indulgences of the prior evening. Millicent was standing beside him, her features were scrunched from what he thought to be nerves, and he oddly felt guilt be added to his potion of emotions. Sighing, he mucked his hair up before slouching where he stood.

“Okay, Bulstrode. We can meet up later.” He turned and left the room before she had the opportunity to respond, and realized how close her room was to his once in the hall. The routine of his life slowly fell back into place as he disappeared behind his own room’s door to shower and crash in his own bed.

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Theo agreed to meet her at the Parc de la Villette, a park in northeastern Paris. He wasn’t entirely sure why he entertained the idea, knowing damn well he would be gone before she could trace his existence and he fell into the torments of his past. It wasn’t fear. Theo didn’t fear anything, not really. He simply chose not to face it head on, and escape by drowning it all away. It was a method that worked for him, and has yet to fail him, all save for last night, when he ran smack into it. Literally.

The invading sun cruelly shone rays of heat onto his face, and he squinted through the crowd, searching for the witch that vexed him where he stood. She was standing like a sculpture, tall and shining, in an oversized jumper and jeans. The fabric of her top swayed in the passing breeze, and blowing her hair lightly about her face, strands sticking to her lips as she turned to him, smiling.

“There you are!” she called, walking up to him. She stopped suddenly, and Theo quirked a brow at her, as if she had actually thought of hugging him. “The sun will be setting soon, then the movie will start. Let’s find us a spot!”

“Movie?” The notion sounded ridiculous, sitting in the open field, watching a muggle film amongst muggles themselves. He questioned her with his expression, studying her face with bewilderment. She was nothing like she had been in school: willingly associating and conversing with muggles around her, and smiling. Millicent rarely smiled, let alone spoke.

“I think it sounds fun. And it will be nice for you do something besides drinking.” her tone was firm, and Theo snarled.

“Bulstrode, you are not in a position to bark orders.” he snapped, unswayed by her new persona. She eyed him through sincere eyes, her lips pulling into a subtle smirk as she turned from him altogether.

“Come on,” she called, walking towards the center of the field. He followed silently and reluctantly, sneering at himself for allowing her to sway his decisions.

By the time he had caught up to her, she was already sprawled out on a blanket on the ground, adjusting her jumper nervously as he sat down beside her. He sat with knees bent and bracing his arms against them, gripping his one wrist as he stared up at the sky. The sun was still shining, and he longed for the low lighting of a bar, quiet and in solitude.

She was burning holes into his flesh, and he felt her eyes studying him hard. He shrugged, rolling his head to angle his focus back at her.

“What?” she jumped at his sudden attention, blushing noticeably under the bright sun. She turned her eyes to the ground, shifting uncomfortably and removing lint that wasn’t there. He narrowed his eyes at her peculiar mannerisms.

“Nothing,” she whispered embarrassed. She pulled at the grass beside her, licking her lips apprehensively.

He shrugged her off, turning back and glaring up at the sky once more. The sun blazed orange, and reflected colors of summer in the clouds. Millicent smiled beside him, admiring the change in the atmosphere above them, slowly forgetting the awkward tension between them. It wasn’t difficult, to sit in silence. Theo avoided conversation with most people as they tended to ask too many questions. Millicent was used to sitting unnoticed in the crowd, all save for Pansy, but even with her she often went overlooked.

Reds and oranges blended with blue and purples, as the sparkling specks of stars began to shine through, illuminating the sky. It wouldn’t be long before the movie would start, and Theo once again questioned why he was sitting here with a girl he long left behind.

“Why are you in Paris, Bulstrode?” he asked abruptly, but low, adjusting his weight as he laid back on his elbows. Startled, she shifted beside him, following his lead and laying down on her back, using her arm to level her head.

“A change of scenery,” she was studying the sky, and Theo could visually see her soaking in the colors that were adapting to time, absorbing the details of the sky as if seeing it for the first time. Her hand was raised, moving her fingers like a paintbrush to the air and he found himself intrigued by her.

He didn’t need to reply, understanding all too well her reasoning for leaving, and didn’t push her for a further explanation, knowing she would probe him with similar questions. Questions he refused to answer.

“La Belle Noiseuse,” she added, struggling with the pronunciation, looking upward and her hand still in the air. Her pronunciation was off, and Theo remained silent beside her, drawing her eyes to his face and she smiled. “That’s the name of the movie.”

Theo lifted his brows in response, “The Beautiful Nuisance.”

Before Millicent could inquire on his french, the movie began, lighting up the field and highlighting their faces. It was difficult for her to follow along, tugging her book on french phrasing and straining under the shifting light from the film. The faintest of smirks brushed his lips, and he leaned closer to her.

“Edouard has lost his desire to paint, and his young protege has offered to help him aspire to pick up an old unfinished painting of his wife who, like his painting, has lost the desire for,” he scooted closer, his tone but a whisper as he explained the film. Her eyes were glued to the screen, but she listened to his every word, “he changes his subject to someone more inspiring,” when she turns to face him, her breath gave. They were mere inches apart as he rocked back to shift his weight evenly on his elbows once more. Millicent blushed, and heat ran to her face.

As the movie ended, and the crowd slowly parted, going on with their own schedules, Theo helped Millicent up from the ground, and she picked up the large blanket they were sitting on, flapping it once before folding it over her arm.

“Thank you for coming with me. I’ve been here for four days now, and I was glad to share part of my vacation with someone I actually knew.” She brushed grass off her jumper and breathed in deeply. Theo watched in wonderment at her enjoyment of simple pleasures, and he caught himself lingering his gaze too long. He only noticed when he beared witness to Millicent’s change of color, as she shifted where she stood.

“Yeah well, I’m headed out. I’ll see you around, Bulstrode,” he began walking away from her as if he’d never known her at all, another encounter from the bar, and cutting all ties. He wasn’t prepared for her to follow him, and was surprised when she did.

“Where are you going? I was hoping we could grab dinner and-,” Theo swiveled around to her sharply, causing her to jump at his sudden change in direction.

“I’m going to find a tavern,” he said sonorously. His words were deliberate and firm, “I’m starting to think too much,” he breathed, his tone dropped dramatically, and he shrugged as he turned to continue his retreat.

“I’ll see you around then?” Millicent called to his back, she stood uncomfortably with her arms folded in front of her. Theo didn’t reply, he flicked his hand up in a lazy wave as he continued his path down the park’s edge. Sighing, she took in the scene around her and headed back to the inn.

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The next morning, Millicent rose with the sun, freshening up and mapping out her day. She planned on exploring Champs-Élysées, and was reading up on the Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile. Muggle history was both fascinating and tragic, and though there were wars and death in their past, they were nothing like what Professor Carrow tried to bestow upon her: muggles were not out to destroy their own kind, but grow from one another. She had handled the struggles of war in her own way, and she was intrigued to know more on how muggles adapted after chaos.

Noises can be heard of the already busy inn as she made her way down the stairs. She found herself eying every door she passed, wondering which one her old housemate was hiding behind, if he even made it home at all. Sighing, she lifted her chin and continued down the stairs, waving to the man behind the counter as she exited the inn.

As she turned the corner of the first street in the alley, she halted in her tracks. Theo stood slouched against the hard brick wall, pulling a drag from his cigarette. His eyes rolled in irritation upon seeing her there.

“Oh! Sorry, Theo, I guess I wasn’t paying attention,” she said, her eyes dropping to the ground. Theo flicked his cigarette and pushed himself off the wall.

“Are you following me, Bulstrode? I don’t take threats likely,” his tone was hard and cold, and she discovered rather quickly that he was still the loner he was in school.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I enjoyed your company, but I’m no stalker,” she replied sharply, straightening her back. Surprised she managed to keep her nerves tamed, she crossed her arms in exasperation.

Theo scoffed, looming over her with an arduous countenance, his face bearing no witness to emotion. Millicent recoiled only a second, but it was enough for Theo to smirk in jubilation. He brushed past her and headed back towards the inn without another word.

“Theo,” she called, pivoting towards his back and placing a hand on her hip, “You have been cantankerous since we ran into each other. What is your deal? I’m only trying to—” he was in her space before she could finish her sentence, glaring down at her searchingly. Any emotions he had kept hidden was displayed in full before her now; anger and hurt and purely astray. His lip was curled into a snarl.

“I am nothing like my grandfather!” he snapped, balling his fists into bleach white knuckles at his sides. Memories flashed like lightning in his eyes, and the storm of blue and gray swirled down at her. His recollection of those long nights pinned between his father and grandfather beating the importance of blood purity weighed heavy on him, and he felt the hatred rise inside of him again, barreling over the edges of his mind.

Millicent stepped back, hands up in defeat at his swift capricious demeanor. “Theo calm down, I didn’t mean—” she gripped his wrist and he stiffened, breathing in deeply and seemingly, gradually, regained his standing, shaking his head at the feel of her. Coming to, he stumbled back, holding his head with his shaking hand, his other still gripped by Millicent. The look he gave her next was that of tragedy: his color had drained almost entirely, and his eyes swirled, not with that of a storm, but of pure darkness. He collapsed against the brick of the wall, pulling Millicent slightly and causing her to let go of his wrist.

“Spend the day with me,” she told him calmly, concern and uncertainty swimming in her tone. Theo peered at her through heavy lids, his breath uneven, and gave a quandary nod.

Forcing an awkward smile upon her lips, she reached for him again. Her touch was light, and she wiggled her fingers underneath his palm to entwine his with her own. Without so much of a word, she pulled him against her and reached her other hand cautiously on his chest. Looking up at him gaily, she apparated them away.

Landing hard in a side street behind Avenue des Champs-Élysées, Millicent stumbled in her footing, and found herself pressed against the hard form of Theo, who was eyeing her intently. She cleared her throat, and mumbled an awkward apology as she straightened herself and took a step back. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and cast a wandless incendio to light it. Millicent gaped at him, and his expression changed to that of challenging, which she didn’t oblige.

She looked about, grateful the side street lay empty save for the two of them, and she walked briskly towards the main street, hoping he would follow. Silently, he rolled his eyes at her back, and trailed her steps, flinching at the slightest of movements. He caught up to her easily, walking alongside of her in silence, pulling another drag of his cigarette as he took in the shops and muggles surrounding them.

“It’s just up here,” Millicent said, a booklet in her hand. She was reading the pages with full focus, and he found himself narrowing his eyes at her, studying the way she bit her lip as she skimmed the tabloid of its contents.

“Why here?” he found himself asking her. He was bored with the scene, and wasn’t too interested in her response, but couldn’t resist the urge to know the answer. Millicent paused in her footing, looking up in front of her with eyes sparkling. Theo trailed her line of sight, and paused at the large structure that lay meters from them, surrounded by tourists and locals alike.

“It honors those who have fallen in the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. I find the strength of muggles inspiring.” She turned her focus and continued reading. Theo scoffed. The idea was preposterous. “Think of all the magical folk in hiding that were forced to succumb to this war. Muggles have intertwined with our heritage for longer than we might like to admit.”

Her words struck a chord with him, and he was taken back at her accusations that magical folk would be daft enough to go to war for these muggles.

“Purebloods never fought in muggle affairs,” he stated coldly. Millicent frowned, she supposed there could be truth to his words, but it affected her, as she was a halfblood after all.

“My family ties at one point saw fit to enact in war with muggles. Not against them, but alongside of them. I was hoping to open my mind to the idea that what I was brought up to know, wasn’t truth at all, but a mere theory to question,” Millicent’s eyes had closed, and it took all her strength to fight back the memories of her own childhood. Her family never truly spoke of the events that caused her blood to change. “You’re not the only one here who’s family line is that of the Sacred Twenty-Eight list.”

For the third time since running into her, Theo was taken back. Bulstrode’s were considered halfbloods for as long as he could remember, and he often forgot they were once considered one of the Purest of their kind. He found himself clutching a medallion in his pocket, and tugged it into view.

“You’re familiar with this then?” he asked her, holding the faded gold coin in her view. She eyed it, uncertainty evident in her eyes. “Ah, so you aren’t familiar. I didn’t think so.” He derided, tucking the medallion back in his pocket without another thought, and strided closer to the stone arc structure before them, once again leaving Millicent alone on the street. She furrowed her brow, and darted after him.

“You’re not going to explain what it was you shoved in my face?” Irritation was building inside her at his swayed and vague demeanor. He was impossible to figure out, and his coldness to her made her blood boil. “So what, my blood is tainted down the line and now I’m not worthy enough to know? The war is long over and—”

“Knock it off,” he shouted, once again inches from her face. The storm was brewing again in his eyes, and she knew if she didn’t mind her words, she wouldn’t be able to tame it. He sighed in frustration, tugging the medallion again from his pocket and tried to relax the tenseness in his shoulders. “It’s a medallion.”

Millicent rolled her eyes at his obvious declaration. “Yes, thank you. I see that it’s a medallion. What is its purpose?”

Dropping his hand to the side, he eyed her earnestly. “It is passed down generation to generation to those of the purest of bloodlines, and it’s used for,” he paused, catechizing himself on whether he should tell her. “Travel purposes.”

Millicent felt her brow raise as she crossed her arms unimpressed. “Travel purposes? Like a portkey?”

Scoffing, Theo tucked the coin into his pocket a second time, and sat at a bench nearby. Millicent followed and sat down hard, an expression of impatience across her simple features.

“No, not like a portkey,” annoyance in his tone, “It opens a portal of sorts, allowing us to travel freely between cities without being traced or intercepted.”

The silence that rose from them was impenetrable, and was only broken when an elderly woman in rags of cloth approached them at the bench. Theo shifted, and he side eyed the woman with caution. She smiled blithely at him and Millicent, handing Theo a rose from a worn basket she held in her hand. She gestured the flower towards Millicent, who blushed, cupping her hand over her mouth in amusement. Reluctantly, he accepted the rose from her wrinkled hand and passed it over to Millicent without so much as looking her way.

“Merci pour la rose,” he said to her, handing her muggle currency from his coat. Bowing, the woman waddled away, holding up other roses to passerbys.

In awe of the rose, Millicent inhaled its scent deeply, twirling it in her hand and pressed it lightly against her cheek. Theo watched her movements, once again drawn to her enjoyment of the simplicity of things. Her eyes were closed, and the faint breeze blew her dark hair over her face, catching on the thorns of the rose’s stem.

“You know, I never imagined I would be here,” she said finally, knocking Theo from his musings. She was peering over at him through her fallen strands of hair, and in that moment, under the bright light of the sun, she looked sculpturesque. “I had gotten so used to the way things were. I’m glad you’re here.” her tone was melancholic, and Theo wasn’t entirely sure if she was speaking for the sake of voicing her thoughts, or directly at him.

When he didn’t respond, she lifted her head that she had pressed against her palm on the back of the bench, and adjusted her weight so she was sitting straight. There was longing in her gaze, as Theo followed her eyes to the Arc once more, contemplating what she had said before about her bloodline. He never considered the disarray of the halfbloods, thrown between the traditional ties of their pureblood ancestors and the new age of muggle ways. Millicent had gone with the former over the latter, and followed them straight into the darkness. He found himself wondering what would have come of her had she ran to be with the muggles. Would she be sitting here on the bench, enjoying all things simple the way she was?

Guilt nudged at him, understanding that she did as they all had done to survive, despite the turmoil that it caused them after the Dark Lord’s fall. Theo snarled silently, hating his mind for wandering back to that of which he shied away from. He wanted to blame Millicent for opening the gates of his locked away memories, but he couldn’t find the strength.

“Are you hungry?” she asked placing her hand upon his forearm. Her touch immediately eased his treacherous mind, as it had earlier that morning. It was strange to him, he was letting his guard down and he knew it, but couldn’t comprehend why.

“I need a drink,” he replied dryly, forcing himself away from her touch and rising to stand. He pulled another cigarette out and he caught Millicent’s eyes. “Relax, I’m not that stupid,” he said using a match to light it.

“I’m going to the Louvre tomorrow, if you’d like to join me. It’s the only place left on my list.” Her lips were puckered, and Theo curled one side of his lip into a smirk, as she wasn’t aware she was doing it in the first place.

“Alright, Millicent. I’ll go,” he said, swaying his thoughts to that of conquest. It was clear to him that she saw him as more than an old housemate in their time of darkness, and he felt obliged to take advantage of that.

-------------------------------------

By the time he trudged up to the museum, Millicent was already inside. He found her beside a sculpture of a cupid, and once again Theo bore witness to her innocent wonderment of the scene. Millicent was able to find the beauty in simplicity and purity, a trait he had long ago lost.. He walked up, standing beside her in silence, eyeing her as she peered at the sculpture before them.

“Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss,” she said wistfully, turning her focus to his. He strained, narrowing his eyes under her scrutiny, “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

“And miss all of this?” he asked sarcastically, gesturing with his arms outstretched wide and turning about with a smirk. Millicent pulled at his arms, embarrassed at the sudden attention. For once, Theo didn’t mind the watchful eyes of muggles, and he pushed the oddity of it to the back of his mind.

“Prat,” she laughed, walking to admire the art on the walls. Theo followed suit, finding he wanted to be near her.

“Why are you so interested in art, anyway? These pictures don’t even respond to you,” he said as he leaned forward, squinting his eyes at a painting of a woman, sitting proper and straight.

“Come on, Theo. Can’t you see the beauty through the artist’s eyes?”

He could, he saw it now, in the way she preened under the lighting, casting an aura-like glow around her. Her dress, he noticed, was not as loose fitting as it had been when he initially saw her, from what he remembered anyway, and hair was styled neatly around her face. She smirked at him, pivoting on her heels as she continued down the wide open hall of the museum. Theo’s eyes watched her glide about the room, and he had to shake himself to regain his questioning mind.

Millicent peered over her shoulder at him, catching his eyes upon her and she felt her throat close up, her face growing hot. His attention had shifted to that of an armless sculpture, flinching as a group of muggles walked by. Cocking her head, Millicent silently approached his side, curiosity getting the best of her lips.

“Why are you so leery of muggles?” she asked, and his posture faltered, turning to her and catching her dark eyes again.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You keep a distance or shrug them off so easily. Why?” She knew she was pushing him, teetering on the possibility of invoking another stormy glare.

Theo hardened and flexed his jaw, his eyes avoiding hers as if eschewing a reply altogether. Finally, his eyes glided up to hers.

“I don’t fully trust myself around them, Millicent.” There was a sadness in his tone, and his eyes swirled with that darkness she witnessed only a day before. She reached her hand into his, entwining their fingers innocently, and his grip tightened, his body shifting uncomfortably. “I know you think the war is over, and for you maybe it is. But you haven't experienced the things that I have, done the things that I have,” his voice was growing sharper with every word, cutting the air like a palette knife across a canvas, scratching the material clean.

“How can you be so sure, Theo, if you don’t tell me?” Millicent moved closer, his grip still tight around her fingers. “I faced struggles too. You aren’t as alone as you may think.”

Theo’s jaw flexed again, his breath grew deeper and staggered, but still in control. Millicent started to pull her hand away. “Don’t let go,” he pleaded, his voice a familiar vulnerable tone she knew in herself all too well. Millicent gnawed at the side of her mouth, unsure of what to say. Theo’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face strained, “I-I hurt someone.”

Millicent’s breath escaped her before she could stop it, and she observed a flash of shame cross his face, but she didn’t let go.

“It was only weeks after the war,” he started, voice shaking with every syllable. “I was in a pub in London, proving to myself and to the Ministry that I could be civil among muggles; that I didn’t want to be in a war against them.” Millicent was surprised at how easily he opened up to her. Theo had prevented any indication of showing emotion, but she swore he had tears in his eyes. “But it was too much. Too soon. Something triggered a reaction, I can’t quite recall the specific reasoning. A mention of a place, a name maybe, but I just,” his voice gave in that moment, and Millicent returned the tightness in her grip, taking the chance to slide her other hand up his back into an embrace. Theo dropped his head, burying his face into the curve of her neck, causing her skin to shiver under his breath. “My magic cackled out of me before I could control it,” His voice but a whisper, “all I can remember is the flashing glow of green and the look upon the man’s face before he collapsed.”

Millicent was rendered speechless. They both had seen countless of deaths, on both sides of the war itself, but it was in a state of panic, survival, and her heart wept for him. She felt so selfish, thinking her life had been so unbearable, to assume it couldn’t get worse because she was trapped in the ways of routine. Theo had been trapped in the hell of his own mind, drinking and escaping the taunting recurring events that shut him down; that drove him into hiding, desperate to forget.

His eyes burned, but the tears never came. He had long since grown immune to the effects of sorrow, unable to allow his eyes to cry. Stiffly, he stood in Millicent’s innocent embrace, breathing in the scent of her hair and allowing her to soothe him as she stroked her hand down his spine.

“You can’t blame yourself,” she said finally, pulling back enough to capture his eyes. Everyone in the museum had vanished, though the noise indicated the people still surrounding them, all he saw in that moment was her.

“I don’t,” he said coldly, “I blame my father.”

Rage was only one emotion to describe Theo’s expression, as he drug her out of the museum. Millicent went willingly, conceding him to pull her along to wherever he chose to take her. He allowed his soul to open enough for her to slip inside, and she wasn’t about to protest his actions now, as she never imagined Theodore Nott to be vulnerable. He wasn’t, not really, but everyone has their demons. He chose to drink them away, and she suddenly understood all too well as to why he did.

They had walked block after block in silence, and after what felt like a lifetime, Theo swiveled into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. Her breath gave, and she felt the world warp around her as he apparated them back to the inn without a word. Hands still interlocked, he led her to his room.

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He was in her space now, and her breath hitched. Her entire body was shaking, she knew, but was helpless to contain it. His hollow features caught the shadows as his hands slowly ran up the full length of her arms, resting a loose grip below her shoulders. She didn’t dare look up at him. She stared, breathless, heart racing with eyes glued to his open oxford shirt. She felt his breath fanning against her neck and she trembled.

His lips lightly grazed her skin, igniting her senses and causing her pulse to race in newfound need. A hunger burned inside her that she never felt before, pumping the blood in her veins to a boiling point. Her chest rose and fell in staggered, short movements; his lips danced along the line of her most sensitive spot on her neck, gliding the velvety tip of his tongue along the fold of her ear. Electric shocks rushed from her neck where his mouth tasted her, and her stomach was in knots. Theodore Nott. And pigments of color flowed through her mind like water coursing through a stream.

Theo hummed in her ear, sending delightful waves of vibrations thrumming through her. He knew just what to do to get a woman to cave; to succumb to him fully. He had been with countless women, and it worked for them all. Millicent would be no different. He found her easily persuaded, as the others before her, and he grabbed hold of her waistline tightly.

Bringing his other hand up to her face, he rubbed her cheek with his thumb before pulling back to capture her eyes with his own. He guided her face, angled her so she had no choice but to meet his gaze: his educated eyes bored into hers, devouring her innocence. Her dark eyes glinted, shifting their focus from one blue orb to the other in a constant flutter. Her soft, plump lips parted, eager, as his own curled into a wicked smirk of triumph. He leaned closer, barely brushing his lips to hers in a light caress, then smoothly lifted his head back in one fluent motion teasingly. She stiffened under his touch.

He scanned her shape with his long fingers, gliding them over her ample lips and down the length of her neck, wrapping his fingertips along the base, he pushed her forcely, but not harshly, until she was flat against the wall. She let out a gasp, and was ensnared between the cold wallpaper and his heated body, pressing his weight against her as he traced his fingers down her curvy sides, tightening his grip on both sides of her waist. He was mere inches from her face, his breath traced her skin and she unknowingly arched her back. He captured her lips then, breathing a laugh and sending vibrations to the back of her throat. His lips tasted of that first sip of wine: perfectly sweet and igniting her mouth as the nectar flows over each taste bud and cooly down her throat. Her inexperience and nerves were getting the best of her, but his kiss was powerful, effectively clearing her mind of logical thought. He nipped her bottom lip, and forced his tongue into her mouth, colliding with hers expertly, and pulled her closer than she thought imaginable. Drawing away enough for air, she both longed and hesitated for him to continue, her lip trembling and her thoughts warring with herself.

“What is it?” he said, husky and low.

Her eyes fluttered at the sound of his tone and she stumbled, unable to dredge up a suitable answer. He grinned against her lips and pulled her to the bed, awkwardly lying down and pressing her back against the sheets. He hovered over her, his cultivated eyes flashed, and Millicent’s vision blurred, her mind quivering from the desire and the longing she had for him.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, tone changing as he studied her face. When Millicent looked away, tucking her head to the side and avoiding his eyes, he felt his throat close up, a feeling in his chest that made him cough. He hesitated his advances, contemplating his next move, and Millicent shut down, heat rising to her face. Theo moved to his side, propping his weight on his arm, and looked at her with those tauntingly brilliant blue eyes.

Feeling vulnerable and embarrassed, she sat up, folding her arms over herself and chewing the side of her mouth. She knew she had messed up, admitting her chasteness causing her cheeks to flare sheepishly. She truly didn’t know what her next move should be. Should she say something? Try to leave? He threw her mind in so many opposing directions that she began to feel sick, like a leaf caught in the wind, twirling and tumbling, and completely helpless. Finally, holding her features in place, she stood.

“I’m just going to go,” she said, walking to the door, surprised she was able to keep her voice calm as she focused only on her exit. She was using so much strength to prevent the tears to surface from her eyes: she would not appear more vulnerable than she already felt.

She half hoped he would stop her, that he would scoop her into his arms, those perfectly toned, strong arms, and tell her that she was it for him, that he never wanted anyone else but her. Foolish, childish dreams. Fantasies she worked up in her mind that only amplified the naive little girl within. But when she opened the door, there was no touch on her arm, no sense of him near her, and she paused in her actions only long enough to sigh outwardly into the empty hall, where she left him.

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Millicent was in her room and showered before she allowed the tears to escape her eyes. She felt foolish, ashamed in herself to believe that she was enough to hold his attentions. A handsome man like Theo would never come to desire some overweight virgin! She had rushed into the shower immediately upon entering her own space; his scent of sandalwood and velvet ambers invaded every fiber of the fabric of her dress, every pore on her skin, and she quickly washed him away.

She sat, brushing her long hair and stared out into the window of her room with tear stricken eyes. She had exhausted herself, allowing the tears to fall freely as she replayed the events in her head. What do you even call what happened? It was as if something inside her awoke for the first time in her life, a fire that she never knew burned. She half thought she made it up in her mind, so desperate to know what flying and falling meant, to understand when fairy tales sang happily ever after. More tears slid down her cheeks, rolling down and off her chin, falling into her lap.

Paris was meant to signify change, she had promised herself, her covenant pledge to new beginnings and color. Where was her color? She thought of Theo, and how he painted vibrant colors in the walls of her mind, if only for a moment. Frustrated, she let out a scream and threw her brush across her room, slamming it hard against the door. Upon impact, she refused to sit and pity herself any longer. She was in Paris! She could wait and feel sorry for herself when she arrived back home, but here, here she will enjoy herself.

Wiping the evidence of tears away, she changed into a jumper and jeans, ignoring her hair that still lay damp from her shower, and she quickly opened the door to leave.

She nearly jumped at the silhouette of a man standing there, arm pressed against the top of the frame, supporting the half exposed Theo she left only an hour ago. He had removed his shirt since they parted, and wore flannel bottoms of green and blue plaid. He was towering over her, using his eyes to speak as she retreated two steps back into her room. She chanced a glance at him, focusing on his face, pressed against his raised arm, and his jaw tightened and flexed.

“You left,” he said, his voice low and somber.

Millicent faltered, she found she did that easily in his presence, but straightened her back, hoping she recovered quickly enough for it to go unnoticed.

“I did,” was all she managed to muster before she felt her voice crack as Theo moved, cornering her in the doorframe with a salacious look in his eyes. She swallowed hard, chin raised under his scrutiny. She didn’t know what his motives were, but she wouldn’t make a fool of herself again.

Theo stepped forward, cupped both hands on her cheeks, then leaned down to capture her lips with his own, hard and demanding, and completely neglecting to explain himself. Millicent’s eyes widened at the sudden clash of him, and slowly shut them again, giving in to him once more as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, sucking her lips hungrily.

He pulled away, the brush of her lips lingered on his own like a first sip of firewhiskey: searing and sweet, then advanced again, walking her backwards, as his hands trailed to her waist, leading her to the bed. He had let her leave before, surprising himself that he felt something deeper than a quick roll between the sheets, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of taking her now.

He was drawn to her, and aimed to leave no curve untouched as he lowered her onto the soft sheets, she fumbled beneath him, lying awkwardly on her back before recovering, supporting herself to the center of the mattress. He had her now, he knew, and he was prepared to take her fully this time, holding her arms down above her head. Her chest was rising and falling quickly, and he smirked down at her. What he didn’t expect, was the way she peered up at him, eyes red and swollen, but still soft under thick lashes. Those eyes, those beautiful, large, dark eyes swam with innocence, holding a depth in them that he hadn’t noticed before. He found himself hesitating again, hovered over her, and trapped in orbs of absolute twilight. Her hands shook beneath his own.

Millicent blinked up at him, nerves taking over again, raising her brows in a silent plea for Theo to let her go. Her heart raced rapidly at his mixed signals.

“Shhh,” he said smiling, running a finger across her forehead and into her damp hair, “you’re not the only one allowed to be nervous here.”

Before she could register his words, he lowered himself to her lips again, and he swore he could feel her heartbeat as his hands released hers, wandering to slowly unbutton her jeans. Millicent gave no objections, but gave no advances either, nerves running over her, and fear weighing her down. Theo was careful, peeling her jeans off completely, and exposing her thick thighs and silken black knickers. His eyes roved over her, tracing his fingers up the inside of her thigh, teasingly brushing the crease where her knickers gave evidence to her instant arousal. She sucked in a staggered breath, as his hands wandered still, slowly caressing her stomach, reaching underneath her jumper to her breasts. His eyes met hers, he studied her reactions with intent, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he witnessed her trembles.

“Take off your jumper, Milli,” he said in a gravelly tone, pulling her up to assist her in removing the garment. She clumsily pulled the green jumper over her head, trying desperately to be swift, her large breasts bouncing upon their freedom, and Theo’s eyes widened at their size, instantly glazing with brazen lust. He licked his lips, laying her down as he pressed her into the bed. He cupped one breast firmly as he lowered his mouth to her hardened peak, nibbling, and he twirled his tongue around her sensitive flesh. He could feel her shudder from the sensation, drawing his free hand down to her covered entrance, rewarding her with the attention he knew she craved.

He ran his fingers over the damp, silk fabric, his mouth still tasting her soft breast. Milli reacted, unknowingly arching her back, heat rising from her core, and she gripped his shoulders firmly, tugging him, begging him to kiss her again. He breathed a laugh around her areola, sending a new wave of shudders to course through her. Theo brushed kisses up the center of her chest causing her head to fall back in ecstasy, exposing her neck fully. He continued to trail his lips up the curve of it, up below her chin, before colliding hungrily with her mouth, his tongue twining with hers.

She moaned into his mouth and moved into him, feeling his hardened erection against her thigh. In newfound courage, she let go for air, pressing her forehead to his.

“You’re wearing entirely too much clothing,” she said, airy and lost in her desire. Theo kissed her again before standing up beside her, tugging the waist of his britches, and smiled.

“I could say the same for you,” he said, gesturing with his head to her covered lower half. She blushed, biting her lip in renown nerves, her moment of courage escaping her. He laughed at her innocent reaction and dropped his pants to the floor; his length bobbed to the sudden exposure. Millicent was enthralled in his size, glorious in both length and width, standing at full attention, and twitching under her exploring eyes.

Theo leaned down, bringing his lips to hers as his fingers looped the sides of her knickers confidently. She faltered then, tensing up and grabbing his wrists to stop him, eyes widened with apprehension. He let go of the fabric, and sat down in front of her, bringing his hand to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her skin to ease her nerves.

“It’s alright,” he said, tone matching his touch, soft and gentle, meeting her eyes. She relaxed, her face softening and loosened her grip on his wrists. Without looking away from her, he looped her knickers again and tugged, slowly first, on the fabric again. This time, she allowed him to slide them down, removing them altogether. He scanned his eyes over her curves and caressed her skin, moving from her hip and down to the inside of her thigh, teasing her delicate folds, causing her to jerk and bite her lip.

Millicent had never been fully undressed in front of another person before. Nerves battled desire, and her core burned for his affections. He was being careful, ensuring her comfort, and it flared her arousal. She moved, shifting her body into the touch of his teasing fingers, eyes closed and internally screaming to give her more.

As if reading her mind, he guided his thumb over her sensitive flesh, working his expert fingers over her wet nub. He entwined his free hand into hers, looping their fingers together before drawing their hands over his length. Millicent paused, that look of uncertainty flared in her eyes again and Theo guided her to grip him, letting out an involuntary groan when she did.

She didn’t know what to do then, with his member encircled in her hands, hot and throbbing below her fingers. He worked her whilst she mentally deliberated, causing her body to squirm beneath him and search for much needed friction. Gripping him, she felt him thrum beneath her touch. She looked up at him, his eyes tightly closed, and she knew she wanted desperately to feel him inside her. She was aching to know what it would be like.

His fingers never stopped moving, finding exactly where it was that drove her mad. And mad she was--he’d coaxed her into a state of frenzied need she was hardpressed to ignore. Her body moved, back arched, as she moaned beneath him. She let go of him then, unable to contain the tingling sensation that made a scream tear from her throat. She threw her arms up and gripped the pillow beneath her head. Colors swirled her stilted vision as her mind and body both let go, shooting streams of vibrant hues as her pleasure sparked through her. She screamed his name as she toppled over the blissful ledge, submitting fully to the tsunami of waves that washed over her.

Theo leaned down, entranced by the sounds that tumbled from her lips and the way she writhed under his touch. He captured her lips in his, invading her mouth with his tongue in a fiery kiss. She gripped his shoulders again, breathlessly trying to keep up with his lips, and shaking from the after effects of her pleasure. He was fully above her now, kissing her with a passion equal to her own. She held onto him firmly, trying valiantly to remember how to breathe, and giving in to the feel of his touch. She could feel his arousal on her thigh, pulsing against her skin.

“I want you,” he said, his voice coming out in a groan.

Millicent couldn’t deny him, her body arched into his, innocently brushing his length against her sensitive opening and Theo released a low rumbling sound not dissimilar to a growl. She shivered, and she wasn’t sure if it was the aftermath of the masterful work of his hands, or her nerves taking over again. She looked at him, his eyes swimming with lust, inciting her to bite her lip.

“So take me,” she managed, lashes fluttering shut at the feel of his sex rubbing against her opening. He raised his brows, and stroked against her already sensitive nub, teasing her again, and she felt she might actually be able to come for him again. Another moan escaped her, and her grip tightened on his shoulders.

Positioning himself, he set the tip of his member to line up with her entrance. He leaned down again to capture Millicent’s lips before rolling his hips forward, entering her slowly. Millicent gasped, pulling back her head and releasing a light whelp at the sensation: a pull in her core, tugging and stretching her around his length until he filled her completely. When she bit her lip in response, her face strained, he began to move, slow and gentle, his eyes ever locked on hers.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern in his tone, as he fought back a groan of his own. She nodded tremulously, too overwhelmed to form a verbal answer. He reveled at the feel of her, so tight and new: she molded around him, and it drove him wild. He wanted to pound into her right then, but couldn’t bring himself to hurt her. He wouldn’t push her too far.

Millicent felt a single tear escape her and roll off her cheek. The pain was dissolving, but it was unavoidable as he worked his hips, continually and gently stretching her. Theo kissed her cheek where her tear had slipped, then brushed her lips with his. He slowed his movements, but she pleaded him with her eyes to keep moving, beginning to feel stunningly new sensations intermingled with the fading pain. She slowly reacted with sounds of pleasure, and no longer winced at the feel of him inside her.

The sensation of her was decadent, and despite his experience, he knew he wouldn’t last long. She was so tight around him. He was unable to hold back his own groans of pleasure, and jerked his hips into her. She whelped under his force, but quickly recovered, tightening her grip on his shoulders, and digging her nails into his skin, scraping them across and down his flexed arms. She lifted both legs up to her side's as he continued to fill her with every thrust of their hips, gripping tightly at her thigh.

The sharp pain sensations evolved, giving way to pleasure fully and bringing her closer to the edge she so desperately sought. She knew she would come soon, and Merlin did she want to. Theo sensed her shift, and brought his fingers to her fleshy bud, teasing her most sensitive spot, syncing his finger play in time with the jerking of his thrusts. Her occasional moan amplified, and she completely let go, seeing stars as her pleasure tore through her and her body succumbed to the sensation of him. Theo felt her tighten around him as she came, bringing him closer to his own release, rolling as deep as he was able and losing his pace entirely. She was completely arched into him, and he lifted her leg over his shoulder, shifting himself to allow him to go deeper still. She screamed, pulling at the sheets as he soon followed her, stiffening and convulsing at his own release, filling her with his seed in a chesty groan.

He dropped his weight, lying over her and breathing into her hair. She was still quaking beneath him, her arms hanging loosely around his neck. He felt beads of sweat roll across his forehead as he rolled to his back beside her, specs of color danced in his vision. He laid next to her, neither voicing their thoughts on what occurred.

Quickly, Theo sat up and shifted his weight, setting his feet firmly on the floor. He ran his hands through his hair then stood up, retrieving his britches from the floor and slipping them on. Millicent pulled a disentangled sheet over her, feeling goosebumps rise over her naked flesh from Theo’s absence. She looked up at him in silence, biting her bottom lip and smoothing her hair down over her shoulder. A moment of habitual self doubt washed over her as she watched him walk silently to the bathroom and shut the door.

Millicent made to get up and a pain shot between her thighs, making her wince as she stood. Her knees were weak, still feeling the after waves of him inside her. She transfigured her jumper, that she scooped up from the floor, into a robe and slipped it on. She was unsure of what these new emotions were that she was beginning to feel inside, but found that she couldn’t suppress the smile on her lips. Her eyes were glued to the bed where she gave him her innocence. Where she overcame her own self consciousness, allowed him to see, and allowed herself to trust him. Reminding herself that she was not that shy little girl any longer.

The door swung open, and Theo emerged, his head low and expression guarded. She eyed him intently, hoping he would open up about what happened between them. But when his eyes avoided her own, she faltered, slouching slightly behind the sheets in slight defeat.

“Have I stolen your words?” she managed to say, keeping her tone playful and reticent, careful not to fall prey to her emotions and his stone cold demeanor. His whole countenance changed in mere minutes, and she wasn’t entirely sure she understood why. She had a thought, she wasn’t entirely naive, but they shared so much over these last few days, these last few hours, that surely she was more to him than that of a tavern whore.

Theo acknowledged her for the first time since his re entrance from the loo. His features hardened, keeping in place a familiar mask Millicent knew all too well, and very much resented. He didn’t respond with words, he was good at that, she thought as he continued to gather his things. When his comportment gave her the cold shoulder, she threw back the sheets, and stood hard.

“So that’s it? You feed me the lines you trained your brain to give and you leave?” Her heart pounded in her chest. Millicent refused to believe he saw her as a mere face in the crowd, a blended background addition to the final art piece before its display. She chewed angrily on the side of her mouth, spurning his flippant attitude until he gave her a reasonable response.

His face was like thunder, drastically conflicting with the sun’s bright rays flooding in through the windows. Specks of dust danced in the air, glittering the space about his dark countenance. His cerulean blue orbs were flared with something familiar to her, and she lost herself in swirls of deep blue: an ocean of colliding waves in a storm.

“What do you want me to say, Milli?” he replied finally, his voice throaty from lack of use. Millicent recoiled at his tone, falling victim to the vigorous waves of his eyes as she crashed below the surface time and time again, finally breaking for air as she pulled away from his scrutiny.

“I thought you were done running,” she whispered, folding her arms beneath her as her eyes fluttered shut. She didn’t feel weak, or conquered, but he somehow had drawn out the best in her, which doubted her own triumphs to do the same for him.

Theo gaped at her bold statement, her accusation of understanding him. No one understood him, and he preferred it that way. She reopened wounds he had long since numbed himself from, and resented her capability to question his actions. His intermittent mind battled itself and he released an angry groan, punching the wall beside him before storming up to her. Mere inches from her face, he heard the stagger in her breath, and once again he found himself struggling to maintain the level of disconnection in his tone. Furiously, he gripped her waist and kissed her violently, unable to keep a top on his explosive mind.

Millicent, overcome with confusion at his unhinged demeanor, gave him only a moment before pulling away from him. Tears stung at her eyes, and she slapped at his chest, fed up with trying to decipher his motives.

“Don’t take what you don’t need from me, Theodore Nott,” she proclaimed, tightening her grip on her crossed arms. Her features turned to stone, and she felt her old self disintegrate before both their eyes.

Theo snarled, he had lingered here too long. Too much of his past had held him down, and he felt the rope of his sanity fray at the edges. He glared down at her, opening his mouth to rebuttal, but found she really had stolen his words from him. Frustrated, he brushed past her and walked heavily from the room, leaving her standing there alone and unsure.

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The running water steamed over the prongs of the curtain, spilling heated fog over the room. She stood with eyes closed, pressed against the tile of the shower as the water rushed over her skin in streams. Thick vapor made the air heavy, and Millicent compared the weight of that of her heart. She had made such progress in her time here.

She had taken risks she never fathomed would be possible, and dug deep within herself to finally release that tinge of darkness she knew as insecurity. She refused to be locked up again in that tiny box of shadows, and thrived on the simple thought of what the unknown could bring her. Paris began the mimesis of her world, her new life in which she would embark on a journey of redemption of her former self.

Vowing again to truly understand what her new changes in her mind meant, and follow them. Without fear, without question, for in that moment she knew she had always been there, inside, waiting to burst free. All she needed was the right artist to come along to help chip away that tough exterior, that excess layer of dark depression, to allow her true beauty to shine through.

Gathering her things, she accio’d her clothes neatly into her suitcase, after casting an extension charm to ensure easy carry back home to London. She had taken advantage of the shops in Paris, and was taking home far more than she originally brought. No longer hiding her curves behind clothes that didn’t fit, or a mask she thought she needed to hold up.

She wore a white floral chiffon pintuck tunic shirt and muggle jeans, cuffed at the base of her leg to expose her shiny leather black ankle boots with a flirty heel. Her hair flowed freely in loose curls around her face and fell below her shoulders, shimmering under the ambient lighting of the French Ministry of Magic as she went through customs. The French auror passed her the floo powder as she stepped inside the large marble fireplace; her features hardening as she disappeared behind vigorous green flames, and returned home.

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The smoke of Theo’s cigarette stung his eyes as he sat at the bar, contemplating the moments shared with the woman he once knew as Millicent. His hands clammed up at the mere thought of her, and the expression on her face when he left her in that room in the inn. She stood with arms folded beneath her with glistening dark orbs, her heart open with determined and deliberate strength. There was beauty in the way she broke down. Her eyes shattering like glass and reflecting her insecurities in pieces on the floor.

He began to question whether the water building in his eyes was caused from the cigarette smoke at all, wiping blindly at the burn in his perception, contemplating whether to run back to that room. But she wouldn’t be there. That he knew. When something significant happens like what occurred between them the plan was always to run, always move forward. The past was never allowed to catch up, only, she was his past. The past that stumbled into his present and fogged his future.

As he sulked and slouched further in his chair, the bartender placed a tumblr in front of him. Tightening his grip around the glass, this thoughts went back to that of which were familiar. The way the ice settled and created streams of sweat to form a ring on the surface, the smell of the whiskey that permeated his senses, and encouraged him to sink back into that of which he knew: run.

His eyelids slid shut, the room suddenly being too taunting to gaze upon as he raised the accustomed tumblr to his lips. His hand lingered and shook, and his mouth barely brushed the rim of the glass as he lowered it back again before he allowed himself to consume, to be consumed, and tossing some change on the bartop, he heeded to the door.

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Millicent strided through the tables in the small bistro to meet Pansy. She flipped her hair back confidently as she locked eyes with her friend, who was standing with arms crossed over her chest and holding an expression of disdain. Millicent didn’t allow it to phase her as she attempted to pull her friend into an embrace. Pansy shied away from her, scrunching her pretty features into an unflattering pout.

“Where were you Mill?” Pansy said dropping her hands in tight fists. Millicent could have swore she heard her heel hit the marble floor.

“I took some time,” she replied vaguely, her lips in a thin line as they turned up at the corners to reveal a sly smirk.

Pansy was unamused, squinting her eyes in exasperation. “You stood me up, Milli. Did you even consider my feelings? I mean, I even floo’d you!”

Millicent’s brows were raised, and she clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, biting back a sharp retort. She had always been the one to appraise Pansy’s feelings, even before her own. She knew, albeit too well, that had always been the problem: the lack of self value and always adapting. She never had that opportunity to express the vibrants of her persona because she constantly filled in the shading of others.

Pansy stood there expectantly for Millicent’s wonted reaction, “There is something seriously different about you,” she said pryingly, her head shifting slightly to the side, and peering at Millicent through long lashes.

Retaining her smile, Millicent sanguinely replied, “Yes, Pans. There is absolutely something different about me.” She sat down, gesturing for Pansy to do the same. Pansy, awestruck in her friend’s newfound assuredness, plops down hard in her seat in an uncharacteristic manner.

“Listen, Pans,” Millicent began, entwining her fingers in front of her, “I am your best friend. I love you, and I have always supported you,” Millicent’s interlaced index fingers were pointing at Pansy as she continued her proclamation, “I deserve to be the one to coalesce your lifeblood to Ron during your bonding ceremony.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs with her arms folded over her chest, eying Pansy intently.

“Wow,” Pansy replied with wide eyes and slouched defeated in her chair. The realization in her expression was evident, and she cleared her throat before meeting Millicent’s eyes. “Of course you’re my best friend, Milli, was there truly any doubt? I mean, after all we’ve been through together, I thought that was clear.”

Millicent’s expression softened, unsatisfied with the side step response she was given. There was truth in what Pansy said, but she did as she had always done. She took what she wanted from Millicent’s words, manipulating the spotlight back to her own feelings.

After several moments of quiet contemplation on each end of the table, Pansy puffed a breath in defeat, lowering her head, “You’re right,” she whispered, flattening her palms over the table’s surface. Internally, Millicent was screaming at her triumph, but held her features in place. She sits up, placing her hand over Pansy’s sincerely.

“Thank you.” Her tone softened, but still held its tinge of sass. Pansy met her eyes at her acceptance and breathed a small smile that tugged the side of her mouth.

“I would be honoured to have you by my side on my special day. To be truthful, I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want up there,” Pansy’s shoulders dropped, “I had no idea you felt so under appreciated.”

Another wave of quietude coated the air in a thick layer of concession. Pansy shifted in her chair from what appeared to be the result of guilt, and Millicent knew they had finally found civil ground.

“So where did you go?” Pansy asked, giving a pleasant and trained smile to the waiter as he placed their tea neatly in front of them. Pansy ordered her usual lavender tea with lemon, but Millicent changed it up, pulling another noise of question from her friend. Instead of her traditional lemon black tea, Millicent ordered The a la Menthe Fraiche. At Pansy’s quirked brow, Millicent allowed her already evident smirk to widen.

“I had this mint tea in Paris, and I’ve been craving it since I’ve been home,” she said as she picked up her fresh scented porcelain cup.

“You went to Paris? Alone?” Pansy shouted before able to control herself. She nearly knocked her tea over at Millicent’s casual sip into her cup. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Millicent set her tea down and fluttered her eyes closed at the sensation of the hot liquid coursing down her throat. She had a wave of warmth wash over her, and she licked the lingering mint from her lips.

“I needed to get away... from everything for awhile, Pans,” she replied finally, crossing her ankles as she leaned back in her chair casually. Pansy glared at her dramatically at her continued vagueness.

“Okay,” she said in a drawn out tone, “So how was it?” her countenance displayed that of irritation, but she remained soft in her tone. Millicent preened under Pansy’s curiosity.

“It was truly amazing. To speak freely, Pans, I felt like I was awake for the first time in such a long while.” Millicent lifted her chin at her memory of Paris, and her lips ghosted a sincere smile. It took a face from her past to redesign her future, and she felt as though her heart was beating in vibrant hues. It was exhausting for her all that time before, when she pretended not to feel alone. And though her and Theo weren’t together, he was the brush that painted her newfound canvas. Her confidence grew with every stroke of his touch, and her pallet blended colors she hadn’t known existed.

“You’re blushing. Please tell me you hooked up over there,” Pansy gave her friend an eloquent look with her one brow quirked. “I mean, the French aren’t selective in who they bed.”

Millicent’s smile morphed into that of a silent snarl at Pansy’s statement, but she rolled her eyes, shoving it off. After all, she had already made milestones with Pansy with this conversation alone, and she wasn’t expecting her to be fully compliant in her feelings. Not that Pansy was malicious, but she simply is the same self absorbed, and frightened, girl she was at Hogwarts. For the first time in all their years of friendship, Millicent finally found that she stood beside her friend, rather than behind her.

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The sun was setting outside, casting an ombre effect of tangerines and corals about the room, and displaying shades of warmth along the walls. A hot cup of tea in her hand, Millicent sat pressed against the back of her plush white sofa, reading the latest edition of Witch Weekly. A smile painted her face, and she relaxed beside the soft furs of Attis, who was curled lazily against her thigh in a thrumming purr. She was at ease in her flat, feeling anew with untarnished confidence. The chapter of her life before Paris was closed, and she had finally found a sense of peace.

Though the silence of the room was evident, it didn’t taunt her. She read in solitude with pride and strength, not feeling the pull of self-doubt she once wore as a pin upon her blouse. The bloodstained wound of her insecurities she vanished and healed with the single touch of her own revelations. She didn’t need to be needed, or wanted. She didn’t long to be longed for anymore.

She had taken the wheel of her life back into full speed, no longer falling behind in the tides of the storm. The rain had cleansed her, and no longer pressed her mind in those shadowy shades, washing away the crippling internal struggle of loathing her flaws, instead embracing them, highlighting the very thing she hid away behind her grayscale mask. Her magical aura flourished with newfound hues, and she saw herself as beautiful, as intricate, and as valuable as one of Paris’s priceless masterpieces.

Attis stretched, adjusting his head so to nuzzle against the tabloid in her hand, and causing it to fold over. Breathing a laugh, Millicent stroked behind his ears, resulting in a feline arch of his back into her palm. Due to her life changing experiences in her get away, she vowed to make changes to avoid any routine, and fall back into the contour of society. She reached for her coat, pausing only to appreciate the memory of his lips upon her own, unperturbed of the resolution. She felt her flesh fall victim to a chill, and scooped up her coat from the arm of the chair beside her.

As she pulled the handle on her door to leave, she halted in her exit. Her eyes trailed the figure standing before her slowly, taking in every detail of him as she locked her eyes with the deepest of blue. A smirk pulled her lips as the expression in Theo’s gaze was cajolingly kaleidoscopic.

“Do you often linger in other people’s doorframes?”

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