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PART 2: THEO
The invitation to Draco and Hermione’s wedding arrived via long-distance Owl Post. Theo smirked at the gilded envelope, all excess and opulence.
So. The bastard finally grew a pair and asked her. Good for him.
He watched the owl retreat through the open French doors of his bedroom, wings stretching wide as it caught the coastal wind and vanished down the length of the beach. The Pacific ocean lay beyond, vast and impossibly blue, the sunlight fracturing across its surface.
With a sigh he slipped the invitation from its envelope, eyes skimming the elegant script. Valentine’s Day. Of course Draco would pick something dramatic. He huffed a laugh, then paused when a second scrap of parchment slid free and fluttered to the floor.
This one was less…refined.
To the broody wanker who lives by the sea,
You better fucking show up to my wedding, you prick. This is not a request.
-DLM
PS -Talk to Blaise. He has ideas for the bachelor party.
Theo stared at the note. It wasn’t what it said that had a lump forming, inconveniently, in his throat, but rather the fact that the words provided proof that his friends had grown. Healed. Fallen in love…
He hadn’t stepped foot in London in nearly a decade. Not since he’d made the very mature decision to run as far away as possible. He’d excised himself from Wizarding Britain like a rot, putting an entire ocean between him and his father’s disgraced legacy. The distance was both physical and metaphorical. Both shield and penance.
He’d fled to where his past couldn’t follow and his name meant nothing. Somewhere he could breathe again.
And, against all odds, he found peace.
He’d built a life for himself on the California coast. Sunlight and salt air. A modest house by the beach. A job that kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. Evenings spent barefoot in the sand, cigar smoke curling around him, whiskey burning on its way down his throat as he watched the sun sink into the horizon, day after day.
It was a quiet solitary life. There were women but never more than a fling. Easy. Temporary. Soft smiles and beautiful bodies and no expectations. He never asked any of them to stay, never allowed them to linger in his life for very long. There was no one special. He told himself he preferred it that way. Loneliness, he’d decided, was a small price to pay for peace.
Besides, he’d already been in love once, long ago.
And it had ruined him.
No one else could ever come close to her. Not to her sharp wit and wicked tongue. Or the way she filled a room simply by existing in it. Or the way her hazel eyes would glow golden when she laughed. Gods the way he used to do anything just to hear her laugh. He’d fallen hard, unable to stop himself despite knowing he could never have her. That she deserved so much better than what he could give her.
Still, the longing persisted. The ache deep in his chest still slipped past his defenses despite time and space and distance. Late at night, when the waves crashed too loudly against the shore. When sleep betrayed him and dragged him back down into dreams and he woke with her name falling in a whisper from his lips like a confession no one would ever hear. Pansy.
He never told her.
The war came. The world ended.
And if the invitation trembling slightly in his hand was any indication, it had since rebuilt itself for the better without him.
Theo swallowed, chest tightening.
He’d have to go back.
To London.
He’d have to see her again.
He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting back to the endless blue beyond his doors. His sanctuary. His hiding place.
“You’re a fucking coward,” he muttered into the wind.
***
He had not intended to linger in Diagon Alley. It was only meant to be a quick stop to procure some “accessories” for Draco’s bachelor party. But the cold February breeze had him feeling nostalgic and Zabini had sworn that the new cafe at the end of the Alley had the best chocolate truffles in all of Europe so Theo decided a stroll was in order. London felt strange after so many years, familiar streets full of unfamiliar faces.
And then he saw her.
It was chemical. A visceral, treacherous pull low in his chest. His attention snapped to her with the inevitability of a killing curse. A death blow.
She moved through the crowded streets completely unaware of how people subtly shifted aside to make room for her, like the seas parting. Her mere presence demanded deference even while her mind was clearly distracted. The fall of her hair caught the light. Black, glossy, longer than he remembered, swinging against the dark wool of her coat.
Pansy.
For one ridiculous, cowardly second, he considered letting the moment pass. Letting her remain safely in the past. The girl who had once kissed him on a dare in fourth year and then sashayed away like she hadn’t just devastated him for all eternity. He’d loved her quietly. Pathetically. With distance and longing and restraint. He’d loved her in all the ways you’re not supposed to love someone who could never be yours.
Time had not dulled that ache as he once hoped it would. If anything, it had sharpened.
Call it fate. Call it idiocy or bravery. Whatever it was, the feeling overrode his good sense completely. His body moved of its own accord before his mind could object, steps quickening, pulse roaring in his ears.
His mouth opened.
His throat worked.
“Pansy?”
She turned and his entire universe narrowed to a pair of fiery hazel eyes flecked with gold, shining at him. For a heartbeat, she only stared, then her lips parted in a sharp inhale as recognition dawned.
The city noise dimmed to nothing.
“Theo?”
That was all it took. Just the sound of his name from her lips and Theo knew with damning certainty that he would never know peace again.
“I’m surprised you even remember me,” she said, her cheeks pink from the cold. “It’s been what? Ten years?”
He almost laughed at the absurdity. “You never forget your first crush, Parks.”
A confession. A stupid, impulsive act by a man who had been emboldened by hope and now clung to it with both hands. When she blushed, a small smile tugging at her mouth, that tiny kernel of hope exploded like a supernova.
He fell into step beside her, into her orbit, conversation flowing easily between them. He flirted. She flirted back. Hope surged to the point of pain.
“For someone special?” she asked, nodding toward the bag in his hands. The one full of sex toys from the lingerie shop. His entire purpose for this visit to Diagon.
“Very special,” he joked without thinking.
Something shuttered behind her smile and Theo felt it instantly. The retreat, the practiced withdrawal. It was all achingly familiar to him. Her expression didn’t change much. Just a fraction of stillness. A careful nod. A protective wall of steel sliding into place. He caught her wrist before she could drift too far away, the warmth of her skin on his sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.
“Wait, no, Parks, that came out wrong.”
Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingers.
He lifted the bag between them like evidence in a trial. “Zabini put me in charge of Draco’s bachelor party.”
Understanding bloomed across her face, relief so naked it made his chest ache. He almost kissed her then, the desire so strong he had to physically stop himself from taking her in his arms.
When he rummaged through the bag and produced a pair of furry pink handcuffs, she burst out laughing.
“Gods, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
He hadn’t meant to say it out loud but there it was. Another confession, though the words were wildly inadequate. Beautiful did not even begin to describe her.
Their eyes locked. Gravity shifted. And she smiled.
“Are you hungry?” He asked, hoping it didn’t sound like I love you, even as his heart screamed the words.
She nodded.
He held out his hand.
She took it.
And for the first time, Theo thought that perhaps peace did not require loneliness after all.