Nightmares and Nocturnes

The Den of Thieves

Chapter 6: The Den of Thieves

Darkness had befallen him, and yet the world expected him to remain as glorified as he had been in the day; and it made him weary, and weakened, and for a time he was sapped of his strength. Alas, he thought - in the dark, one can never see where danger might be coming; one may never know whether they may be torn in pieces, and carried off or swallowed up! He felt a spell had been cast upon him, that he would be so unprepared and shamed in his lack of fortitude; he had been bold as a thunderbolt in the daylight where there was nothing to fear, and yet reduced to shaking hands whenever darkness encroached on his sight.

But just as he had learned that the day does not last forever, he came to find that neither, then, does the night; for all eyes, if wisdom wills them, can adjust over time to the dark. Only one thing carried any hope for him, enfeebled as he was: the resolve to force his way through the dark in earnest, once he knew something of what it was made of. To encounter it head on - to know danger, but not defeat - would be to triumph over darkness, and to meet his fate - fearless and cool, his destiny held tight in his fist - would be to redraw the stars by which he lived.

He resolved to know the darkness, just as he resolved to know the night girl as his guide; for in the absence of his will, she had been his refuge; and when he spoke of darkness, her eyes glimmered to bring him light.

. . . . . . . .

2001

. . . . . . . .

Draco walked into the room slowly, knowing there was something off from the moment he entered. There was something inexplicably wrong about the energy of the house.

"Theo," he said quietly, looking for him. "Theo, you said - "

"I'm here."

His voice had an intangible fragility to it, an impending crack.

"Theo."

Draco saw him rise then, saw him with his hand curled around his mouth; Theo Nott with his slender frame and his laughing eyes, half broken and pale. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Draco - "

The sound was wretched; strained.

Draco's breath hitched and he paused mid-step. "What happened."

"Draco, I - "

At Draco's hand on his shoulder Theo's face crumpled, his shoulders bowing forward as he shook with soundless sobs. No tears; just gasps, like his lungs were failing.

"He - he was - "

"Where is he?" Draco asked sharply, forcing a dry swallow as he looked around the darkened room. What has he done to you now? "Did he leave?"

Theo lowered his hands from his face, his posture suddenly limp. "No," he whispered, and Draco's stomach lurched expectantly.

No other sound in the house. No one else in the house -

"Theo, what happened?"

"I only meant to stun him," Theo whispered, his eyes wild, his voice hoarse. "He - it was the same as usual, he was going to - "

A lifetime of fear, of hidden scars and open violence, revealed itself in a whimper. "And then - I - "

Draco shut his eyes; squeezed them shut. Wondered if he could freeze time just to prevent Theo from saying it.