I felt like I had finally made a full recovery. I had been weak for some time due to the intense dosage of Cruciatus Curses I had received, but by now I felt back to normal, whatever normal happened to be.

I was sifting through the items in my robe pocket one day out of total boredom. There wasn't much in it. There was my old D.A. Galleon, a memento of Dumbledore's Army. There was a sticky sugar quill, which had taken a cleaning spell to rid of. There was even a small packet of Pygmy Puff food. With a pang or regret I remembered Drooble, the Pygmy Puff Dora had given me last Christmas. He was probably sitting in his cage in my bedroom at home, desperate with hunger. I felt sick and awful inside. The poor thing probably had no chance of surviving. I prayed that he would somehow get out of his cage and scavenge for food.

I couldn't get this off my mind as I emptied the contents of my other pocket. The letter from Dora was there, along with a pair of earrings, a dash of Floo powder, a chocolate frog card, and other pieces of junk that served me no purpose anymore.

Still, they were all pieces of home. That's why I shoved them back into my pockets instead of tossing them out.

There was a light knock on my door. By now I was able to tell who was behind it based on how the knock sounded. If it was Bellatrix, there was no knock; she just barged right in. Narcissa tapped lightly, barely audible, but she rarely came anyway. If it was Rodolphus, he knocked loudly and firmly. However, the most common-and my favorite-knock came from Theodore. This time it was him on the other side of the door.

I got up from where I sat on my bed and opened it. "Yes?"

He smiled brightly. "May I come in?"

"Of course."

He walked in carrying a wooden block. It was a mini-Wireless, I realized, as he set it down on my bed.

"I want you to hear something," he said, and began to find the station he was looking for. "Ah, this is it."

"That's Potterwatch!" I gasped.

"You've heard it?"

"Yeah, we used to listen to it back at the house!"

"Oh. Well, I heard some names I think you've mentioned before ... "

"Yeah, probably Order members." I was silent for a few seconds as I listened. "That's Kingsley Shacklebolt talking."

"I hate to say that they just announced the news, so there won't be much for a while. There were some more Muggle killings, but that's all I heard."

"It only gets worse. Hey, where did you get this anyway?"

He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well ... Lucius is away, so he won't find out I borrowed it until he gets back."

I smiled but said, "Be careful." I meant it.

"Anyway, let's see what else there is." He began to search for channels again.

"Isn't everything broadcasted by the Dark Side these days?"

"You'd be surprised. Here we go."

He stopped it on a music station.

"Music? What?" I was dumbfounded.

"Lyra," he sighed as he brushed a piece of hair off my face. "I know everything has changed dramatically, but yes, chocolate ice cream and jokes and even music still exist."

I rolled my eyes at him before becoming serious. "You're right; it's just hard to believe."

"Listen to it, though. Recognize the song?"

"The Weird Sisters!" I gasped without even thinking twice. It was that song, ‘Magic Works,' which I had heard plenty of times before. It was the one that had been played at Dora's wedding, the one I pictured myself dancing with Theodore to. It was the one I had cried to because I hated the message it told, that magic can't die.

And maybe, just maybe, it couldn't, because we were back together.

"Let's dance," he said suddenly.

I was so shocked. Had he read my thoughts somehow?

"Do you know Legilimency?" I asked stupidly.

"What? No way. Why would you ask that?"

"Because I was kind of thinking the same thing."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" He took his hands in mine. "Dance with me. Really. We've never danced with each other before."

"I've never danced with anyone before," I told him as I stood up and moved closer. "Well, okay, except Neville Longbottom at the Yule Ball. And um, Mad-Eye Moody, but trust me, that did not count."

"This counts," he said. Then he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me a bit closer to him. Thinking I was supposed to wrap mine around his neck, I did so.

"It's simple," he said. "There's nothing to it."

It was, I had to admit, pretty simple. We mostly swayed on the spot, moving our feet slightly.

Honestly, I felt like every single day he did something to make me fall in love with him even more. A few days ago it was the letter from Dora he had retrieved for me. Today it was this dance. I wasn't any good, considering I kept stepping on his feet, but his gracefulness made up for that, I hoped. At least I knew he didn't mind.

"How do you know so much?" I asked rather randomly. "About dancing, I mean."

"Oh." He suddenly became serious. "My mum taught me, actually. You can laugh if you want." He was blushing slightly, and looked to the ceiling.

"I don't think that's funny. It's brilliant."

"Well, I was about ten. I don't remember everything."

"Aw, shame," I joked. "If you'd remember everything, maybe this dance could be even more perfect than it already is."

He pulled me closer until my head was against his chest. I closed my eyes and focused on the song lyrics. For once, they actually fit. Nothing could ruin this. Bellatrix could burst in at any moment and shout something insane at me, and I wouldn't care because I was in my own world with Theodore.

I accidentally stepped on his foot again.

"Oops," I giggled, pulling back a little. I looked at him apologetically. "Sorry about that."

He smiled and said, "It's no problem."

Then he was kissing me, and I have to say the foot movement stopped after that because we were so wrapped up that we forgot to dance. I could still focus on the lyrics in the background though, and that only made everything better.

We stopped when the music stopped. We couldn't hide our smiles as we stared at each other, breathless. Finally Theodore broke his gaze away and walked back to the bed to turn the Wireless down low.

I followed him over and we sat down next to each other.

"Thanks for the dance," I said. "It was nice. And I'm sorry I stepped on your feet so many times."

He laughed. "That's okay. There's not a first anything in a romantic relationship that isn't clumsy, I don't think."

What he said was true, at least for us: the first dance a mess of feet, the first dates timid, the first kisses awkward. But I always felt like he had more experience than me in every field.

"Maybe that holds true for me," I said. "I was bad at everything at first."

"Of course you weren't," he said.

"I knew nothing about relationships," I said. "I was nervous all the time. Especially since we sort of just happened, you know? There wasn't exactly a formal line drawn for when our relationship started."

"Yeah, there was," he said.

"When, the time you actually asked me out in Hogsmeade, or the time we met on the grounds that night?"

"The grounds, of course." He smiled lightly.

"But was it? You said Hogsmeade was our first date."

"Not so much. I claimed the night on the grounds as our first date."

"I remember what you said. 'Tonight should be known as our official first date.' You made me so nervous. I swear my heart beat faster than it ever had before."

He practically laughed. "That was the point."

"You were so at ease, though. You seem so at ease all the time," I said. "Me, well ... I'm usually a wreck."

"Oh, there have been times where I've been a wreck. A big one at that ... "

"When?" I asked curiously. What didn't I know about him already?

"When ... my mum died."

"Oh ... right." I paused for several seconds. "You never told me what happened."

"I never told anyone," he said, and there was a trace of coldness in his voice. "It was just too difficult to think about. I was only ten. But...you should know."

"You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable," I insisted.

"No ... you need to know," he said. "You deserve to. We tell each other everything, so ... yeah. I'll tell you. This could be difficult. I don't think I ever brought it up to anybody since it happened."

"Not even your dad?"

"Tch. My dad." He glared at the wall. "Yeah, right. Like I'd ever talk to him about that, namely since it's entirely his fault."

"What?"

"It was my dad's fault she died."

"What happened?" I was wide-eyed with curiosity and even nerves by now. Whatever happened must have been awful and traumatizing for him ...

"Well, first, let me tell you about her."

I waited patiently. There was something about his tone that frightened me. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know this story. Really, I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I didn't say anything though, so he continued.

"She was beautiful. I know it sounds odd saying that, but - "

"No, not at all," I said.

"Well, she was a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin. She was pureblood, though. That's the only reason my dad agreed to marry her. He's barely a step down from the Dark Lord. I don't think he could ever love anyone." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, she was perfect in almost every way - beautiful, smart, practically top of her class at Hogwarts. Her only flaw was that she was ... foolishly naïve."

He looked at me. I almost flinched; his eyes were so full of hurt. I slid my hand into his and said, once again, "You don't have to - "

"No," he said coldly. "I do have to. Now, she loved my father. I'm not sure what it was about him, but she did. He didn't love her, but as you know, pureblood marriages often don't have anything to do with love."

I felt a stab of pain. Yes, I knew about that.

"She wanted children, but he didn't. I know this because I heard them arguing over it one night. I heard my name a lot, and I heard her tell him that he needed to pay more attention to me and care about me more. Then I heard him say word for word, 'You know the only reason I agreed to have him was to keep the pureblood line going.' Of course."

"W - What did you do?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said. "There wasn't anything I could do. Of course my mother would have comforted me if I told her I was upset, but my father taught me not to do that. I could never feel sad and trained myself not to hurt inside."

"You did?"

"For ... a while."

"What happened?"

"They fought. They fought all the time. It was terrible. I would just be sitting somewhere in the house, and all of a sudden I would hear screaming and shouting and stuff being thrown around and I knew it was always her fault. For a long time she put up with his abuse, but eventually she couldn't take it. Instead of being pushed around by him, she fought back. It got so bad that one day they pulled out their wands."

"No."

"Yes. I was often in the room, and as you can imagine, that was scary and tough for a young child. They shot spells at each other but it was never any worse than a few scrapes and minor burns, maybe some cuts and being knocked out. I grew so used to it that it turned into a normal routine."

I could only imagine where this story was going. My stomach felt sick as I tried to digest the words. I tried telling myself this wasn't as bad as what the Dark Lord did all the time, but for Theodore's sake I couldn't. I just kept picturing a little boy in my head, huddled in a corner because his parents constantly got violent with each other.

"That's terrible," I whispered softly.

"You think that's terrible. It gets much worse."

I didn't want hear the rest of the story, but I found myself unable to stop him from speaking.

"She apparently pushed him over the edge one day. I was in the room with her, talking as she knitted something. It was a rare occasion when he wasn't out of the house to push us around, so we enjoyed the time together. Then, without any warning whatsoever, he burst into the room in an angry rage. He'd just visited the Dark Lord, who had angered him over something. I don't even know what it was; I couldn't understand what he was saying.

"And as always, he started to take it out on her. She quickly got fired up, and they started screaming. The wands came out and spells were shot. The conversation took a turn, though. Somewhere along the line, I was brought into it."

"Why?" I asked. "What did you have to do with any of this?"

"The usual. She said he didn't care about me, he more or less admitted he didn't, they shot spells at each other. Through it all I was huddled in the corner. He used the Cruciatus Curse multiple times. I was tempted to jump into the fight and do whatever I could to stop it, but I couldn't move for the life of me. After the fourth curse, she lost it all and shot one back. I was horrified by this. I was seeing her as a monster by now, not my mother. But anyway, that did it. The curse angered him so much he stood up and shot one back, but it was different. Green light."

"Wh - What?"

"You didn't see that coming?"

"I thought the Ministry would burst in because of the use of illegal curses and she would be sent to Azkaban and die there from wounds or insanity or something. Anything but that," I told him quietly.

"We were Unplottable, so the curses were never detected. He made her death look like an accident. There was no funeral, no obituary in the Prophet, nothing."

"He ... killed ... her?"

"Yeah."

"How can you be so calm about it?" I shrieked. I didn't mean to come across as angry. I was just putting myself in the situation. After Sirius had died, I had been a total mess, with a changed personality accompanied by dangerous actions.

"Believe me, I wasn't calm after it happened," he explained. "My dad yelled at me, cast spells on me, and did everything to punish me for grieving. Eventually his message got across. I shut myself up and never talked to anyone. I hid my pain and managed to forget about it. That's why I never had friends at school. I refused to get close to anyone in case of losing them. Just like you."

"But ... he killed her. And you're just telling it like - " I felt ashamed of the tears in my eyes. This was not my story, not something I had been through. Maybe I cried because I knew how it felt to lose someone close and then to shut yourself up. Maybe it was because I didn't want to think about his pain. Whatever the case, he pulled me close to him as usual and muttered things like, "It's all right."

I hated doing this, but I pushed him away. "Stop. It should be the other way around."

"Lyra, this happened a long time ago. I'm over it. I told you I was a mess for a while after it happened, but it happened over seven years ago."

I shook my head and stared into his eyes. I knew his pain probably more than anybody. It was written everywhere - his face and most prominently, his blue eyes. "You're not over it. You never had a real chance to grieve. Your dad wouldn't let you so you held it up and never let it out."

"Lyra - "

"It's okay to stop and take time to grieve. It doesn't matter how long it's been. If you need time, you need time."

His expression was changing. It was one I had never seen before. The muscles in his face seemed to slacken and his eyes blinked rapidly.

"It's okay to miss her. She was important to you." I reached up to put my hand against his face. "There's nobody here. Your father is out. It's just me, and I understand you like nobody in this world. I also had a relative get killed by another. You can't keep this inside for your whole life, Theodore."

He swallowed hard as I rubbed my thumb against his cheekbone. "I can't." He pushed my hand away weakly. "I just - " And to my surprise, instead of pushing me away completely, he brought me closer and buried his face in my neck. There was no denying the muffled sounds of sobs and the wetness of tears against my skin. It was strange knowing he was crying. He had seen me break down plenty of times, but he always remained strong. He was holding me possibly tighter than he had before, keeping the only dear thing to him as close as he could. I wrapped my arms around him; we stayed like that for minutes.

It didn't matter how long it took for him to pull away. He wouldn't look at me when he wiped his eyes. Neither of us spoke about what had just passed. More minutes went by as he regained control. When he spoke, it was to say, "You know, you remind me of her. She was reserved but headstrong and not afraid to stand up and fight. Maybe that's why I was drawn to you. I don't know."

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe it's because we've both been through the same pain."

Now that I knew the full story I felt closer to him than I had before, like the two of us had reached a new emotional level together. And if it came to it, we would do anything for the other, no matter what the cost ...