Divine Purity| T.N.

*Tw* abuse
I'll add *** when it starts and when it ends!
~~~

The past three days had been a blur of distractions,some intentional, others unavoidable.  Draco's house had become a war zone of clashing personalities and debates over the most ridiculous topics.

Astrea had spent the majority of those days trying—failing, really, to stay present. No matter how hard she tried to throw herself into the chaos around her, her mind kept drifting back to Theo.

It wasn't like she could help it. The idea of him, alone in that suffocating house, dealing with his father, was enough to make her stomach twist with guilt.

She hadn't told the others how things had went before they left. It wasn't that they wouldn't care, hell, if Astoria or Blaise knew half of it, they'd probably be plotting some ridiculous revenge act on him.

So instead, she pretended. She laughed when she was supposed to. She threw pillows at Pansy when provoked. She let Astoria drag her into some ridiculous Muggle movie marathon, even though she could barely focus on the screen. She let Daphne lecture her about something or other, nodding at all the right moments. She even helped Blaise rearrange Draco's study just to mess with him.

But every time she let her guard slip, even just for a second, her mind went right back to Theo. To whatever fresh hell he was enduring. To the way he had looked the last time she saw him, the kiss, all his sharp angles and barely concealed exhaustion. To the things she wished to have said before he left.

It was easier, then, to let herself get pulled into whatever absurd drama was unfolding in Draco's house. To let Pansy annoy the life out of Draco, to let Astoria and Blaise disappear for hours on end doing who-knows-what, to let Daphne try (and fail) to keep them all in line.

But now, three days later, she found herself alone, cuddled on a couch reading one of her many muggle books in Draco's lounge room while the others went out to the nightclub.

Pansy and the Greengrass sisters had begged and begged for Astrea to join them, but she wouldn't budge. She settled with the "I don't feel too well" excuse knowing she felt fine.

In the back of her mind she knew she would bring the vibe down due to her very apparent sulking. All she could do was wonder how things would be if he was here.
~~~

Theodore sat at the edge of his bed, a book in hand that he couldn't quite focus on, the dim candlelight casting long shadows along the dark wood of his desk, his bookcases, the ornate mirror that reflected a pale, exhausted version of himself. His knuckles were white where he clenched his book roughly, trying to take some sort of anger out on it.

The break had been endless. The silence of the house stretched on and on, broken only by the occasional distant clink of glass or the heavy, uneven footsteps in the corridor below.

His father was drinking again.

Theo inhaled slowly, controlling the rise and fall of his chest, keeping his expression blank even though no one was watching. He had learned to anticipate these nights, to listen for the signs. The slurred muttering under his father's breath. The careless way doors were opened, shut, or slammed. Then came the inevitable call.

"Theodore!"

It rang through the house, sharp, impatient. He squeezed his eyes shut for just a second before setting the book down, standing, methodical, like a soldier reporting for duty. He didn't bother to fix his already-ruffled hair or adjust the sleeves of his button-down. What was the point? He could already predict how this would go.

Still, there was a small flicker of hope, maybe his father would be too drunk to carry out a proper fight. Maybe Theo could nod along, stay quiet, leave unscathed.