the trial ; d.m

3

The sun settled hours ago. She's in Theodore's study, flicking through his copy of records from the trial earlier today. Reading over what was said, trying to see the sense in their decision.

But she can't pin it down. Can't understand. There seemed every valid reason to send him to Azkaban. They'd imprisoned many others for less than his crimes.

And now he's living in her house. Prancing about the hallways and rooms with just as much freedom as her. She's tempted to plead with Theodore to confine Malfoy to the East Wing of the Manor where he resides. But she doesn't want him to believe she's afraid. She's not. Just pissed off.

The door to the study is locked. She doesn't open it up again until a light knock sounds on the door from Bigsby, calling her to dinner.

Theodore and Geneva always dined together. Apparently it wouldn't be right if they didn't. So even when he works late, she would wait until they could sit together at the Dining Room table and eat their meal. Frequently, meals were the only times of the day they could be together uninterrupted, excluding the night of course.

At first, like everything he'd been brought up learning, she couldn't understand. But he'd taught her and now every tradition that was set in place for him, had become hers.

After the war, the Manor was immediately inherited by him from his parents. The Manor, their money, everything they had went to him. His parents were incarcerated for acts of support under the Dark Lord's leadership. Theo was given the chance to turn things around for himself, and he sure did.

He became a Ministry Official a year after the war, working with the very people who threw his parents into Azkaban, pretending not to care.

She'd fallen in love with him in their sixth year. Completely swooned by his grace and boyish charm that had every girl falling at his feet. Apparently she'd appealed to him because she was the only one who could put him in his place. Ruin his ego.

And his ego had been unfalteringly prideful like most Slytherins. But worsened by his obvious handsome beauty. Though, he was always so kind to everyone. And most importantly, he liked her. Not many had.

But he's matured. His boyishness was lost on him the moment he was forced to become a man.

Many would argue that he's unlike himself now. Geneva would say if anything, he's grown into himself. He just had to do it too early.

He'd needed her, and she was there. So she married him, proving her undying love.

And now, he works all day, arrives in the evenings, usually just before dinner unless work has overloaded upon him. And she lives her peaceful little life as his wife. Stricken to this identity. Geneva Nott, wife of Ministry Official, Theodore Nott.

It has grown on her, this life. It had taken her months to get used to it, but now she wouldn't know it any other way. It's better than what she could have ever received if she'd stayed in the place where her Muggle parents had abandoned her to the minute they learned she was a witch.

A witch with the surname of the one nobody dares to speak of.

She had finally stripped herself of her identity. And she'd been glad of it.

Exiting the study, she strolls downstairs to the Dining Room, stomach growling in contempt.

She stops still as soon as she enters through the doorless gap in the wall, aggravated to see Malfoy sitting at the other head of the ten seated table, opposite to Theodore.

Her own plate is set down in front of the seat to the right of Theodore. There's a heavy silence as she feels both pairs of eyes on her while she sits herself at the table.