Stolen
He had wished for this day for years. The day he could pretend he was escaping for good. Memories of a harsh father who reminded his Heir daily how much of a disappointment he was, how he should be grovelling with gratefulness that he’d elevated him above his previous station with the filthy muggles. Phantom pains of past beatings, rining taunts and the overwhelming silence when he was banished to his room for days, smothered him as he waited on the platform alone. Unbidden, a hazy image of a tiny girl with soft hands, and a laugh that made him want to laugh with her filtered through his head. She always left before he could catch her though, no matter how desperately he wanted to grab her and hold on tight.
She had had no idea how to feel about this day. Hopeful, maybe. If she was a witch then surely he was magical too. There were fewer places to hide in a castle surely. She had to believe that, because not once in all the years since she’d lost the other half of herself had she ever believed that she wouldn't see him again. In contrast, her parents were stoic, their heartbreak hidden behind the masks they'd learned to wear, facing another milestone that should have been shared. She knew that they were remembering all the birthdays, the Christmases, the milestones, all of them tainted by the person missing from the memories. She knew they'd tried their best, but neither of them had been able to parent the girl who lost herself in fictional worlds when the real one was too painful to tolerate, not when their own grief had been drowning them. She had heard them once, discussing how they'd lost two children, not one as she folded in on herself, her other half not there to coax her into remembering to play.
She sat on the train, waiting, wondering if this time would truly be any different, and after sneering and slammed doors as she tried to help a boy find his toad, she had come to realise that it probably wouldn't be. But perhaps if he really was here, it would be worth it. She refused to let herself consider how broken she’d be if he wasn't.
Theodore Nott barely held back a gasp as a tiny girl with too much hair hopped onto the stool to be sorted. She was older, obviously, but she was here. His heart broke as she was sorted into Gryffindor, knowing that nothing other than Slytherin would be tolerated by his father. She’d never listen to him now.
Hermione Granger eyed the boy on the stool, an uncomfortable tugging feeling pulling somewhere in the middle of her chest. She wondered if it was wrong as he was sorted into SLyhterin, hearing the hushed explanations from Percy about the sacred 28 and their thoughts. She had to be wrong then. She couldn't bear the thought of her being right and him hating her for nothing more than her parent's lack of magic. He couldn't surely? It wouldn't make sense.
He caught her after classes, just before curfew with a pained, whispered, “Mya.”
She spun on her heel, the colour draining from her face, “Alex?”
He let out a hysterical laugh, feeling the tears beginning to fall, “Not for more years than it should have been.” and then she was there, hugging him so tightly that he was sure she’d fractured something, not that he cared, she was here and he felt whole for the first time since he was four and so he hugged her back equally tightly, his twins sobs mingling with his own.
“Mr Nott, Miss Granger what is the meaning of this?” a soft, dangerous voice inquired behind them.
Hermione let him go, turning to face their professor, her hand slipping into his. “I..Professor can we go somewhere else?”
He was grateful she was aware enough to be wary. Snape's eyes narrowed and for one panicked moment, he was sure the man was going to refuse. “Please.” he blurted.
Surprise flashed over their professor's face before he masked it, “Very well, this way.” he drawled, stalking down the corridor, not bothering to check they were following. “In.” he eyed them as they sat, “Explain.”
Sharing a look, they fell back into old habits they'd thought long forgotten and Theo spoke. “I'm adopted.” For the second time that night, Snape's face registered brief surprise.
“How do you know?”
“Because I was told often enough,” Theo muttered bitterly. “I was not the Heir my father wanted.”
Unseen, Severus grimaced, knowing that Thoros Nott was hard on his only son. He'd had an inkling of how hard, but the man was wise enough to keep the particulars hidden behind closed doors. It was painful to have his suspicions confirmed. “And this explains your behaviour tonight how?”
“My twin was taken when we were four,” Hermione whispered. “We were in the garden, Mum had just gone in to get us juice. One minute Alex was there, the next…” she shrugged, fresh tears falling down her cheeks.
“And you think….”
“I remember a girl with curly hair,” Theo murmured, “A woman who used to read to us calling me Alex. A man with glasses playing football with us.”
“Mother of Merlin,” Severus breathed. “That's…”
“My…our parents are muggles,” Hermione continued, wide, terrified eyes meeting her professors, “They can't keep him safe if they were to take him back.”
“No.” he agreed, a heavy feeling of helplessness settling in his stomach.
“So what do we do?” Theo asked, looking at him as if he had any sort of an answer.
“You…you wait here. I am going to get Miss Granger's Head of House and Merlin…I don't know.”
They nodded, their grip on each other tightening as he swept out of the room.