Dudley would never know, but he did know this: this girl's silver eyes displayed the truth; hopefully her truth was purer than his mother's past. 

He at least hoped they were full of forgiveness if she knew about his old nature, if forgiveness was even what he deserved. Years had passed since Harry offered him his hand in forgiveness, but Dudley still didn't believe it. Every year when he would come around for the parties that Harry would invite him to, he wondered if it was all a prank. But as soon as he saw his cousin's relaxed smile, that's when he knew, the boy who lived had grown up, and so had he. He hoped every day that he proved that he was now a better man. 

He remembered his heart racing as he caught sight of her the year before. She was laughing an airy laugh and brushed her hand gently against Neville's shoulder. Her smile was whimsical; almost if she came from a dream. He had never seen a sight so pure, he wondered if he even deserved it to unravel her mystery. 

He had been standing alone at the party that night - still too awkward to interact with Harry's friends. He could still feel Hermione's distrusting glances from across the room, even if Ron would give him a reassuring smile. It was all just a reminder that maybe he still did not deserve the forgiveness he was given years before. 

He was drinking a glass of ale and watching the crowd. Harry's old classmates laughed as Ron cracked a joke, and others were around the snack table sharing memories from their days at Hogwarts. Dudley was willing to admit then that he was always jealous of Harry's experience with magic, much to his father's dismay. He credited his openness of his jealousy as to why he no longer spoke to his father. He was done with his poison toxicity; he hoped his mother would someday join him. 

His eyes had glanced away from her only for a moment that night, and when he turned his attention back to where she had previously stood, he was shocked to find that she was no longer there. He was startled moments later when he heard a delicate voice to his left.

"I wonder if mistletoe from the Muggle world is full of nargles as well, what do you think?"

He looked down and realized it was her. He had no idea what nargles were, and he could feel his face morphing into a puzzled look. He hoped she wouldn't take his look the wrong way. His throat was dry, so he took another sip of ale before he tried to respond, but she beat him to it.

"You're Harry's cousin, aren't you?" 

Dudley looked down guiltily and nodded. He didn't say much else; that's when he felt her grasp his arm gently. He watched as her head motioned up above them. That's when he realized that's where the mistletoe hung. It was not a random question about mistletoe, it was true curiosity. Her smile was innocent as she gazed up at him, he even interpreted as expectant. It was then that the moment became too much. All he remembered next was walking away without looking back, with her eyes still imprinted in the back of his.

He had never seen her again since that night. He never even caught her name, until now.

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He wished he had kissed her. He had thought about it for over a year since then. He even avoided Harry's New Years Eve party the year before out of shame. 

Why had he not just kissed the girl? But was that what she even wanted? He didn't even know her, yet.. she felt all too familiar. It was like he had met her before in a dream, or maybe, he really was just crazy.

This year, he still felt like he did not deserve Harry's forgiveness, but he felt more comfortable in Harry's crowd of friends. Most of them knew him at this point, and he even smiled when Ron cracked a joke. Rather than ale, he chose to drink champagne. He could feel his cheeks burning from intoxication; he had hit his perfect buzz.

She had arrived late; her long blonde curls were now cut to her shoulders, but her eyes were just the same. He had not forgotten them; he wasn't sure he ever could. They were the most striking eyes he had ever seen.

Dudley wasn't sure where he packed up the courage from, but he leaned into Ron as he took a swig from his stout, "Who is that girl?" he asked.

Ron followed his gaze, and he smiled, "That's Luna Lovegood. I'm surprised she didn't make herself known to you yet after all these years."

Oh, she had, Dudley thought, but he didn't say anything more. He just shrugged, "I had seen her around, we just have never really talked."

It wasn't a lie necessarily, she talked, and he didn't. He was about to ask Ron another question, but he was being swept away by Neville as a game of Muggle beer pong was about to begin. Ron motioned for him to join them, but he shook his head in response. He was too dazed by the girl with the silver eyes.

Deep in his thoughts, he didn't hear her approach him again. It was like de ja vu. 

"Still wondering about those nargles?"

He felt his cheeks heat up again, but not from the alcohol, and looked down in her direction. She had a playful smile on her lips, but she did not look as though she was teasing him. She seemed rather serious with her question. She was an anomaly. 

It must of been the champagne that gave him the courage to respond, so he asked, "What even is a nargle anyway?"

"Just a magical creature I am trying to prove exists. Many do not believe me."

"Why not?"

He wondered if he asked her too much, and just to double check, he looked above his head. No mistletoe this time; he felt disappointed even though the butterflies in his stomach had seemed to settle down.

He could see from the corner of his eyes that her eyes looked away dreamily as she answered him, "Because many people do not believe in things they cannot see. What about you, Dudley Dursley? Do you believe things exist that you cannot see?"

She looked back at him now, and her silver eyes were full of curiosity. She was studying him, as he was studying her. He wondered if this was a double-sided question, but Dudley knew he was probably over-thinking as he always seemed to do these days. 

"I used to not," he answered her truthfully, "But after being absorbed into Harry's world, I think I do."

She tilted her head slightly to right, and her hand moved up behind his ear. He flinched away slightly from her touch, but she did not seem offended. It was then he saw that she had grabbed a sparkle away from his ear, "It must have been from Ron's party hat," she explained to him, "When you were asking him about me."

Stunned, Dudley felt his eyes widened, "How did you-?"

"I thought you said you believed in things you couldn't see? Sometimes people just know when they are being talked about."

Baffled, he wanted to have more of an explanation, but he didn't push her for it. Instead, she continued on with other random conversation. He listened to her soft voice intently, and she made him laugh throughout. Her smile made him feel at ease, and those eyes, those eyes made him start to love mysteries when before he used to despise them. Dudley wanted an answer for everything, he had gotten that trait from his father to his own detriment. 

It was moments before the strike of midnight. Luna turned toward him and asked, "Do you now know my name?"

He knew she meant if he knew her, or if he wanted to know who she truly was as the clock stroke midnight into the new year. He wasn't sure how he knew that is what she meant, but it was something he could feel. It was something you couldn't see, only know. She wanted to know if he was drawn to the mystery of what they could be. 

“don't caro me!” theo hissed, and the first tear rolled down his cheek like a translucent pearl, leaving a trace in its aftermath, disappearing under his chin. “it's the truth. it's the fucking truth!” the rage in theo’s voice was so surprising, blaise was completely taken aback by it. it was like looking at him for the very first time, hearing him for the very first time. this is what war, what pain and fear, did to someone you cherished so deeply. “my father is out of azkaban, i will have to take the dark mark, i will have to fight by voldemort’s side.” each word seemed to be followed by a bigger wave of panic, and by then, blaise didn't know how theo’s legs were holding him up. “e-everything is in shambles. e-everything is… and i-i will...” he finally reached a breaking point, a sob shaking his entire body, and blaise rushed to his side before he would collapse on the floor like a ragged doll.

he held him dearly, close, absorbing the sobs and the shudders of magic that came from his body, strong hands holding him up and making sure they were both as comfortable as they could be, even if kneeling on the floor, even if theo was doubled over himself with a posture that wasn't gracious or good for his back, as it wasn't the desperate wailing sounds tearing up his throat.

blaise allowed theo to cry out all his frustration, his fear and his panic. he let him unleash his demons, all the things he knew he was feeling but he didn't dare to say out loud because everything and everyone was a newfound enemy between four walls when a war was about to crash and burn everything built around them, no matter how much they might despise it. he didn't say anything, knowing there wasn't anything theo wanted to hear, and knowing that probably, there was no word of reassurance that could be sincere.

theo, in the end, was right. it was the bloody end of the world. at least, it was the end of the world as they have always lived in. and the idea of their world shifting, being destroyed, even if to be rebuilt into something better, lighter, was unbelievable for blaise.

the consequences of it were unimaginable. the idea of theo having to take sides of a war neither of them wanted, of having to be marked for a cause none of them believed in, was the worst case scenario, the worst and the most scary thing of their world ending.

it was the end of the world. and they were just two poor sods caught in the middle of it.

if everything wasn't so tense, and so awfully sad, blaise would have laughed. but he couldn't. because it was true it was the end of the world, and they were caught in the middle of it, but he could really love theo more than he did, in a world where it never was expected to happen, and that should be enough for tracing a plan, an escaping line.

and there wasn't a lot blaise couldn't offer, because theo was terrified and angry and sad and wrapped in an anxiety as big as all the magic he can keep inside his body, and blaise was fed up and melodramatic and unable to use as much resources as he wanted to use, but the two of them knew that all the things theo had listed, were final, as fixed as the sun going up every day in the sky.

it was the end of the world. theo’s father was out of azkaban. he was going to be forced to take the dark mark. he was going to fight at the war by voldemort’s side.

but there was another thing as fixed as their destiny and it was that they couldn't love each other more than they did, and they were going to find each other, after the war, after the end of the fucking world.

“theo, listen to me.” blaise started, calloused and rough fingers, skilled from flying, moved to wipe away the tears collecting underneath theo’s eyes, a smile perfect, still easy, reassuring. “i want to be with you, always.” he whispered, his voice firm. “even if the world is ending, i will go back to you and find you in the new world. i promise, i bloody promise, theo. i vow to you, do you understand? i will vow .”

theo looked at him like he was talking in parseltongue, his mouth agape, as if he was trying to really understand what blaise was saying to him, what he was implying, because those were heavy words, not to be taking slightly, even at the doors of the world ending. but before he could say anything else, blaise started to speak again.

“do you trust me? do you trust us enough?” and the heaviness of the question fell on theo’s chest like the weight of a tomb, but if the world was ending and he was going to die anyway, he would rather do it with a binding promise to blaise instead.

blaise smiled, and pressed his lips into theo’s chapped ones into a bruising kiss.

the hardest part about their promise was to find a bonder, someone who would help to cast the spell for them. draco laughed at them, calling them crazy, and telling them he wasn't going to shoulder the responsibility of such a stupid and rushed unbreakable vow. pansy refused as well, saying she wasn't going to sign a death sentence, whether or not they survived the actual war. daphne seemed horrified at the idea of them making an unbreakable vow, millicent snorted and warned them about not being hopelessly romantics and bloody idiots just because they were thrown into a war...

the bonder came from the place both of them were expecting the less, by the hand of astoria greengrass. she said she wasn't completely sure if this was the greatest of the ideas, but that she wasn't going to interfere into the desire of the two of them, if it was what the both truly wanted.

(“it should be so thrilling, shouldn't it?” she would whisper, giddy, over a cup of tea to theodore nott a few days before her agreement. “to have someone committing to you like that, words can't really describe it.”

and they didn't, so theo didn't say anything, he just felt the heat expanding through his body like a flame.)

a month before the battle of hogwarts theodore nott and blaise zabini made an unbreakable vow. it was week after theodore nott was forced to take the dark mark, when he was ambushed and taken by surprise, held down by a hand belonging to a flint and another one by a malfoy and with a wand held by his father, his fate sealed when dark strokes covered scarred skin.

there was no ritual, no fancy dresses, no pompous agreements. there was a lot of silence, and a lot of tears, theo’s hand tugging the hem of his tunic, as to make sure the mark was never going to be exposed, that it was never going to see the light.

when they held each other forearms, theo could feel the warmth seeping through the luxurious and thick fabric of blaise’s clothes, as rivulets of sparkly magic moved around them, sealing their future, as uncertain as it was, forever.

who’s better at disguising their tattoo(s) and helping the other person do it?

Larry is a little better at it, because he can stay focused on it longer and pays more attention to details. He also specialises in making sure he blends in and goes unnoticed, so he has more experience with covering up anything noticeable. Ernest usually lets him help cover his up, but tends to distract him by kissing him whilst he’s doing it

who deliberately misspells words / uses wrong grammar in letters to each other as some code even when the situation doesn’t require it and does it just for fun?

Ernest is a menace about this. His philosophy is that if VFD are going to make them learn all these codes, he’s going to be annoying about it. He sends grammatically incoherent flirty messages to Larry, who is exasperated but also pretty charmed.

who’s better at navigating through the city’s tunnels?

When they’re younger, Ernest. He has strong navigational skills and he’s very good at picking up on subtle clues. Also, Frank insisted he actually bothered to learn it. But by the time they’re both grown adults, Ernest spends most of his time cooped up in the hotel whilst Larry’s out on missions and regularly running around the tunnels, so he knows it a little better and Ernest has lost his touch

who climbs an elevator shaft faster?

Ernest. The brothers are all very athletic and Ernest has had to climb a ridiculous number of elevator shafts for reasons spanning from fire-starting missions to hotel shenanigans. Larry tends to just be disguised and observing.

who’s better at lock picking?

Larry. Ernest has a master key for anywhere in the hotel, and in other places he tends to just break a window or kick the door to get in. Larry’s a little more subtle and chooses to pick the lock.

who would steal more belongings of the other person if they ever breakup and what would they each steal?

It’s not stealing as such, but Larry has one of Ernest’s jumpers from before they broke up and he never gives it back. Likewise, Ernest hangs onto one of Larry’s books. They both know the other has these things, but they don’t ask for it back because they’re stubborn and don’t want to talk

who insists on putting a series of elaborate fake locks on the door to look impressive but it could actually be open easily with one action?

Ernest because he lives for the drama. Larry eggs him on a little whilst they’re still on the same side, because he thinks it’s funny, but Ernest is the one that keeps doing it around the hotel. Guests are perplexed. Frank is stressed.

who successfully converts the other person into loving their favorite drink or neither of them does?

They both have an effect on each other. Ernest gets into the habit of putting more sugar in his tea because he’s used to making it for Larry, and eventually just decides he likes it like that. Larry will occasionally get black coffee because Ernest does, but he doesn’t exactly love it.

which one of them drives more and what’s their driving style?

The fandom seems to have a consensus that Larry is the gay who can’t drive, and I don’t even want to argue with that. Ernest drives more and follows no one’s rules but his own. He doesn’t crash through hedges like Kit because he doesn’t want to damage the car, but he’ll definitely waste no time getting where he wants to be. The only exception is when Larry’s in the car. He knows driving makes him anxious, so he tends to mostly behave, though he’ll still push the limits.

which weapons do they each like to carry?

Larry doesn’t really carry weapons and prefers to talk his way out of things. If absolutely necessary, he’ll have a knife and some kind of tranquiliser. Usually, he’ll just find something useful wherever he is. Ernest usually has rope (oof) and matches. The hotel also has collections of swords and knives and he’ll sometimes sneak one away if he’s confident his brothers won’t notice.

when going undercover together, what disguises are their favorite to use?

Larry tends to be using his waiter disguise, so Ernest will usually blend in with that somehow. Posh restaurant-goer, manager, angry customer. If they’re out somewhere else, Ernest likes the boat captain disguise because it means he bears no resemblance to his brothers for a bit. Larry quite likes the newlywed couple disguises.

what is each other their first choice of outfit when attending a masked ball?