Theo hoped his father happened across his path, although the corridors they snuck through were empty, he prayed for the small mercy of his father awaiting them in the drawing room, where Theo would have the chance to end his pathetic existence. He could not be left alive, with the chances of hurting his soul bond again, once was too much, twice was unacceptable and the multitude of times over the past weeks where he had left several thick jagged scars across her body was a death sentence. Although the mania of being apart from her had left him, a new one was now settling in. One of fury and rage, burning up any coherent, kind thought of mercy inside him. Where was his fathers mercy when Luna’s fragile body was severed beneath the tip of his wand? There was none. So he would not be offered the same, when Theo found the chance to deliver his pennants - his father would pay.