lomonaaeren

Part One.

Title: Shadows After War (2/3)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Established Harry/Theodore Nott, Padma Patil/Susan Bones,
Content Notes: AU, angst, violence, present tense
Rating: R
Wordcount: This part 3400 words
Summary: Short epilogues and one-shot sequels to Shadow Magic. Harry, Theodore, and Harry’s marked followers explore their new post-war world.
Author’s Notes: This story will make zero sense without you having read Shadow Magic, so do that first. These are being posted as part of my “From Samhain to the Solstice” fic series. There will be three of them for now, but I may add to them at some point.

Thank you for the reviews!

The Shadow Lord’s Shadow

Theodore turns his head to watch Harry leaning back on the couch in front of their fireplace, his attention focused on the tome in his hands. His brows are furrowed, his fingers tapping on the cover, in a sure sign that whatever he’s finding irritates him and certainly doesn’t conform to what he expected to find.

Theodore can feel every shudder and tap of those fingers through his mark.

He knows that if he told Harry that, Harry would stop the movement and never do it again. He wouldn’t apologize, but he would stop. That characterizes a lot of things Harry does, actually.

Theodore leans back and extends his leg from his own couch so one crosses Harry’s. Harry shifts his entire attention to him—and Theodore shudders with the knowledge and the joy of it—without ever looking up from his book.

“What do you need, Theodore?”

“You, my lord.”

Theodore does call him Harry, sometimes, in the privacy of their home, but he honestly prefers the title. Harry seems to think it separates them and makes them distant from each other, although Theodore isn’t sure how much of that annoyance is mingled with the fact that Harry just doesn’t like the title. Or having vassals. Or being responsible for them. Or people watching him with fear and awe. Or basically anything that comes along with being called “Lord.”

But Theodore sees it as a link. He was the first one to recognize Harry for what he was—although even now, to him, Harry bends the world he moves through so comprehensively that Theodore wonders how others don’t see it—and no one else has that claim even if they call Harry the same thing.

Theodore knew, the moment he stepped into that compartment on the train, how much his world was going to change. He deserves to be rewarded for that insight.

Harry smiles, and his face floods with warmth. So often, he’s cold, lingering in his shadows and looking at the world from around corners, or listening to private conversations. But Theodore knows how to value the power that Harry wields, and the coldness has never bothered him. It’s never been directed against him.

“Come here, then,” Harry says, and extends his hand, a shadow unfurling further along the floor in invitation.

Theodore reaches out, grasps the cold mist of the shadow, and flickers through what looks like a high-sided path into a softness. He lands on their bed, gasping, and Harry stands next to him, smiling like Theodore is the jeweled center of the earth.

“You haven’t moved us like that before, my lord,” Theodore murmurs, carefully respectful and tilting his head back to watch as Harry undresses.

“I’ve been practicing.” Harry winks at him and sheds his robe on the floor. He’s naked underneath it except for a pair of pants. Shadows wrap him teasingly, though, flickering here and there like clouds across the sun, obscuring and then showing the bare skin Theodore wants so much to touch.

“Let’s practice other things,” Harry adds, and uses shadows to undress Theodore and pull his pants off at the same time.

Theodore is more than willing to do so.

*

Making love with Harry is like making love with a windstorm, or a shining waterfall, or some other great force of nature.

Theodore certainly can’t complain of a lack of attention. Harry gives his full attention to this the way he gives his full attention to Theodore when he asks, or marking someone new when it’s the dark of the moon and he can be persuaded to do it, or the books he studies. It’s just that—

Theodore throws his head back, panting, and Harry, rocking on top of him, reaches down to bite the side of his neck. Theodore’s mark flares even though Harry’s teeth haven’t actually touched it.

It’s just that there’s so much of him.

The magic flares and twists and settles in the air, and cushions Theodore the way he’s become used to it doing, as if he’s lying on a second mattress suspended a little above the first one. Theodore focuses on the thrusts inside him and grips Harry’s hair. Harry makes the low, thrilling sound that he did the first time Theodore did this, and that he’s repeated every time since.

Theodore is glad he—

The thought shatters and breaks apart as Harry shoves into him again, his eyes wide and brilliant and fierce in a way they never are the rest of the time. The shadows are going wild on the walls, twisting around the two of them as if a fire has escaped the hearth.

Theodore kisses his lord, and Harry kisses back, his tongue driving into Theodore’s mouth in imitation of the way his body drives into Theodore’s. The shadows stop dancing and wrap close around them, a soft, gleaming blanket. Harry thrusts once more and shudders, and his shadows promptly curl close around Theodore’s cock, rubbing him, too.

Theodore disappears into bliss for a second, but never loses the sense of his lord on top of him, inside him.

He relaxes enough to come back to his smug thought. Harry uses his shadows to make sure that both of them come at the same time, every time they make love.

Even if Harry had never spoken words of love, that gesture would tell Theodore everything he needs to know.

*

“Um, Nott?”

Theodore looks up, a little surprised. He has been shopping in Diagon Alley for something to give Harry for his birthday—a task that’s always hard. Harry seems pleased with every gift, but Theodore wants to get him something special, breathtaking, something to make his eyes brighten.

He puts aside the suspicion that someday he might not be able to, and face the woman he never thought would approach him. “Yes, Granger?”

For some reason, she flushes. Maybe there are Gryffindors in the crowds that she thinks would be angry she approached Theodore. Theodore doesn’t keep track of that kind of thing himself. He has shadows following him that blend into the ones cast by buildings and fires and people walking and anything else they can find. He feels safe, as if he’s still cradled on that extra mattress that the shadows form when he and Harry make love.

“I—I wanted to know if you would give this message to Harry for me.” She stretches out her hand, to give him a folded piece of parchment.

Theodore takes it and flips it open to read it. Granger immediately tries to snatch it back. “You idiot!” she hisses. “You weren’t supposed to read it!”

“It wasn’t sealed,” Theodore says. “And of course I’m going to make sure that it isn’t something dangerous before I give it to my lord.”

“How can you call him that? When you’re dating and everything.”

Theodore shrugs. He will take some time to answer the questions of his fellow vassals, whom Harry insists on calling his “minions,” but he doesn’t owe anything to Granger. He scans her message instead.

Harry, this is Hermione Granger, who used to be in Gryffindor House. I need to talk to you. I’d like to debate the morality and politics of what you’re doing with you. Will you agree to talk to me six days from now in front of the Ministry?

Theodore laughs as he closes up the parchment again. “I’ll give it to him, but I can tell you this now, Granger: he’s not going to agree to meet you.”

“Why not?” She’s looking flustered again. “I thought that he was different from the rest, not all about blood purity.”

“He doesn’t give a damn about blood purity,” Theodore agrees. “But he doesn’t give a damn about people debating morality and politics with him, either. He only cares about the people who are close to him and his magic. That’s it.” If it wasn’t for the library that fills Nott House, Theodore thinks that Harry wouldn’t even care if they lived there. Harry could be in a hovel and be happy with books and Theodore and the others nearby.

“But he has to see that what he’s doing is wrong!”

Theodore shrugs. “He doesn’t think so.”

“What would make him listen to me?”

“If you swore him a vow of loyalty and let him mark you.”

“Then I would be betraying my principles!”

“Well, then you have no access to him.” Theodore turns around to walk away.

Granger reaches towards him, but luckily stops before the shadow that’s forming a puddle at Theodore’s feet can reach her. Frostbitten fingers would be the least she could expect if she touched him against his will.

“Can you just tell him I’d like to talk to him, Nott? Please?”

In the end, Theodore decides there’s no harm in the verbal message, any more than in carrying the written one. “Just don’t expect a good response, Granger,” he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the crowd.

*

“But Harry—”

“No.”

Theodore grins a little as he sits back to watch the contest. Granger is leaning forwards as though she’s about to get called on by Professor Snape, her elbows driving into her legs. She has a set of robes on that are nicer than the ones she wore at Hogwarts, but only barely. Theodore would never wear robes like that to an audience with a Lord.

Then again, neither Harry nor Granger tend to think of Harry that way.

“You have to see that what you’re doing is wrong.” Granger’s cheeks are flushed and her hand is curled into a fist that she drives into her knee next to her elbow. “Marking people? Not allowing them a choice about serving you? That’s the same thing Voldemort did!”

Harry stares at her. Theodore would be worried if it was a flat stare or if the shadows on the floor were moving, but as it is, Harry huffs a minute later. “Not allowing them a choice? Merlin, Granger, do you know how many people I’ve turned away in the last year?”

“What?”

“Lots of them want to be marked but don’t want to swear the oath. They want to be mine and acquire power without doing what’s necessary to acquire it.” Harry shakes his head and slumps back in his chair. “You want to speak to them and persuade them they should stop bombarding me with owls? I can give you their names. You’re welcome to try.”

“But—Dark Lords take unwilling servants.”

“Yes, but I’m not a Dark Lord. Or any kind of—” Harry stops for a second. “Person like Voldemort.”

Theodore smiles again as he catches Harry’s eye. Harry shows him an impotent glare in response. He doesn’t like the title, but if he goes around allowing people to call him “my lord,” then he has to accept it.

And Harry will never make Theodore stop saying “my lord.”

“I don’t understand why anyone would want to be branded. Like a slave.”

“You think I do?” Harry waves his hand in the air in exasperation. “I tried to talk them out of it. I tried to tell them I would do what I could for them and they could fight beside me without the mark. None of them would listen. This stubborn bastard over here was the first one who refused to hear me.”

Theodore tilts his head at Granger when she turns to gape at him, but doesn’t offer to show her the mark. That’s a private thing, including the way that it looks different from the marks of Harry’s other minions.

“But you can’t—no one brands people who doesn’t intend to take over the world. Or at least rule them.”

Harry waves his hand, and a shadow curls into their bedroom and brings back a list of names. “Here. These are the people who I’ve marked; these are the ones I’m considering marking; these are the ones who wanted to be marked and who I’m done considering. You can look at them and decide whether any of them are cringing slaves.”

“I don’t,” Granger says, like it’s a complete sentence, but takes the parchment. “The ones that you’re considering. Why not just mark them all at once?”

“The ritual I use can only be done on the new moon and only to three people at a time, that’s why.”

Granger makes a few more spluttering noises and then leaves. Harry rolls his eyes at Theodore. “She came here expecting to find a sociopath, right? And then left when it was too much for her?”

“I think she came here expecting to find someone she could oppose, my lord. Not someone she might consider joining herself.”

Harry’s enraged denial is a source of hilarity to Theodore for the rest of the day.

*

Harry lands from the Apparition with his hand extended. Claws of shadow are already flowing across the floor, aiming straight for the Ministry desk in the empty office. Theodore lands behind him and steps away from the shadow, watching Harry work.

They got word earlier today that Susan Bones had been arrested on an obviously spurious charge. Supposedly she suppressed her dead aunt’s will and got herself a house that her aunt wanted to leave to someone else. Theodore can’t think of anyone less likely to do that. If anything, Amelia Bones was overly aggressive about raising an honest, perfect niece. It was even hard for Susan to lie about her mark or helping them when that was still necessary.

Harry waited only for confirmation about what department the charge was coming from before he told Theodore they were going to hit it.

Now, shadows rifle through files, documents, scrolls, parchments, memos, notes, and reports, while Harry stands with his head tilted slightly to the side and his eyes glazed. Theodore watches in pure admiration. Last year, Harry wouldn’t have been able to do something like this. His shadows couldn’t “read” then, couldn’t tell him what words were found on which pages. Now they can, and fast at that, so that Harry just has a small pile of paper to read in the end.

Harry makes a sharp noise, and the shadows break free from the cabinets and race back to him with some sheets of parchment. He reads them and nods, focusing his burning attention on Theodore. Theodore shivers and hopes this little excursion doesn’t take long, because he’d like to make good use of the rest of the evening.

“It’s Montague,” Harry says, his eyes flaring. “Remember that he approached me and I refused to mark him? He accused Susan of keeping the house away from a relative of his. Couldn’t even be arsed to hide his name as the accuser.”

“What’s his fate going to be?” Theodore asks, a delicious shiver working its way down his spine.

Harry smiles.

*

“Were you the one who destroyed Graham Montague?”

Harry blinks at Granger, who’s accosted him in the middle of Diagon Alley. In the end, Theodore did find him the perfect gift, a series of magical boxes that let his shadows practice carrying things through walls and under doorways; the boxes are charmed to turn intangible or collapse at a moment’s notice without dropping the objects they hold. Theodore puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder as his lord stares.

“Hermione Granger,” he whispers.

“Oh, right,” Harry says, and nods to her. “What is it, Granger?”

“You didn’t remember my name?”

“It’s not personal. I don’t remember the names of people who don’t interest me,” Harry says, while Theodore hastily chokes and coughs behind his hand. “Now, what were you asking me?”

“I want to know if you destroyed Graham Montague! One minute he was accusing Bones of taking property he rightfully inherited away from him, and the next minute he’s gone except for a signed confession.” Granger puts her hands on her hips. “Did you do that?”

“Why would you think I had anything to do with that?”

“Because—because people who oppose you tend to disappear.”

Harry sighs impatiently. “I don’t keep track of who disappears and who doesn’t, who moves abroad from Britain and who decides that they need to move across the country to romance some lover. I don’t rule anything, Granger. Will you get this notion out of your head that somehow I control everything?”

Granger squints at him. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”

Theodore stands at Harry’s side and smiles unhelpfully when Harry glances his way. Honestly, this is funny as hell. And Harry does need to learn to be a bit more careful with how he responds to people threatening his vassals. He’s not secure enough yet that no one can challenge him.

Although that day is coming. Probably within the next year, if Theodore is any judge.

“I didn’t make Graham Montague disappear, Granger. Is that what you want me to say?”

And it’s true, as Theodore well knows. Harry can make people disappear and wander his shadows forever, but he doesn’t do it often. Instead, after he got the confession out of Montague, the shadows pulled him apart. The walls of Montague’s bedroom are now embedded with tiny, atomized pieces of him, bits of flesh and blood too small to be picked up by any kind of magical scan, even using house-elves. Montague is still right at home, fulfilling his last wish, which was, “Please leave me alone here.”

Now he’s at home. For always.

“If you did something criminal, I’m going to prove it,” Granger threatens, and flounces off.

Harry sighs and rubs his forehead. Theodore bends down next to him. “Why do you leave her alive, my lord?”

“Because she’s not threatening anyone I care about, and she’s not even a credible threat to me,” Harry murmurs. “And the twins like her. I’d like to not have to check my tea and my chairs and my sheets for itching powder or potions every single night.”

*

“Guess who’s applying to be marked?”

Harry stares at the parchment in Theodore’s hand and sighs. “It’s not the twins under an assumed identity again, is it?”

“No. Hermione Granger.” Theodore lays the parchment on the table in front of Harry with a little flourish.

Harry looks gratifyingly blank before he rolls his eyes. “Right, the one who had problems with the way I handled Montague. Why in the world would she ever want to become one of mine?”

“She says in the letter that she thinks you’re going to be in control of wizarding Britain in a few years, and that she wants to reform the system from the inside. She’s advancing fast in the Ministry and says she would help give you information about how you should change the position of magical creatures.”

“I’ll change the position of magical creatures that help me and mine,” Harry mutters with a deep breath of irritation. “I don’t see any reason that I would consider her.”

“You know that if you don’t mark her, she’ll be back in six weeks arguing that you should?”

“And she’ll probably undermine me from without, right? Start some sort of resistance?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Theodore says innocently, and loves the way that his lord closes his eyes in a motion too long and slow to be a blink.

“I’ll give her a chance at one of those blasted vassal social evenings that Susan badgered me to put together.” Harry turns and stalks towards the far side of their bedroom. “See how she does with you, Pansy, and Millicent. She has to be able to get along with people who weren’t Gryffindors if she’s going to be my vassal. If she can’t, I’m not marking her no matter what kind of trouble she tries to cause.”

Theodore smiles. Harry turns around in time to catch it. He huffs and folds his arms. “You want me to mark Granger. Why?”

“She could be a good adviser, my lord. And you could use a few more Muggleborns among your vassals. There’s nothing wrong with Granger’s brain, just her common sense.”

“Fiiiiine,” Harry says, with enough vowel sounds to make Theodore chuckle. “Now come to bed.” He holds out his hand.

Theodore comes willingly. Another reason he thinks marking Granger would be a good idea, although he doesn’t say it to Harry, is so that he has company in keeping Harry on his toes.

Bar this, he thinks as he lies next to Harry in bed later and admires the rise and fall of his chest. This is mine alone.