Chapter Two of 'Imago'- Indecision

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you for all the reviews! In answer to a question from the comments, this story will most often update on Wednesdays.

Chapter Two—Indecision

“Theo, stop pacing a hole in the floor,” Draco snaps, flinging a pillow at Theo from the bed.

Theo has his wand drawn and catches it neatly in midair with a charm that his father taught him young. Father is…fond of throwing things, Theo thinks as he watches the pillow hover. He steers it over to his own bed instead of Draco’s.

“Hey,” Draco complains, turning over so that his head almost hangs off the edge of the bed. Theo sneers automatically. Draco likes to present himself as pristine and sophisticated to anyone who looks at him, but he’s a child in a way Theo has never been.

Maybe not Harry, either, Theo thinks, and resolves to ask about that when he can think of talking to Harry about something other than the damn Yule Ball.

“Draco is right that you’re unusually twitchy lately, Theo,” Blaise says, intervening to keep the peace as he so often does. “What has you like this? Potter?”

Draco rolls over and scowls. Vince and Greg glance up briefly, but then go back to stuffing the sweets into their mouths that they’ve persuaded house-elves to bring up from the kitchen for them.

“A little,” Theo says. “You know that Weasley is still taking exception to me spending more time with his supposed best mate than he does.”

As Theo suspected, the subject makes Draco immediately perk up. “It’s so fascinating to see how their friendship falls apart at the first hint of an outside challenge,” Draco says, staring dreamily up at the ceiling and seeming to forget that Theo stole his pillow. “Bet Potter’s wishing he took my hand now.”

Blaise groans. “Draco, now is not the time tell that story again.”

But Theo, for the first time, finds an interest in the old, worn tale of how Potter turned down Draco’s offer to shake hands on the Hogwarts Express their first year. “Why did he choose Weasley in the first place? Had they met before the train?”

“I doubt it,” Draco says, and puffs himself up with self-importance. Theo resolves to conjure a needle one day and poke him with it when he’s like this, to see how much hot air he lets out. “I overheard Potter talking once to some older Gryffindor who wanted to get all friendly with the Boy-Who-Lived. He said Weasley was his first friend, and he had to honor that.”

Blaise hoots appreciatively, probably because this story is at least new. Theo, on the other hand, feels cold.

“His first friend? But surely he had friends before Hogwarts?”

Draco shakes his head smugly. “Didn’t sound like it. I mean, I don’t know where he was living, other than with someone who would give him those dreadful clothes he has, but apparently he didn’t have any friends there.”

“Could he have been lying?”

“I don’t see why he would bother, Theo. I’m certain that he didn’t know I was there.”

Draco goes off into a tirade about how he’s so clever and sneaky, which means he’s paying less than no attention to the other people in the room with him. Blaise leans over and asks softly, “Why so pensive, Theo?”

“Where do you think Potter grew up?”

Blaise blinks. “I have no idea.”

“Do you think he lived in the magical world?”

Blaise opens his mouth, and then closes it and shakes his head slowly. “Now that you mention it…”

“Yeah.” Theo is thinking of the worn clothes under Harry’s robes or that he wears on warm days outside when there are no classes, his bewilderment visible in first year, the claim that Weasley is his first friend, how he doesn’t react to some of the insults or some of the family names the way that Theo would have thought he would.

“Muggles?” Blaise hisses. “Really? For the Boy-Who-Lived?”

“Who knows where he was before Hogwarts began? It’s all just rumors, really.”

Rumors that Theo suddenly can’t wait to ask Harry about. He turns and begins striding towards the common room.

“Theo? Where are you going? Theo!”

But Theo has no time for Draco’s nonsense right now. By the time he gets to the common room door, he’s all but sprinting.

*

“Nott.”

Granger says it in a frigid voice, but Theo’s eyes are on Harry, who’s standing between his supposed best mate and the Muggleborn who’s appointed herself their peacekeeper in a corridor near the Transfiguration classroom and looking utterly exhausted. His face brightens when he sees Theo, and he takes a step forwards, one hand reaching out as though for a lifeline.

Theo gives him a smile, but he knows it must appear strained, because Harry notices. “What is it?” he asks quietly, and glances over his shoulder at his friends only when Weasley makes a snorting noise.

“There’s something I really need to talk to you about—”

Theo thought he would have to provide more background than that, but Harry says quickly and loudly, “Well, Theo wants to talk to me, I’ll talk to you later, Ron,” and promptly jogs around the corner, ignoring his friends’ calls for him to come back. With a wink at Theo, he ducks behind a tapestry that shows a lion hunt and brings Theo with him. Weasley and Granger trot past outside.

“Now,” Harry says, and spins around to face Theo, not looking at all bothered to be alone in a small space with him despite what he knows about Theo fancying him. “What is it? You look awful.”

Blood is pounding in Theo’s ears and fingertips, and it’s harder than he thought to keep his focus on the questions he wants to ask instead of reaching out to touch Harry. But then he sees the edge of a wrinkled grey shirt underneath Harry’s robe, and that brings him back to earth with a jolt.

“Is it true that you grew up with Muggles?”

Harry’s face closes down so efficiently that it’s like watching Longbottom blow up a potion. He eases backwards until he’s nearly standing against the tapestry and says, “What, you don’t like that, Theo?”

“No!” Merlin, Theo should have known Harry would take this the wrong way. “I mean, Harry, I don’t—I don’t have the prejudice against Muggles that you’re probably thinking.” And that’s a lie, but it’s true that it’s not uppermost in Theo’s mind right now, or the reason he’s asking Harry about it. He takes a deep breath and forces as much calmness into his face and voice as he can. “I meant that I realized I didn’t have any idea where you grew up, and then I heard someone say Weasley was your first friend, and…”

Harry nods, his face still shut compared to the vibrant openness he usually shows around Theo. “Yes, it’s true.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Theo makes a despairing noise, eyes darting to the grey sleeve that’s sticking out from under Harry’s this time. “Do they treat you well?”

For a moment, he thinks Harry is actually going to draw his wand. His eyes widen, and the spark in them looks like anger this time instead of gladness to see someone. He clenches his fists for a second.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m worried about you,” Theo says, pitching his voice low, and sees the sheer astonishment blow across Harry’s face like a storm. The implications of that astonishment make rage coil in Theo’s chest, but he keeps his voice as calm and normal as he can. “Because your clothes are too big and baggy, and I don’t know why you didn’t have Muggle friends before you came to Hogwarts, but I bet it wasn’t for a good reason. I want to know so I can help you, Harry.”

By the end of that little speech, Harry is almost gaping at him. Theo stares back. He supposes he knows some of the reasons for that expression. Harry’s friends don’t seem to have noticed the problem—or Theo is sure that Granger would have told everyone in sight in an effort to get Harry help—and obviously no professor has taken Harry in hand and helped him. He must be used to people not knowing.

Theo wouldn’t do this for just anyone, either. But he understands. Living with his father must not be the same as living with the Muggles, given that Theo has clothes that fit, but it’s not—good. And he doesn’t want Harry to live with that.

It boils in the bottom of Theo’s stomach. It’s wrong.

Harry finally swallows and says hesitantly, “I mean, they don’t like magic. They never told me I was a wizard until they had to, when Hagrid came to give me my letter when I was eleven. But it’s not as bad as you’re probably thinking.”

“You didn’t know you were a wizard? You thought you were a Muggle?”

Harry tosses his head back and faces Theo with all the pride that Theo’s ever seen him use on Draco. “Yes, and if you think that I should—”

“Harry.” Theo reaches out and runs his fingers gently down the side of Harry’s wristbone, which gets him another stare—and a blush, which is nice. “I’m impressed.”

“Why?”

“You had to deal with your fame and learning about magic and the expectations that people had of you all at once,” Theo says. He shudders to think what that would be like. “I’m sure it was hard.”

Harry blinks. Then he says softly, “Oh,” and gives Theo a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry. Sometimes I think that you’ll act like a typical Slytherin, or Ron, and then I remember that you’re different.”

“I’m not sure which of those comparisons is more insulting, so I’ll let them both pass.” Of course, Theo knows which one really is—it’s the comparison to Weasley—but he won’t do anything to alienate Harry from Weasley. He’ll let that happen all on its own.

If you can, when the Confundus Charm you cast is probably part of it.

Theo ignores that thought and smiles at Harry. “What else did you learn for the first time that day?”

“Er, well, about Hogwarts, of course, and that more people than just me had freakish—I mean, magical things happening around them.” Harry blushes harder, and Theo nods and smiles and pushes down his anger that wants to explode. “And how my parents really died, and about You-Know-Who.” Harry makes a face. “My aunt and uncle had told me my parents were drunks who died in a Muggle accident.”

Theo just stares at him. Even his father respects James and Lily Potter’s determination to protect their son and stand up to the Dark Lord. Theo can’t envision the level of contempt that would be needed to lie about the manner of their deaths and what kind of people they were.

“Don’t you usually say the Dark Lord’s name?” he asks, to distract himself.

“Thought I was giving my Slytherin friend a chance not to jump six feet in the air.”

Then Harry abruptly blushes, and Theo nearly laughs as he figures out why. “Friend” is dancing through Harry’s head, and apparently not rousing the echoes that he wants it to.

Theo takes a deep breath. He understands Harry much better now. He was mistreated by his relatives and stumbled into a magical world that revered him with no preparation or training for it. No wonder he grabbed at Weasley’s offered hand when he got it, and despised Draco for trying to ruin that friendship, as Harry would see it.

And that might mean he’ll snatch someone else’s extended hand for the Yule Ball. Theo can’t let that happen.

“About that,” Theo says, and lowers his voice a little. “I was hoping you would go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Harry’s mouth and eyes round to the point that Theo winces. He never thought about going with you, he doesn’t fancy you as much as you fancy him, you’re going to have to do something death-defying to get his attention or you’ll lose it the minute a pretty girl smiles at him—

But what Harry says is, “I’d love to. But is it safe for you?”

“Safe for me?”

“If you’re in Slytherin, and people think the Death Eaters are coming back, and I’ve heard the rumors that your father was one. So I wanted to make sure that it would be safe for you to date me.”

Theo swallows back some complex emotions. He thought Harry either hadn’t heard the rumors about his father or paid them no attention, because otherwise he would have brought them up, wouldn’t he? But instead, it seems he’s heard them, and decided that Theo has to be protected and sheltered because of them. There are people who have known Theo for a decade who haven’t separated him from his father so thoroughly.

Theo’s voice is a little husky through no effort of his own, his eyes fixed on Harry, when he says, “It’ll be safe.”

“If you’re sure, then,” Harry says, and sighs as if he’s getting ready to fly a broom around another dragon. “Then I’d love to go with you, Theo.”

Theo’s smile widens to what’s probably a sappy extent, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He’s flushed and his eyes are all the brighter for it, fixed on Theo as if there’s no one else in the world right now.

There might not be.

Theo catches himself staring at Harry’s lips and makes himself ask the question. “Is it going to cause trouble with your friends or your House, if you come with me?”

Harry snorts, and there’s a flash of something cynical and utterly delightful, if unexpected, in his eyes. “What do I care? Ron still hasn’t apologized. Gryffindor likes me now, but who knows when something will come along and change their mind? An article Skeeter writes, or something.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I might as well date who I want and let them stop controlling my life.”

“All right,” Theo says. “And I’ll try not to insult Weasley or Gryffindors.”

“Insult them when they’re not around. That’s fine.”

“Draco was saying something about Weasley’s horrid dress robes that he saw on the train or something,” Theo says, indulging himself. “Is it true that they look like something Longbottom’s grandmother would wear?”

Harry laughs, full and free. Theo stares at his lips and his throat and only winks when Harry sees him staring. Harry catches his breath and then coughs. “I mean, I’ve only really seen something like her robes once. But yeah, it’s—they’re lacy and frilly and kind of horrid, yeah.”

“Is Weasley taking Granger to the Yule Ball?”

Harry gives a long, complicated grumble. “No, she has a date and Ron keeps asking people and getting turned down. He asked Delacour—”

“Really?” Theo regrets intensely that he wasn’t around then.

“Yeah, it was probably the Veela allure getting the better of him.” Harry rolls his eyes with all the casualness of someone who can resist the Imperius Curse and likely Veela allure, too. “But I’m glad that I have you, Theo. Now the question’s settled, and I don’t have to worry about being the only Champion without a date.”

His words are casual, but his eyes are still shining, and Theo doesn’t start to feel the paranoia about just being a convenience that he might if this was a fellow Slytherin. He smiles at Harry, and Harry pauses.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“You’re looking at me like I’m—treacle tart.”

Theo smiles at that, long and slow. “I rather like the comparison,” he says, and steps forwards, gently backing Harry against the wall of the alcove. Harry’s breath is coming faster, but it’s in excitement, and his eyes are glued to Theo’s lips, too.

Theo leans in and kisses him, giving him a chance to shy away but not too much of one, and Harry’s hand comes up and clasps the back of his neck at once.

It’s so much better than the only kiss Theo has had before this, with Pansy at the start of the year when she was angry at Draco, and it makes Theo’s head spin and his belly fill with fireworks. He groans and draws Harry more strongly towards him, one hand winding in that wild but soft hair, and Harry is clasping his shoulders and kissing back with strong, slightly wet enthusiasm, and—

“Oi, mate!”

Weasley, of all people, is flinging open the tapestry. His face turns red at once, and he begins yelling something so hoarse that Theo can’t even make it out before Harry spins around and glares at him.

“Shut up, Ron! You don’t want to apologize, and you don’t want to be my friend when you’re jealous, and you thought I wanted more fame and more money and—just shut up, you don’t get to choose my boyfriend!” And Harry stalks out of the alcove with only one dark look back at Weasley, which turns all soft and adoring when it falls on Theo.

Weasley is gaping too much to continue yelling. Theo nods a little and pushes his robes back into order, doing nothing about his grin or his swollen lips or his hair.

“Quite a show, Weasley,” he says, and saunters out, convinced that at the very least, the Confundus Charm didn’t make Weasley yell at Harry and hasn’t left any obvious trace like the extra dilation of his pupils. Maybe Theo’s magic didn’t cause that much of a problem after all.

Granger is standing on the other side of the tapestry, nearly as red as Weasley. Theo nods to her. “Good show not dating that one,” he says, and walks back to Slytherin, feeling as if he might grow wings at any moment and fly without a broom.