Chapter Three of 'Imago'- Offers Extended

[lomonaaeren]

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Chapter Three—Offers Extended

“You can’t go to the Yule Ball with Potter!”

Draco’s shrieking is just as entertaining as Theo imagined.

“Why not?” Theo frowns a little bit at his dress robes and turns them from side to side. It’s not that they’re bad—he would never have been permitted to come back to the castle without stylish dress robes, once his father heard what he needed them for—but he doesn’t know whether they’ll complement Harry’s. Theo needs to ask him what color his are.

He’ll make it work if they’re red and gold, but Theo does hope they won’t be.

“He’s a Gryffindor!”

“Careful, Draco, you sound remarkably like Weasley probably would shrieking that I’m a Slytherin.”

Draco claps his mouth shut and scowls at Theo. Theo hangs his dress robes back in his armoire without changing anything about them. He does have to have that conversation with Harry first.

“Why him?”

Blaise’s question is quiet, and it’s only better that Draco seemed to be opening his mouth to ask another one and now snaps it shut, scowling. Theo turns around with a slight smile and a slight shrug for Blaise. “I fancy him, he’s handsome, and the expressions on his friends’ faces were priceless.” That’s all he’s willing to go into in front of Draco, given that Draco’s expression is also one of the priceless one.

“And that’s really all that’s needed?” Blaise lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

Theo looks back evenly at him. “Of course.” Blaise knows more about Theo than anyone else in Slytherin does, as his closest friend in that House, but there are things Theo keeps from him. It’s not a problem most of the time. He knows Blaise has secrets about his mother, and his level of skill in Potions, and his interest in a girl—if he’s interested at all in girls—and other things. Blaise respects Theo’s secrets, too.

But the way he’s trying to pry into this one makes Theo wonder if there’s something Blaise has against Harry that he doesn’t know about.

“He’s from the rival House!”

Draco is still wailing on, it seems. Theo glances at him and deliberately rolls his eyes, and leaves again while Draco is spluttering incoherently about the disrespect such a Muggle gesture implies. Theo thinks tiredly that Draco is the ridiculous one, to assume that Muggles invented such gestures.

It’s only a few hours since he saw Harry, but he wants to see him again, perhaps just wave and smile secretly across the Great Hall at dinner. Not everyone will notice, but a few people will, and that’s what Theo wants right now.

*

His plans are foiled when Harry isn’t at dinner.

Theo frowns at his boyfriend’s empty place and then deliberately ignores it, serving himself with large helpings of vegetables and smaller ones of meat. His father has a habit of eating meat as raw and bloody as he can get it, more, Theo thinks, as a demonstration of his masculinity than anything else. Theo hasn’t been able to bring himself up to give up the taste, but he eats less of it than other kinds of food.

He eats while casually scanning the Gryffindor table, noting that Weasley and Granger are there, and looking anxiously at the door. That relaxes him a little. At least that means Harry isn’t somewhere with them gulping down indoctrination against Slytherins.

Theo swallows the last of his water and stands. It’s a little early to leave dinner, but he wants to find Harry. Maybe he’s eating in the kitchens, or wandering around the corridors feeling sorry for himself.

Theo grins at the last thought. He knows the cure for that.

“Mr. Nott. With me.”

Professor Snape has billowed down from the high table and walks past the front of the Slytherin table, speaking nothing more than those words over his shoulder. Theo blinks at him, and then follows. He passes Blaise on the way out of the Great Hall. Blaise looks a question at him. Theo shrugs an answer.

He thinks he feels both Blaise and Draco turn to stare after them, but Theo keeps walking, keeps his face locked in a bland expression, and shows no surprise when Professor Snape abruptly turns around long before they reach his office and beckons Theo into a side corridor that branches off near the stairs down to the dungeons.

“Have you been spending time with Potter?”

Theo isn’t surprised that Professor Snape has heard by now, but he is a little surprised that he cares. He keeps his face in the neutral expression as he murmurs, “Yes, sir.”

“Why?” Professor Snape drags a hand down his face, more expressive than Theo has ever seen him. But Theo realizes he’s staring and locks that emotion away again. “The boy is a walking target! He could make things difficult for…your family.” His eyes flicker to his left arm and then back to Theo’s face.

Theo already knew about Professor Snape’s previous allegiances from his father, so he just blinks a little. “He could, sir. But so could a number of other things I do. A target for interference from Professor Dumbledore, if nothing else.” Theo, along with other Slytherins, has received “anonymous” letters offering them sanctuary from their Death Eater parents for years, mostly near the holidays and the first days of term. He knows perfectly well where they come from.

“Spending time with Potter will not content the Headmaster.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s Professor Snape’s turn to blink, something Theo has only seen before when someone does something unexpectedly clever in Potions. “You should,” he snaps a moment later, now looking irritated to have been betrayed into surprise. “You will make enemies with both sides by consorting with Potter.”

Theo smiles a little. “I appreciate the warning, sir.”

“You will not back off?”

“Why should I?” Truthfully, Theo thinks his father and his father’s allegiance to the Dark Lord will prove the strongest obstacle, not Dumbledore or Professor Snape’s disapproval.

“You foolish boy—”

“I want him.”

Professor Snape squints irritably at him, and Theo wonders if he didn’t want to hear that confession of teenage desire. But in that case, he shouldn’t have asked.

“No one can possibly want a Potter,” Professor Snape says, as if his own strange prejudice encompasses the whole world. “If someone has tricked you into this, Mr. Nott, or if you think that you must give your support to Potter because it would hurt you in the Headmaster’s eyes if you were to withdraw it now—”

“From what you told me, sir, the Headmaster would be most pleased if I stopped seeing Harry. I don’t plan to.”

Professor Snape stares at him some more, and then draws his wand. Theo tenses, but he isn’t good enough to prevent Professor Snape’s spells from reaching him even if he could draw his wand in time. He waits.

The charm that Professor Snape casts on him is one that’s meant to get rid of Confundus Charms and the like. Theo carefully memorizes the wand movement. He should probably perform it on Weasley soon, if only for his own satisfaction.

Professor Snape steps back with a hiss like a dragon a moment later. Theo smiles impudently at him. “I’m not under any charm that would disorder my mental processes, am I, sir?” he asks. His voice is taunting even though he didn’t plan for his words to come out that way.

“You are not. Why in the world you chose the one boy that would cause the most trouble for you to choose…” Professor Snape makes a disgusted sound and tucks his wand away. “I have done what I could to spare you from trouble, Mr. Nott. From here on out, you must handle it yourself.” And he turns and swishes away down the corridor like a Dementor.

Theo sneers after him, but only after his Head of House is around the corner and can’t see it, because he’s not stupid. Then he starts back to the common room with his head held high. It remains high as he enters it and crosses the room with more than one pair of eyes following him.

Let them gawk. It’s not a hundredth of the gawking that Harry has to put up with every day.

And frankly, it’s good practice for the future, Theo thinks, closing his bed curtains with a thin smile, when he’ll be in public on the arm of the Boy-Who-Lived.

*

“What color are the dress robes you’re wearing to the Yule Ball?”

Harry jumps and whips around with his wand out. Then he sighs, puts it away, and slumps against the bookshelf behind him. “Hello to you, too, Nott,” he says crossly, but a smile is playing around his lips, and Theo returns it as he makes his way to Harry’s side.

“Well? You didn’t answer my question.”

“Green.”

“Really.”

Harry shoves him, lightly, and Theo doesn’t curse him in response. “Don’t give me some guff about how it’s a Slytherin color. It’s a color. I’ll wear them that one night and it’ll be over with.”

Theo raises a doubtful eyebrow, but decides he doesn’t need to ask right now why Harry thinks he’ll only ever wear these dress robes one time. “And would you like me to wear red and gold?”

Harry stares at him. “No. Why?”

“I don’t plan to give you any guff about it being a Slytherin color, but there are people who might,” Theo says, as gently as he can. “People who would be soothed by the fact that I’m in Gryffindor colors. It would show that we honor each other’s Houses.”

Harry lets his head thump back against the books behind him. “Who even thinks like that?”

“Half the people in Slytherin, at least. Some in other Houses. Most of the professors. Maybe your friends?”

“If anything, Ron and Hermione would just think that you’re wearing red and gold because you’re trying to lie yourself into my good graces or something.”

“What will make them accept that I want to be with you and there’s nothing deceptive about that? I mean it, Harry. I’m prepared to say whatever would make them comfortable and try to get along with them.”

Harry’s silent for a moment; Theo assumes he’s thinking. But then he straightens up and shakes his head, face unusually serious.

“I don’t want you to change yourself to try and get along with them, Theo,” he says, quietly but earnestly. “I think—I think that they’ve had, I don’t know, too much of my friendship down the years or something. They think that I should only have them as friends and do whatever Hermione says when it comes to homework or—or right and wrong. I think it’s good that I’m reminding them I have my own opinions, too. I haven’t dated someone before, but Merlin knows I don’t want them hanging over my shoulder and telling me who I can date and what we can go do. It’s—nice that you want to get along with them, but I think it’s fine if you don’t.”

Theo doesn’t let his jaw drop, but it’s a near thing. He eyes Harry, who continues staring at him with earnestness that wouldn’t look out of place on a Hufflepuff. He reaches out a second later and clasps Theo’s shoulder.

“What are you thinking, Theo? Say something.”

Theo coughs and finally manages to say, “I didn’t think I would hear you say that. I thought I had to get along with them or you wouldn’t want me around anymore.” Admittedly, he was also hoping that Weasley and Harry’s friendship would crack and fall apart, but for all that he’s enjoying the current chaos, he doesn’t think it likely.

Harry sighs gustily, eyes fixed on Theo’s. “Ron’s been my best friend for years. He can be my best friend again. But I’m not going to let him without a real apology and if he stops running his mouth about you. And he’s just going to have to get used to me spending time with you and without him.”

“And Granger?”

“It’s like Hermione doesn’t know what to do with herself when it comes to Ron and me being upset with each other and me spending time with someone who’s not them.” Harry shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. Theo’s hand twitches with the impulse to reach up and smooth it back into place. “But, well, she’s going to have to get used to that, too. It’s not hurting her.”

Theo feels himself gazing at Harry in a way that he knows is silly, but he can’t seem to stop. He thought he’d have to use all sorts of strategies to stay in Harry’s good graces. Yes, Harry said Theo could insult Weasley and Granger as long as it’s not in front of them, but, well, he’s annoyed with them right now. Theo fully expected him to take back that permission as soon as they were getting along better.

“What?” Harry whispers. He’s blushing again.

“You’re more insightful and perceptive than I thought,” Theo says, and does give in to the urge to reach up and smooth his hair down. “It’s nice to see, that’s all.”

“Ah, you expected me to be some sort of idiot.”

“Why would I fancy someone I thought was an idiot? No, just more committed to never challenging your friends, is all.”

Harry’s eyelids flutter shut as Theo touches his hair, and Theo resolves to keep that in mind for the future. Then Harry’s eyes abruptly pop open, and he says, “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Theo turns to stare down the aisle of shelves, wondering if someone else has come in to see them and Harry doesn’t want to be seen.

“I just remembered. I can’t dance.”

Theo blinks several times. “You—can’t dance.” But then, the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. Would the Muggles have taught Harry to dance? Surely not.

“No.” Harry slides his hands into his trouser pockets and looks miserable. “Does that mean you won’t go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Theo firmly keeps his twitching lips still and reminds himself of how he would feel if Harry looked about to laugh at him. “Of course not,” he says softly. “It just means that you’ll have to learn.”

“Professor McGonagall said something about giving us dance lessons, but…”

This time, Theo can’t control his snort at the thought of Harry trying to dance with the Head of Gryffindor. Harry smiles back at him, and at least he no longer looks like he’s on the verge of panic. “No,” Theo says. “You’ll learn to dance with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Theo leans a hand on the shelf beside him and edges in towards Harry, who looks fascinated and enthralled and confused. “Did you think I couldn’t dance?”

“I thought you could dance,” Harry says softly. “I’m sure you do it well. I just didn’t think you’d want to teach me.”

Theo shakes his head. “You’ll have to get over that, you know.”

“What, thinking that you wouldn’t teach me to dance? How many times is it likely to come up, Theo?”

“Thinking that you’re not going to be good enough for me, or that I don’t want to be seen with you in public. Would I have agreed to go with you at all if it was that? I want to be seen in public with you, Harry. And I meant it when I offered to wear red and gold. I will if you want.”

Harry’s ears are a bright pink, much more attractive (in Theo’s admittedly biased opinion) than Weasley’s bright red. “But don’t you already have a set of dress robes that are a particular color?” he asks, with a high-pitched tone that seems determined to ignore the deeper part of what Theo said.

Theo lets it go, for now. He won’t, always. “I have a set that I can charm to be any color I want. Right now, they’re silver and green—”

“So stereotypical, Theo.”

Theo smiles contentedly. He prefers Harry like this, teasing and brilliant in everything, the smile and the gleam of his eyes, to the almost cowed person he was a moment ago. “I didn’t see a reason not to be. I planned on going, but not dancing or taking a date. But now I have you. And I’ll change them if you want me to.”

Harry continues gazing at him, looking almost worshipful, as if he can’t believe how lucky he’s been to collect Theo. Theo does think Harry is rather lucky, but his luck is outweighed by Theo’s immense amount of it.

“No,” Harry says softly. “Leave them the way they are. I don’t want to change you, Theo. Be exactly as you are. Come to the Yule Ball with me exactly as you are.”

Theo feels as though someone has stuck a needle into his chest, and he doesn’t want to think about why, or why he would be content to stare at Harry until curfew. Instead, he smiles and murmurs, “Good. But I haven’t given up on the dancing lessons. Meet me—hmm, there’s a corridor fairly near Professor Snape’s classroom that has some large classrooms off it. We’ll need a large space to practice all the steps. Can you find it?”

“As long as you tell me which direction.” Theo opens his mouth to do that, and then Harry adds, sharply, “But—first, what did Snape want with you? Did he tell you something bad about—I don’t know, your marks? Or your family?”

“He thought I had been charmed into dating you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Right. He hated my father. He probably thinks it’s nonsense that anyone could actually want to date me.” He adds, not quite under his breath, “Mind you, until a few weeks ago, I thought the same thing.”

Theo reaches out and seizes his hands. Harry turns to look at him, and Theo loses the courage to say everything he wants to. But he manages to smile and say, “I’ll teach you to be such a good dancer that people will be competing to see who takes you to balls in the future.”

“They can compete all they want,” Harry says, reaching out and hauling Theo close with one hand. “I know who I’m going with.”

It turns out that snogging in the library is just as excellent as snogging in an alcove behind a tapestry, and significantly less likely to be interrupted.