Chapter Six of 'Imago'- Doing Something About It

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Chapter Six—Doing Something About It

“No luck with Weasley?”

Harry grimaces and leans in for a quick kiss before he steps back so Theo can arrange them in the proper position for another dance lesson. “Not as such. His latest tactic is pretending that nothing happened, and we should just ignore everything. He invited me to play chess with me this afternoon.”

“What happened?”

“We played for about ten minutes, and he was joking the way he used to.” The expression on Harry’s face is wistful. Theo quietly tucks away his jealousy. He doesn’t want to, but he knows Harry is loyal. He wouldn’t simply give up on dating Theo because Weasley wanted him to. “Then I said I was leaving, and he asked me where, and I told him.”

“And he didn’t take that well.”

“Bloody well blew up. Said I couldn’t trust a Slytherin, and you were a Death Eater, and probably the one who put my name in the Goblet.”

Theo chokes and ruins his dance step. Harry’s the one to haul him back into the pattern, his eyes glinting with humor.

“Did you explain to him about the Age Line, again?”

“I didn’t see the point. I said you weren’t and started to walk out, and Ron started yelling that you were and I was too blind to see it, and I decided that there was nothing to be gained by continuing the conversation.”

Theo shakes his head. He no longer thinks that his Confundus Charm is solely responsible for Weasley’s behavior, because there’s simply no way that it could be. Not when Weasley’s behavior has varied this much from what it was after the end of the First Task, when he first spoke to Harry about it.

Ron Weasley is just very, very good at self-sabotage, apparently.

“This way,” Theo murmurs, and guides Harry to the side, only to find that Harry has anticipated him and is moving in the right direction. “You’re getting good at this.”

“Thanks.” Harry flushes appealingly. “I don’t want to embarrass you at the Yule Ball.”

“You won’t.” Theo is already anticipating all the looks when he and Harry walk in on each other’s arms. That would make the whole thing worth it, even if Harry was the worst dancer in the world. Harry makes things worth it, including the fact that word will surely reach Theo’s father right after the Ball, if not during it, of what he’s doing.

“Merlin, I like that look on your face.”

Harry mutters that softly enough that he probably didn’t intend Theo to hear, but Theo has to pounce on it. “Which look?”

Harry flushes harder and pretends to concentrate on his steps, but Theo knows well enough by now that he’s beyond that simple level of dancing. He pulls gently on Harry’s chin and hauls his face back up. “What look?” he whispers. They’re standing close enough that he can feel Harry’s breath on his lips and is tempted to steal a kiss, but this is too important to mess up.

Harry takes a deep breath. “The look like you’re plotting something. I know—I know it’s either going to be my advantage or something that won’t hurt me. And I like to watch you think.”

Theo doesn’t know what to say, which makes it the perfect opportunity to draw Harry near and steal a kiss after all. Harry groans into his mouth, and Theo clasps his shoulders, and together they forget about the dancing lesson for a while.

*

“You’re really doing it, then.”

Blaise sounds more than vaguely disquieted. Theo turns away from the mirror, where he was adjusting his green-and-silver robes for the last time. “Doing what?”

Blaise stands behind him and stares at him. Theo studies his expression. He did wonder, when he was thinking about Blaise’s possible objections, whether Blaise had a crush on either him or Harry, but he understands now.

Blaise is worried for him.

“You’re going with Potter to the Yule Ball.” Blaise makes a vague gesture that nonetheless takes in Theo’s robes, Harry’s status as a Champion, and who exactly Harry is. “Dressed like that. Going at all. You know what your father’s going to do.”

Theo meets Blaise’s eyes calmly. “Yes, I do. And I’ve planned for it, Blaise. I would hardly be worthy of the name of Slytherin otherwise.”

“You’re,” Blaise says, and then takes a deep breath. “I always thought you would be older when you moved against your father. Merlin knows I’ll have to be when I move against my mother.”

Theo reaches out and puts a hand on Blaise’s shoulder for one fleeting second. They’ll have to be quick, since Draco could come of the bathroom or Vince and Greg into the bedroom at any second, assuming they remember that tonight is the Ball. “I know. But I’m taking the chances that matter to me and can provide me with the best cover.”

“That’s what Potter is? Cover?”

Theo takes his hand back and shakes his head. Blaise sucks in a noisy breath and glances down at his own robes, which are a rich blue and flatter him, not that Theo would expect anything less from Blaise.

“Good bloody luck,” Blaise whispers.

“Thanks.” Theo gives him a fleeting smile and then walks out of the bedroom just as the bathroom door opens and Draco’s loud, complaining voice spills out. Tonight of all nights, he doesn’t want to listen to that prat’s whinging.

Besides, Draco’s best reaction, just like everyone else’s, will happen when Harry and Theo enter the Ball together. Theo plans to be fashionably late to where the Champions are gathering, to make sure of it.

*

“Theo.”

Harry is wearing dark green robes that make Theo smile. There’s a scattering of silver on the cuffs and hems that he thinks Harry or someone else might have charmed into place, since it doesn’t look like it came with the robes.

Harry is making a statement. Not the same kind that Theo is making, but complementary to it, and Theo’s heart swells with wonder and delight and affection as he steps forwards to take Harry’s elbow.

Harry leans briefly against him, then stands up and turns around to face the other Champions. Theo studies them briefly. Delacour is standing next to Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, and Theo wonders if she chose him for his looks, his prestige, or some combination of the two. Certainly not his ability not to drool on the floor like a puppy.

Cedric Diggory is with Cho Chang, no surprise. Theo has overheard enough details of that courtship from Pansy to not make him need anymore.

The real surprise is Granger standing next to Krum. Huh. Theo is a little startled, both by her beauty when she puts in an effort and that Krum chose to escort her, but Granger is smart enough (when not pining over Weasley) to attract his notice, and of course it makes sense that she wouldn’t want to spend hours on her hair or clothes every day.

It does mean Weasley will probably be more volatile in the coming days due to Granger not dancing attendance on him, of course. Theo conceals a sigh as he thinks of what that will mean for Harry.

“Harry?” Granger whispers. Harry’s date with Theo should have got the least surprised reaction out of her from everyone in the room, but she’s staring at them with something that verges on both horror and disbelief.

“Hermione,” Harry says, and then deliberately looks away. Theo steps up to stand next to Harry and smirks at Granger a little. Granger chooses to focus on Professor McGonagall, who’s bustled into the room and let her gaze sweep over all of them.

Theo meets her gaze with an innocent smile. Professor McGonagall visibly crashes to a halt, both in attention and in steps. It’s so satisfying that Theo has to battle not to let his grin widen.

“Mr. Nott,” Professor McGonagall says faintly. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s my date, Professor,” Harry says, moving a little as if to get in between her and Theo and shield Theo from her sight. Theo pats Harry on the back to tell him he doesn’t have to do that. Harry shoots a glance over his shoulder that says yes, he does.

“I—I thought you were taking Miss Weasley, Mr. Potter. That is certainly what Mr. Weasley said.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything the twins say, Professor.” Harry’s tone is light, and Theo squeezes his elbow in appreciation for the way that Harry has handled and defused the situation. Theo likes to think he had something to do with that, giving Harry an example of Slytherin guile, but maybe not.

Professor McGonagall gives a gusty sigh and visibly gives up on controlling the situation. “The Champions will enter the Great Hall after everyone else,” she says, sweeping her stern gaze around the room. “You will lead the first dance, and you will be on display for others the entire time, making good behavior mandatory.”

Her gaze lingers on Theo. Theo just smiles innocently back, and thinks she should have saved that speech for Granger.

They wait a little more, while the sound of chattering voices and music fills up the Great Hall beyond the doors, and Professor McGonagall finally nods and lifts her wand. The doors snap open, and Delacour surges forwards to lead the way, as if thinking this is another Task they need to earn points for.

Theo much prefers the way that Harry offers his arm, and how they walk in together, third in line after Diggory and before Krum. The murmurs from their audience build to a roar. Theo hides a smirk. He suspects some of that roar is probably for Krum and Granger, but a lot of eyes are focused on him, too, and so are dropped jaws. He looks faux-innocently around for some of the reactions he expected to see and love.

Draco’s jaw is somewhere around his knees; he obviously thought Theo wouldn’t really show up with Harry no matter what he wrote to his father. Professor Snape is staring at them with a scowl that will probably imprint lines in his face for years. Weasley looks as if he might have a stroke, but Theo probably won’t be that lucky.

Professor Dumbledore is staring at them with a deep frown of his own, and absolutely no twinkle in his eye.

Theo makes sure to beam at the Headmaster, and to keep perfectly in stride with Harry as they head for the table where the Champions will be dining.

*

The pork chops Theo ordered were delicious, if he does say so himself, and he made sure to dump a piece of them on Harry’s plate, once Harry looked a little disappointed with the goulash he’d ordered. Harry beamed at him and ate with a good appetite, so Theo ordered another pork chop for him. Harry looked astonished, and pleased.

Such a simple thing, Theo thinks as they stand to dance, but one he never would have thought of for himself.

He glances over at Weasley, but sadly, no stroke symptoms have appeared. Weasley seems divided between glaring at them and glaring at Granger. Theo loops his arm around Harry’s shoulders as they step onto the dance floor and murmurs, “Why didn’t Weasley ask Granger, since they’re obsessed with each other?”

Harry sighs, but not as if he doesn’t want to talk about the matter. Theo pulls him a little closer, and watches as Harry’s eyes half-close in pleasure. “He said something about how she was a girl and she could go with him. That was right after he’d asked Delacour.”

“He what?”

“Yeah, something about catching the edge of her charm when he was walking past, and he couldn’t help it.” Harry shakes his head with a small smile, but with pain hidden in his eyes that Theo decides he isn’t going to ask about in public. “But then he refused to believe Hermione had a date.”

Theo thinks someone from the Department of Mysteries ought to study Weasley, assuming they have a department dedicated to self-destruction. “And said she was simply a girl, and ought to go with him?”

“Yeah.” Harry lifts his eyes and focuses on Theo. “But I don’t want to talk about them anymore. I want to enjoy dancing with you.”

“Your wish is my command,” Theo says, and draws Harry closer. Harry looks deliriously happy. For an instant, Theo thinks that he might get a kiss, but Harry clears his throat and draws back a little.

That won’t do. Theo looks at Harry like he’s the only one here who matters—which is true, as far as Theo is concerned—and adjusts the pace of their dancing so that they’re perfectly in tune with the music, and each other. They’re easily whirling around each other now, the most graceful couple on the floor. Krum and Diggory look as if they’ve heard of those aphorisms comparing dancing to Quidditch but don’t understand their finer points, and Delacour’s date is too dazed to keep up with her.

Theo catches a glimpse of Dumbledore shaking his head at them from the corner of his eye, and is very smug about spinning Harry in place, and kissing him when the song ends. Harry is bright-eyed and red-cheeked, and looks much too happy to object.

In fact, he leans in and grants Theo a proper snog right in the middle of the dance floor. Theo runs his hand up Harry’s back into his hair, and Harry responds with a heady groan.

“Boys.”

That’s Professor McGonagall, who must have taken on the role of Professional Ruiner of Fun for the night, standing at the edge of the dance floor. Harry looks a little chastised, but Theo squeezes his hand until he’s smiling again.

“Yes, professor?” Harry asks innocently as he turns to face her and leads Theo off the dance floor with him.

“You have not made a wise choice, Mr. Potter,” the professor says, her eyes darting over to Theo briefly.

“Because I’m dating a Slytherin and everyone thinks he’s out to get me, right,” Harry says, unsubtly inserting himself between Professor McGonagall and Theo again. “No one seems to know that he’s the one who taught me to dance, and he’s the one who’s been kindest to me in the past few weeks because my supposed friends can’t get their heads out of their arses, and he makes me smile, and he stands up for me! No one knows that!”

Well, now they do, Theo thinks, looking around at more than a few stunned, dazed faces.

Professor McGonagall is looking down her nose at Harry, and her words prove to Theo that she doesn’t know how to respond to most of what Harry’s said, so she’s seized on the thing that’s easiest. “You are not to use such language to a professor, Mr. Potter.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Harry says, so insincerely that Theo wants to choke.

“Five points from Gryffindor for language,” Professor McGonagall says in a tight voice.

“Shouldn’t you take ten points from yourself for interrogating me about my boyfriend?” Harry asks in the most innocent of all possible innocent tones. “For implying that he wants to hurt me or something, just because he’s, what, a Slytherin?”

“That is not the reason, Mr. Potter. The Headmaster has informed me—”

“Yeah, he tried to interrogate Theo, and that didn’t work, so he sent you to do it to me, right?”

“Mr. Potter.”

Theo is dizzy with delight to have Harry defending him like this, and in public, no less, but he does manage to lean forwards and squeeze Harry’s shoulder and murmur, “Now maybe isn’t the time, Harry.”

Harry turns and stares at him doubtfully, but then shrugs. “All right. If you’re sure.”

“Mr. Potter—”

“My Head of House doesn’t get to say who I date,” Harry interrupts. “House rivalries are stupid, anyway.” And he drags Theo towards the door that leads out into the gardens, which seem to have been decorated for the night.

Theo looks back to see Professor McGonagall watching them go. “I think she’s not done,” he murmurs. “She’ll have words for you later.”

“You know what? I don’t care.”

Theo blinks and turns back to Harry. It’s hard to see his face in the dim light coming from the Great Hall’s windows now that they’re outside, but Theo has learned to recognize that stubborn jut of Harry’s jaw by now. “What?”

“They all want to just bloody interfere all the time,” Harry mutters in a low voice, his hands clenched at his sides. Theo thinks about reaching out to pry them open, but it sounds like Harry really needs to say this, and Theo certainly wants to hear it. “Constantly. With you and when they think I’m not living up to their standards or whatever. But where were they when people were blaming me for putting my name in the Goblet? When I could have died facing a dragon? When people were calling me the Heir of Slytherin?”

Theo could point out that Granger did help Harry with spells to fight the dragon, if he remembers correctly, but he doesn’t need to. And it’s fascinating to watch Harry reaching some of the conclusions that Theo knows he would have reached a lot faster in Harry’s place.

Harry lifts his head. His eyes are visibly blazing in the dim light. “I’m done listening to people who only interfere in my life when they want to control me,” he spits.

“What does that mean for your friendship with Weasley and Granger?” Theo asks as delicately as he can.

“That I’m still open to it if they want to renew it, but I’m going to stop bloody chasing them. They can come to me if they’re so bloody keen on that.”

Theo knows his smile is threatening to split his face open. He leans forwards and hugs Harry, pulling him close. Harry takes a deep breath and rests his chin on Theo’s shoulder for a moment.

“What are you going to do when your father hears that I was your date to the Yule Ball?” Harry finally asks.

“I have some plans in place, don’t worry,” Theo says, and leans over to touch Harry’s scar. “He’ll be angry, but I already knew that I couldn’t just have things stay the way they were until I reached the end of my seventh year. He already suspects that I’m more intelligent than I pretended and wouldn’t just obey him.”

“If you need help, Theo—”

“You’re the only one I would trust to help me. But I don’t need it.”

“Do you want it?”

Theo pauses, and swallows. Harry has the ability to disarm him with a word every time, and it’s shocking to Theo even though it keeps happening.

Harry looks straight at him, eyes shining with devotion and determination, and Theo discovers that he feels he can tell the truth to Harry and not be vulnerable. He nods, once.

“Then you’ll have it,” Harry promises, and leans forwards to kiss him.

The words are more than a promise, Theo thinks as he kisses back; they’re ground to stand on, shelter in a storm.

Should I be thinking about him like this? Am I falling in a way I can’t control?

Theo decides he doesn’t care.