Chapter Nine of 'Imago'- Conditions

[lomonaaeren]

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Chapter Nine—Conditions

My dear son,

I am beyond impressed that you have managed to so successfully fool Harry Potter that he believes you are really dating. Tell me, has he never heard the rumors that I was a Death Eater? Or does he simply discount them because he believes he knows you?

I, of course, do not have to explain all the implications of your romantic coup, or caution you to exercise care in keeping it. I do hope that you will be able to preserve your connection until the end of the school year in June. I understand that there is someone who much wants to meet Mr. Potter, someone known to me but whom you have never met. It would be a shame if you lost control of Mr. Potter before then.

Of course, I expect you to enjoy yourself, but never forget that this is only a teenage romance that can be given up, if needs be, in pursuit of your larger goals.

Your father.

Theo sprawls back in his chair at the table in the library where he and Harry arranged to meet while Harry reads the letter, grinning at the ceiling. Honestly, Father probably doesn’t believe that Theo is doing this just to entice and entrap Harry for the Dark Lord, but that doesn’t matter. He also doesn’t believe that it’s real for Theo, or he would have written a different kind of letter, one full of a different kind of warning.

Theo is capable of the respect and warmth that Father never can be, and that in and of itself is a sharp weapon aimed at his father’s throat.

“I don’t…”

Theo rolls over. Harry is blinking, fast and furious, his hands clenched on either side of the letter. Theo smiles gently at him. “I’ll answer any questions you have, Harry, including ones about my relationship with my father. But I mean it when I say that I feel honestly about you. My father has no clue about that, and no hope of understanding it, either.”

Harry swallows and puts the letter back on the table between them. “It’s not that. It’s that…is this going to cost you your relationship with your dad? The fact that we’re dating?”

Theo blinks. He hadn’t anticipated that being one of Harry’s concerns, but of course he should have. Harry hasn’t had a real family since his parents died, and his best friends have done their level best to destroy their friendship with him, too. Of course he would be anxious about Theo possibly losing something that’s part of his life, no matter how bad it is.

Theo sits up in the chair and reaches out, clasping Harry’s hand on the table between them. “No. My father destroyed his relationship with me a very long time ago, and I’m only keeping up the pretense of it because until now, it suited me to do so.”

“And you’re sure that Zabini’s mum will take you in for the summer?”

“Very sure.”

Theo has to smile at the amount of delight Mrs. Zabini is probably going to feel, in fact. He’ll have to get Blaise to tell him about it when Blaise comes back after Christmas. A lot of the students went home after the Yule Ball, but not Harry, for obvious reasons, and not Theo.

“Um. Okay. I just—I would never want you to do this if it cost you something.”

Harry’s face is lowered, his forehead furrowed in a way that wrinkles his famous scar. Theo reaches out and traces it, then lifts Harry’s face and kisses him gently until Harry is relaxed and leaning forwards in his chair. Then he lets go and says softly, “This is a sacrifice for you I’d gladly make, Harry.”

Harry is all one giant and gleaming blush from the top of his forehead to the base of his throat, where Theo’s eyes lock and where he wants to kiss. “Oh,” he says faintly.

Theo smiles back and looks away to let Harry recover a little. “Did you want your Christmas gift here, or somewhere more private?” he murmurs.

“You didn’t—you didn’t have to—”

“I know. I wanted to.” Theo smiles a little. “And I think you got me one, didn’t you? I’d never want you to think I didn’t want to reciprocate.”

“It would be okay if you didn’t.”

Theo just lets his thumb sweep back and forth across Harry’s knuckles without answering, and Harry finally says, “Your gift is up in my bedroom. Let me go get it and we’ll meet in that classroom where you taught me to dance, okay?”

Theo smiles as he thinks of another gift he can offer Harry before they meet there. “Of course.”

*

“Theo, I’m h—what is this?”

Theo smiles at Harry’s choked-off exclamation. He’s sure it’s one of surprise and delight, rather than dismay. “Do you like it?”

Harry turns in a slow circle, his mouth open. Theo’s spangled the room with moving illusions of twinkling fairy lights, rather than trying to conjure any, something he’s not that good at. He’s Transfigured the walls into the dark green shade of a pine forest, and covered the floor with the illusion of snow. And overhead, he’s changed the ceiling of the room into a dark night sky pocked with stars. It’s hardly the Great Hall, but it’ll do.

Harry’s whole face is bright and warm when he turns back to Theo. “I love it. How did you know—” He cuts himself off.

Theo is sure that he was about to say something like, “That I’ve never had a real Christmas with my family,” but he doesn’t need it said. He shrugs and smiles and pulls out Harry’s gift from behind his back, privately a little concerned that Harry’s is bigger than his. He just hopes that Harry won’t be too disappointed.

From the way that Harry’s smile is wider than any Theo’s seen him wear, Harry isn’t disappointed at all. He takes Theo’s gift, in bright green paper with red holly berries on it, from him, and hands over his bigger present, wrapped in black paper with glittering silver stars that imitates the look of the ceiling in the classroom. “Hope you like it,” he mumbles, and tears Theo’s package open.

Theo would have liked to savor it, but he copies Harry, while making sure that he’s not looking away from Harry’s face and can see it when Harry lifts the lid off the little box and catches his breath.

It’s completely worth it. Harry’s cheeks are bright red and his eyes are on Theo a second later. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Theo smiles as he lifts Harry’s present to him out of its box. It’s an incredibly huge and thick cloak. Theo flips it over, curious as to what makes it so heavy when the outside seems to be woven of silver wool, and blinks at the lining. “Wow, Harry. Thank you. But—what is lining it?” It looks like dragonhide, but it’s shinier and a more brilliant green. By the time it gets done with the enchanting and tanning process, dragonhide is usually black.

“Um.”

Theo shoots a glance at Harry. His cheeks are a brighter red than the holly berries on Theo’s wrapping paper. “I promise that I won’t be angry, Harry,” he coaxes him. He thinks a second, then adds, “Or think it’s too expensive.” He can guess that’s a problem Harry might have had with Weasley in the past.

(The sooner Harry sheds that dead weight, the better).

“It’s not that,” Harry says. “It, ah, I thought you might be angry because of what I went through to get it. It’s basilisk hide.”

Only the fact that Harry gave the gift to him lets Theo clench his hands around the cloak in time to avoid dropping it. “It’s what?” he says, and barely manages not to snap.

“It’s hide from the basilisk that I killed in second year.”

Theo stares at him, but he knows what Harry looks like when he’s joking or trying to hide something, and he doesn’t look like that now. He is ducking his head, but maintaining a steady gaze into Theo’s eyes at the same time. And there were rumors. It was just that Theo knows exactly how much stock to put into rumors about Harry Potter.

He swallows. “You—harvested it yourself?”

“Well, the harvesting, yeah. But I sent it away to be tanned and fastened into the cloak. I told them it was dragonhide from a really old hereditary pair of boots I had that I wanted turned into something else.”

Theo feels a smile tugging at his mouth. Harry can lie well when he wants to. It’s clear that most of the time, he just doesn’t see the point. “Well, I know that barely anything can get through basilisk hide, spells included. Thank you, Harry.” He folds the cloak around his shoulders, not surprised to find it fits perfectly.

“And you for the watch,” Harry says quietly, taking the present Theo gave him out of its box.

Theo smiles and steps up to him, reaching out to take the silver watch on a dragonhide band from Harry. “Look,” he says, and turns his wrist, revealing the matching watch on his own wrist. “We tune them to each other’s.”

Harry blinks, and then laughs aloud as he watches Theo adjusting the watches. When he’s done, after a few whispered spells and taps of his wand, Harry’s watch now bears a hand for Theo and stops around the watch face at places like Safe, At Home, Mortal Danger, Slytherin Common Room, In Class, and so on. Theo’s watch has a hand for Harry, but he has two possible kinds of danger, Minor and Mortal.

Theo just raises an eyebrow when Harry complains about that. “You get into danger more often than I do, especially with this bloody Tournament.”

“True enough.” Harry turns the watch back and forth, admiring it after Theo clasps it on his wrist (and lets his fingers linger stroking Harry’s pulse point). “Did you set Home for you to be Mrs. Zabini’s and not your dad’s?”

“Yes.” Theo can’t stop smiling. “I wouldn’t be that careless, Harry.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him. “You forget that I’ve known people who would.” He doesn’t sound as if he’s about to go on talking about Granger and Weasley, but that’s okay. The important part is that he’s able to rely on Theo now, and he knows Theo isn’t like them.

Harry hesitates, and then reaches out and grabs the collar of the cloak, pulling Theo closer by it. Theo smiles at him and comes, leaning against his chest. Harry’s eyes travel over him, and there’s a heat in the back of them that hasn’t been there before. Theo thinks that Harry might really like seeing Theo in the cloak he bought for him, and promptly resolves to give Harry more opportunities to see it.

“You know,” Harry whispers, “I’ve never had a Christmas like this. I’ve celebrated with my friends and other people at school, but not just—not just me and one other person.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Theo whispers back, and rests his forehead against Harry’s. Harry’s skin where the lightning bolt rest is rough under his.

“Happy Christmas, Theo,” Harry says, his voice as soft and joyful and uncertain as the beginning of day.

*

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Theo doesn’t look up as Draco drops down on the couch next to him. “Writing a letter to my father.”

“He must be awfully angry.”

Theo answers, because Draco trying to sound sly and insinuating is just painful, and dating Harry has taught Theo to be kind to other people. “Not really. He understands what was happening, and he’s advised me to continue it.”

There’s a long pause. Theo continues writing. He could lie to his father, really, but as it is, it amuses him to write completely truthful responses that also happen to leave out entirely the emotional complexity of what’s blooming between him and Harry.

He’s just finished with Harry Potter is not the sort to judge someone based on rumors of Death Eater connections once he really knows them when Draco blurts, “But he can’t possibly—you can’t possibly—”

“What?” Theo balances the letter on his knee and glances at Draco. That he hasn’t retreated already is more than interesting.

“You can’t love Potter!”

Theo tilts his head. He hasn’t named his emotions to Harry yet, and he certainly won’t name them to Draco before he does that. But he only shrugs and says, “You don’t understand much about me, Draco, or about Harry.” He checks the letter over again, corrects one misspelling in a long sentence, and signs his name with a flourish. Then he casts a Drying Charm at it and stands up. He needs to go to the Owlery.

“You’re not doing it right!”

Theo has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, and again to look at Draco with a serene expression. “You have opinions on the proper way to court Harry Potter?”

“It’s just—” Draco throws up his hands. “Why in the world aren’t you going to Skeeter and spilling all his secrets? Or writing to your father with a plan to trap him? I can’t believe that you’re acting all sincere and Gryffindor about it.”

“Oh, not completely. For example, a Gryffindor would probably just punch someone who disapproved of his relationship in the nose. Whereas I like to curse them.” Theo smiles and draws his wand, holding it low down at his side where the rest of the common room won’t see it, but Draco can.

Draco shrinks backwards, clutching the sides of the cushion. “I just—I wasn’t suggesting anything,” he whispers.

“You were. And more to the point, I’m now utterly convinced that you’ve leaked some information to Skeeter, instead of just having strong suspicions. Dolor tacitus.”

Draco opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. That’s the beauty of this curse, and Theo smiles as he puts his wand away. The sufferers can’t make any sound even as pain ravages their bodies. They can’t tell anyone about it. They can’t speak a counter, either. Draco will endure the random jolts and shocks of agony until Theo decides to remove the curse.

“Think about it, the next time you presume to offer me a suggestion,” Theo says softly, and then leaves and goes to the Owlery, glancing once at his watch. Harry is in the Gryffindor common room.

He makes it most of the way to the Owlery before he decides to do something about the loud footsteps. Someone is following him incompetently, which narrows down the suspects quite a bit, and since Theo left Greg and Vince wagering on the fall of a Knut in the fourth-year boys’ dormitory…

He turns around with a sigh. “If you have something to say to me, Granger and Weasley, come out and say it to my face.”

There’s a scuffling and whispering and pushing, and Granger and Weasley slip into the corridor. They’re staring at him, not scowling. That makes Theo curious enough to stand there and watch them until Granger clears her throat.

“Where are you going, Nott?”

This could be an attempt to spy on him, but it could also be an attempt to honestly ask about his life and get to understand him, so Theo answers calmly. Harry seems to want them around some of the time even if Theo doesn’t. “To the Owlery. I have a letter to send off.”

“Who’s it to?” Weasley is squinting at him, eyes lingering on the cloak from Harry, which Theo is wearing in deference to the chill in the corridors. But he doesn’t make an accusation, so he probably didn’t see Harry walking around with it before Harry wrapped it up.

Theo half-shrugs. “I don’t think we’re close enough for me to really have to answer that question, Weasley.”

Weasley and Granger look perplexed. Theo thinks, amused, that they didn’t plan for this result. They probably either thought Theo would never notice them, Gryffindor geniuses of sneaking that they are, or they thought he would immediately confess to some evil plot.

“Look, Nott, can we try to get along?” Granger asks at last.

“That’s what I thought we were doing,” Theo says, and paints an expression of innocent confusion on his face.

More silent glances between them, but Weasley’s face is igniting with red. Theo thinks it probably won’t be long before he starts shouting.

And as entertaining as that might be, Theo doesn’t really want to wreck Harry’s friendships in such a way that Harry would mourn them later. Let Weasley and Granger make the decision to do that if they want to, or let Harry make the decision to reject them. Theo lifts his eyebrows and asks, “What happened to your promise to leave me alone?”

“We didn’t promise to leave you alone,” Granger says. “We promised not to criticize you. Which means things like calling you a slimy snake. It doesn’t mean following you.”

Theo thinks about it, and then shrugs. Technically, that’s true. “All right. I mean, Harry has to be the one to make the final decision, but you’re right that you weren’t insulting me and there’s no rule that says you can’t follow me. But I don’t want you following me to the Owlery. See you.” He turns his back.

“Wait! Nott!”

That’s Weasley, and the modicum of politeness in his voice is enough to make Theo turn around. “Yes?”

“You don’t have to tell Harry about this. You know, since we didn’t break the promises that we made to him.” Weasley tries to smile, but it falls flat, and he gives it up as a bad job a second later. “You know that he’d worry and probably feel bad, and—and we don’t want to make him feel that way.”

Theo places a hand over his face and shakes his head slowly back and forth.

“Nott?”

Theo lowers his hand. Weasley takes a step backwards. Theo is a little surprised that he’s showing his own indignation so powerfully, but at least it serves its purpose.

“I’m not going to lie to Harry. I’m not going to hide secrets from him. If he decides that this doesn’t break the rules, that’s up to him. If he does, that’s his decision, and I’ll support him either way. But it’s up to him. You might think, Weasley, about why you find it easier to ask me to lie for you than you do to apologize to your supposed best friend.”

Weasley recoils so hard that he almost falls over. Granger turns bright red. Theo turns and continues his trek up to the Owlery, this time with no one following him.