lomonaaeren

Chapter Nine

What the hell was that?

Truth be told, Harry had been wondering some version of that question since he and Theo had cast together in the goblins’ cavern. But it hadn’t been as clear and intricate as what they had done in the Unspeakables’ room at the Ministry.

That had been speaking directly into each other’s minds. That had been…

Wondrous.

If Harry was ever asked to explain what the hell the thing between him and Theo was, maybe he could give that answer.

“Harry?”

Harry turned around as he heard the door shut behind Theo. He’d spent the day brewing at their shop, which was open now on any day when the goblins didn’t have a curse-breaking job for them. It was inconvenient, their customers complained, but they kept coming back, and so far, Theo hadn’t mentioned moving their shop to Diagon Alley, as Harry had thought he might once they became a little more respectable.

Theo sat down on the chair across from him and looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry cleared his throat. “The goblins agreed with us that the Unspeakables were at fault, and made them pay up. They transferred our share of the Galleons to the account today.”

“I knew they would.”

“So that’s not what you wanted to discuss?” Harry could taste something like mint in his mouth, could feel his heart pounding so fast in his ears that it sounded like one continuous hum.

“You know it’s not.” Theo’s voice was gentle, and he nodded to the chair at the opposite end of the table. “Sit down, Harry. We do need to talk about this, and I still promise that I won’t hurt you.”

Harry wanted to snap that Theo held a unique power to hurt him, now, given that their connection went deeper than the marriage link he’d had with Ginny. But he took a deep breath, pulled his chair out, and sat.

Theo leaned forwards, his elbows on the table, eyes locked on Harry’s. Harry wanted to make some joke about how Theo’s father would probably get upset with him for his lack of manners, but the moment he met Theo’s gaze, their minds swirled into each other’s, and in seconds, Harry knew that Theo’s father had never commented on such a thing. He would simply stare until Theo took his elbows off the table.

I’m sorry, Harry murmured.

Don’t be. I knew what he was from the time I was very young, and I managed to live with it. And if I hadn’t, if I had been a different person, perhaps we wouldn’t have—

This was a word spoken by both of them at once, and then the connection whirled and blazed into being between them again. Harry gasped, a thick sound that came out of Theo’s throat, and the magic divided and cascaded through them in two burning streams. Harry’s hands were twitching with the desire to reach out and touch, but Theo did it first, sliding a hand across the table and clasping Harry’s.

The magic blasted through them and blew them away.

Later, Harry found it so hard to describe that he didn’t know what to say. There was the magic, pouring through them, joining them, showing them each other’s memories and emotions without judgment. Theo knew about Harry’s childhood and the cupboard and the hunger and the wrenching loneliness, something Harry had never even told Ron and Hermione, when he realized the Dursleys would never love him no matter what he did. Harry knew about Theo’s father, and the long cold evenings, and how fires couldn’t heat the rooms at Nott House no matter what, so Theo would fall asleep dreaming of his dead mother, his only memory of her warm touch.

There was before, and there was after.

Harry shuddered as he broke free, slumping against the side of the table, panting. Theo’s hand slid out of his, and Harry immediately wanted it back. But he knew the bond would flare to life between them again if that happened, and they did need to talk about it. With an effort, he focused his eyes on Theo’s, but on the bridge of his nose, as if Theo was a Legilimens and Harry was trying to avoid having him read his mind.

No point now.

It felt wrong to have the thought echo inside his head, alone, by itself, with no immediately answering thought.

Theo’s eyes were blown wide, and his hand twitched on the table as if his urge to reach out and reforge the connection was only a little less strong than Harry’s. Harry bit his lip and settled back in his chair.

“What is that?” he whispered.

“Something that I thought was only a story,” Theo said. “The connection between two wizards or witches that allows them to cast through each other, and…read each other’s thoughts, apparently, although the stories I’ve heard never mentioned that as a side-effect. It’s unique to us, for all I know. We’re each other’s Living Wands.”

“It’s so much more than that.”

“The name is less than glamourous, I grant you—”

“But we can connect our minds just by looking into each other’s eyes, Theo. How common is that?”

Theo paused, then canted his head. Harry watched him, thinking that he knew, that he remembered, exactly what Theo would have looked like doing that in school, and watching himself in the mirror to see if some of his expressions passed his father’s muster. “Not common. It might be if both members of the bond were Legilimens.”

“But neither of us is.” That was something Harry knew for sure now, after his sojourn in Theo’s mind.

Theo shook his head. “No. I actually don’t know why we connected like that. If it was similarity in our magic, we would have noticed that before the day in the goblin cavern, given how often we’ve been close to each other, casting spells.”

“Do you think it’s something the ritual forged?”

Theo sat still, and Harry watched the creases around his eyes and thought about what he was thinking about. “Perhaps something the ritual brought into being,” Theo said at last.

“I don’t get the distinction.”

“The ritual forging it would have meant that we have this connection because of the ritual,” Theo said patiently. Harry would have been irritated by the patience in his voice a month ago, but that was before—this. And before he knew how often Theo was sincerely patient with the world around him. “And like I said, I think we would have noticed it before now if that was the case. The time we spent together, the magic we cast next to each other…you probably would have improved at Potions…”

Harry rolled his eyes back. “Yes, yes, funny. But the ritual bringing it into being?”

“It means that it set up the circumstances for it to happen, and we played into it.”

“That makes it sound like we didn’t have a choice.”

“We did,” Theo said, and his fingers twitched again as if he wanted to reach out and clutch at Harry’s. Harry managed a weak smile, and Theo managed one back after a moment. “We could have lived separately after we came back. We didn’t have to stay together. Yes, we’re the only two who remember what really happened, who know what we came back to do, but so what? We could have left the country, or you could have applied to the Aurors again…”

Harry shook his head fiercely. “I couldn’t.”

“There’s no saying that you would have ended up working closely with anyone you knew."

"Yes, but I didn’t want to leave you…oh.”

“Exactly. Oh.” Theo gave him one of those thin smiles that Harry was coming to like and understand, now that he knew they were often a cover for some deeper emotion, and that Theo often felt those emotions. “We stayed together, and we solved problems together, until we ran into that problem where we decided to act together by you lending me your magic.”

“So you think if we had drifted apart, we would never have had this?”

“No, we wouldn’t. Or if we had stayed dedicated to the memories of our wives.”

Harry swallowed. He did feel guilty about moving on from Ginny what seemed so fast, but on the other hand…

He had the memory of those dreadful months when their marriage was falling apart because of Al’s death, and sleeping apart from her, and the desperation to do something. And he had worked as hard as he could to tell himself that he would probably never become friends with her in this timeline, and even if he did, they would never be as close. How could they be? She had her husband.

He hadn’t known that he had succeeded so well, that his attempts to move on mentally and emotionally had worked.

“What about you and Elizabeth?” he asked quietly.

“She won me because she knew me,” Theo said quietly. “Knew and understood me, and loved me anyway. I thought there was no one else who would ever do that. Either they would fall for the surface I projected, the way most of the other Slytherins did, or they would know me and recoil. But now, there’s you.”

The words rang in the room like dropped Galleons. Harry lowered his eyes.

“We can continue working together,” Theo went on, his voice so gentle that Harry shivered. “Casting magic together. I think I’d have to insist on that, even if you were more upset about this than you’re acting you are.”

Harry swallowed air and looked up. “I’m not upset.”

Theo held his gaze until the rush of the connection began between them again, then looked away and nodded.

“And the other option that you’re hinting at?” Harry might understand Theo better than he ever had anyone else, but he still wanted him to say it.

“We become lovers.”

Harry choked on the air this time. That was much more honest than he’d expected Theo to be.

Theo leaned forwards, his face intent. “Think about it, Harry. I don’t want to be without that kind of connection, without sex, for the rest of my life. I was just resigned to it because I didn’t think I could ever find someone who saw through to my soul, and I’d honestly rather go without sex than sleep with someone who’s doing it for pleasure or money. But now we have each other, and holy Merlin, Harry, I want you. Can you imagine what it’s going to feel like if we’re touching each other’s minds when we come?”

Harry could feel his cock stirring as he sat there, and the stunned look on his face must have been answer enough. Theo’s smile stretched, pleased.

“I didn’t—I didn’t anticipate anything like this when we came back.”

“Neither did I. Like I said, this kind of connection isn’t even supposed to be possible outside of children’s stories.”

“But you want it anyway.”

Theo nodded slowly. “Now that I know it’s possible, I want it. And if you’re going to tell me that you don’t, well, I’ll just accuse you of lying, frankly.”

Harry sat back and wished that one of them had thought it worthwhile to spend some of their new Galleons on a bottle of Firewhisky. He could have used the burn in his throat to distract him from the burning of what felt like unshed tears in his eyes.

“Harry?”

“Let me—just give me some time to think about it, Theo,” Harry said hoarsely, and stood up, and swallowed, and made his way to the edge of the wards on the flat, and Apparated.

- - - -

It made sense, Harry told himself defensively, that he had ended up outside the Burrow. It was Sunday, the day that he and Ginny and the kids had been most likely to visit Molly and Arthur. And since it was the Christmas hols, Jamie would be home from Hogwarts.

And it made sense, he told himself, that the Burrow’s wards felt him and sparked, watching him with that intent, half-aware sentience that powerful wards had. He wasn’t the same as the replica created by the ritual. He wasn’t welcome here anymore because he wasn’t Harry Potter.

Harry closed his eyes and slumped against a tree over the hill from the Burrow, listening to the sounds of delighted laughter and chatter and forks clashing against plates that the wards didn’t prevent from reaching him. Okay, and that he might also have used spells on his hearing to enhance.

He needed…

He needed someone. He had thought that perhaps he could just exist by himself or with Theo for the rest of his life. He had told himself it would be disloyal to Ginny’s memory to take a lover. She might never know, she might be content with the replica of her husband who had taken Harry’s place—and why shouldn’t she be, when he was the same as Harry in every single way except for recent memories?—but Harry would know.

But now, he had a chance to have something deep, that would sustain him.

And he felt as though he should reject it. He should spend longer mourning Ginny and the kids, even though he knew that he would never have been able to be part of their lives again no matter what happened. He should be the kind of good and noble and brave person who would never have formed this connection with the son of a Death Eater, whether or not Theo had ever taken the Mark.

Maybe he should be.

But he wasn’t.

Theo wasn’t the only one who had changed in the months since they had created the other timeline.

Harry turned and walked away from the Burrow’s wards, which relaxed behind him. When he was distant enough that no one would hear the crack, he Apparated again.

- - - -

Sometime between when he left and when he came back, Theo had found Firewhisky, after all. Harry sighed and slung his cloak over the back of his chair, collapsing into it and sitting across from Theo, who eyed him a little warily.

“No fair having Firewhisky and not sharing it,” he said.

“If you think you need liquid courage to make your decision about the connection between us—”

“Hardly. I’ve made it. We’ve used it during our jobs, and it would be stupid to deny it now.”

Theo sagged back in his chair, his mouth falling open a little. Harry stared at him. “You thought I would reject it?”

“I thought you would think you should be loyal to your past even if I didn’t feel that way.” Theo rubbed his hand over his face. “Yeah, I thought there was at least the chance you were going to reject it.”

Harry allowed himself to really look at Theo. Of course, every line of Theo’s face was familiar to him after the months they’d spent in the flat together, and the way his clothes hung on his frame was something Harry knew as well as Theo’s disgusting tendency to put mustard on his eggs when he could get it. But he hadn’t really looked at how Theo’s dark hair curled over his forehead, or how long his limbs were, or how pointed his chin was, or how his eyes got a darker grey as he stared at Harry.

“Yeah?” Theo whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry said, and got up, and walked around the table.

Theo was already surging out of the chair to meet him halfway. Harry wrapped his arms around Theo’s shoulders and leaned in to kiss him, and the connection flared up between them again and stole his breath.

Theo fed his intense fear about where Harry had been going when he Apparated into the bond, and Harry shared his memories of the Burrow and how he knew that he couldn’t go back. They cared about the ones they loved living more than they cared about those loved ones remaining theirs, and the bond flowed between them like blood or a potion, thick and barely contained in its boundaries. They were together as they staggered back to the table and sat in one chair, half-collapsed into each other, half in each other’s laps, still kissing but also with their minds fused far more than their bodies could be.

Harry drew back at last and rested his chin on Theo’s shoulder. Theo gently stroked his hair and waited for him to speak.

“I—I need something more than just tumbling into bed together,” Harry whispered to him. “That’s just the way I’m built, I reckon. I need a few dates, at least, and thinking and talking about things aren’t just work or magic or how to make money.”

Theo laughed softly. “I’d never deny you that, Harry. I think we can manage.”

“Did you—did you go on dates in the past?”

“Not so much with Elizabeth. We had really intense conversations, and neither of us wanted to have them in public.” Theo stuck his fingers into Harry’s hair and pulled down, and Harry writhed, gasping. He hadn’t known that he loved having his hair pulled like that—or part of him had, but not consciously. Theo must have picked up on it through the bond. “And you, with Weasley?”

“During sixth year,” Harry admitted quietly. “After that—not so much.”

“Interesting. Why?”

Harry might have hesitated, but he knew Theo, now, from the bond, and he knew that Theo wouldn’t either hurt him or use the information against Ginny. “Don’t know, really,” he said, and shifted around until he was in a slightly more comfortable position on Theo’s lap. It was only during their intense connection that he could ignore bodily discomfort. “It was like—everyone expected us to get married, we knew we were going to get married, so we skipped right over some of the preliminary steps and settled into the life we were always going to have.”

“And the rebuilding of Hogwarts and the aftermath of the war didn’t get in the way?”

“Well, I mean, of course we had to do them—”

“But you were devoting so much time and energy to them that you didn’t have enough left to go on dates?”

Harry opened his mouth, then slowly closed it. He wouldn’t have framed it that way, but perhaps Theo was on to something, at that.

He thought back, as clearly as he could with seventeen years’ worth of memories in the way, to those days immediately after the war. He’d been so busy, he wondered that he’d found time to breathe or eat. Funerals to attend, Hogwarts to rebuild, friends to reassure, trials to testify at, walks to take in the middle of Diagon Alley so that people could see the Boy-Who-Lived was still alive, George to sit with, Molly to comfort, Hermione to support when she went to Australia in search of her parents, Ginny to cuddle now and then when she wanted to talk about Fred, his NEWTS to prepare for…

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, that was it.”

Theo smoothed a hand up the middle of his back. “I don’t mind waiting,” he said, and laughed a little when Harry pulled back to raise an eyebrow at Theo’s swollen groin, which he could easily feel pushing against his. “No, I mean it. I never had that kind of dating relationship, either, and it would be nice to know that this isn’t going to just fizzle and burn out between us. To have one way in which we’re ordinary, we time travelers.”

Harry smiled and stroked a hand down the back of Theo’s neck, partially to watch the way his eyelashes fluttered. “That’s more like it,” he murmured.

“Good.” Theo smiled at him.

“Think we can make the dating thing work?”

“Now that we have money? Sure.”

Harry laughed in delight at the reminder of how practical Theo was, and then leaned in and let himself be caught up in the waves of pleasure that resounded through both of them as they kissed.

They could do this. The unshakeable confidence that was the two of them in mental contact said so.