lomonaaeren

“Why were you spending time with Nott of all people, Harry?”

Harry doesn’t want to tell Ron and Hermione about the potion, even though they’re both staring at him anxiously in the common room. It might make him seem pathetic. Or they might lecture him about how brewing a potion like that is an artificial means of finding a friend, or a date, and he should do it more naturally.

Or he might not want to do it just because it’s his private business.

“Because he and I started studying together, so we’re friends now,” Harry chooses to say.

“Harry—he’s a Slytherin—”

“Not a Death Eater, though.” Harry’s never glimpsed Nott’s bare left arm to be sure, but he’s virtually certain of that, with the way that Nott spends time by himself, with the way that he sometimes hints about his father, and most of all because he never could have trusted a Death Eater and he’s pretty sure the potion wouldn’t have shown him Nott’s face if the boy was.

“It doesn’t matter!” Ron waves his hand and comes near to knocking into Hermione’s face. “How can you trust someone who thinks blood purity matters, who would have called Hermione nasty names—”

“He never called her a name,” Harry snaps. He’s at least certain of that. He would have remembered that.

“He laughed when Malfoy was snickering about her!”

Harry shakes his head. “And that was years ago.” He has to assume it is, because he honestly has no memory of what Ron’s talking about. “He hasn’t made a single blood purist comment in the time that I’ve spent with him.”

“Harry.” Hermione reaches towards him, while keeping one hand on Ron’s arm, probably so he doesn’t go spouting off again. “We’re just worried about you, can’t you see? Spending time with Nott isn’t what—you do.”

Her voice trails off, maybe because Harry is looking at her with his eyebrow raised. Harry shakes his head a little. “It’s not what I would have done before the war, because we were all different people then. It’s what I do now. We study together, and we duel, and we help each other.”

“But why aren’t you spending time with us?”

“I do,” Harry says. “Chess tournaments in the common room, meals, classes, most of my homework—”

“You didn’t spend any time with us on Sunday!”

“How much time were you in the Tower or the Great Hall on Sunday? Or even the library? As opposed to whatever private place you’ve found to snog?”

Hermione turns bright red. Ron looks proud of himself for a moment before he seems to remember that they’re arguing, and huffs a little, pointing a finger at Harry.

“You just needed to say that you wanted to spend more time with us!”

“You’re dating,” Harry says as peacefully as he can. “I don’t want to tag along on your dates. Or your snogging,” he adds, mostly to watch Hermione turn even redder. “If I thought Nott was bad news, I wouldn’t be spending time with him. Can’t you see that I can make my own friends, too, and my judgment isn’t that suspect?”

He thinks he sounds a little desperate by the end, which isn’t great, but at least it makes Hermione turn thoughtful. Ron grumbles to himself, swears a little, and finally nods.

“Okay, Harry. Okay. But you would turn away from him if he ever started acting like a blood purist or an idiot, wouldn’t you?”

“If he started acting like a blood purist, of course. But where would I be if I stopped being friends with everyone who’s a bit of an idiot?”

“Oi!”

Harry grins and leans back to bask in the sound of Ron complaining. Everything really is all right.

*

“That was a good one,” Harry says, after he finally manages to counter the Tooth-Growing Hex Nott cast at him. Harry never thought of how distracting it would be in a fight, as opposed to just being mean to someone. He stretches and unbuttons his robe to wipe at the sweat on his chest without thinking about it.

“Potter.”

Nott sounds a little strangled. Harry glances up, and finds Nott’s gaze locked on him. He looks down, and finds that Nott is staring at the scar the locket left on him.

Oh.

Harry grimaces and drops his robe back in place. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

“Why not?”

Harry glances at Nott, more than a little startled. Nott’s eyes are wide, his voice low and thick. His eyes are still locked on the robe, the place where the scar was.

“I mean…” Harry makes a vague gesture. “Because it’s ugly as shit?”

“What caused it?”

“A Dark artifact I was destroying to help destroy Voldemort—sorry, You-Know-Who,” Harry adds, as he sees Nott flinch.

Nott takes a deep breath and shakes himself like a dog coming out of water. “I ought to get used to the name, if I am going to be spending time with you,” he mutters, and summons up a ghost of a smile for Harry. “It’s courageous of you to say it.”

Harry blinks. He feels as if he’s swallowed an entire flask of Firewhisky. “Thanks, Nott.”

“And that’s another thing that should change,” Nott says, bringing his hand down with a meaty slap against his own arm. “If we’re going to be spending this much time together, call me Theo.”

“Harry,” Harry whispers. He can’t take his eyes from Nott-Theo. His dark hair is tousled from their duel, and his eyes, a deep hazel, shimmer as if they’re pools leading into his dreams. “I—thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me permission to use your first name. For not running out of the room screaming when I said Voldemort.” Theo jumps, but crosses his arms and stands still. “For spending so much time with me. For dueling me. For being you.”

Theo’s eyes widen. For a moment, Harry thinks that he might have crossed another line and said more than Theo bargained for. But Theo takes a step towards him, eyes darting back and forth between Harry’s face and his chest.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing your scars. More than the famous one.”

Theo’s voice is as deep as his eyes, and part of Harry revels in it. He reaches out, letting his hand hover in the air so that he doesn’t make too much of a demand on Theo, and Theo crosses the stones in between them with a light step and clasps Harry’s wrist.

Harry loses track of how long they stand there, wild tingles racing up his hand from where Theo has hold of it, until Theo clears his throat abruptly and drops Harry’s hand.

“I don’t know about you,” Theo says, dipping his head a little, “but I am—disinclined to let anyone else know about this until we’ve decided for ourselves what it is.”

Harry smiles at him in wonder. That’s the kind of thing he once would have thought only a Gryffindor would have the courage to say. But if this little experiment has taught him anything, it’s that Houses mean less than nothing.

He shivers at the thought that he might have never got to know Theo because he’s in Slytherin. He shivers because Theo is standing near him.

“Okay,” Harry breathes.

“You—don’t want to tell your friends?”

“They already know that we’re friends. They don’t need to know anything more than that until we decide for ourselves, like you said.”

Theo blinks and stares at him. This time, Harry is the one who’s made the leap, and who might be falling without wings, but he doesn’t take the words back and Theo doesn’t deny him, and they stand there, while desire spins a thickening cord between them.

“All right,” Theo whispers. “Although I would like to meet up on the next Hogsmeade visit, if that’s something you want to do.”

“I’d like that,” Harry blurts out.

Theo hesitates, and then reaches out once more, skimming his fingers over Harry’s pulse point in his throat. He leaves his hand there for an echoing, lingering, endless moment, then withdraws it as abruptly as if burned, and turns and glides around Harry for the door.

Harry watches him go, and smiles a little to himself. He’s going to have someone to date. Someone he really likes. Someone who he really enjoys spending time with.

Someone who has a really fine arse, which doesn’t hurt at all.

*

“You’re sure, Harry?”

Harry sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose as he turns to face Romilda Vane. They’re just outside Tomes and Scrolls, where Harry went looking for a book on Arithmancy, and now Romilda is standing with her hands clasped together and her eyes focused hopefully on him.

“Yes. I’m meeting someone here, and I don’t want to spend the day with you.”

Romilda flinches as if Harry punched her. Then she takes a deep breath and blurts out, “I can duel them!”

“What?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry can see Theo leaning against the side of the Hog’s Head, out of Romilda’s line of view, laughing so hard that he looks in danger of collapse. He’s probably cast a Silencing Charm on himself to avoid being noticed. Harry scowls. Cheating bastard.

“I can duel them for your affections!” Romilda spins her wand between her fingers and does her best to stand up tall. She wouldn’t even reach Theo’s shoulders. “To show you that I want you and I’ll fight for you!”

“Romilda, I mean this in the nicest possible way,” Harry says, and reaches out to put a hand on Romilda’s shoulder. This time, he sees Theo stop laughing and straighten. “They would probably crush you into the ground.”

Theo looks outraged. Probably? he mouths.

Harry nods emphatically. Theo scowls at him.

“I could—I could still try,” Romilda says in a tragic voice, and looks up at Harry through eyes swimming with tears. “I really like you, Harry. I want to be with you.”

“I’m sorry, Romilda, but I don’t like you like that.”

“And you’re sure that I can’t duel whoever this is and prove that I’m the better fighter?”

“I’m not drawn to them because they’re a good fighter,” Harry says, eyes on Theo. He drops his hand from Romilda’s shoulder, and the line of Theo’s tense body relaxes. “It’s because of everything about them. I don’t want to date anyone else.”

Theo lifts his head and stares at Harry as if he’s never seen him before.

“Oh.” Romilda droops. Then she lifts her head up and walks away as if intending to put Harry completely behind her. In a way, Harry admires that. At least it means that she won’t come back and bother him again.

“Who was she?” Theo asks as he steps up beside Harry. For a moment, his dangling hand brushes Harry’s. Harry trails his fingers across the middle of Theo’s palm and watches the blush rise.

“Oh, her name’s Romilda Vane. She was a member of Dumbledore’s Army and she really wanted to date me in our sixth year. I thought she’d given up on that, but I suppose not. At least this time she didn’t resort to a love potion.”

Harry thinks he’ll make Theo laugh, but instead, Theo turns almost to stone. He stares at Romilda’s retreating back, and then at Harry. His fingers twitch.

“Oh, come on!” Harry says. “I wasn’t going to eat what she gave me. Poor Ron ate it by mistake, and I had to take him to Slughorn to get an antidote. But people have shown me they mostly think of love potions as a laugh, so—”

“Not if it was you.”

“So you do think of love potions as a laugh, but knowing Romilda used one makes you want to kill her?” Harry frowns at Theo. “Look, you can’t have double standards like that. Either it’s wrong no matter who’s doing it or it’s not.”

“It’s more wrong if it’s you,” Theo says, and he sweeps his fingers down Harry’s face, from his forehead to his mouth.

Harry can’t help the way his breathing quickens. After a moment, Theo seems to realize how close they’re standing and the way Harry is looking at him. He moves a step back, hand clenching briefly at his side as if he regrets the loss of contact as much as Harry does.

“You’re all right?” Harry asks hoarsely, then clears his throat. He can’t go around with Theo all afternoon sounding like that. “You’re all right,” he repeats, and Theo shoots him a narrow smile and a nod.

“Yes. Where are we going first?”

“I thought that new Defense shop that’s opened. Supposedly this new book on dueling has come out, Hermione was talking all about it…”

*

And as easy as that, they’re on their first date. Harry doesn’t really care that much about books if they aren’t about Defense or dueling or something else interesting, but he does care about the way Theo’s eyes light up when they walk into the defense shop, so they spend a lot of time there and only leave when it’s early afternoon.

“I don’t suppose there’s anywhere we can go for a meal where we would be able to eat together,” Theo murmurs, tucking away a book on Arithmancy into his satchel. Harry decides that something other than Defense and dueling can look interesting, and he fully intends to borrow that book later.

“Harry?”

Harry blinks and looks up to meet Theo’s eyes, then “hears” his question for the first time. He flushes. “I might have a solution to that, as long as you don’t mind going up to eat by the Shrieking Shack.”

“No,” Theo says slowly. “I’ve never believed all the stories about it being haunted. But what do you want up there?” He’s staring at Harry as if Harry is just as fascinating as a book, and Harry basks in it.

“It was actually a werewolf who was a student that got the rumors started, not ghosts.” Harry draws Theo with him towards the right path. “But it’s a convenient, private place to have a picnic.”

“A picnic.”

Harry grins back at him. “I did come prepared, you know.”

Theo still looks doubtful, at least until they get up behind the Shack and Harry draws out a shrunken picnic basket from his robe pocket. It was easy enough to get from Kreacher. Harry sits down on the path and takes out the blanket that was on top of the food, spreading it out and shaking it.

“I’ve never had a picnic,” Theo whispers. He seems to be talking mostly to himself. He’s still staring at Harry with his forehead wrinkled.

“Then this will be a new experience.”

After a long moment when Harry starts to think that it might be too new and Theo might not want to do this, he nods and sits down beside Harry, leaning back on his elbow. He smiles, a slight one but there, as Harry spreads out plates of all different kinds of meat and cheese and vegetables, plus bread to make a sandwich.

It takes him a long, hesitant moment of watching Harry before he reaches for a jug of icy water and a glass, and then bread and mustard, but he’s participating. He’s here. He’s letting Harry…

Date him. Court him. Provide for him. Whatever.

Harry leans back on the blanket and watches the sky instead of Theo, as if he doesn’t realize what a momentous occasion this is, chattering about Quidditch and his renovation of Grimmauld Place and his godson Teddy and everything and anything else that comes to mind, as long as it doesn’t touch on the war. Only when at least ten minutes have passed does he look back at Theo.

Theo is watching him with a softened face, although someone would have to have spent as much time around him as Harry has to notice that.

But there’s no hiding the small, delighted smile.

*

“Romilda says that you aren’t dating her.”

“Uh, yes, obviously,” Harry says, looking up and blinking. He was deep in the thrall of writing an Arithmantic equation when Hermione found him, and numbers seem to still dance across the field of his vision as he looks at Hermione. “I would never date someone who tried to slip me a love potion.”

“But she says you are dating someone else.” Hermione slaps herself into the chair across from him.

“Since when do you pay attention to gossip about me, Hermione? Romilda is about as reliable as the Daily Prophet."

Hermione flicks her hand to disregard that and leans insistently forwards. “She told me about the conversation you had with her. It sounds like you do have someone in mind, not just that you were lying to get her to leave you alone.”

“Yeah, but they don’t want to go public yet.”

“You could have told us.”

Harry rolls his eyes before he can stop himself, and Hermione looks startled. “I wanted to keep it private, Hermione, and so did they. It doesn’t mean that I don’t—trust you or care about you or whatever. I just wanted something for myself.”

“You knew Ron and I were dating.”

“You were completely obvious about it! If you’d wanted to keep it private, then I wouldn’t be begging you to share.”

Hermione crosses her arms. “All right, but Romilda is gossiping about it, and that means other people will, too. I just wanted to warn you, because I think your secret is going to come out sooner rather than later.”

“And when that happens, we’ll deal with it.”

Hermione’s eyes soften abruptly. “Oh, Harry, I really am happy for you. I just worry about you. Are you sure that they’re ready for the gossip and the press attention and the people who won’t be happy about you dating anyone but them?”

Harry thinks of Theo’s silences, the way that he knows a lot about offensive spells, how he survived last year with the Carrows, and nods. “They’ve gone through worse things than this. I promise, they’re ready.”

Even if he wants to wait a little first.

Hermione leans over to hug him. “All right. Good luck, and I hope that you’ll be able to take it at your own pace.”

Harry hugs her back.

*

Theo is vicious in their next duel, sending a Bone-Breaking Hex Harry’s way that he doesn’t manage to deflect completely. Harry hisses as the bone in his right little finger breaks, and pins Theo with ropes in response. “Bloody hell, Theo, what is wrong with you?”

“I expected that you would tell me if you wanted to date someone else. That Gryffindor honesty and chivalry we’ve all heard so much about.”

“I would.” Harry eyes him, watching the way Theo struggles in the ropes, trying to reach for his wand even now. “What is this about? If Romilda Vane is telling you that I want to date her instead, I would have expected you to disbelieve her.”

“It’s the way that I saw you leaning into Weasley this morning, and hugging Granger the other day.”

“They’re my friends, Theo.”

“My friends have never done that kind of thing,” Theo snaps, and then freezes.

Harry blinks at him. Theo seems to be holding his breath. He seems to have realized that he’s revealed a lot about himself with that sentence, Harry decides. He’s waiting for Harry to react, maybe to mock him.

“I’m sorry that they haven’t,” Harry says quietly. “You deserve to be cherished in every way, Theo.”

Theo stares at him. The moment hangs, and hangs, and hangs. Harry doesn’t know what to do. He thinks that touching Theo would be too much and cause him to bolt, but…

He doesn’t want to leave Theo hanging like the moment, either.

In the end, he releases the ropes on Theo and then steps forwards and puts his arms around him before Theo can decide how to react. He keeps them loose and gentle. If Theo wants to get out of them, then Harry won’t stop him.

Theo stands there, silent and motionless, for so long that Harry thinks he’ll have to stop hugging him. But then Theo grabs Harry tight enough that Harry has to stifle a gasp and drags him closer. This near, Harry can feel him trembling.

Harry just holds him in silence, eyes closed. He knows that when they pull away and their eyes meet again, they won’t be able to talk about this easily, or to resume it. He just wants to let Theo have this.

And he has to admit, it’s pretty nice to be held himself.

Theo draws slowly back at last, his eyes hooded and distant again. But the hand that he reaches up to touch Harry’s cheek with still trembles a bit.

“Can we make a decision tomorrow on how public we want to be?” he whispers.

Harry can’t help blinking in surprise. “Of course, Theo,” he says. “I never expected that you’d want to go public any time soon, anyway. That can be entirely separate from this. It can be whatever you want.”

Theo nods, eyes so distant that Harry thinks he needs to leave the room and contemplate. But instead, he startles Harry by leaning forwards and brushing their lips together.

Harry leans in eagerly, kissing Theo back, and suddenly Theo has grabbed him again and is kissing him firmly, with tongue, in a wet way that is much better than Harry’s previous wet kiss.

Harry winds a hand in Theo’s hair and holds him there, basking in the warmth, and the fact that this warmth is coming from Theo.

*

“Not brave enough to show up today, either, huh?”

Harry rolls his eyes a little. Ron has taken to making fun of Harry’s supposed cowardly date. “They’ll do it when they’re ready, Ron.”

“You’re so cagey,” Ron complains, bumping his shoulder into Harry’s as they come down the last steps of the staircase to the entrance hall. “You won’t even say whether it’s a girl or a boy, someone we know or someone we don’t, a Gryffindor or a—”

“Slytherin.”

Harry spins towards Theo’s voice, nearly falling off the last step. Theo steps up to him, head lifted and projecting confidence and pride in a way Harry has never seen. He doesn’t even think Theo did this before the war, or Harry would have noticed him a lot sooner.

“Nott?” Ron squeaks.

“A boy, someone you didn’t know in truth, a Slytherin,” Theo says, and his eyes are locked on Harry’s. He doesn’t glance at Ron once, even though he’s speaking to him. Harry has to admit, that sends a bit of a thrill down his spine. “Someone who’s the best match for Harry, and has no intention of standing aside in case he’s claimed by someone else.”

Harry snorts and holds out his hand, allowing Theo to help him down that last stair. “I told you you had nothing to worry about.”

“I want the right to worry,” Theo breathes, guiding Harry closer. “To kiss you in public if I want, to openly study with you, to sit beside you in class, to curse your enemies.”

“Hey, we didn’t talk about cursing enemies—”

Theo kisses him again.

It’s warmer and deeper and truer than the kiss they shared in the classroom. Harry claws onto Theo’s shoulders and kisses back, trying to speak without words.

He trusts Theo. He wants Theo. He wants all the things that Theo talked about, too.

“I thought the part about cursing enemies was understood,” Theo says, drawing back and licking his lips. His mouth is shiny and his eyes fierce with satisfaction. “You’re mine. I won’t let anyone or anything take you from me.”

“That sounds a little possessive, mate!” Ron calls out.

“I am not talking to you,” Theo says, and gives Ron a look that seems to flash-freeze the air in between them.

Ron stares at them. Harry prefers to look back at Theo and drink in all the things that the potion promised him, the trust and the longing and the friendship and the strength.

The potion might have promised them, Harry thinks as he eases near enough to kiss Theo again without strain, ignoring the people gaping at them, but what’s here is all Theo, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him.

“Come on,” Theo says softly, drawing away, and they walk in to breakfast.

More people gape or gasp or simply stare stupidly at their joined hands, and more still when Theo leads Harry over to the Slytherin table. Harry grins at Malfoy’s pink face and kisses Theo especially enthusiastically when Theo leans over again.

Let everyone stare. Harry knows the value of who he has.

And the part about never letting Theo go is understood, too.

The End.