lomonaaeren

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Part Four

“So Nott is your soulmate? As in Theodore Nott?”

“It could be worse. It could be Demetrius.”

Ron fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “I need a moment. Don’t mind me.”

His voice was faint. Harry snorted and went on dressing for his date. Nott had asked him to wear sturdy robes and dragonhide boots. Harry was a little intrigued. That at least suggested they wouldn’t be going to some fancy restaurant with more forks than food as their date.

On the other hand, maybe they were and Nott thought Harry would need the protection from everyone determined to cast curses at him.

Ron finally sat up and sighed as he watched Harry straighten the fall of his thick red robes, also lined with dragonhide. “Are you going to accept him?”

“I don’t know.” Harry met Ron’s eyes in the mirror. His friend looked unusually serious. “That rejection bloody hurt, you know? I really did want to do everything I could to get him to like me. I asked if I could bring him a gift. I asked to get to know him. And he ignored me and sneered about how he didn’t want to be in the public eye.”

“Do you think he’s actually changed for the better?”

“We’ll find out in a few minutes,” Harry said, and went off to stamp his feet into the new dragonhide boots.

*

Potter looked glorious.

Theo was well-aware that other people, like Blaise (whom he wouldn’t kiss again unless this thing with Potter didn’t work out) and Draco, would disagree with him. But he was entitled to his own opinion. It was difficult to keep his eyes away from Potter in his swirling flame-colored robes and the curious, intent expression on his face as they hiked up the twisting stone path Theo had Apparated them to the foot of.

That was its own kind of trust, letting Theo Apparate him. Theo was trying to show his appreciation in his quiet glances at Potter and his tentative smiles, willing to let Potter be the one who came to his own decisions about Theo.

“We couldn’t Apparate to the top?”

Theo cast a spell that gently pushed back the branches of the conifers ahead. They were coming to the part of the trail where those thinned out and only bare grey and white stone stretched ahead. “You feel the wards?”

Potter tilted his head, closing his eyes. “What—oh, yes! Those are subtle, aren’t they?”

“Bound to those who carry the magical signature of the Nott family, yes.”

Potter hesitated for the first time, turning to face Theo. The faint sunlight made his face look even more handsome, and painfully earnest. “I—I have to admit, if we’re going to a place that your father conducted Death Eater rituals or something like that, I don’t want to see it. No offense, Nott.”

There was brittleness in his voice on those last words. Theo ducked his head in recognition. “Nothing like that,” he said softly. “This is something else. Something special. Believe me, you’ll understand when you see it.’

Potter gave him a long, searching glance, but at last nodded and started walking in front of Theo on the trail. Theo ignored the temptation to stare at his arse. It was too early for that, frankly.

And if Potter knew it, he might not like it.

They scrambled up the last scree slope, and around a tree that had been planted there. The wards fed it and protected it, since the wind would otherwise have knocked it over long ago, or it would have died of thirst. Theo paused with his hand on the trunk as he watched Potter stare at the carved stone in front of them.

Alanna Nott, 1930-1984. From the wind into the fire.

Potter took what sounded like a complicated breath, and glanced back at Theo. “Your mother?”

“Yes.” Theo completed the climb and stood beside Potter, looking at Mother’s grave instead of him. The headstone was grey and white, like most of the stone on the mountain, carved from it. Other than he words, it was ornamented only with carved flames. “She was a pyromancer.”

“A—someone who sees the future in fire?”

“Mostly, but also someone who works with fire in all its forms.” Theo stared at the stone and spoke words he had never spoken to anyone, even Father. “I used to hope I’d inherited her talent. I wanted to do the same things she did. But she—she couldn’t control it, in the end. She invited too much fire into her body in the name of doing an experiment I’m not even sure she understood. She burned up from the inside.”

Silence. Aching silence. They stared at the stone and said nothing.

Then Potter’s hand found his.

Theo closed his eyes. It seemed he hadn’t made a mistake after all in deciding to trust Potter with his secrets. The silence and companionship beside him were all that he had wanted.

Potter said gently. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

Theo didn’t sway sideways so their shoulders could brush, but he wanted to.

*

“He took you to his mother’s grave for a first date? That’s—Harry, honestly, it sounds like he might need a Mind-Healer.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Harry kicked his legs up on the stool and sighed softly. Ron and Hermione’s flat always seemed warmer than his was, although they had fireplaces the same size and Harry was perfectly handy with a Warming Charm. It was probably just the impact of multiple people living here.

“You wouldn’t be surprised? And yet you want to date him?”

Hermione was leaning forwards, looking concerned. Harry sipped at his mulled wine—it was an unusually cold day for July—and shook his head. “Not that way, Hermione. I mean that I wouldn’t be surprised if he had trauma from the war that he really should go to a Mind-Healer about. But his showing me his mother’s grave wasn’t about that. It was about showing me something that I could have used to hurt him.”

“How? You said it was protected by wards, you couldn’t have told someone where it was or had them damage it—”

“With words, Hermione,” Harry said, slightly amused. She was smart about so many things, but she wasn’t seeing the truth about this.

Then again, she hasn’t spent nearly as much time thinking about Nott as I have.

“Nott hurt Harry with his rejection, so Nott gave Harry the power to hurt him in return,” said Ron, and pointed a finger at Hermione as she flushed. “Ha! Who has the emotional range of a teaspoon now?”

They started bickering. Harry leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, smiling a little goofily. It was just as well that they didn’t see it.

Yes, their first date had been a little strange. But Harry would have probably politely refused a second date if they had gone to a fancy restaurant or to a dance like some of the other people he’d dated had invited him to.

Those were perfectly fine dates for people who were just starting out together and exploring a possible future between them. But not for people who were tangled together as heavily as he and Nott were.

Nott was acknowledging it. Admitting that he had hurt Harry.

Making peace.

Harry sipped his drink and was happy.

*

“I have to admit, I didn’t even know Diagon Alley had a botanical garden.”

Theo stood back and watched Potter turn slowly in the middle of the garden. This particular one was the Nightingale Court, which was permanently in either dusk or dawn, thanks to clever charms that Theo could barely sense. The grass around them whispered with a chorus of frogs, and a nightingale, true to its name, sang somewhere in the trees.

Potter paced forwards a step and fell on one knee beside a cluster of white flowers, bending his head over to sniff at them. Theo stared at the nape of his neck and then told himself, rudely, to snap out of it.

You have it bad. Or you’re starting to get it bad, and you know that he could still reject you.

Theo had thought, after they’d visited Mother’s grave, that he didn’t have to fear rejection so much, because if Potter did it, he would do it as kindly as he’d come on the walk. But now, Theo was starting to fear rejection simply because he didn’t want it.

Not from Potter.

“These smell—I thought they were moonflowers, but I’ve smelled those before, and these aren’t them.”

“They’re kin to moonflowers,” Theo said, and there must have been a pulse of some sort of emotion in his voice, because Potter turned to him with narrowed eyes. “Full moon flowers. They’re used in some potions that are meant to help werewolves weather the pain of the transformation.”

Potter’s eyes widened. “I knew about Wolfsbane, of course, but it sounds like you’re saying there are multiple potions?”

Theo nodded. “Most of them developed in the last few years, and outside magical Britain, because they need ingredients we don’t have here. And, well, the Ministry has largely declared them illegal.”

“Why?”

A delicious warmth spread through Theo. Potter was asking his opinion. Potter was listening to him, not doubting what Theo had to say out of hand just because it was Theo saying it.

I want to talk to him. I want to listen. I want him to listen.

For right now, he could answer the question. “Because the potions use blood, and the scales from Norwegian Ridgebacks. Trade in dragon parts is restricted. But most of the dealers on the Continent are honest, if you look closely enough.” Theo had, because Potions was his second favorite subject after Arithmancy, and he’d followed the development of the Wolf’s Helper with interest. “The Ministry got too suspicious after one unethical dealer was arrested in 1990.”

“I suppose there is a benefit to spending all your time immersed in intellectual circles,” Potter murmured.

And he was looking at Theo with admiration. At him.

Theo swallowed and told himself not to act the fool, or he would ruin the gift he’d brought Potter here to give him. He coughed and said, “One particular potion, the Wolf’s Helper, lets the werewolves who take it transform without pain as well as hold on to their minds in wolf form.”

“Shit, really? I reckon it’s ungodly expensive, though.”

Potter looked wistful. Theo stepped forwards and pulled out a vial and a twisted silk handkerchief from his robe pocket.

“For you.”

Potter took the gifts with a refreshing lack of suspicion, although he also looked bewildered. He held up the vial to the glamoured light of a full moon overhead and tilted it back and forth.

Then he looked sharply at Theo. “Norwegian Ridgeback scales?”

Theo smiled at him.

Potter opened the handkerchief. The full moon flowers inside expanded to their normal size and filled the air with their scent, like a combination of honey and animal musk.

“Add a little blood, and a few common ingredients, and you can brew your own.”

Potter let out a huge huff, staring at the ingredients with wide eyes. Theo shifted when a full minute had passed and he hadn’t said anything or looked up.

“It’s illegal to import the ingredients or the potion or sell it, but I didn’t think you would sell it. Just give it to the werewolves who depend on A Friend in Need—”

Potter looked up. Theo stopped talking at the look in his eyes. Potter moved forwards and raised a hand, moving delicately, as if he thought it was possible to startle Theo off. His hand came to rest on Theo’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Potter whispered. He was practically glowing.

Theo shivered. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was probably too soon for a kiss, as much as he would have liked one.

Potter seemed to think the same thing. He stepped back with a little smile that grew darker and deeper as Theo stared at it, enthralled.

“You’re doing pretty well, Nott. Keep it up.”

They left the Nightingale Court to visit different parts of the garden after Potter had tucked his gifts away. Theo kept sneaking little glances at Potter, and meeting his eyes accidentally because Potter was sneaking little glances at him. Theo shook with something that he wouldn’t call desire, exactly, but only because it was too sweet.

On his wrist, the name seemed to throb like a heart.

*

“Of course I agree that it was ridiculous to try and restrict Arithmancy to fourth-years, Mr. Potter, but why should we add more classes?”

Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled at Headmistress McGonagall. She had invited him to call her Minerva, but it was hard to get used to thinking of her that way—especially when she was sitting behind her wide desk, frowning at him.

“Because there are things that we don’t teach and children will want to learn,” Harry said simply. “Things like the Muggle and Magical Studies that I’ve already talked to the Board of Governors about. But also, something like a preparatory Potions class could help students who come from Muggle homes and have no experience with things like dicing ingredients. Learning to recognize ingredients would help, too. Flying classes that extend beyond first-year lessons. A specific Countercurses class, for those who want to become Aurors and the like. Classes in alchemy, music, specialties like glamours—”

“Who’s going to pay for all this, Mr. Potter? You do realize we have a budget?”

Harry grinned. He’d lost his temper with Lucius Malfoy last week, and although he’d regretted it at first, it had turned out that threatening to tell everyone about the business with the diary was good for something.

He took out a shrunken trunk from his robe pocket and resized it with a tap of his wand. McGonagall blinked at him, and again when Harry tilted the lid back and showed off the enormous pile of Galleons inside.

“I reckon this is enough to pay for class materials and professors’ salaries for, oh, about ten years.”

*

“Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right? I’m happy.”

“I’ve learned not to believe everything I see.”

Potter turned a dazzling smile on Theo. Theo caught his breath, and then realized that it was entirely unconscious on Potter’s part. To him, it really was just a smile.

I wonder if he ever realizes that people who come up to him all flustered really are doing it because of him and not his fame?

“I got one over on Lucius the other week,” Potter said.

“Do tell.”

Potter leaned back with a laugh. They were in one of the informal sitting rooms at Nott’s Eyrie, done in soft shades of grey and with actually comfortable furniture. The elves were keeping them supplied with food of all sorts, including marzipan, which Theo had never seen except at Christmas.

Potter had asked a few questions about how Theo and his father treated the elves, but had seemed satisfied with Theo’s answers. Father had given Potter a narrow-eyed look when he first came out of the Floo and then given Theo a swift nod of approval while Potter was gaping at some of their tapestries.

“I got angry at him because he’s still being a stubborn twat,” Potter began, and Theo laughed, just because the word was perfect.

He looked up to see that Potter had frozen and was staring at him.

“What?”

“You laughed.”

“Did you—not want me to?”

Theo asked the question as casually as he could, but his heartbeat had picked up speed. He kept remembering what Potter had said about “one mistake.”

“I just haven’t heard you do it like that. That’s all. As if you mean it.”

Potter had ducked his head so that his chin rested on his shoulder and was looking at Theo from beneath his eyelashes. Theo felt his mouth go dry.

“I like laughing around you.”

Potter’s cheeks turned pink, the way it always seemed Theo’s were doing around Potter. It was nice to know that Theo could make him feel like that. In fact, it spread through Theo as a pulse of dizzying power.

I’m doing this. I’m actually making him blush.

“So what did you do to get one over on Malfoy?” Theo asked, because at this rate he thought he might never find out.

Potter smiled at him. “I got angrier and angrier, because he’s so stubborn about blood prejudice, and finally yelled that I should just tell everyone that he’s always been like this and that he was the one who put the diary in the school our second year.”

“The what?”

“There was a diary with a shard of Voldemort’s soul in it that possessed a student and made them open the Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk that was inside came out and Petrified people. But Malfoy was the one who ultimately caused it.”

Theo sat staring at Potter and wondered if he would ever find words again.

Potter shrugged. “I’m not surprised that it’s not more widely known. Anyway, Malfoy went whiter than he usually is. I ended up blackmailing him almost accidentally, and got a nice donation for Hogwarts out of it.” He grinned.

“Thank you for telling me,” Theo whispered, aware that it was a gesture of trust, although part of his mind was still stuck on diaries and possession and shards of a soul. Also basilisks, couldn’t forget that.

“I wondered if I should.”

“Why? Because it’s a secret?”

“Because I thought you might disapprove.”

Theo gaped at him for a moment, and then shook his head. “I don’t know for sure what your other friends would feel, but I hope I can call myself your friend, and—and I don’t care, Potter. I think it’s brilliant.”

“That’s what I thought you would say.”

Theo blinked, his mind finally leaving the events of second year behind. Potter was leaning forwards from his chair, his eyes so bright that Theo thought he could use them to find his way on a moonless night. “What?”

“I thought you might disapprove, but I also thought you were likely to approve.” Potter shrugged and leaned back, grinning. “Mostly because you gave me the full moon flowers and the scales, and that says you have no problem with illegal things in a good cause.”

“I have no problem with illegal things if you’re doing them. Or if I’m doing them for you.”

Potter’s eyes widened. Theo looked back at him, thinking that statement was no more profound than others he’d said before, but it seemed that Potter saw it that way.

“Theo.”

Theo had to shut his eyes at the way Potter sighed his name. “Yes?”

“Call me Harry.”

Theo shivered and opened his eyes. Potter had risen from his seat and walked over to stand next to Theo’s chair. His eyes were still wide, and he bent down as though he were going to pluck full moon flowers.

He kissed Theo instead, and Theo arched up into it, feeling as though someone was plucking all the strings of his soul.