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lomonaaeren) wrote2024-04-14 09:14 pm
lomonaaeren) wrote2024-04-14 09:14 pm
[Theo/Harry Project]: A Sign Like Morning, PG-13, one-shot
Title: A Sign Like Morning
Pairing: Harry Potter/Theodore Nott
Content Notes: Eighth year, soulmate marks, mild angst
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry doesn’t know that Theodore Nott accosting him on a bright Saturday morning will change his life forever.
Author’s Notes: This one-shot is part of my “More Theo/Harry in the World Project,” Theo/Harry fics being posted to increase the numbers of my favorite pairing.
A Sign Like Morning
“Potter, wait up.”
Harry turned around, mildly curious. He’d left breakfast early and headed towards the lake because everyone was gaping at him. Sometimes it made Harry worry for their mental capacity. It was months since the war had ended, weren’t they used to him by now?
But the person hurrying towards him now, face striped with sunlight and shadow, wasn’t one of the ones who had gaped. In fact, Harry couldn’t remember that they had ever spoken, for all that Harry knew him.
“Nott?”
Nott nodded and halted in front of Harry. He was breathing a little hard, although he hadn’t run that far. Well, not everyone played Quidditch or kept up their edge with things like running away from their Muggle cousin.
“I saw a scar on your arm. I wanted to ask where you got it.”
Harry stiffened despite himself. Nott maybe wasn’t one of the ones who gaped, but one of the ones who caused gaping in other people. “A basilisk and a resurrection ritual,” he answered curtly, and turned away.
“No—please, wait.”
Harry hesitated. There was true desperation in Nott’s voice, which was both weird and somewhat compelling. Harry turned around. “If you want me to not to say that your father was at the ritual, or something…”
“My father made his choices. I’m making mine.”
There was flint-hard determination in Nott’s eyes, and Harry nodded. “Fine. But my answers aren’t going to change. A basilisk and a resurrection ritual.”
“Did it always look like that?”
Harry followed Nott’s pointing finger down to the scar that he’d got from Pettigrew’s knife, grimacing a little. It wasn’t like it was the worst of his scars or the one he had to see in the mirror every day, but he still didn’t enjoy looking at it.
He caught his breath when he saw what Nott was pointing at, though, and lifted a trembling hand to rest it against the scar. It looked like a sun, with seven sharp rays coming out of it. A rising sun, Harry wanted to say, although in truth he had no idea if it was rising or setting.
“Did it look like that, Potter?” Nott repeated, his voice strangled.
“No,” Harry breathed, tracing the scar with his finger for a moment. “It was just a knife slice, from where Pettigrew took my blood.”
“I see.”
Nott sounded shaken now. Harry lifted his eyes and took a step back, reminding himself that Nott was still a Death Eater’s son, and even if he was making his own choices, that didn’t mean they would be ones friendly to Harry. “Why do you ask, Nott?”
Nott drew his left sleeve back, watching Harry carefully. Harry tensed despite himself. If there was a Dark Mark there—
But instead, what appeared was the twin of Harry’s scar. A sun with seven sharp rays. Harry stared from the mark on his arm to the one on Nott’s, and said the first thing that came to mind. “Were we both hit by the same spell or something?”
“No.”
Harry blinked. There was such glowing warmth in Nott’s eyes that Harry felt himself flush. Nott reached out as if he was going to touch Harry’s transformed scar, but let his fingers halt just short of it.
“Have you ever heard of soulmates, Potter?”
“I mean—the idea that some people are perfect for each other, sure.”
“More than that. People who can be perfect for each other, who have the ability to achieve heights of happiness and power that no other wizards or witches do.”
Harry shook his head. He was sure that someone would have told him about it at some point, but—well, Hermione probably wouldn’t have believed it was real, and Ron might not have thought to mention it. They had been busy surviving much more important things. “Is it a pureblood thing?”
“A magical thing. But rare. Few people believe in it anymore, because if it didn’t happen to them or members of their families or someone they know, it must not happen, isn’t that right?”
Harry studied Nott thoughtfully. He could—well, maybe get along with someone who knew how fickle the magical world was, and how intent on turning on people for experiences that the majority didn’t share. Nott sounded like someone who might have believed Harry that Voldemort was back, or that he hadn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire.
“So why did it happen now?” Harry asked. “Why wouldn’t my scar, or yours, have looked like that from the beginning? I assume yours didn’t.”
Nott shook his head wordlessly. The wind tumbled his dark hair, and Harry found himself watching it with much more interest than he would have felt normally. He flushed again when Nott smirked at him.
“It happens when both people have become the ones they need to be. When we’ve passed through experiences that changed us enough.” Nott let out a shaky breath that suddenly made Harry think he was a lot less confident than he was trying to portray himself. “I would say a war qualifies.”
“Yeah,” Harry murmured, studying Nott’s face. He had never really thought about dating a boy, even though he had thought Cedric was handsome, and been able to recognize when other people were. It was just—boys dated girls, right? That was what was expected?
But Nott didn’t seem nervous because of him and Harry both being boys. Well, that Harry could tell, anyway. It was admittedly kind of difficult to tell.
“When did yours change?”
“Over the summer,” Nott said softly. “When my father sent me a letter from Azkaban, and I rejected the idea of what he wanted me to do before I even thought about it. And then the scar changed.” From the way his jaw was set, Harry knew that asking Nott what that letter had said was futile.
Harry nodded slowly. “And you—would want to be my soulmate?”
“Is this about the war?”
“It’s about blood purity. You could have wanted to avoid fighting a war and still think less of me because my mother was Muggleborn. I’m not going to be with someone who thinks less of me, for any reason.”
Nott was silent, studying Harry the way Harry had studied him. Harry tried to stand still and let him do it, tried not to fold his arms or act hostile, but it was hard. It did seem like Nott had some blood purist beliefs, if he hadn’t denied them right away.
“I admit that it’s difficult for me to get rid of something I just believed because everyone around me believed it,” Nott admitted finally. “So much of it isn’t something I thought about or needed to get rid of. But I do want to try. Being soulmates is special, Potter. It’s so rare. I never thought I would have a chance at it.” He crossed his arms, and Harry realized, to his astonishment, that Nott was shaking. “And I don’t think anyone can doubt that you have more power and more right to walk the halls of Hogwarts or the cobbles of Diagon Alley than any pureblood.”
Harry considered Nott back, while the air hung between them and throbbed. Then he said, “Let’s try.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“But everyone knows—” And Nott bit his tongue and stopped.
“Let’s just assume that nothing everyone knows is true for right now, shall we?” Harry asked dryly. “Including who I’m dating, because I’m not dating anyone right now. Nothing you read in the Prophet about me. Nothing other people might think about you for being a Death Eater’s son. If we’re going to do this, I want to get to know Theodore Nott, the man you are, not the Slytherin or the pureblood or the potential Death Eater recruit.”
“Then please,” Nott whispered, “call me Theo. Not Theodore. Not Mr. Nott. They’re other people. The boy I had to be to survive. The person my father thought of me as. I’m Theo.”
Harry paused. Then he said, “Call me Harry.”
“Can I—touch your mark?”
“Why?”
No—Theo visibly didn’t say several things. “I want to see what happens.”
Harry shrugged. He had to admit he didn’t know what would, given that he didn’t have any ideas about soulmates, but he didn’t see the harm. “Here,” he said, and held his arm out, when it seemed that Theo wouldn’t come any closer unless he got official permission.
Theo licked his lips and extended his fingers. His hand seemed to travel through the air like it was inching through treacle tart until he got his fingers on Harry’s transformed scar.
Harry closed his eyes when a flush of warmth ran up his arm, and shivered a little. Then he opened his eyes when Theo gasped, and saw the air between them turning golden and as warm as a contained burst of sunlight.
“It’s sunrise,” Theo whispered. His face was transformed with the light from Harry’s mark on it, brilliant and awed and so much younger than he looked otherwise. “Sunrise. Not sunset.”
Harry felt the courage that the Sorting Hat had seen to place him in Gryffindor well up in him. He reached out and linked his fingers with Theo’s, tugging him closer. Theo’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes dark and startled, wide as a unicorn’s in the morning light.
“How can it be a sunset when it’s such a brilliant beginning?”
The words were probably too sweet when it came to something like this, for a Slytherin. But he got a smile in return, tender and soft, although Theo looked as if he were fighting against himself every centimeter of the way to smile it.
“Yes. I—we’re going to be great, aren’t we?”
Harry reached out and trailed his fingers through the sunlight in the air, then touched Theo’s mark. The light increased to the point that Harry could feel his eyes stinging, but he kept stubbornly looking at Theo all the time.
“Yeah,” he said. “We are.”
The End.
Pairing: Harry Potter/Theodore Nott
Content Notes: Eighth year, soulmate marks, mild angst
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry doesn’t know that Theodore Nott accosting him on a bright Saturday morning will change his life forever.
Author’s Notes: This one-shot is part of my “More Theo/Harry in the World Project,” Theo/Harry fics being posted to increase the numbers of my favorite pairing.
A Sign Like Morning
“Potter, wait up.”
Harry turned around, mildly curious. He’d left breakfast early and headed towards the lake because everyone was gaping at him. Sometimes it made Harry worry for their mental capacity. It was months since the war had ended, weren’t they used to him by now?
But the person hurrying towards him now, face striped with sunlight and shadow, wasn’t one of the ones who had gaped. In fact, Harry couldn’t remember that they had ever spoken, for all that Harry knew him.
“Nott?”
Nott nodded and halted in front of Harry. He was breathing a little hard, although he hadn’t run that far. Well, not everyone played Quidditch or kept up their edge with things like running away from their Muggle cousin.
“I saw a scar on your arm. I wanted to ask where you got it.”
Harry stiffened despite himself. Nott maybe wasn’t one of the ones who gaped, but one of the ones who caused gaping in other people. “A basilisk and a resurrection ritual,” he answered curtly, and turned away.
“No—please, wait.”
Harry hesitated. There was true desperation in Nott’s voice, which was both weird and somewhat compelling. Harry turned around. “If you want me to not to say that your father was at the ritual, or something…”
“My father made his choices. I’m making mine.”
There was flint-hard determination in Nott’s eyes, and Harry nodded. “Fine. But my answers aren’t going to change. A basilisk and a resurrection ritual.”
“Did it always look like that?”
Harry followed Nott’s pointing finger down to the scar that he’d got from Pettigrew’s knife, grimacing a little. It wasn’t like it was the worst of his scars or the one he had to see in the mirror every day, but he still didn’t enjoy looking at it.
He caught his breath when he saw what Nott was pointing at, though, and lifted a trembling hand to rest it against the scar. It looked like a sun, with seven sharp rays coming out of it. A rising sun, Harry wanted to say, although in truth he had no idea if it was rising or setting.
“Did it look like that, Potter?” Nott repeated, his voice strangled.
“No,” Harry breathed, tracing the scar with his finger for a moment. “It was just a knife slice, from where Pettigrew took my blood.”
“I see.”
Nott sounded shaken now. Harry lifted his eyes and took a step back, reminding himself that Nott was still a Death Eater’s son, and even if he was making his own choices, that didn’t mean they would be ones friendly to Harry. “Why do you ask, Nott?”
Nott drew his left sleeve back, watching Harry carefully. Harry tensed despite himself. If there was a Dark Mark there—
But instead, what appeared was the twin of Harry’s scar. A sun with seven sharp rays. Harry stared from the mark on his arm to the one on Nott’s, and said the first thing that came to mind. “Were we both hit by the same spell or something?”
“No.”
Harry blinked. There was such glowing warmth in Nott’s eyes that Harry felt himself flush. Nott reached out as if he was going to touch Harry’s transformed scar, but let his fingers halt just short of it.
“Have you ever heard of soulmates, Potter?”
“I mean—the idea that some people are perfect for each other, sure.”
“More than that. People who can be perfect for each other, who have the ability to achieve heights of happiness and power that no other wizards or witches do.”
Harry shook his head. He was sure that someone would have told him about it at some point, but—well, Hermione probably wouldn’t have believed it was real, and Ron might not have thought to mention it. They had been busy surviving much more important things. “Is it a pureblood thing?”
“A magical thing. But rare. Few people believe in it anymore, because if it didn’t happen to them or members of their families or someone they know, it must not happen, isn’t that right?”
Harry studied Nott thoughtfully. He could—well, maybe get along with someone who knew how fickle the magical world was, and how intent on turning on people for experiences that the majority didn’t share. Nott sounded like someone who might have believed Harry that Voldemort was back, or that he hadn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire.
“So why did it happen now?” Harry asked. “Why wouldn’t my scar, or yours, have looked like that from the beginning? I assume yours didn’t.”
Nott shook his head wordlessly. The wind tumbled his dark hair, and Harry found himself watching it with much more interest than he would have felt normally. He flushed again when Nott smirked at him.
“It happens when both people have become the ones they need to be. When we’ve passed through experiences that changed us enough.” Nott let out a shaky breath that suddenly made Harry think he was a lot less confident than he was trying to portray himself. “I would say a war qualifies.”
“Yeah,” Harry murmured, studying Nott’s face. He had never really thought about dating a boy, even though he had thought Cedric was handsome, and been able to recognize when other people were. It was just—boys dated girls, right? That was what was expected?
But Nott didn’t seem nervous because of him and Harry both being boys. Well, that Harry could tell, anyway. It was admittedly kind of difficult to tell.
“When did yours change?”
“Over the summer,” Nott said softly. “When my father sent me a letter from Azkaban, and I rejected the idea of what he wanted me to do before I even thought about it. And then the scar changed.” From the way his jaw was set, Harry knew that asking Nott what that letter had said was futile.
Harry nodded slowly. “And you—would want to be my soulmate?”
“Is this about the war?”
“It’s about blood purity. You could have wanted to avoid fighting a war and still think less of me because my mother was Muggleborn. I’m not going to be with someone who thinks less of me, for any reason.”
Nott was silent, studying Harry the way Harry had studied him. Harry tried to stand still and let him do it, tried not to fold his arms or act hostile, but it was hard. It did seem like Nott had some blood purist beliefs, if he hadn’t denied them right away.
“I admit that it’s difficult for me to get rid of something I just believed because everyone around me believed it,” Nott admitted finally. “So much of it isn’t something I thought about or needed to get rid of. But I do want to try. Being soulmates is special, Potter. It’s so rare. I never thought I would have a chance at it.” He crossed his arms, and Harry realized, to his astonishment, that Nott was shaking. “And I don’t think anyone can doubt that you have more power and more right to walk the halls of Hogwarts or the cobbles of Diagon Alley than any pureblood.”
Harry considered Nott back, while the air hung between them and throbbed. Then he said, “Let’s try.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“But everyone knows—” And Nott bit his tongue and stopped.
“Let’s just assume that nothing everyone knows is true for right now, shall we?” Harry asked dryly. “Including who I’m dating, because I’m not dating anyone right now. Nothing you read in the Prophet about me. Nothing other people might think about you for being a Death Eater’s son. If we’re going to do this, I want to get to know Theodore Nott, the man you are, not the Slytherin or the pureblood or the potential Death Eater recruit.”
“Then please,” Nott whispered, “call me Theo. Not Theodore. Not Mr. Nott. They’re other people. The boy I had to be to survive. The person my father thought of me as. I’m Theo.”
Harry paused. Then he said, “Call me Harry.”
“Can I—touch your mark?”
“Why?”
No—Theo visibly didn’t say several things. “I want to see what happens.”
Harry shrugged. He had to admit he didn’t know what would, given that he didn’t have any ideas about soulmates, but he didn’t see the harm. “Here,” he said, and held his arm out, when it seemed that Theo wouldn’t come any closer unless he got official permission.
Theo licked his lips and extended his fingers. His hand seemed to travel through the air like it was inching through treacle tart until he got his fingers on Harry’s transformed scar.
Harry closed his eyes when a flush of warmth ran up his arm, and shivered a little. Then he opened his eyes when Theo gasped, and saw the air between them turning golden and as warm as a contained burst of sunlight.
“It’s sunrise,” Theo whispered. His face was transformed with the light from Harry’s mark on it, brilliant and awed and so much younger than he looked otherwise. “Sunrise. Not sunset.”
Harry felt the courage that the Sorting Hat had seen to place him in Gryffindor well up in him. He reached out and linked his fingers with Theo’s, tugging him closer. Theo’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes dark and startled, wide as a unicorn’s in the morning light.
“How can it be a sunset when it’s such a brilliant beginning?”
The words were probably too sweet when it came to something like this, for a Slytherin. But he got a smile in return, tender and soft, although Theo looked as if he were fighting against himself every centimeter of the way to smile it.
“Yes. I—we’re going to be great, aren’t we?”
Harry reached out and trailed his fingers through the sunlight in the air, then touched Theo’s mark. The light increased to the point that Harry could feel his eyes stinging, but he kept stubbornly looking at Theo all the time.
“Yeah,” he said. “We are.”
The End.