[More Theo/Harry in the World Project]: The Dreamers of the Day, PG-13, 2/5

[lomonaaeren]

“Why are you so upset? The Heir of Slytherin is after the Muggleborns, not half-bloods. And everyone with any sense knows that it’s not yet, no matter what Filch might have said.”

“I’m worried about Hermione.”

Theo blinks at Harry for a long moment. Tonight, their dream-room has a deep red rug in front of the fireplace, and Theo was snuggled into it when Harry arrived. After a too-long moment, Theo finally nods.

“Yes, of course. Since she’s Muggleborn. And your friend.”

Harry keeps his sigh to himself. It’s not Theo’s fault that he doesn’t have friends other than Harry, or that he’s not used to thinking of Muggleborns as people. He collapses on the rug beside Theo and stares up at the ceiling, which has veins of blue and gold. “I wish I knew who did that. I want to keep people safe, but I can’t if I don’t know anything.”

“Why do you have to keep them safe?”

“I don’t have to. I want to.”

“Fine. Why do you want to?”

Harry opened his mouth and then shuts it, caught without words. This is just something that seems so fundamental to him. “I just—always wanted to. I was the kid in Muggle school that my cousin bullied the most, but I wanted to interfere when he bullied other people, too. And I wanted to save Hermione from the troll last year, and I wanted to save the Stone from Quirrell. Well, I thought it was Snape, then.”

“Snape would never have been stupid enough to allow himself to be caught.”

“So if something goes wrong and it’s not subtle, it’s not Snape?”

“If it’s Snape, you won’t see it going wrong.”

Harry snorts a little, still focusing on the ceiling. “Thanks for being worried about me.”

“Did I say I was?”

“Give me some credit for common sense, Theo. Even if I wouldn’t see anything going wrong if Snape is the one who does it.”

Theo takes a harsh breath, and then lets it go without saying anything for a long moment. After that moment, he pats Harry on the shoulder. Neither of them turn to face each other, still focusing on the ceiling.

“You’re welcome.”

*

Ron and Hermione close in around Harry, their faces nearly frantic. Harry goes with them, but he does see Theo craning his neck to stare after Harry. It’s the first time that has ever happened, but then, plenty of other Slytherins and different students are doing it, too. Maybe Theo thinks he can get away with it because of that.

But Harry still doesn’t know why all the staring. So he told the snake to stop attacking Justin and it listened to him. Why wouldn’t it? It was a magic snake. It probably would have listened to anyone who had the courage to speak to it.

Then Ron says, “Mate, that was Parseltongue,” and along with it coming out that Harry has no idea what that means, he learns that not everyone can speak to snakes that way.

He hears that it comes from Salazar Slytherin, and that means that more people than ever are going to think he’s the Heir of Slytherin.

The only thing Harry can find it in himself to worry about is, I hope that Theo doesn’t think that.

*

“When were you going to tell me you’re a Parselmouth? I thought you were my friend.”

“I didn’t know I was!”

“It isn’t the kind of thing that someone forgets about, Harry.”

Harry explains it the way he did to Ron and Hermione, that to him it just sounds like the snakes are speaking English, and that he assumed it was a magical thing but something everybody could do. Theo stares at him for a long while after that, his face so cold that Harry shifts uncomfortably and bites his lip.

At the end, Theo gives a long, exhausted sigh and sinks back on the little cushioned bench that has formed in front of the fire because someone (Theo apparently) wanted it. “Only you, Harry.”

Harry is too relieved to know Theo isn’t angry to interpret the tone in his friend’s voice. It probably doesn’t matter anyway.

*

“Harry, you’re not—hexing the Hufflepuffs, are you?”

“What?” Harry stares at Hermione over the top of Snape’s latest sadistic Potions essay. “Of course not! Why?”

“Only Ernie Macmillan was saying something about how a lot of Hufflepuffs are getting Stinging Hexes when they’re just walking down the corridor, and they never see who does it, and they thought it might be you. Because you’re the Heir of Slytherin.”

“They think that,” Ron says, and rolls his eyes from where he’s lying on the couch on the other side of Hermione. “Because they’re duffers. They should know that you’re the biggest Gryffindor ever to Gryffindor.”

“Except for the Parseltongue,” Hermione murmurs.

Harry scowls at her and shakes his head. “No. I don’t know who would do that. Maybe it’s someone who has a grudge against the Hufflepuffs for some other reason.”

It’s not until two days later that he sees Theo putting his wand away a moment after Susan Bones squeals and grabs her elbow. Harry manages to catch his eye for a second and smile fondly.

Theo turns his back and walks away without answering, but he is appropriately smug in their dream that night, and Harry is appropriately admiring.

*

Harry finds that, despite all the effort Hermione has put into the Polyjuice, he really doesn’t want to sneak into the Slytherin common room. He’s pretty sure that Malfoy doesn’t know anything about the Heir of Slytherin, anyway. For one thing, he understands now from Theo exactly how much Malfoy brags at the drop of a pointy hat.

For another thing, he believes Theo would have told him if the second-year Slytherins knew.

So Harry contrives to irritate Peeves with a stupid little song the evening before the Polyjuice would be ready and lead him on a run to the abandoned bathroom where Hermione’s been brewing. Then Harry vanishes beneath his Invisibility Cloak, but only after making sure that Peeves sees the bubbling cauldron.

Hermione is beyond distressed that it’s been confiscated, but as far as Harry’s concerned, this is the best solution for everybody. Hermione didn’t get in trouble for brewing a potion she shouldn’t have been brewing, no one except the three of them knows about the common-room-sneaking plan, and Theo is—safe.

(Hermione does try to start brewing again after Christmas, but Snape is watching his Potions ingredients much more closely this time, and she doesn’t manage to take any).

*

“Father says something similar to this happened fifty years ago.”

“What?”

“Petrifications. And one death.”

“Theo—”

“Don’t ask me.”

And Theo has his head turned away, which he never does during the dreams anymore, so Harry doesn’t ask. He sits and talks about the pranks that Fred and George played on Percy over the last few days until Theo’s shoulders relax and he turns around.

If he takes the information to Ron and Hermione, he manages to convince them that he overheard it from some Slytherins he doesn’t know while sneaking around, and that sets them on a different track.

*

In the end, it changes some things, but not enough.

*

“You could have died.”

Theo’s voice is so low and tight that Harry closes his eyes as he materializes in their dream-room. “I know,” he whispers back, more choked-up and miserable than he was when Ron heard about Ginny’s impending doom. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Why does it have to be you who saves people?”

“If I hadn’t, Ginny would have died.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question of why it has to be you.” Theo bangs a hand down on his stool without turning to face Harry. He’s sitting on a cushioned bench in front of the fireplace again, his shoulders hunched. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not.”

“I know you’re not, you absolute wanker.”

Harry sits down on the bench next to Theo. Theo shifts away from him without moving. Harry swallows and turns and stares into the fire. He doesn’t think it’s his imagination that it’s burning lower than it should.

The words spill out of him without Harry meaning to say them.

“Someone has to save them. And Ron and I overheard the professors talking—they were just going to leave Ginny there and shut down the school. Or that was what it sounded like. And we went and tried to get Professor Lockhart, but it turned out he was a fraud and just tried to Memory Charm us—”

“What?”

“Yeah, he stole all the stories in his books from other people and then made them forget that they did them. He stole Ron’s wand, but it’s broken, and it backfired, and now he doesn’t know who he is. So he was useless. I didn’t ask for him to be useless, Theo! I tried! I just—I had to save Ginny, and someone has to. No one else will.”

Theo glances over his shoulder at last. Harry sighs and relaxes. Theo’s deep blue eyes look like the sunset again, and not like ice. So that’s all right, and Harry can put up with anything he says after this.

“If I lose you,” Theo whispers, “I lose the only person who cares about me. So remember that, okay? Maybe the others need you, because they would die, but I’ll go back to being—a person made of ice if you die. So stay alive.”

Harry opens his mouth to ask about Theo’s father, and then closes it, slowly. They’ve never got into the details of Theo’s family, any more than they have about the Dursleys, beyond what Harry already told Theo. So he’ll leave it alone.

If Theo wanted me to know, he would have told me before now.

“Okay,” Harry says, his voice gruffer than he meant it to be. “So you have to stay alive, too.”

“That’s not a problem.”

Harry relaxes. At least that seems to confirm that Theo’s father isn’t a clear and present danger to him.

He reaches out his hand. Theo’s hand is already there, reaching for his, and they squeeze hard and tight for a second before Theo lets go and turns around fully to face Harry, straddling the bench. “So you have to go back to the Muggles for the summer?”

“Yeah. Where else would I go?”

Theo’s face does something strange. Then he swallows and says, “Well, at least you’ll have me.”

“Yeah. And you’ll have me.”

It’s a real shame that Theo doesn’t have other friends, Harry thinks a second later, a bit dazed, because it means that no one else ever gets to see him smile like this.

*

There’s a sharp rap at the door of the compartment that Harry is sharing with Ron and Hermione. He glances up with a sigh, expecting to see Malfoy there. Malfoy didn’t get any less obnoxious after finding out that Harry wasn’t the Heir of Slytherin and the school wouldn’t be shut down to get rid of “Mudbloods.”

He freezes and stares when he sees Theo is the one standing there. Just stares.

Ron turns and stares, too. Hermione raises her head from her book and blinks at Theo, not seeming to recognize him. Then her face turns stormy. “Nott.”

“Granger. I need to bother Potter for a moment.”

“What? Why?”

“He made a bet on who the Heir of Slytherin was, and he was wrong.” Theo has a terrible, cruel, sweet smile when he wants to use it, but Harry is kind of glad that he’s never seen it before now. “So he has to pay up.”

“Harry, you were betting?”

“Mate, you know what—”

Harry stands up, flushing and ducking his head as if he’s ashamed of the bet. “It was just that Malfoy was the Heir,” he mutters, and sidles out of the compartment. Theo shuts the door firmly behind them.

No one else is in the corridor, but Harry knows that could change any time. He just stares at Theo, trying to drink in the sight of him for the limited time that he knows they’ll have together.

“I can’t stand it,” Theo says in a low voice, almost gabbling the words, his eyes locked on Harry. “I have to give you something—I didn’t want to risk a Christmas present—but I chose something anyway—”

“I did, too. But it’s locked up in my trunk.” Acute misery prickles up and down Harry’s spine.

“Owl it to me.”

Theo thrusts out his hands. There’s a small package in the middle of them, and Harry grabs it from him. And then he stops, a noise as small as the package escaping his throat, because he’s touching Theo, really touching him, for the first time. There’s a warmth to his skin and a little smell of sweat that aren’t there in the dreams.

Theo is staring at their clasped hands, too, with wide, dazed eyes. Then he looks up and bites his lip.

“I had to,” he says. “We won’t be able to take risks like this very often, but—I had to.”

Harry nods, and then a compartment down the corridor opens. Theo turns and saunters towards it, the back of his head and the nape of his neck conveying his utter boredom.

Harry stands there and stares after him. And then he turns and goes back into the compartment with his friends—his other friends—to mutter sullen words about Malfoy and act put upon, to keep up the story of the bet that Theo made up and which will protect both of them.

All the time, he wonders if the dreams will include the smell and the real touch of Theo’s skin, if Harry just asks them to.

*

Theo’s present is an amulet that’s a cloudy blue stone with flecks of white set in a golden circlet with a slender chain. When Harry stares at the stone, he sees Theo’s smiling face, the way he’s only ever seen it in his dreams. And when he thinks of Ron and Hermione, he sees glimpses of them as he has during the times they’ve shared together.

Theo included a note with the gift. It says, Look at this and think of a friend, and you’ll be able to see them. I’m sorry that I couldn’t get an amulet that showed you what we’re doing right at the moment, but it would have been dangerous if Father found out I spent that many Galleons. At least that way, you’ll feel less alone.

And Harry does, especially once he finds out that the amulet can also show him Hagrid and Hedwig (even though Hedwig is in the same room as he is most of the time). He lies on the bed and looks at it whenever he feels loneliness gnawing on his mind, and it eases him.

He was nervous about whether Theo would like his own gift, a homework planner that has spaces for notes as well as actual plans and deadlines and will only open for the person who first touches it. But Hedwig returns with a note that says, I love it. Now I have a place where my father will never be able to look and can’t intrude. Thank you, Harry.

Harry lies in his bed with the amulet clenched in his hand and wishes he could get Theo away from his father. He wishes they could meet in real life without a lot of deception. He wishes he could be sure that Theo was safe.

But the gifts, and the nightly dreams, are so much better than nothing at all.

*

“You did what to your aunt?”

Harry turns bright red as Theo stares at him. It does sound stupid now that he talks to someone about it. Why in the world would he have inflated Marge Dursley?

But it’s what happened, and Theo has no reason to stare at him as if Harry is lying.

Harry sits down on the floor in their dream-room. It’s always covered in thick rugs now, which seem to have differing colors of red and gold, green and silver, depending on who gets here first. “She came to visit, and she started talking about my parents…”

Theo listens to the tale of what happened with a deeply skeptical expression on his face. Harry swallows several times during the recitation, and finally shakes his head and says, “I know it was stupid, but I got so angry.”

“Your magic reacted without your channeling it through a wand?’

“Yeah.”

“That’s rare, after you have a wand. But you said your things were locked up.”

“Yeah.”

“I really hate your Muggles,” Theo says, with a flat tone to his voice that makes the statement sound a lot more profound than it is.

“Yeah.”

For a moment, they just sit on the same rug, leaning against each other, their breathing matching. It feels like their heartbeats are, too. Harry relaxes with a long sigh and leans back so that he can look up into Theo’s eyes.

“What do you think I ought to do now?”

“I suppose it’s safe enough to stay in Diagon Alley if the Minister thinks it is.” But Theo looks unhappy. “I’m surprised he said that. You’d think he would have wanted something safer for you, what with Sirius Black running around.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

Theo freezes for a long moment. Then he turns towards Harry and lowers his voice. “No one told you?”

“No. Are you going to?”

Theo swallows, his eyelids fluttering a little. Then he nods. “Yes, I suppose I should.”

And Harry hears the tale of his parents and Sirius Black, told with force and emphasis that makes him close his eyes. But when Theo touches his hand and asks without words if he should stop, Harry shakes his head and looks at his friend again.

“No. It’s always better to know than not to know.”

Theo looks a little surprised, then smiles harder. “Yes, it is,” he says, because that’s something he taught Harry, and goes on.

*

Harry gapes at Professor Lupin when he’s introduced, and only breaks free when Ron nudges him hard in the ribs.

“Oi, mate, what’s up?”

Harry swallows and tells the truth—well, a truth. He doesn’t need to mention that he learned it in the first place from Theo. “I’ve seen that man in some of the pictures that are in the photo album Hagrid gave me,” he whispers. “He attended my parents’ wedding. I’m—surprised that he’s never shown up before now.”

Ron and Hermione give him sorry looks. “I meant to tell you,” Hermione says in a quiet voice. “He was the one who drove the Dementors away, who cast that spell called the Patronus I told you about? He burst into our compartment and used it when he saw the Dementor threatening us. But you were passed out at that point.”

“Oh.”

Harry tries not to stare at Lupin during the rest of the meal, but it’s hard. Theo was the one to tell him about Peter Pettigrew, the faithful friend of his parents who got killed by Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, who also spent a lot of time with them.

It makes Harry wonder what…

Why did Lupin keep his distance? Why didn’t he even bother to introduce himself during Harry’s first year, if he somehow didn’t know where Harry lived in the Muggle world before that?

The question itches in the back of Harry’s head, and he finds it hard to return Lupin’s smile when the man catches his glance and inclines his head. His Patronus probably saved Harry’s life, and he did it so well that Harry escaped to the opening feast, if not in time to attend the Sorting, after Madam Pomfrey checked him over for just a few minutes.

But where was Lupin? Why wasn’t he ever there when Harry needed him?

It’s so hard to smile back.

*

“Harry, would you mind staying after class so I could talk to you?”

No, Harry doesn’t mind. He thinks Lupin probably wants to talk to him about his boggart, which did take the form of a Dementor just as Harry silently predicted it would, but Harry has some questions he wanted to ask, too.

The instant the classroom door shuts behind the last of the Gryffindors, Harry blurts, “Sir, where were you while I was growing up?”

Lupin freezes, his eyes going wide. “What?”

“Where were you while I was growing up? I grew up in the Muggle world, and my relatives were awful to me, and they didn’t tell me about magic, and—” Harry swallows back nausea as he thinks what it would have been like to grow up with the kindly man in front of him. “I think Aunt Petunia hated Mum because of her magic. Why didn’t—why didn’t you take me with you?”

“Why would you think that I should have adopted you, Harry?”

“Because someone told me that you were one of my parents’ best friends.”

Lupin seems to age in front of his eyes. “Who told you that, Harry?”

“Someone,” Harry repeats stubbornly. He hasn’t betrayed the secret of Theo even to Ron and Hermione; he’s certainly not going to expose his Slytherin friend to Lupin. “Please, sir, tell me? I understand if you thought I would be safer in the Muggle world or something, but why didn’t you ever write me a letter or—or visit Hogwarts when I started my first year or something? Please, why?”

Lupin licks his lips and glances at the closed classroom door as if he thinks someone’s going to come through it. Or as if he wants someone to barrel through it and save him from this awkwardness, Harry thinks, watching Lupin narrowly.

Lupin finally swallows and says, “There’s a secret that I can’t tell you, Harry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about my parents and you in a letter, at least?”

“That’s also part of the secret.”

Harry stares at him, incredibly frustrated. And the frustration builds as the moments pass and Lupin just stands there, shivering a little and not saying anything. What in the world could have frightened him that badly?

“No one ever seems to tell me anything,” Harry says bitterly, at last. “I didn’t know Sirius Black had betrayed my parents until he escaped. I didn’t know he was my godfather until someone told me, either. I didn’t know about magic until my eleventh birthday, or why Snape hated my father until the end of first year. I thought you might be different because you were my parents’ friend, but you’re just the same as all the rest of them.”

“Professor Snape, Harry.”

Harry stares at Lupin, and then gives a scraping laugh. He turns and walks out of the classroom, ignoring the way that Lupin calls after him and takes some points away from Gryffindor.

It’s always the same, with everyone except Ron and Hermione and Theo. People ignore him, keep secrets from him, won’t answer. Why? It’s not as though Harry knowing that Black was his godfather made much difference. And if he knew that Black was hunting him, then he would be safer and more cautious.

Maybe they just keep secrets because they can, Harry thinks wearily, and trots to make sure that he can reach lunch on time.

*