[Songs of the Stormy Season]: Dark Prince of the Glass Court, gen, 2/2

[lomonaaeren]

“What happened at your own Marking, Father?”

Father lays down the thick tome he’s been frowning over for most of dinner and focuses in on Theo. Theo looks back at him calmly. They serve different lords now, that’s true, but Theo doesn’t believe his father would ever hurt him.

“You believe that it will be similar to what happens when the Prince Marks you? I was under the impression that he was more different from his father.”

“I don’t know exactly what the Prince intends. But I do want to hear what you went through.”

Father uses a napkin to pat some of the sauce from his mouth. “Very well,” he says slowly. “I will tell you. But after dinner. It’s not the sort of talk that should be made at a meal.”

Theo raises an eyebrow, but goes back to his own book, on the history of Dark Lords and their Marks, when Father returns to his tome. Theo doesn’t think that the book is unbiased, and certainly it appears to contain no account of a lord as gentle and reluctant as his own, but it might still provide some good information.

*

“Willingness is the key.”

Theo nods as he sits back in his chair near the fireplace and sips from the glass of Firewhisky that Father ordered the house-elves to bring him. “The books I have read were saying the same thing.”

“It cannot be false willingness.”

“How in the world could you even have that?”

“If one were to take the Mark with the idea that one would become a spy in the future, for example.”

Theo stares at his father, wondering if he’s joking. But Father only looks back at him evenly, with a particular harsh pinched look to his mouth as though he’s thinking of a specific person. Theo has the impression that Father won’t tell him that story, though.

“I would never do that.”

“Not even if you thought you had a higher cause you were fighting for?”

Theo shakes his head, still unable to comprehend what he’s hearing. Then he says, “No. I—one is loyal when one takes a lord, Father.”

“Even if the lord ordered you to turn me over? To kill me?”

Theo takes a swift breath. He wants to say something that will anger his father, and the words dance on the tip of his tongue while Father looks at him long and sternly and silently.

Theo finally says it. “Your lord might order you to turn against me. Mine never would.”

Father, unbelievably, gives a soft laugh, and leans back in his chair as he lifts his glass of Firewhisky in Theo’s direction. Theo blinks at him. That was the right response? At least, he assumes it is from Father’s actions.

“Yes, that is true,” Father says. “And because I am one of the Dark Lord’s original servants and his courtier, he would never ask me to turn against you, either.”

Theo swallows. He didn’t know that the possibility was even there. He must know, however. “Has he asked other people to turn against their families?”

“Yes.”

Father doesn’t elaborate, but Theo has attended the Dark Lord in a ritual now, and he can imagine what happened to those who refused to bring him their children or kill their siblings or whatever he had in mind. He tucks his hands into his sleeves and takes a breath so deep that it seems to flood his body.

“What was the pain during your Marking like?”

“It was muted, as though someone were trying to cast a curse on me through a glass wall.” Father smiles a little, in what looks like nostalgia to Theo. “Some of the others suffered much more, but they were not as certain as I was that they wanted to serve him. Two later turned out to be traitors.”

Theo nods. He has no intention of betraying his lord. “And how do you think the Prince is going to Mark me and Draco?”

“Apparently the Dark Lord has decided his son’s last name should be Gaunt.”

Theo blinks. “Why?”

“The Dark Lord is descended from the Gaunt family. They were the last known speakers of Parseltongue in Britain before the Dark Lord rose.” Father gives a sinuous shrug that might make someone think he could speak Parseltongue himself. “I do not know his exact relation to them, but I can see why he would prefer that name for his son.”

Theo thinks about it. It’s less awkward than the title Prince, for certain. But he does think that he would like using Harry’s first name better.

Yes, he thinks. He can call his lord Harry in his thoughts, as long as he never makes the mistake of speaking it aloud in the Dark Lord’s presence until he knows it will go over well. And Theo is confident of his control over his tongue and his temper, so he shouldn’t blurt it out accidentally.

“You look as if you have come to a decision, Theo.”

Theo smiles and inclines his head to Father. “I have. I am rather looking forward to my own Marking.”

*

“What if it hurts, Theo?”

“Father said there was some pain at his Marking, but he was fully willing, and it hit the people who weren’t far worse.”

Theo steps back and looks critically at his dark green robe in the mirror. They’re being Marked in a few hours, and he thinks this robe will make him look as adult and sophisticated as possible, while still baring his left arm easily enough for his lord’s chimera.

Draco is dramatically silent behind him. Theo turns around with a frown. Draco is lounging on his bed, but his hand is tight beside him, in a white-knuckled fist, and his breathing is too fast.

“Draco? Don’t you want to be Marked?’

“No.”

Theo blinks some more. He had the impression Draco did, to be saved from the Dark Mark if nothing else, but then, he doesn’t really understand Draco all the time, even if he gets on the best with him out of the Slytherins their age. He shrugs. “Then tell Harry that. I’m sure that he’ll be able to—”

“You call him Harry?”

Draco’s voice is a loud bleat of shock. Theo shoots a quick look at the door of Draco’s bedroom, but it remains shut, and there’s no sign an adult is going to intrude. Theo sighs and turns back to Draco. “Yes. He invited me to.”

Draco shakes his head, his mouth loose and trembling. “That’s not—the Dark Lord would never allow it.”

“I think the Dark Lord is minded to allow it.”

“Why?”

Explaining that would be harder, and involve some truths that Theo is not sure Draco is ready to accept. For one thing, Theo is fairly sure it’s because the Dark Lord wants to bind Harry to him, and the best way to do that is to give Harry people to care for, people he won’t hesitate to sacrifice him for.

But Draco might misuse the power that comes with that revelation, or feel more insecure because of it. So Theo murmurs, “I’ve done it in the past, enough that the Dark Lord must have seen it in Harry’s mind. And he didn’t get upset about it.”

“He might be waiting…”

“For what?”

“For the Marking. For tonight.” Draco’s voice drops, and he sits up and fixes Theo with an unexpectedly grave look. “To cause more pain.”

Draco is overly focused on pain, to Theo’s mind. It’s something that Draco perhaps ought to explore with a lover, though, instead of dumping on Theo’s shoulders. He only shakes his head and says, “I would be willing to stake my life on that not happening.”

“What happens if we get into the ritual room and he kills us?”

“Then I think the Dark Lord would have to deal with a temper tantrum from Harry, and that’s not what he wants. He wants to bind Harry closer to his side, to make Harry happy about being his son.”

“You mean he isn’t?”

Draco’s fear seems to have blinded him. Theo checks a sigh as well as the scolding he wants to give. “No. Why would he be? He was—who he was.” Even Theo doesn’t really want to speak Harry’s former name inside the walls of Malfoy Manor. “He knew the Dark Lord as an enemy, and a murderer.”

“But the power—the wealth—”

In the bottommost pool of his mind, Theo cradles a conviction that the Dark Lord isn’t as wealthy as he pretends, given that he has to borrow the Malfoys’ manor. But he’ll never say anything like that. He just shakes his head. “Do you think that Harry is moved by that kind of consideration?”

Draco grimaces. “No. He’s too much of a Gryffindor.”

Theo nods. “It’s one of our duties as his courtiers, to navigate the waters he finds himself in.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

Theo can see the notion pouring through Draco like clear water. He’s sitting up now, his eyes brighter than they’ve been since Theo Flooed over that afternoon for the Marking.

“You can,” Theo says, and grips Draco’s shoulder for a moment before he pulls his hand back. “Come on, we should get into the ritual room.”

Draco still flinches, but then he nods and stands. His face is less pale than before, his hands no longer shaking. “I’m ready.”

Theo gives him a thin smile and turns towards the door, once again hiding his thoughts in the bottomless pool of his own mind.

He will reassure Draco, but not too much.

Theo is going to be the most important of the Prince’s courtiers.

That is a truth.

*



“Hold strong.” Theo keeps his voice soft but present as they step into the room that will be used for the Marking.

Harry nods. His eyes are far too wide.

Theo wishes he could nudge an elbow into Harry’s side or offer some advice, but ultimately, Harry’s the one who needs to handle this ritual. And Theo fully intends the Marking to go through, given his vision for his future.

He walks over to stand next to his own father. Draco is already standing next to his own parents, his face looking like it’s made of porcelain. As long as he doesn’t break, Theo thinks, turning back to face the Dark Lord, who is the only other person here aside from the Lestranges.

“My court,” the Dark Lord says, his eyes shining like starlight in a windy sky. “We come together here for a wonderful ritual. We come together here for the Marking of Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy at the hands of my son, Harry Gaunt.”

Harry isn’t the only one who shivers, but Theo makes sure that he keeps his own gesture hidden as much as possible, and he’s sure that they aren’t shivering for the same reason.

“Go forwards and Mark them as I have shown you.”

Harry is still shaking lightly as he steps forwards, but Theo certainly isn’t going to call attention to it. He kneels in front of his Prince, lifting his bare left arm for the Mark. For a moment, he meets Harry’s eyes.

He tries to convey his absolute willingness to go through with this, to convey the joy singing in him like a cloud of restless birds.

But he knows that Harry is feeling anything but joy as he lowers his wand into place, the tip brushing Theo’s skin.

It doesn’t matter. I will help to teach it to him.

“Morsmordre leonis.”

The light that fills the room is a mixture of emerald and rubies and gold. Theo shudders as it burns into his skin, but the pain is transcended by his wonder. This is, in fact, nothing like the Marking his father hinted at.

It is light being pressed into his skin, it’s a connection to his lord that cannot be denied, it’s a mark of his allegiance that will be his no matter how much he has to hide it.

It is a sign that he can never be forced to serve the Dark Lord.

Theo watches raptly as the chimera’s head blossoms into being, followed by the body and the lifted snake’s head, even more vivid than it was in the drawing of the Mark he and Draco came up with. The flames are the last part.

Harry staggers back with a gasp when it’s done. Theo looks at him quickly, even as he clenches his fist and makes the Mark sink into his arm. He can hide it. He can do whatever he likes with it.

Except repudiate it, and why would I want to do that?

Theo stands up and bows to Harry, murmuring, “My lord.” He hopes that his words don’t distress Harry further, but it’s what needs to happen.

Harry only nods and looks at the Dark Lord, who says, “I know that you do things differently, my heir. This is one of them.”

Theo barely pays attention to Draco’s Marking, or even to the way that Father presses his hand on Theo’s shoulder when Theo walks back over to him. Too much of his attention is on the words the Dark Lord spoke.

Does Harry understand what a concession it is that the Dark Lord admits a way of doing things besides his own has validity? Does he understand how much it shows that he matters to the Dark Lord?

From the ghastly pale face Harry lifts after he finishes Marking Draco, no, he doesn’t. But that’s all right. Theo will teach him.

The Dark Lord speaks again. “My son has established his court. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott, you will serve him loyally, or I will know why.”

Theo bows to the Dark Lord, one of the few times he ever intends to do so. Draco bows at the same time, and both of them say, “My lord.” The Dark Lord leaves after a single nod, Harry following him.

As Theo leaves, and listens to Father murmur how proud he is, he touches the back of his own mind, and feels the bond with his lord spring to life.

That bond will be nurtured. It will grow. Whether or not Draco will decide to nurture his own, Theo isn’t sure.

But even if Harry won’t pay that much attention to their bond, Theo intends to. And his will here is only for the good of both of them.

*

“Do you have all your books, my lord?” Theo says, and makes sure that his voice is kind and gentle and condescending. He’s learned already that his lord does better when he’s able to be irritated about something.

Perhaps in the future he will be able to accept his place as the Dark Lord’s son and Theo and Draco’s lord more easily. But until that happens, Theo will ease the path for him, as a good courtier should.

“Yes, Theo,” Harry says, and the bond between them vibrates with his emotions.

Theo is still getting used to that bond. He knew it would spring to life after the Marking, but it fills the inside of his veins with warmth and light. He sees things more clearly, feels things more intensely, than he did before.

He would do anything to keep it.

“Just making sure. My lord is a careless lord.”

Harry tries to elbow him, which Theo avoids, all the while thinking that the Dark Lord would never do such a thing—another reason that he would do anything to keep this bond. Draco is staring at them. Draco is still so nervous around Harry, convinced that one wrong word or gesture is going to condemn him to the Cruciatus.

Theo knows Harry would never do that, but he might get irritated enough to snap at Draco. Maybe that’s what Draco needs at this point to calm down.

Harry takes a step towards the fireplace out of Malfoy Manor, and Theo shakes himself from the thoughts and says, “Then let’s go,” as he gathers the necessary Floo powder. “Remember, my lord, let me go first, and give me thirty seconds to deal with any ambush waiting for you.”

“My friends wouldn’t be an ambush—”

Theo steps into the Floo and ignores the way that his lord’s voice fades behind him. He can still feel the bond thrumming between them with strength and warmth, though stretched because of the distance.

Harry might be right that his friends wouldn’t be setting up an ambush. But Theo wouldn’t put it past the Order of the Phoenix to do so, and use Harry’s friends as the lure.

However, there is no sign of anyone waiting at the Floo. Theo turns around and smiles as Harry comes out of the fireplace, knowing Draco will be behind him, so their Lord is guarded from the back and the front.

Harry hisses something softly to the snake, Basilisk, he’s carrying somewhere about his person. The snake was a present from his father. Theo smiles at the Parseltongue, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice.

His heritage is present in every breath. He cannot deny it.

More to the point, Theo, and Draco, and the Dark Lord, would not let Harry deny it, even if he wanted to.

“We have to pretend not to know each other now,” Theo says, keeping his voice low. No one seems to be looking towards them, which is all to the good. “But remember, Draco and I are only a call away. We’ll feel you through our Marks if you need us.”

Harry nods and grimaces a little. “I know. The same applies to you.”

I am so lucky in my lord.

Theo squeezes Harry’s left forearm, knowing he won’t miss the significance of the gesture. “We’re here to help you bear the burden,” he says, with no words about how most people wouldn’t see it as a burden. Harry is not most people. “It will be all right, my lord. Draco and I will make it so.”

Harry just looks at him as if he doesn’t believe it. Theo can only squeeze one more time and then walk away. He knows that Harry’s friends will be searching for him, and it’s best if no one sees them together.

But the conviction beams and beats in Theo’s chest like a second heart, even as he reaches the compartment where most of his yearmates in Slytherin sit and greets them, watches Pansy simper over Daphne’s hairstyle and Crabbe exchange a lost look with Goyle when Blaise makes a subtle joke.

I have a better lord than any of you have.

Except Draco, Theo adds to himself a second later, as Draco slips into the compartment and looks around nervously. He relaxes when his eyes fall on Theo.

That would be a clear sign to Theo, if he needed another, that Draco intends to let Theo lead in all things when it comes to their interaction with their lord. That suits Theo well, so he smiles back at Draco, nods, and sits down to listen to his friends’ chatter.

He might be different now, above them, better than they are. But so is Harry, and Theo knows the Dark Lord ordered Harry to hide that.

Theo will help him do it.

His path in life lies forwards, as clear and beautiful as a path of moonlight on rippling water.

I am glad that it is so.

The End.