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lomonaaeren) wrote2025-06-28 09:38 pm
lomonaaeren) wrote2025-06-28 09:38 pm
[From Litha to Lammas]: Having No Objections, Harry/Theo preslash, 1/6, PG-13
Title: Having No Objections
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Theo preslash
Content Notes: AU starting with first year, arranged marriage, angst, present tense, short scenes, canon-typical violence, minor character deaths
Rating: : PG-13
Summary: AU. Harry finds out during his first year that, for some reason, his parents set up a betrothal contract for him with Theo Nott. Theo doesn’t seem to have any objections to it, which puzzles Harry, given that he’s a Slytherin and all. But as the years pass, Harry begins to understand some of what he might gain from this.
Author’s Notes: This is the second of my “From Litha to Lammas” chaptered fics being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August. It covers first and second year, and will eventually have sequels.
Having No Objections
“…And your father signed a contract that means when you are old enough, you and Mr. Nott here will join your hands in marriage. I’m afraid I can do nothing about it, Harry. My hands are tied.”
Harry winces and leans back against the chair in the Headmaster’s office. It’s just after Halloween and the awful stuff with the troll. He was glad he survived, and he was thinking that now he has two friends, and when he got a summons to Dumbledore’s office, he just assumed it was going to be a scolding about fighting the troll.
Not that he would have to get married.
On the other hand, Dumbledore said that it was years and years away, when they were old. Twenty or something. And Nott is sitting right here. Maybe he can object and his father can get them out of the contract.
Harry glances sideways at Nott. The other boy turns his head and looks at him. He’s been so quiet that Harry hasn’t noticed him even in classes they had together. He does remember a boy sitting at the Slytherin table with his nose in a book, and he reckons it was Nott.
Now Harry lets himself look at Nott and think about marrying him. It’s not something he can really think about, though. Is Nott pretty, with his pale skin and dark hair and eyes a pale blue that makes Harry feel like he’s staring at ice? Not really.
“What about you, Nott?” Harry asks. “Do you think you can break it?”
“I have no objections to the contract.”
“I—what?”
Nott is looking at him fully. His eyes still don’t have any warmth in them, but there’s a quiet—something there that calms Harry down. “I don’t have any objections. Being married to you would be fine.”
Harry blinks. “But you—don’t you want to fall in love?”
“No.”
Well, there’s not much Harry can do about that. He turns and stares hopelessly at Dumbledore. “Sir, why did my parents make this contract with the Nott family? Hagrid told me my dad was in love with my mum—why would either one of them want this?”
Dumbledore gives a long sigh. Then he says, “How much do you know about the Death Eaters, Harry?”
“Never heard of them.” Nott scoffs, and Harry turns around and glares at him. “You grow up in the Muggle world and see how much you know about wizarding stuff!”
“You grew up in the Muggle world?”
“You don’t need to sound like I’m dirt beneath your fingernails.”
“They are—”
“That will be enough, Mr. Nott,” Dumbledore interrupts, and his voice is mild but his smile is steel. “And Harry, perhaps it’s best not to give Mr. Nott too many details about your upbringing? The Death Eaters were the original followers of the wizard they call the Dark Lord, you see, and Mr. Nott is a Death Eater’s son. You grew up in the Muggle world partially to keep you safe from Death Eaters.”
Harry just gapes at Dumbledore. Nott settles back into the chair beside him, and when Harry glances over, he has a strangely familiar look on his face. Harry finally recognizes it. He’s felt it from the inside, when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told everyone on Privet Drive one more story about him, and everyone believed them.
Nott expects Harry to believe he’s evil and turn against him.
Harry shakes his head and says, “But if they’re evil and everything, why did my father make a contract with them?”
“I suspect that was your mother’s influence. She was an intensely pragmatic woman.”
“Practical,” Nott whispers, as if he can see how confused Harry is by the word.
“Yes, that is right, do forgive me, Harry.” Dumbledore nods a little. “Your mother knew that they both might die, or that Voldemort—” Nott flinches and bangs his head on the chair “—might win the war. She wanted the Death Eaters to have a reason to protect you.”
“But if they died or Voldemort won the war—” this time, Nott makes the legs of his chair scrape across the floor “—then I would be dead anyway, right? So why would they write a contract for me to get married?” Harry still has a hard time wrapping his head around it.
Princes and princesses get married in arranged marriages, he knows that. But he’s not a prince. He’s just Harry.
“I suspect that your mother thought it would give Mr. Nott a reason to protect you. He was extremely high and trusted in Voldemort’s counsels—”
“Can you stop saying that name, sir? It’s making Nott uncomfortable.”
Dumbledore stops speaking and peers at Harry through his glasses. Harry just holds his head up and refuses to back down. Yeah, Dumbledore is great and powerful and everything, but he doesn’t know exactly how to treat Nott. Harry is the one who will be getting married to him.
(Maybe if he keeps saying that to himself, it’ll make sense one day).
“Fear of the name encourages fear of the thing itself, Harry.”
“Well, Nott’s already afraid. This isn’t the way to stop him being more afraid.”
Dumbledore looks thoughtful for a moment. Then he nods and says, “I suspect you are right, Harry. In the meantime, I do want to hear why Mr. Nott doesn’t have any objections to the contract.” He turns to Nott with an expectant expression.
“It’s more than I thought I would have,” Nott says, in a soft, blurred voice that makes Harry strain to hear him. “My father has sometimes talked about me marrying someone, so I knew I had a contract, but not who with. I can think of plenty more awful people to marry than Potter. I like what I’ve seen of him.”
Harry gapes at Nott until it feels as if his eyes are crossing.
“You do?” Dumbledore doesn’t sound much less surprised than Harry. “I would have thought that the blood prejudice alone—”
“I am not my father.”
That tone is familiar to Harry, too. Back when he thought his parents were useless drunks who got themselves killed, he would lie awake in his cupboard and think that.
I am not my father. I am not my mother. I am myself.
“That is not enough for Harry’s safety, Mr. Nott, please excuse my bluntness.”
“Then what is?” Harry interrupts, and Dumbledore turns to look at him. “You called us up here to discuss the contract, Professor. But it sounds like it can’t be broken. Can you break it?”
For the first time in the meeting, Dumbledore frowns instead of smiling. “No,” he admits. “Your parents and Mr. Nott’s mother and father swore their blood and magic to the contract. Nothing anyone else could do could break it.”
“Then you’re trying to make me afraid of Nott—why? I’ll have to get married to him and live with him anyway, so trying to make me afraid of him and upset about this is just trying to make me afraid and upset about something no one can change.”
Dumbledore looks startled now. “My dear boy—”
“Can you change it?”
“No,” Dumbledore admits. He’s peering at Harry thoughtfully.
“Well, then,” Harry says, spreading his arms a little, and turns to Nott. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk about this?”
“Even though we won’t get married for years and years?”
“I’d like to be friends with my—husband.” Then another thing strikes Harry. “We’ll really be husbands? Two men can get married in the magical world? But then how would we have kids?”
Nott is peering at Harry as though he’s officially gone insane. “Magic,” he says slowly.
Harry flushes. “Right.”
“Yes, you will be married,” Dumbledore interrupts. Harry wonders why he wants to talk more. He told Harry the truth and that this is a contract no one can break, so surely it’s up to Harry and Nott to talk and get along now. “But, Harry, I want to be sure that you do not forget what the Death Eaters did, that you do not lose all sense of yourself in this.”
“You don’t want me to trust my husband?”
“He is not your husband yet.”
Harry shakes his head in frustration. “Sir, I don’t know what you want.”
“For you to be careful, Harry.”
“If I were careful, Hermione would be dead,” Harry retorts, and then turns and looks at Nott. “Let’s go somewhere and talk about this.”
Nott nods and stands up. They leave the office, while Dumbledore watches them go carefully, expression curious.
But he doesn’t say anything. Harry supposes he can be grateful for that.
*
They end up outside a boys’ bathroom on the first floor, which is far away from the Great Hall and the Towers and the dungeons and so maybe won’t have people coming to it on a Saturday. Nott leans against the wall and looks at Harry. Harry looks back.
Maybe, with time, looking at Nott’s eyes won’t remind him of just staring at ice.
“So.”
“So.”
“You really grew up with Muggles?”
“Yes. And I would rather have grown up in the magical world, I didn’t even know I was a wizard until the day I turned eleven, but I don’t want to listen to you talk about how Muggles and Muggleborns are awful, either.”
Nott blinks and spends a moment staring at him. Then he says, “Fine, I won’t then. I don’t want to listen to you talk about how my dad is awful and should be in prison, either.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You heard what Dumbledore said about Death Eaters—”
“And I know that my parents were willing to deal with them for some reason.” Harry shakes his head. It doesn’t fit at all with what Hagrid said about his parents, but, well, maybe he has to accept that Hagrid didn’t know everything. It sounds like Nott knew about a marriage contract but not who he would be marrying, after all. “So either your dad isn’t too evil or my parents were sort of evil. Either way, I don’t want to spend a lot of time criticizing them.”
“All right,” Nott says slowly. “We might as well get to know each other, then.”
“Right. Do you like Quidditch?”
“Who doesn’t like Quidditch, Potter?”
Harry smiles a little at him, and they walk towards the Great Hall for breakfast talking about Quidditch and how Nott thinks it’s brilliant Harry gets to play as a first-year and how Harry doesn’t know any Quidditch teams and Nott thinks he should follow the Falmouth Falcons.
They go to sit at their House tables when they get to the Great Hall, but Harry is thinking that marrying Nott won’t be too terrible. If they can mostly talk about Quidditch.
He sits down with Hermione, who gives him a shy smile and then glances at Nott. “Who is—oh, Theodore Nott. Why were you talking with him, Harry?”
“Oh, I need to get married to him someday,” Harry says without thinking much about it as he reaches for the sausages.
“What?”
*
It turns out that both Ron and Hermione have a lot more objections to the idea of Harry with a marriage contract than Harry does himself. Or Nott does. It’s kind of weird.
Ron is upset about Nott’s dad being a Death Eater, and upset that Harry’s parents signed a contract with one of them. “Why would they do that?” he asks, and keeps asking. “If he’s a Death Eater’s son, then he’s a Death Eater too, and he’s like Malfoy—” And then he goes off on a rant that is more about Malfoy than Nott.
(In that, at least, Harry would agree. He would be horrified and protesting a lot more if he had to marry Malfoy than if he had to marry Nott, who he doesn’t really know at all).
Hermione is more horrified about it being an arranged marriage contract. “That died out a long time ago with so many Muggles,” she says to Harry earnestly as they sit in the library. “There are some who still do it, but it’s not common. Could you—could you break the contract somehow, Harry? Just say you don’t want to?”
“No, it’s sworn in blood and magic, apparently.” Harry shrugs. He’s kind of getting used to the idea. It’s still strange, but—well, at least this way he won’t have to worry about trying to figure out someone to marry? It’s sort of settled, and that’s the way things are.
“But that could be broken!”
“Professor Dumbledore said it couldn’t.”
“Oh.”
Hermione frowns down at the book she got out. By turning his head to the side, Harry can see that it’s something about contracts and marriage. He smiles. It’s nice of Hermione to want to help him.
But the more Harry thinks about it, the more it doesn’t bother him. Nott is still kind of a stranger, but nice enough when they talk, which is mostly about classes and Quidditch. It’s not like he’s Ron, but on the other hand, it’s not like he’s Malfoy.
And getting married is years and years and years away. Who knows what could change in that time? Nott might get nicer. They might figure out a way to break the contract. Nott could join the Death Eaters and then Harry wouldn’t marry him no matter what the contract says.
Harry could die in one of Oliver Wood’s intense training sessions and then the contract wouldn’t apply.
“You’re—taking this very well, Harry.”
Harry smiles at Hermione and looks down at Snape’s essay again. “It’s just what has to be done. Kind of like homework.”
That makes Hermione start talking about their Charms class from the other day and how hard Flitwick’s lecture was to understand, and they don’t discuss the contract anymore, for which Harry is grateful.
*
“Happy Christmas, Harry.”
Harry looks up, startled. Nott didn’t ever say he wanted to use Harry’s first name and he hasn’t ever invited Harry to use his, so it’s a surprise when he walks up to Harry in the chaos of the entrance hall, where Harry is standing to watch Hermione leave.
Nott half-bows to Harry and holds out a huge wrapped present. Harry takes it and knows his eyes are equally huge. He’s never got a real Christmas gift before, and especially not one this big.
“Thank you, Theodore,” he says, a little bewildered. A few people are looking at them and gawping, but not a lot. They’re too busy rushing to catch the carriages to the Hogsmeade train station.
“Theo. Please.”
The last word is so soft Harry almost can’t hear it in the chaos. But he nods, because—well, because that’s the way Theo wants it, and someday they might be married, and Harry should try to respect what he wants.
“Okay. Thank you.”
Theo gives him a single intense glance, and then turns around and walks out the door. Harry watches him go, biting his lip. He bought Theo an enormous lot of chocolate, the kind of thing he would have liked to get from the Dursleys all these years, and he was going to send Hedwig off with it tomorrow. He hopes he hasn’t done something wrong by not giving Theo his gift in the entrance hall, too.
Well, if he’s done something wrong, he will just have to live with it.
He opens his gift later in the dorms, with Ron hovering at his shoulder, and stares when he realizes it’s an enormous cauldron, bigger and shinier than the one he bought. Ron snorts a little.
“Does he think you’ll be better at Potions with this?’
“Maybe,” Harry whispers. And even though he probably won’t ever be better at Potions because Snape hates him, his heart warms up a little.
Theo wants him to do better in class. No one except Hermione has ever wanted Harry to do better in class, and with Hermione it’s just because she wants everyone to do better, including Ron and the twins.
This is—special. It’s great. Harry smiles at the cauldron and hopes Theo likes his chocolate.
*
“Thank you.”
Theo says it softly as they’re going into Potions. Harry beams at him, because he can’t help but think it’s for the chocolate. What else would Theo have to thank him for?
“Set up your cauldrons,” Snape snaps as he sails past.
“You look tired.”
Harry blinks several times and glances at Theo, who’s lingering near Harry’s table. Ron looks at Theo, rolls his eyes, and goes to the storage cupboard. “What?”
“You look tired. As if something’s been draining your magical strength. Did something happen over the holiday?”
“Of course not. I was here at Hogwarts—”
“That doesn’t mean something couldn’t have happened.”
Harry hesitates, because honestly, he would like to discuss the Mirror of Erised with someone, but he’s surprised that the effect would be lingering on him days later. “I—could talk with you after class? In the boys’ loo near the Great Hall?”
Theo nods and starts to say something, but Snape looms up behind him just then, hissing like a cat on fire.
“Take your seat, Mr. Nott.”
Theo nods, but waits until Snape turns away and then rolls his eyes theatrically so only Harry can see.
It’s worth it, even when Snape takes points from Harry for smiling.
*
“Finally.”
“Sorry, I forgot there’s more one than one bathroom near the Great Hall.”
Theo pauses, then shakes his head in what looks like irritation. “Not your fault. So, are you going to tell me about the thing that happened to you over Christmas?’
“I’m kind of amazed that you even noticed.” Harry sits down on the floor, against the wall. It’s not a very pleasant place to have a conversation, but more private than trying to have it in the middle of the corridor. “I didn’t think anyone would. It happened days ago, you know? And I thought I’d got over it.”
“Thought you’d…”
Theo’s eyes are narrow. Harry realizes too late that that probably sounds like he went through some kind of trauma. He waves his arms hastily. “No, no! I just—something happened, and it was strange, but I didn’t think it would leave any kind of lasting mark.”
“Tell me.”
So Harry stumbles through telling Theo about the Mirror of Erised, and what Dumbledore said about people wasting away in front of it, and how he saw his parents and Ron saw himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain and all that. Part of him feels a little bad about telling Theo about Ron’s fantasies, but he already knows Theo is the sort of person who will guard those secrets as if they’re a vault full of gold at Gringotts.
Just because Harry is the one who told them to him.
Knowing that makes Harry feel strange, almost like he’s looking into the Mirror of Erised again.
He’s thinking about that and not the story, so he’s taken by surprise when Theo suddenly reaches out and grabs Harry’s wrist. Harry blinks at him. “What is it? Are you okay?”
Theo has his head bowed, his grip on Harry’s wrist tightening. “I’ve heard of that mirror,” he says, his voice distant and tinny, like people on the Dursleys’ telly when it has a static problem. “It’s a powerful artifact.”
“Yeah, that’s what Professor Dumbledore said. That people have wasted away in front of it.”
“Why was it there?”
Theo has a tone in his voice that Harry doesn’t really understand. He leans forwards and pats Theo’s shoulder. He hopes he’s doing it right. He hasn’t done it so far for Ron or Hermione, and he never had friends before them. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m all right.”
Theo’s eyes fly open, and he pulls so back so fast from Harry that Harry retreats at the same time. But then he sees that Theo has his head in his hands, and Harry forgets all about who scared who. “Are you all right?” Theo says in turn.
“I mean…I’ve been feeling a little depressed since I looked into the mirror,” Harry answers honestly. “I’ve been thinking about how I’ll never really have my family back the way the mirror showed me. But I’m all right other than that.”
“Why are the effects lingering so strongly?”
“I mean, I don’t think they are?” Harry hates how out of his depth he feels with Theo a lot of the time. It just emphasizes how Theo is so much smarter and would probably never want to marry him. “We haven’t talked to each other since before the holiday, so maybe it’s just that I’ve learned some things I never did before.”
“Have you been to see Madam Pomfrey?”
“Why would I?”
Theo makes an impatient noise and pulls Harry to his feet. “We’re going to see her. I want her to look at you and make sure that there really is nothing wrong except the mirror’s lingering effects.”
Harry frowns at his—betrothed, friend, whatever Theo is. But he doesn’t have any reason to resist. They have a free period now, and then lunch. He nods. “All right.”
*
“Mr. Potter! You should have come to me immediately!”
Harry scowls at Theo over the mediwitch’s shoulder as she bustles around him, casting charm after charm. Theo looks so smug. Harry tries to mouth No one likes a smug git, but Theo only looks more pleased, so Harry reckons his mouthing skills need work.
“Lingering side-effects of magical artifact exposure, malnutrition, badly broken bones, and that eyesight of yours! Young man, you’re going to have to come back for visits for close to a week so I can repair the damage!”
Harry whips his head around so he can focus on Madam Pomfrey, his jaw dropping. She seemed kind enough when Harry and Theo first came in, but now she’s terrifying. “What? What do you mean, Madam Pomfrey?”
“I mean that the magical artifact exposure might be the reason you’re here, but you have plenty else wrong with you!” Madam Pomfrey plants her hands on her hips. “How did you accumulate all these injuries, young man?”
Harry hesitates. Telling Muggles about the Dursleys never worked out. “My family doesn’t like magic much.”
Madam Pomfrey sucks in a deep breath, her eyes glistening. “Oh, my dear, dear boy. Of course you’ll be healed, and then I’ll send your family a strongly worded letter!”
“Please don’t, Madam Pomfrey! They don’t like owls, either.”
Madam Pomfrey stares at him for long enough that Harry thinks she might refuse to treat him without Aunt Petunia’s permission. That would be—bad. If he’s been affected by the Mirror of Erised, then he does want to know it. He wants to make sure that he isn’t affected too badly.
The other stuff is bad, too, but he’s been living with it up until now, so he isn’t as worried about it.
“Very well,” Madam Pomfrey says quietly. “If you promise me that you will speak with Professor McGonagall about it after this visit.”
“Why, Madam Pomfrey?”
“Because she is your Head of House, and she should know.”
Harry thinks the emphasis in her voice is a little over-the-top, but he agrees, because she’s so insistent about it. As Madam Pomfrey has him lean back in his bed and starts to cast what are apparently diagnostic charms on him, she says absently, “You may stay, Mr. Nott, but you will need to be quiet.”
Harry glances over to see how Theo is taking this. He’s lost his smug expression. He’s standing there with his eyes boring into Harry so sternly that—
Harry can’t read him. He thinks that Theo might be upset with him. Harry just hopes that Theo doesn’t think less of him for not fighting back against Muggles.
Harry turns his head away.
*
“We’re going to find Professor McGonagall.”
“Can’t we go tomorrow? I’m sleepy after that potion Madam Pomfrey made me drink.”
Theo whirls around. Harry stares at him. They’re in the upper-floor corridor that leads to McGonagall’s office, and there are few torches around. Is it just the shifting shadows that make Theo’s face look scary?
“This is their fault,” Theo spits. “The Muggles who abused you—”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Harry laughs. “It’s not abuse, it’s just the way things are—”
“It was abuse, and it proves what I’ve always known,” Theo cuts him off. “Muggles are beasts.”
Harry stares at him, and he can feel his face cooling. “No,” he says, and his voice is cold and strong in a way that he doesn’t recognize. “They’re people.”
“My father says—”
“Your father who’s a Death Eater?”
Theo catches his breath in what sounds like a gasp of hurt, and then he turns away and marches down the corridor.
Harry closes his eyes. Part of him thinks that he shouldn’t have done that. But it’s true that Muggles are people, not beasts, and he doesn’t think that Theo ought to be quoting his Death Eater father on the subject. Harry can apologize for bringing it up, maybe, but he’s not going to let Theo use the Dursleys to argue that all Muggles are evil.
He knocks on Professor McGonagall’s door, and smiles apologetically at her when she opens it. “Hi, Professor. Can I come in? Madam Pomfrey sent me.”
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Theo preslash
Content Notes: AU starting with first year, arranged marriage, angst, present tense, short scenes, canon-typical violence, minor character deaths
Rating: : PG-13
Summary: AU. Harry finds out during his first year that, for some reason, his parents set up a betrothal contract for him with Theo Nott. Theo doesn’t seem to have any objections to it, which puzzles Harry, given that he’s a Slytherin and all. But as the years pass, Harry begins to understand some of what he might gain from this.
Author’s Notes: This is the second of my “From Litha to Lammas” chaptered fics being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August. It covers first and second year, and will eventually have sequels.
Having No Objections
“…And your father signed a contract that means when you are old enough, you and Mr. Nott here will join your hands in marriage. I’m afraid I can do nothing about it, Harry. My hands are tied.”
Harry winces and leans back against the chair in the Headmaster’s office. It’s just after Halloween and the awful stuff with the troll. He was glad he survived, and he was thinking that now he has two friends, and when he got a summons to Dumbledore’s office, he just assumed it was going to be a scolding about fighting the troll.
Not that he would have to get married.
On the other hand, Dumbledore said that it was years and years away, when they were old. Twenty or something. And Nott is sitting right here. Maybe he can object and his father can get them out of the contract.
Harry glances sideways at Nott. The other boy turns his head and looks at him. He’s been so quiet that Harry hasn’t noticed him even in classes they had together. He does remember a boy sitting at the Slytherin table with his nose in a book, and he reckons it was Nott.
Now Harry lets himself look at Nott and think about marrying him. It’s not something he can really think about, though. Is Nott pretty, with his pale skin and dark hair and eyes a pale blue that makes Harry feel like he’s staring at ice? Not really.
“What about you, Nott?” Harry asks. “Do you think you can break it?”
“I have no objections to the contract.”
“I—what?”
Nott is looking at him fully. His eyes still don’t have any warmth in them, but there’s a quiet—something there that calms Harry down. “I don’t have any objections. Being married to you would be fine.”
Harry blinks. “But you—don’t you want to fall in love?”
“No.”
Well, there’s not much Harry can do about that. He turns and stares hopelessly at Dumbledore. “Sir, why did my parents make this contract with the Nott family? Hagrid told me my dad was in love with my mum—why would either one of them want this?”
Dumbledore gives a long sigh. Then he says, “How much do you know about the Death Eaters, Harry?”
“Never heard of them.” Nott scoffs, and Harry turns around and glares at him. “You grow up in the Muggle world and see how much you know about wizarding stuff!”
“You grew up in the Muggle world?”
“You don’t need to sound like I’m dirt beneath your fingernails.”
“They are—”
“That will be enough, Mr. Nott,” Dumbledore interrupts, and his voice is mild but his smile is steel. “And Harry, perhaps it’s best not to give Mr. Nott too many details about your upbringing? The Death Eaters were the original followers of the wizard they call the Dark Lord, you see, and Mr. Nott is a Death Eater’s son. You grew up in the Muggle world partially to keep you safe from Death Eaters.”
Harry just gapes at Dumbledore. Nott settles back into the chair beside him, and when Harry glances over, he has a strangely familiar look on his face. Harry finally recognizes it. He’s felt it from the inside, when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told everyone on Privet Drive one more story about him, and everyone believed them.
Nott expects Harry to believe he’s evil and turn against him.
Harry shakes his head and says, “But if they’re evil and everything, why did my father make a contract with them?”
“I suspect that was your mother’s influence. She was an intensely pragmatic woman.”
“Practical,” Nott whispers, as if he can see how confused Harry is by the word.
“Yes, that is right, do forgive me, Harry.” Dumbledore nods a little. “Your mother knew that they both might die, or that Voldemort—” Nott flinches and bangs his head on the chair “—might win the war. She wanted the Death Eaters to have a reason to protect you.”
“But if they died or Voldemort won the war—” this time, Nott makes the legs of his chair scrape across the floor “—then I would be dead anyway, right? So why would they write a contract for me to get married?” Harry still has a hard time wrapping his head around it.
Princes and princesses get married in arranged marriages, he knows that. But he’s not a prince. He’s just Harry.
“I suspect that your mother thought it would give Mr. Nott a reason to protect you. He was extremely high and trusted in Voldemort’s counsels—”
“Can you stop saying that name, sir? It’s making Nott uncomfortable.”
Dumbledore stops speaking and peers at Harry through his glasses. Harry just holds his head up and refuses to back down. Yeah, Dumbledore is great and powerful and everything, but he doesn’t know exactly how to treat Nott. Harry is the one who will be getting married to him.
(Maybe if he keeps saying that to himself, it’ll make sense one day).
“Fear of the name encourages fear of the thing itself, Harry.”
“Well, Nott’s already afraid. This isn’t the way to stop him being more afraid.”
Dumbledore looks thoughtful for a moment. Then he nods and says, “I suspect you are right, Harry. In the meantime, I do want to hear why Mr. Nott doesn’t have any objections to the contract.” He turns to Nott with an expectant expression.
“It’s more than I thought I would have,” Nott says, in a soft, blurred voice that makes Harry strain to hear him. “My father has sometimes talked about me marrying someone, so I knew I had a contract, but not who with. I can think of plenty more awful people to marry than Potter. I like what I’ve seen of him.”
Harry gapes at Nott until it feels as if his eyes are crossing.
“You do?” Dumbledore doesn’t sound much less surprised than Harry. “I would have thought that the blood prejudice alone—”
“I am not my father.”
That tone is familiar to Harry, too. Back when he thought his parents were useless drunks who got themselves killed, he would lie awake in his cupboard and think that.
I am not my father. I am not my mother. I am myself.
“That is not enough for Harry’s safety, Mr. Nott, please excuse my bluntness.”
“Then what is?” Harry interrupts, and Dumbledore turns to look at him. “You called us up here to discuss the contract, Professor. But it sounds like it can’t be broken. Can you break it?”
For the first time in the meeting, Dumbledore frowns instead of smiling. “No,” he admits. “Your parents and Mr. Nott’s mother and father swore their blood and magic to the contract. Nothing anyone else could do could break it.”
“Then you’re trying to make me afraid of Nott—why? I’ll have to get married to him and live with him anyway, so trying to make me afraid of him and upset about this is just trying to make me afraid and upset about something no one can change.”
Dumbledore looks startled now. “My dear boy—”
“Can you change it?”
“No,” Dumbledore admits. He’s peering at Harry thoughtfully.
“Well, then,” Harry says, spreading his arms a little, and turns to Nott. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk about this?”
“Even though we won’t get married for years and years?”
“I’d like to be friends with my—husband.” Then another thing strikes Harry. “We’ll really be husbands? Two men can get married in the magical world? But then how would we have kids?”
Nott is peering at Harry as though he’s officially gone insane. “Magic,” he says slowly.
Harry flushes. “Right.”
“Yes, you will be married,” Dumbledore interrupts. Harry wonders why he wants to talk more. He told Harry the truth and that this is a contract no one can break, so surely it’s up to Harry and Nott to talk and get along now. “But, Harry, I want to be sure that you do not forget what the Death Eaters did, that you do not lose all sense of yourself in this.”
“You don’t want me to trust my husband?”
“He is not your husband yet.”
Harry shakes his head in frustration. “Sir, I don’t know what you want.”
“For you to be careful, Harry.”
“If I were careful, Hermione would be dead,” Harry retorts, and then turns and looks at Nott. “Let’s go somewhere and talk about this.”
Nott nods and stands up. They leave the office, while Dumbledore watches them go carefully, expression curious.
But he doesn’t say anything. Harry supposes he can be grateful for that.
*
They end up outside a boys’ bathroom on the first floor, which is far away from the Great Hall and the Towers and the dungeons and so maybe won’t have people coming to it on a Saturday. Nott leans against the wall and looks at Harry. Harry looks back.
Maybe, with time, looking at Nott’s eyes won’t remind him of just staring at ice.
“So.”
“So.”
“You really grew up with Muggles?”
“Yes. And I would rather have grown up in the magical world, I didn’t even know I was a wizard until the day I turned eleven, but I don’t want to listen to you talk about how Muggles and Muggleborns are awful, either.”
Nott blinks and spends a moment staring at him. Then he says, “Fine, I won’t then. I don’t want to listen to you talk about how my dad is awful and should be in prison, either.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You heard what Dumbledore said about Death Eaters—”
“And I know that my parents were willing to deal with them for some reason.” Harry shakes his head. It doesn’t fit at all with what Hagrid said about his parents, but, well, maybe he has to accept that Hagrid didn’t know everything. It sounds like Nott knew about a marriage contract but not who he would be marrying, after all. “So either your dad isn’t too evil or my parents were sort of evil. Either way, I don’t want to spend a lot of time criticizing them.”
“All right,” Nott says slowly. “We might as well get to know each other, then.”
“Right. Do you like Quidditch?”
“Who doesn’t like Quidditch, Potter?”
Harry smiles a little at him, and they walk towards the Great Hall for breakfast talking about Quidditch and how Nott thinks it’s brilliant Harry gets to play as a first-year and how Harry doesn’t know any Quidditch teams and Nott thinks he should follow the Falmouth Falcons.
They go to sit at their House tables when they get to the Great Hall, but Harry is thinking that marrying Nott won’t be too terrible. If they can mostly talk about Quidditch.
He sits down with Hermione, who gives him a shy smile and then glances at Nott. “Who is—oh, Theodore Nott. Why were you talking with him, Harry?”
“Oh, I need to get married to him someday,” Harry says without thinking much about it as he reaches for the sausages.
“What?”
*
It turns out that both Ron and Hermione have a lot more objections to the idea of Harry with a marriage contract than Harry does himself. Or Nott does. It’s kind of weird.
Ron is upset about Nott’s dad being a Death Eater, and upset that Harry’s parents signed a contract with one of them. “Why would they do that?” he asks, and keeps asking. “If he’s a Death Eater’s son, then he’s a Death Eater too, and he’s like Malfoy—” And then he goes off on a rant that is more about Malfoy than Nott.
(In that, at least, Harry would agree. He would be horrified and protesting a lot more if he had to marry Malfoy than if he had to marry Nott, who he doesn’t really know at all).
Hermione is more horrified about it being an arranged marriage contract. “That died out a long time ago with so many Muggles,” she says to Harry earnestly as they sit in the library. “There are some who still do it, but it’s not common. Could you—could you break the contract somehow, Harry? Just say you don’t want to?”
“No, it’s sworn in blood and magic, apparently.” Harry shrugs. He’s kind of getting used to the idea. It’s still strange, but—well, at least this way he won’t have to worry about trying to figure out someone to marry? It’s sort of settled, and that’s the way things are.
“But that could be broken!”
“Professor Dumbledore said it couldn’t.”
“Oh.”
Hermione frowns down at the book she got out. By turning his head to the side, Harry can see that it’s something about contracts and marriage. He smiles. It’s nice of Hermione to want to help him.
But the more Harry thinks about it, the more it doesn’t bother him. Nott is still kind of a stranger, but nice enough when they talk, which is mostly about classes and Quidditch. It’s not like he’s Ron, but on the other hand, it’s not like he’s Malfoy.
And getting married is years and years and years away. Who knows what could change in that time? Nott might get nicer. They might figure out a way to break the contract. Nott could join the Death Eaters and then Harry wouldn’t marry him no matter what the contract says.
Harry could die in one of Oliver Wood’s intense training sessions and then the contract wouldn’t apply.
“You’re—taking this very well, Harry.”
Harry smiles at Hermione and looks down at Snape’s essay again. “It’s just what has to be done. Kind of like homework.”
That makes Hermione start talking about their Charms class from the other day and how hard Flitwick’s lecture was to understand, and they don’t discuss the contract anymore, for which Harry is grateful.
*
“Happy Christmas, Harry.”
Harry looks up, startled. Nott didn’t ever say he wanted to use Harry’s first name and he hasn’t ever invited Harry to use his, so it’s a surprise when he walks up to Harry in the chaos of the entrance hall, where Harry is standing to watch Hermione leave.
Nott half-bows to Harry and holds out a huge wrapped present. Harry takes it and knows his eyes are equally huge. He’s never got a real Christmas gift before, and especially not one this big.
“Thank you, Theodore,” he says, a little bewildered. A few people are looking at them and gawping, but not a lot. They’re too busy rushing to catch the carriages to the Hogsmeade train station.
“Theo. Please.”
The last word is so soft Harry almost can’t hear it in the chaos. But he nods, because—well, because that’s the way Theo wants it, and someday they might be married, and Harry should try to respect what he wants.
“Okay. Thank you.”
Theo gives him a single intense glance, and then turns around and walks out the door. Harry watches him go, biting his lip. He bought Theo an enormous lot of chocolate, the kind of thing he would have liked to get from the Dursleys all these years, and he was going to send Hedwig off with it tomorrow. He hopes he hasn’t done something wrong by not giving Theo his gift in the entrance hall, too.
Well, if he’s done something wrong, he will just have to live with it.
He opens his gift later in the dorms, with Ron hovering at his shoulder, and stares when he realizes it’s an enormous cauldron, bigger and shinier than the one he bought. Ron snorts a little.
“Does he think you’ll be better at Potions with this?’
“Maybe,” Harry whispers. And even though he probably won’t ever be better at Potions because Snape hates him, his heart warms up a little.
Theo wants him to do better in class. No one except Hermione has ever wanted Harry to do better in class, and with Hermione it’s just because she wants everyone to do better, including Ron and the twins.
This is—special. It’s great. Harry smiles at the cauldron and hopes Theo likes his chocolate.
*
“Thank you.”
Theo says it softly as they’re going into Potions. Harry beams at him, because he can’t help but think it’s for the chocolate. What else would Theo have to thank him for?
“Set up your cauldrons,” Snape snaps as he sails past.
“You look tired.”
Harry blinks several times and glances at Theo, who’s lingering near Harry’s table. Ron looks at Theo, rolls his eyes, and goes to the storage cupboard. “What?”
“You look tired. As if something’s been draining your magical strength. Did something happen over the holiday?”
“Of course not. I was here at Hogwarts—”
“That doesn’t mean something couldn’t have happened.”
Harry hesitates, because honestly, he would like to discuss the Mirror of Erised with someone, but he’s surprised that the effect would be lingering on him days later. “I—could talk with you after class? In the boys’ loo near the Great Hall?”
Theo nods and starts to say something, but Snape looms up behind him just then, hissing like a cat on fire.
“Take your seat, Mr. Nott.”
Theo nods, but waits until Snape turns away and then rolls his eyes theatrically so only Harry can see.
It’s worth it, even when Snape takes points from Harry for smiling.
*
“Finally.”
“Sorry, I forgot there’s more one than one bathroom near the Great Hall.”
Theo pauses, then shakes his head in what looks like irritation. “Not your fault. So, are you going to tell me about the thing that happened to you over Christmas?’
“I’m kind of amazed that you even noticed.” Harry sits down on the floor, against the wall. It’s not a very pleasant place to have a conversation, but more private than trying to have it in the middle of the corridor. “I didn’t think anyone would. It happened days ago, you know? And I thought I’d got over it.”
“Thought you’d…”
Theo’s eyes are narrow. Harry realizes too late that that probably sounds like he went through some kind of trauma. He waves his arms hastily. “No, no! I just—something happened, and it was strange, but I didn’t think it would leave any kind of lasting mark.”
“Tell me.”
So Harry stumbles through telling Theo about the Mirror of Erised, and what Dumbledore said about people wasting away in front of it, and how he saw his parents and Ron saw himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain and all that. Part of him feels a little bad about telling Theo about Ron’s fantasies, but he already knows Theo is the sort of person who will guard those secrets as if they’re a vault full of gold at Gringotts.
Just because Harry is the one who told them to him.
Knowing that makes Harry feel strange, almost like he’s looking into the Mirror of Erised again.
He’s thinking about that and not the story, so he’s taken by surprise when Theo suddenly reaches out and grabs Harry’s wrist. Harry blinks at him. “What is it? Are you okay?”
Theo has his head bowed, his grip on Harry’s wrist tightening. “I’ve heard of that mirror,” he says, his voice distant and tinny, like people on the Dursleys’ telly when it has a static problem. “It’s a powerful artifact.”
“Yeah, that’s what Professor Dumbledore said. That people have wasted away in front of it.”
“Why was it there?”
Theo has a tone in his voice that Harry doesn’t really understand. He leans forwards and pats Theo’s shoulder. He hopes he’s doing it right. He hasn’t done it so far for Ron or Hermione, and he never had friends before them. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m all right.”
Theo’s eyes fly open, and he pulls so back so fast from Harry that Harry retreats at the same time. But then he sees that Theo has his head in his hands, and Harry forgets all about who scared who. “Are you all right?” Theo says in turn.
“I mean…I’ve been feeling a little depressed since I looked into the mirror,” Harry answers honestly. “I’ve been thinking about how I’ll never really have my family back the way the mirror showed me. But I’m all right other than that.”
“Why are the effects lingering so strongly?”
“I mean, I don’t think they are?” Harry hates how out of his depth he feels with Theo a lot of the time. It just emphasizes how Theo is so much smarter and would probably never want to marry him. “We haven’t talked to each other since before the holiday, so maybe it’s just that I’ve learned some things I never did before.”
“Have you been to see Madam Pomfrey?”
“Why would I?”
Theo makes an impatient noise and pulls Harry to his feet. “We’re going to see her. I want her to look at you and make sure that there really is nothing wrong except the mirror’s lingering effects.”
Harry frowns at his—betrothed, friend, whatever Theo is. But he doesn’t have any reason to resist. They have a free period now, and then lunch. He nods. “All right.”
*
“Mr. Potter! You should have come to me immediately!”
Harry scowls at Theo over the mediwitch’s shoulder as she bustles around him, casting charm after charm. Theo looks so smug. Harry tries to mouth No one likes a smug git, but Theo only looks more pleased, so Harry reckons his mouthing skills need work.
“Lingering side-effects of magical artifact exposure, malnutrition, badly broken bones, and that eyesight of yours! Young man, you’re going to have to come back for visits for close to a week so I can repair the damage!”
Harry whips his head around so he can focus on Madam Pomfrey, his jaw dropping. She seemed kind enough when Harry and Theo first came in, but now she’s terrifying. “What? What do you mean, Madam Pomfrey?”
“I mean that the magical artifact exposure might be the reason you’re here, but you have plenty else wrong with you!” Madam Pomfrey plants her hands on her hips. “How did you accumulate all these injuries, young man?”
Harry hesitates. Telling Muggles about the Dursleys never worked out. “My family doesn’t like magic much.”
Madam Pomfrey sucks in a deep breath, her eyes glistening. “Oh, my dear, dear boy. Of course you’ll be healed, and then I’ll send your family a strongly worded letter!”
“Please don’t, Madam Pomfrey! They don’t like owls, either.”
Madam Pomfrey stares at him for long enough that Harry thinks she might refuse to treat him without Aunt Petunia’s permission. That would be—bad. If he’s been affected by the Mirror of Erised, then he does want to know it. He wants to make sure that he isn’t affected too badly.
The other stuff is bad, too, but he’s been living with it up until now, so he isn’t as worried about it.
“Very well,” Madam Pomfrey says quietly. “If you promise me that you will speak with Professor McGonagall about it after this visit.”
“Why, Madam Pomfrey?”
“Because she is your Head of House, and she should know.”
Harry thinks the emphasis in her voice is a little over-the-top, but he agrees, because she’s so insistent about it. As Madam Pomfrey has him lean back in his bed and starts to cast what are apparently diagnostic charms on him, she says absently, “You may stay, Mr. Nott, but you will need to be quiet.”
Harry glances over to see how Theo is taking this. He’s lost his smug expression. He’s standing there with his eyes boring into Harry so sternly that—
Harry can’t read him. He thinks that Theo might be upset with him. Harry just hopes that Theo doesn’t think less of him for not fighting back against Muggles.
Harry turns his head away.
*
“We’re going to find Professor McGonagall.”
“Can’t we go tomorrow? I’m sleepy after that potion Madam Pomfrey made me drink.”
Theo whirls around. Harry stares at him. They’re in the upper-floor corridor that leads to McGonagall’s office, and there are few torches around. Is it just the shifting shadows that make Theo’s face look scary?
“This is their fault,” Theo spits. “The Muggles who abused you—”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Harry laughs. “It’s not abuse, it’s just the way things are—”
“It was abuse, and it proves what I’ve always known,” Theo cuts him off. “Muggles are beasts.”
Harry stares at him, and he can feel his face cooling. “No,” he says, and his voice is cold and strong in a way that he doesn’t recognize. “They’re people.”
“My father says—”
“Your father who’s a Death Eater?”
Theo catches his breath in what sounds like a gasp of hurt, and then he turns away and marches down the corridor.
Harry closes his eyes. Part of him thinks that he shouldn’t have done that. But it’s true that Muggles are people, not beasts, and he doesn’t think that Theo ought to be quoting his Death Eater father on the subject. Harry can apologize for bringing it up, maybe, but he’s not going to let Theo use the Dursleys to argue that all Muggles are evil.
He knocks on Professor McGonagall’s door, and smiles apologetically at her when she opens it. “Hi, Professor. Can I come in? Madam Pomfrey sent me.”