[This Lordship Business]: Seeking Whom He May Exasperate, 9/?, Harry/Theo

[lomonaaeren]

“We have to get him out of the school.”

Harry sighs a little. “We’re not going to chase him out of the school, Hermione.”

“You know very well that you can!” Hermione turns towards him, waving her arms. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this upset, except in the aftermath of Theo and Susan’s grand plan last year. They’re in the Room of Requirement, and Hermione has already paced back and forth in front of his chair about six times. She starts another circuit as he watches. “You can’t be expected to just put up with this!”

“Hogwarts won’t act against a professor doing their job.”

“And the first time that he approaches you to try and court you would be doing his job?” Susan asks.

Harry shoots her a narrow-eyed look. He’s a little worried about Susan. She’s been standing against the wall of the Room and listening to Hermione and Ron and Theo and Justin talk without saying a word. A small, dreamy smile occupies her mouth.

That smile doesn’t mean anything good.

“You know it wouldn’t,” Harry says, stiffly.

“Then we can get rid of him the first time that he approaches you to court you.”

“That’s not good enough, Susan!” Hermione paces past Harry and almost takes his head off with her waving arm. “We can’t let him anywhere near Harry! It would be terrible and unprofessional!”

“What do you think, Theo?” Susan says, turning to Theo with the air of inviting someone sane to contribute to the conversation. “You know that you won’t be able to duel him now that he’s a professor.”

“Did I say that?”

Harry shivers. He thinks the air actually chills around them as Theo speaks. His voice is soft and dreamy, like Susan’s smile, although he’s not wearing one himself. He actually looks and sounds calm.

“Why aren’t you more upset?” Hermione snaps at him.

“Hermione.” Ron leans forwards to put a hand on her arm. “Think about which class Umbridge teaches.”

Harry blinks, trying to follow the conversation. It’s unusual for Ron to come up with an idea that Harry can’t see the sense of—

Then he does, and scowls at Ron. “No.”

“But we can’t keep the professors from doing their jobs,” Ron says, his eyes wide and blue and the definition of innocent. “That means that Umbridge is going to duel students from time to time. And you know it would be so easy for a spell to go astray when it isn’t meant to.”

“And what do you think will happen at that point? What will people think?”

“Well, he won’t think much of anything—”

“Ron.”

Ron jerks his chin up and stares back at Harry in defiance when Harry glares at him. “You can’t have it one way or the other, mate,” he says. “You can’t refuse to interfere and then get upset when we do. We’re yours. And you’re ours.”

“There’s no clause in the law that says the Hogwarts Defense professor can refuse duels from students because of his job,” Justin chirps.

Harry runs his hand over his forehead. “Some of you are going to be of legal age soon,” he says quietly, looking at Hermione in particular. “That means that you could go to Azkaban if you killed him.”

“Who said anything about killing him?”

That’s Susan and Hermione speaking at the same time. Harry squints at them.

“We’re going to bleed him,” Theo says, and Susan and Hermione nod firmly. At least Hermione has stopped pacing around the Room like a madwoman. Theo is smiling at Harry where he sits behind a round grey table that the Room conjured for him without his asking. “We’re going to make sure that he suffers if he ever so much as looks in your direction again.”

“That could still get you in trouble!” Harry hisses.

Theo visibly thinks about that for a second, then shrugs. “That’s life.”

“And we’re on secure ground in challenging him,” Justin adds, like the deliberately non-helpful person he’s being today. “Both because of his job and because of our oaths.”

“Someone will come up with some reason to put you in Azkaban,” Harry says tightly, his eyes moving back and forth between them. He’s never seen five people look so unimpressed. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“You’re not usually so afraid of the Ministry, mate,” Ron says. “What’s going on?”

“The Minister doesn’t usually think I’m fighting a war against him and his people. And Dumbledore? He hired Umbridge—this Umbridge—on purpose. He probably thinks that it’ll distract me or something, too. I don’t know what’s going on, and I just don’t want to hand them an excuse to persecute you.”

“Or prosecute?” Justin asks.

Harry gives him a mild glare. “Yeah, that too.”

Justin grins at him, and then the grin vanishes. “There are things we have to do because of our oaths, Harry. And then there are things that we should do because it’s the right thing to do. You don’t deserve to be stalked and harassed through the corridors of Hogwarts by this Darius Umbridge. We’ll keep him away from you.”

“He might just stay away on his own,” Harry tries, but his voice withers in the face of the unimpressed looks from all his friends.

“Of course he might,” Justin says, with a roll of his eyes that shows how likely he considers that. “But not when he was going around during the summer telling people that he intended to court you no matter what.”

“He could be a little more subtle here?”

“He might. Or he might not.”

Harry’s eyes lock on Theo, who’s examining his nails. Theo goes still even before he looks up. He must be feeling some of Harry’s mood through the bonds that tie them together, Harry thinks. The others are intent, quivering as though they intend to dash off and attack a castle together.

Or an Umbridge, Harry thinks, before he takes a deep breath and says, “I need you to be subtle, though.”

“In what way?” Theo is looking at him thoughtfully.

“Don’t make it obvious that you’re going after him because of me. Don’t pay any special attention to him—I mean, any more than you would usually pay a professor. Don’t spread rumors about him or encourage any of the others to attack him, either.”

“If that’s what you wish, my lord.”

Harry rolls his eyes a little, because this is Theo at his most formal and most annoying, but at least Harry thinks that means he’ll obey the orders. He turns and looks at the others. “Can you do that? If we’re going to handle him, we can’t do it through overt means. Or at least not means that look overt to others.”

“No legal threats?” Justin asks, looking slightly disappointed.

“No legal threats.”

Justin sighs. “You’re no fun.”

“Right now, I’m just trying to make sure that we don’t bait the Ministry into arresting any of us. You know that Fudge is just looking for a pretext.”

“Do you think Umbridge is here as part of that?” Susan’s frowning.

“No, I think it’s much more likely that he applied for the post and Dumbledore hired him because he didn’t have anything else. And he probably did apply for the post to be closer to me. It’s just that two things can be true: Umbridge could have been acting from his own motivations, and Fudge could seize any chance to cause trouble.”

“Three things are true, in this case.”

“What do you mean, Hermione?”

Her eyes are hard as she looks at him and then around the room. “Dumbledore could have been acting from his own motivations, too. He has to be aware that Umbridge is trying to court you, now. And he invited him to the school anyway? That’s disgusting.”

Harry nods silently. The worst thing that could have happened if Dumbledore didn’t hire Umbridge is that the Ministry would have appointed someone again, who couldn’t have been any worse than the original Umbridge. And it wouldn’t have been worse for Harry personally.

“I think we need a committee,” Hermione abruptly announces.

“A what?”

“A Committee to Punish Dumbledore. Or we could expand it to all our enemies. We could call it the Committee to Utterly Neutralize Threats.”

Justin starts coughing.

“You’re not putting that on a badge,” Ron complains.

Hermione seems to think about it for a minute, and then turns such a bright pink that Harry has to hide his laughter. “Um. Yes. Right. Well, we’ll think of something.”

“Why a committee, though?” Harry has to ask. “Anyone who hears about it will know what you’re doing, and then there’s the advantage of our surprise gone.”

“Exactly,” Susan says, and trades a smile with Hermione that makes Harry uneasy. All he needs is for them to start plotting together, and Hermione to do something mad under the impression that it’s justified because she’s the one involved. “What matters is that we’ll be up front and out in the open, making noise and attracting attention. Like Fudge’s. And in the meantime, people can be doing the real work in the background, where no one will notice them.”

“Like me,” Theo says with a bright smile.

Susan nods to him. “Like you.”

Harry sighs. “All right. But you’ll do what I’m asking, yes? Be subtle, and don’t overtly involve Umbridge?”

Susan gives the sigh of someone who’s been asked to clean up after Dudley Dursley. “Fine. Since you ask so nicely, my lord.”

“Thank you.” Harry’s terrified, himself, at the thought of going to Azkaban or having his soul sucked out by a Dementor, but the thought of having one of his friends suffer that is a hundred times worse.

“We’re still going to make Umbridge’s life miserable, of course,” Theo says, and Ron echoes him with a firm nod. “Subtly.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

The others start talking about going back to the Tower or the Hufflepuff common room, but Theo lingers obviously, and Harry waves at him to do so while the others depart. Hermione gives them both a knowing smile that’s a little nasty. Harry’ll have to remember to tell her that.

“What is it?” Harry asks, when they’re alone.

“Just this,” Theo says, and strides forwards with such a wicked-looking gleam in his eye that Harry stands up, a little alarmed. He’s both prepared and not when Theo grabs him by the waist, pulls him close, and kisses him so soundly that Harry’s cheeks and chest both feel as if they’ll catch on fire.

When Harry can finally step back, he croaks, “What was that for?”

“You didn’t see how that bastard was looking at you at dinner.” Theo’s hands clench on his hips, his eyes burning for a moment. “I’ll do as you ask and keep my hatred out of his face, but you’re mine. And he looked at you like…”

Harry deliberately didn’t look at Umbridge during dinner, because he thought the last thing the situation needed was him gagging, but he nods. “Understood.”

“Then you didn’t mind?”

“You being jealous and possessive?” Harry’s smiling, his hand sliding into Theo’s hair. “Not at all. Keep it as subtle as this, and you can as jealous and possessive as you like.”

Theo flutters his eyelashes. “Thank you, my lord,” he says breathlessly, in imitation of a pair of elderly witches they ran into in Diagon Alley one day during the summer.

“Oh, shut up,” Harry mutters, and then uses his mouth to make sure Theo does as he’s told.

From the enthusiastic way Theo responds, he has no problem with this whatsoever.

*

“We will begin today with a discussion of the differences between Dark Arts and normal magic.”

Harry can’t help eyeing Darius Umbridge skeptically. The man doesn’t look that much like his cousin, whatever degree of relation Dolores Umbridge actually is. He has smoother skin and a heavy russet beard that’s cut short on his chin. His eyes are a deep blue and bulge a little, like Luna’s. And he seems never to smile at all, unlike the other Umbridge’s sticky sweetness.

But he’s still an Umbridge, and someone who took this post knowing the person he wants to court is a student in the school. Harry will never trust him.

“Professor Umbridge, sir?”

“Yes, Miss…”

“Granger, sir.” Hermione lowers her arm and looks angelic. “Why do you call it normal magic, rather than non-Dark Arts?”

“There is nothing normal about Dark Arts, Miss Granger,” Umbridge intones. His beard seems to serve mostly as an object for him to stroke and look solemn about, Harry thinks. “They should not be accepted in our normal society or thought of as simply another branch of spells that someone can cast. They must be eliminated.”

Normal. Normal society.

For a moment, Harry’s so strongly reminded of the Dursleys that he can’t breathe.

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione says. She’s so good at radiating sincerity that Harry would stare at her if the point wasn’t to be subtle. “I do have another question. How do we tell the difference between Dark Arts and defensive spells?”

“Well, Miss Granger, one is Dark Arts, and one is defensive.”

“Well, sir, the Blasting Curse, for example. If I used that to hit someone and stop them from attacking me, would that make it defensive? And if I used it to strike first and hit someone who was creeping towards me and a bunch of young children, would that make it Dark?”

Harry takes it back. Hermione might be subtle enough for Umbridge not to realize what’s going on, but she honestly isn’t all that subtle.

“In this case, Miss Granger, the Blasting Curse is purely defensive.”

“Why is that, sir?”

“Because it’s not Dark.”

Hermione raises her eyebrows a little. “But that seems to be circular logic, sir. If the definition of defensive is ‘not Dark,’ and the definition of Dark is ‘not defensive,” then that doesn’t explain how one separates the groups of spells from one another.”

“Of course it does, Miss Granger. It does perfectly.”

“How?” asks Padma, who’s sitting on the other side of the room, next to Blaise. Blaise looks disgusted by the whole thing. Padma is leaning forwards as if logic can disrupt the circle Umbridge is trying to draw. “How does one really define the Dark Arts, sir? Without reference to the defensive spells?”

“What doesn’t belong in our normal society, Miss Patil.” Umbridge strokes his beard again. “For example, I think you would argue that a Killing Curse, such as one of my students here lived through, isn’t the type of spell anyone would want people running around and casting just as they like.”

For the first time with Harry looking at him, Umbridge turns and meets his eyes directly. A small, coy smile flits across his face as he inclines his head.

It’s one of the most horrible sights Harry has ever seen.

“Mr. Potter, would you like to contribute to the discussion?”

All right, Harry decides rapidly, Umbridge smiling at him isn’t the most horrible sight in this classroom. Umbridge trying to be considerate is.

“I think we really need a definition of Dark Arts that can stand on its own, sir,” Harry says steadily, meeting the man’s eyes. “Otherwise, what’s to prevent someone from deciding that a spell isn’t normal and pushing for classification of it as Dark? There’s no way to prevent that from happening if we don’t know what the Dark Arts really are.”

“But we do, Mr. Potter.”

“Do we, sir?”

“Of course. They aren’t defensive.”

Padma looks as if she might try to climb over the desk and rip Umbridge’s head off. Blaise looks as if he wouldn’t be far behind.

Harry sighs a little and lets himself lean back in his chair. “But that’s a circular definition, sir, as Miss Granger already mentioned.”

“I don’t see how.”

“How can you define one without the other?”

“You can’t.”

“Then what’s to stop someone from classifying a spell they don’t like as Dark Arts, rather than a spell that actually is?”

“Because they’re not the same.”

Umbridge tilts his head and tries to—smile winsomely? Harry doesn’t really know. It’s only that it’s horrifying.

“I still think we need a definition that doesn’t involve this kind of circular logic and comparison, sir.”

“And I think that we need to spend more time on explaining and defining the Dark Arts, and not talking about these logical mistakes you’re trying to accuse me of committing,” Umbridge says. He looks away from Harry with a disappointed air, apparently deciding that Harry isn’t going to fling himself on the floor at his feet and reach out to lick his boots. “Now. The first class of Dark Arts that you need to know about are the Unforgivable Curses, which are defined as…”

Umbridge keeps going, lecturing on and on in a droning voice that Harry thinks is worse than the original Umbridge’s. At least she didn’t spend that much time talking. By the time the class is almost finished, Harry has taken less than a page of notes—since Umbridge keeps circling back to repeat the same concepts in slightly different words—and sits back with a distinct sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

He’s not sure he can survive a year of these classes, after all.

“Yes, Mr. Nott?”

Harry looks up, prepared to flash a warning glance at Theo, but Theo is only lowering his hand with a look of polite interest. “I was just wondering what kinds of spells we would be practicing in class, sir, and what kinds of practice duels we would have.”

“Practice duels?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Practice duels are no longer part of the curriculum for NEWT Defense.”

“How can we learn to defend ourselves, though? Sir,” Hermione adds, probably to make up for Umbridge turning and frowning at her.

“In the future, please raise your hand when you wish to discuss something, Miss Granger. And I don’t see any need for practice duels in this class. You will be learning to defend yourself, of course, but that’s different than practice dueling.”

“Wouldn’t we need to practice blocking spells from other people in duel-like situations? Sir.”

“Of course, but that isn’t the same as a duel.”

“What’s the difference, sir?”

“One is a duel,” Umbridge says with satisfaction, “and one is a duel-like situation.”

Harry really, really wants to put his head down on his desk. Of course, he won’t give the man the satisfaction. But he wants to.

Yes, I suppose it’s going to be the Defense practice group again.