Sanctuary
Word Count: 791
Pairing: Harry Potter/Theodore Nott
Beta: Rei
Warnings: Underage sex, kinda? They're in sixth year, probably, so.
They would meet in abandoned classrooms and hidden alcoves, quietly standing in corners as the sun went down and their fingers entwined. They spoke rarely, didn't feel the need to proclaim their love to one another constantly, but they didn't need to. They knew.
The nights slowly became colder, darker, but Harry didn't mind. Why should he, when soft lips touched his own, or when he lost himself to the sensation of large, warm palms running down his sides? Why should he, when the touches sent electricity down his spine and Harry was so euphoric he could barely remember his name? He was much too preoccupied with kissing back, the room slowly heating as he was pressed down and fucked, desperate fingers rushing to touch as much skin as possible and mouths gasping into each other.
"Theo!" he groaned, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched. The other boy laughed softly, grabbing his thighs and pulling him further into himself, and Harry's mouth opened in a silent scream. All he could hear was Theo's hard breathing, his blood rushing through his ears, a strong heartbeat; he didn't know whose, and the rustling of clothing still not completely removed. It was always so intense, so charged with passion and desire and want, and Harry sometimes wondered how it was possible he could feel this much all at once without exploding.
The wall was hard against his back, but he barely noticed. He would probably have bruises tomorrow, and yet he couldn't care. All he wanted was more of this, Theo moving into him like he'd die if he couldn't get enough of him, like he was his entire world, and Harry had never felt so desirable in his life. Never felt so loved as he did when Theo leaned down to kiss him softly, gently, instead of heavily, or when he slipped a hand behind his head, so it wouldn't bang against the wall. He'd never felt as happy as he did when his lover finally lay him down, never breaking eye contact as he slung an arm over his waist and another under him.
Harry moved to lean his cheek on his shoulder, eyes closing peacefully. They panted as they calmed, and kissed, and Harry traced words neither of them said but both of them felt, slowly, on Theodore's chest.
"I know," he whispered, taking hold of his hand and pressing his fingertips against his mouth. "Me too."
Harry smiled against sweat-salty skin.
This was their sanctuary - not a place, or a thing, but little pockets of togetherness in a sea of time. Outside them, he was Harry Potter, saviour and Boy-Who-Lived. In the public's eye, he was whatever their greedy hearts desired, and if he dared to be anything more, he was condemned for it.
And Theo was not Theo when he wasn't with Harry. He was Theodore Nott Jr, Slytherin and pureblood heir, and they were two such different people they'd never associate with each other, never mind care. Never mind love. And yet here they were.
Theo was like a balm to his wounded heart. Harry had seen so much, lost so much, and still he was expected to stand strong and smile despite the crushing pain and exhaustion. He was so tired of being somebody, constantly, that sometimes it seemed to him that Theo was the only thing keeping him up. He would have drowned a long time ago if it hadn't been for the taller boy, but that was okay. A part of Harry imagined that he'd have let himself, were it not that he had someone to try for. And Theo was always so soft, so gentle, that Harry thought it'd be okay if he broke. Theo wouldn't judge, or cry, or rage. He would merely pick up all the pieces and help Harry put himself back together, no matter how long it took.
They were content like this, silent gazes and quiet affection, and there was no need for anybody else to know. Nobody else needed to know that Harry's heart hurt a little every time he caught Theo's smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, or that Theo had a habit of playing with Harry's hair when they cuddled. They didn't need to know about the few words, whispered between their bodies as if to shield them from curious ears, because it was something that was purely for them.
And maybe there would be tears in the future, or pain, because Harry couldn't imagine spending his life with anybody else, but when it came they would be ready and strong and loud, and they would stand together. But for now, both of them had suffered enough, and these moments, moments of recuperation and healing, were enough.
