For Jas.
Pre-Hogwarts
Power, Theo thought, was the art of knowing exactly what to do and when to do it. Anything else was superfluous.
The Hogwarts Express whistled and moaned as it creaked to a start, and Theo clutched his book to his chest for those first few rattling moments. He would never accept his weakness of getting travel sick, but the rumbling of a vehicle's engine still held him in its grip.
So he pretended to watch their departure from London and everything he had known for those first few moments, letting his lip curl slightly into a sneer at the reflected image of boys playing Eexploding sSnap.
They couldn't have been more different: one was blonde and pale and skinny, and the other was dark and mysterious and exotic, but both had that same self-satisfied air of spoilt children interested only in the next prize.
Theo would know.
He had been one of them, once.
Blaise swaggered his way up to the Sorting Hat with a confidence that no eleven-year-old boy should possess. His name was the last on the list, and he enjoyed making everyone hang onto his tiniest movement, waiting for him to give them leave to resume their lives.
He slowed his pace, just for a moment.
The food was waiting on his every whim; the Headmaster giving him his full attention. Blaise could do anything in that moment, and no one would be able to do a thing until he was Sorted.
Power, he thought, as the Sorting Hat settled on his head at a jaunty tilt, was the ability to make people do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted.
When the Hat cried Slytherin, Blaise just smirked.
As if he would have it any other way.
First year
Theo was studying in one of the quiet rooms in the dungeons when they properly met for the first time. He enjoyed sitting on the table, his back against the cool stone of the wall and his legs stretched out before him.
It was three weeks into the first term and he'd already finished all the books on magic his dad had allowed him to bring to Hogwarts. The one he was currently holding had been swiped from a third year writing a paper for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The stupid librarian had been of no use at all, bringing him children's books and beginners' guides.
He was just trying to figure out what his Boggart would be and how he would vanquish it when a boy came tumbling out of the wall.
Theo blinked.
There was no wall; that was clear enough. It had been a secret passageway, and Theo cursed himself for his lack of perception. That kind of mistake would get you killed, and Theo had no intention of dying just yet.
The boy stood up, clearly no worse for wear as he brushed the dust off of his robes. They were accented with green, the emblem of a snake clearly marked on his left breast. When he looked up, his dark, slanted eyes met Theo's blue ones.
Zabini, Theo realised. First year Slytherin. The boy who thought he was too cool for school.
'We haven't properly met,' Zabini said, holding his hand out. 'I'm Blaise.'
Theo stared at it. It was true. Theo was somewhat of a recluse, and Draco Malfoy took up most of the attention. The rest was devoted to the sheer stupidity incarnated in the forms of Crabbe and Goyle.
Zabini dropped his hand.
Theo raised an eyebrow.
'Game of Exploding Snap?' Zabini asked, producing a singed deck of cards. 'They're 100% Italian. Just like me.'
Theo rolled his eyes.
'There's no point,' he said, going back to his book.
'So?' Zabini persisted, flashing pearly white teeth in a grin. 'That is the point.'
'I'll pass.'
'If I can prove a point, will you play with me?'
Theo sighed, closing his book. He wouldn't be getting any further today, that much was clear. He'd let the infuriating boy who should have been a Gryffindor say his piece, and then have dinner while trying to turn his water to wine. Not a second more of his day should be wasted.
Zabini seemed to pick up on his impatience.
'It's a game of skill,' he said quickly. 'The good players never get burnt. It's good for your reflexes and my step-dad swears it's why he can draw his wand so fast.'
That intrigued Theo. Improving his wand skills was on his checklist, after all. One more weakness to cross off.
'All right,' he said, sliding his legs off the table to stand opposite Blaise. 'Let's play.'
Second year
'Why should I care if the roots are chopped or not?' Blaise asked impatiently, moving to drop the offending items straight into the potion. They would boil down eventually anyway.
With lightning quick reflexes, Theo caught Blaise's arm with a vice-like grip. If it hadn't hurt so much, Blaise would have been impressed.
'Because,' Theo said, his voice strained and his eyes glinting, 'if you don't, it will blow up in your smug face and you won't be able to even look at yourself in the mirror. You don't want to ruin your favourite pastime, do you?'
Blaise opened his mouth, ready to make some glib remark about Professor Snape and kiss arses, when the Irish Gryffindor's cauldron blew up two rows to the left of them. The boy dove for cover and Snape was quick to put the fire out, but Blaise saw the lack of eyebrows and smelt the singed hair.
After that, he looked at Theo with new respect.
'Maybe you're onto something after all, Theo,' he remarked.
'That's Nott to you.'
But Blaise didn't miss the smirk and glance Theo threw his way when he dropped in the perfect amount of roots. Maybe it wasn't so bad to learn how to do things yourself.
Third year
Theo looked longingly at the shimmering waves, the droplets of water that nearly reached to his toes when there was a particularly dramatic splash. Sweat beaded on his brow in the uncommonly hot September weather, but he determinedly swept it off and focused on his book. He had learnt the curses, now he needed to know how to counter them. If he kept this up, he'd be doing non-verbal spells in no time.
Of course, no one needed to know how good he really was.
As his dad had always told him: Let your opponent underestimate you. Better off with your pride hurt and them dead.
Still, that didn't stop him from craving the sweet and playful ignorance that the other boys had.
Think of Mum, he reminded himself. She wanted you to have fun.
A shadow fell across his page, and he quickly snatched his book back before the inevitable droplets soaked the precious parchment.
'You read too much,' Blaise said, as Theo knew he would say.
Blaise thought that power was doing whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Theo thought that Blaise was an idiot.
Still, that didn't stop the arrogant idiot from being his friend, in a strange, particular way.
'Reading's good for you,' Theo said eventually, when it became clear the other boy wasn't going to leave.
'You hate it,' Blaise said bluntly, squatting down next to Theo so he could see the twinkle in his eyes. 'You know you can't lie to me.'
'I'm not lying,' Theo quipped. 'I just said it was good for you.'
'All right, that's enough,' Blaise replied. 'I will say this only once' — he never said it once — 'because I'm your friend' — Theo wasn't sure they had the same definition of "friend" — 'so listen carefully…
'Wingardium Leviosa.'
And that was the story of how Theo was levitated into the Black Lake.
Fourth Year
Blaise had a weakness.
A very unfortunate weakness, one that he didn't seem to be able to shed.
See, he was very good at getting girls. He'd bat his eyelashes and quip a few charming words and they were putty in his hands. They'd do anything for him, for the flowers he sent to them at breakfast. He figured they deserved to be manipulated. After all, pansies were a declaration of war, not of love.
No, his weakness was that he didn't seem to know what to do with boys. Draco was only his friend because Daphne and Pansy had gushed about Blaise to him. But Draco wasn't the person Blaise felt himself desperately, disgustingly trying to impress.
It was Theo.
He didn't know why.
The slight, blue-eyed boy was still caught in the awkward moment between childhood and adolescence, one that had thankfully passed during the summer holidays for Blaise.
Still, his heart skipped whenever Theo sat down next to him. He felt his face brighten with a smile whenever Theo considered it worth his time to speak to him. And when he lay in his dormitory, listening to the other boys softly snoring, Blaise felt electrified at the idea that Theo was sleeping not ten feet from him.
It was pitiful, really.
Blaise could feel himself changing, paying more attention in class so Theo would think him more intelligent, practicing chess with Draco so Theo would notice his skills in Slytherin strategy. But his friend didn't even seem to notice.
'Really, Blaise,' Theo drawled as Blaise waved off a girl on their way back from Hogsmeade. 'I thought you were better than this.'
The statement caught Blaise off guard for a moment, all the more so because it was unprompted.
'Jealous?' he asked, saying the first stupid word that sprang to mind.
'Hardly.' Theo scoffed. 'But it just seems so… demeaning. There's a different girl on your arm every week, and most hardly compare to your level of attractiveness.'
Blaise's heart jumped to his throat. Inadvertently, Theo had just complimented his appearance. Of course, he knew that Theo was dissecting him in his strange, objective way, but the butterflies in his stomach backflipped too much to pay attention to logic.
'And what's wrong with that?' Blaise asked.
'Do you really want to be known as a slut?' Theo raised an eyebrow. 'I don't see what else you're getting out of this.'
'How about top marks in all of my essays?' Blaise countered, crossing his arms.
'You're dependent on them.' Theo spat the word in revulsion. They came to a stop. 'Take them away, and where does that leave you? Merlin knows why, but I like you, Blaise.' He hesitated. 'I just want you to be more careful.'
With that, he carried on walking, leaving Blaise standing in the snow. Of course, Theo had it all wrong. He wasn't dependent on those girls. One could easily replace another, and Blaise got a kick out of knowing he could just pluck one out of the air, even one he had hurt before. But he was dependent on Theo, and that, in itself, was a problem.
So instead of heeding Theo's advice, he decided to date twice as many. All purebloods, of course. Blaise did have some standards.
Fifth Year
Theo eyed the skeletal horse nibbling on raw flesh in disgust. He wasn't sure whether it looked more like an unfortunate cross-breed between a bat and a chicken or a skinned dragon. He wasn't sure which option was worse.
'Oh, come on,' Blaise said from by his side. Blaise always seemed to be by his side recently. 'Even you have to admit that that's cool!'
'I most certainly do not,' Theo said indignantly.
Had he made a mistake in befriending Blaise? He looked around, but most people seemed to have the same look of amazement on their faces. Others looked confused. Oddly, only Potter and Longbottom seemed to share his distaste. He frowned. Had the world turned backwards in the night?
'It's invisible,' Blaise said slowly, as if speaking to a child. Theo's frown deepened.
'All righ' class, listen up,' Hagrid boomed in his gruff voice. 'Who can see 'em? Put yer hands up, nice and high!'
Curiosity made Theo raise his hand, eager to participate in a class for once. Unsurprisingly, Potter and Longbottom raised their hands too.
'Three,' Hagrid said, a little surprised. 'Three ter a class is more 'n I expected, ter be 'onest. These 'ere are called Thestrals. Now, who can tell me why only three people can see Thestrals?'
Granger, as predicted, raised her hand so quickly, Theo was sure she took several of Weasley's boogers with it.
''Ermione, go ahead.'
'The only people who can see Thestrals' — Granger paused dramatically — 'are people who have seen death.'
Suddenly, a loud ringing filled Theo's ears. He turned away from the foul creatures, blinking hard and shaking his head. The ringing only grew louder, this time accompanied by memories Theo had thought safely locked away. A flash of blonde hair. A laugh. A vial of liquid gold.
'Excuse me,' he muttered, stumbling away from the class. Never had he been gladder of Potter's tendency to draw the attention of every person in the room.
Well, not every person.
'You've seen death?' Blaise asked, his voice devoid of any humour or deceit.
Theo halted in his tracks. He tried to turn to face Blaise, but for some reason, his eyes were riveted to the way the trees perfectly framed the Black Lake. It seemed like he could suddenly see far further than he should, but his eyes refused to focus.
'My mother,' he said. He opened his mouth, meaning to explain, but the words caught in his throat.
Blaise circled the brambles to face him. Theo dropped his eyes, unable to watch the inevitable look of pity cross his face.
Instead, he was enveloped by warmth. His breath hitched as his mind raced to understand what was happening and his body how to react. When Blaise's hand squeezed his shoulder, he realised that this was what it was to receive a hug.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged.
Slowly, mechanically, he raised his arms to encircle Blaise's now sobbing form. It felt awkward, it felt wrong, but at the same time… it felt nice. Quickly, he stepped away, unable to understand the turmoil in his mind.
'It was her own fault,' he told Blaise, schooling the emotion in his voice. 'She should have read the side effects of Felix Felicis. Don't cry for her weakness.'
'All those hours spent over books. All those times your dad shook your hand when we got back,' Blaise stammered nonsensically, wiping the tears from his eyes. He took a breath and in the same heartbeat took Theo's hand. 'I'm not crying for her weakness. I'm crying for mine.'
But in that moment, Theo didn't see Blaise's need for other people as a weakness. Instead, he saw it as a source of comfort, of strength. And maybe, just maybe, in the future he would be able to draw on Blaise's strength too.
