Ready, Aim, Fire

Pairing: Nottpott (Theo Nott x Harry Potter)

Universe: muggle AU

Rating: M

Summary: Olivie Advent cont'd.

Prompts: 1) nottpott Ride or Die AU; 2) Death Wish-style Harry and Theo vibes. I have also combined this with the trope of arranging a fake relationship for a holiday dinner, because it's almost Christmas and we deserve nice things.

"He's weird, right?" Theo murmured to Draco as the new deputy sheriff walked away. "I told you. Something's off with him."

"He's really fuckin' by the book," said Draco, grey gaze narrowed in disapproval. "Jesus," he added after a breath's calculation, "if Slughorn doesn't keep him on a leash, we're fucked. We've already got Greyback and his goons to deal with. Last thing we need is Diagon PD."

"Yeah," said Theo, adding after a split-second, "Think I'm gonna go after him."

"What? Nott, for fuck's sake, I don't need another search of the Manor," Draco started to growl in his wake, but Theo was already taking off, briskly catching the police officer's heel.

"Hey," he said. "I need a favor."

The deputy, Potter, turned with obvious unwillingness to face him.

"What?" he said, condensing his feelings on the matter into one insoluble word.

"So, you know my dad, right?" prompted Theo. "Scary big dude, rides a bike like maybe he's got an anvil between his legs? Arrested on five separate occasions, zero prison time?"

Potter's mouth tightened. "I'm familiar," he said warily.

"Yeah, well, I need someone," said Theo. "To bring to dinner with him. Christmas Eve."

One dark brow arched. "What, like a date?"

"Sure. Whatever."

"I don't think I'm what your father wants you to bring home," he said evasively.

"Yes," Theo confirmed. "Exactly. So you see why it's brilliant."

Potter paused a moment to consider this.

"Why me?" he asked after a second.

"Because," Theo said, "he'll fuckin' hate you. His pretentious asshole of a son bringing home a cop? A dude cop? Think about it. Like really fuckin' picture it. It's some once in a lifetime fuckery, man. Dickmanship to the highest degree."

There was a pause as the cop in question pondered the offer.

"There's nothing in it for me," Potter observed eventually, which was true enough. Not that Theo made a habit of letting rationality stop him.

"Not very philanthropic of you, Officer," admonished Theo.

Potter fixed him with another expressionless glance, eyes shifting from the Manor behind Theo back to Theo himself.

"Fine," he said. "Give me your phone."

"Not without a warrant," Theo scoffed, and Potter rolled his eyes.

"Fine, then you can find me yourself to tell me the details. Call me Harry," he said. "More intimate."

Then he unlocked his police cruiser and slid into the driver's seat.

There were no good reasons for Harry to say yes, other than having nothing else going on. No family of his own, and Ron would be off with his own obligations. The Weasleys had invited Harry to join them for dinner as well, but there was something a little stifling about latching onto Ron's family traditions. Besides, Harry had already agreed to spend Christmas Day with the Weasleys. One night out wouldn't kill him, unless the elder Theodore Nott tried to. In which case at least Harry had a gun.

Unfortunately, he figured it wasn't a good idea to waltz into a Death Eater's house packing his Diagon PD-issued Glock 19, so he tossed it into the glove compartment of his car instead. He was about to climb into the driver's seat of his Civic when a loud engine ripped from down the street, gradually revealing the narrow form of a heavily leather-clad Death Eater.

Not exactly a fitting sight, considering the houses were currently bedecked in garish Christmas lights, oversaturating the street in reds and greens. The asphalt was glossy and slick with rain, the sky fading early to black the way December evenings always did. It made the appearance of the man on the bike seem briefly like the arrival of Death himself.

Theo Nott took off his helmet, giving Harry a hawkish once-over.

"Get on," he said, smacking a gloved hand on the seat behind him.

"Absolutely fucking not," said Harry, and Theo threw one leg over the bike to rise to both feet, striding up the driveway and thrusting a helmet into Harry's abdomen.

"Get," Theo said, "on."

Harry supposed it was moderately hilarious that he was the one being brought home to scandalize a parent when frightening people was obviously Theo Nott's wheelhouse. He had a swallow tattooed beside his eye, his hair buzzed, a pair of leather gloves on the slender fingers of his restless hands. Beneath his leather cut was a v-neck that slid back from his collarbone, where the shape of a hawk's wing was stretching up to the base of his jaw. Harry didn't have to look to know there was a pistol hidden somewhere below the excess of leather.

"Do I need my Glock?" Harry asked, half-serious about grabbing it from the glove compartment.

"You can use mine," said Theo, unblinking.

Jesus fuck, Harry thought.

Theo shoved the helmet against Harry's chest again. "Put it on."

"Concerned for my safety, Nott?"

"Call me Theo in front of my father," suggested Theo. "Say it like you mean it, too."

His smile was carnivorous and deeply troubling.

"Yeah, fine," said Harry, putting on the helmet. "Whatever."

Theo strutted back to the bike and Harry grimaced.

"I can grab a lovely sidecar if you'd prefer it," Theo called over his shoulder. His voice had the particular register of a sneer from time to time, though more often it was dry and sharp; consummately impatient.

Harry rolled his eyes and straddled the bike behind Theo as the latter picked up his own helmet and strapped it on.

"Ready?" asked Theo.

"What exactly am I getting into?" said Harry.

"I'll take that as a yes," Theo replied over the sound of his engine roaring mockingly to life.

It would have been worth it for the look on his father's face alone. The moment Deputy Sheriff Harry Potter walked in the door, it was enough for the elder Theodore Nott to choke on about a thousand simultaneous expletives, though lamentably, none of them were lethal enough to stick.

"What. The. Fuck," muttered Nott, glaring at Theo. There were quiet sounds of conversation coming from the living room; the voices of whoever Nott was fucking these days, probably, and then whoever her sister was. As far as Theo's calculations had produced, there was almost always some hanger-on sister with a drug problem and more babies than she could logistically count.

"You said to bring someone, Papa," Theo reminded him blithely. "You know Harry, don't you?"

They knew each other quite well, as Theo understood it. Harry had recently pulled his father over for speeding, and only after Nott had bellowed red-faced at Slughorn while waving his gun around had the mess eventually gone away, though Theo suspected Harry knew nothing of the aftermath.

"Nott," said Harry to Theo's father, which was less respectful than it was factual, as if Harry could have read it off some fast food uniform and not the emblem of stature on his father's worn leather cut. "A pleasure."

Nott's face contorted briefly before he dragged Theo into the kitchen by the collar of his jacket, furious. "You're fucking joking."

"I did inherit your terrific sense of humor," said Theo, obligingly.

"Listen to me you little piece of shit, I've put up with enough bullshit from you over the years without having to deal with some sort of—"

"Something wrong?" asked Harry, draping himself in the door frame as if he might have wandered in by mistake. It took everything Theo possessed not to shout triumphantly at the perfection of the moment: Harry in his oatmeal-colored sweater and worn grey jeans, his father looking like he'd pull a knife on Theo any second. Harry's hair was still wild from the helmet, the tips of the raven-black sent anarchically in every direction, while his green eyes remained steadfastly focused on one thing: Theo's father's hands on Theo's collar.

Theo practically shivered from the irony, delicious, because while he had known there was something odd about Harry, he hadn't pinpointed until that precise moment that it was Harry's focus that had unnerved him so blissfully. It was the way he fixated on something without releasing it, without any intent to let it go. Theo had noticed it subconsciously when Harry was working his way through the Manor, finding all their most important secrets without even lifting a finger. The door to the meeting room where only Death Eaters could enter. The shelf that sat atop the trapdoor to the basement where they kept the AKs. The desk that held their most prized possession: the ledger containing the debts on which they had yet to collect, but inevitably would.

Harry had seen through all of them with a single glance, without blinking, and he had said nothing. He, unlike most people, didn't have to throw his weight around making threats. He had taken one look at everything he would need to remember and then he had stored it away like a fucking assassin, knowing what he'd come back for when the time was right.

And now he was looking at Nott's hands like he would cut them off at the first given opportunity.

"Is there a problem?" Harry said, before lifting his gaze to Theo's face, and all of a sudden Theo realized he had not been looking for an obstacle. He was obstacle enough already.

Whatever he had been looking for, he found it.

"Let's eat," said Nott gruffly, half-throwing Theo aside.

It became rapidly apparent that Harry's presence at dinner had started a war, and no one was pleased to see him. Darian Mulciber had walked in with Caleb Avery and shoved a bottle of something into Theo's hands as a gift, eyes narrowing as they strutted past Harry. Rookwood. Rowle. Malfoy. All the same story, and then Draco Malfoy, who followed behind his father. He muttered something in Theo's ear and beckoned him away, calling for a sidebar. Theo glanced at Harry, giving him a half-nod that was more informative than apologetic—I'm leaving, I'll be back when I'm done—and stepped outside.

Five minutes passed, then ten. By the time Tom Riddle, president of the Death Eaters, walked in wearing a Santa hat and giving Harry a smile so thin he felt it scratch across his brain, Harry had waited long enough. He walked into the kitchen, glancing around, and stiffened when he heard the sounds of someone following him.

"How's it going, Officer?" came Theo's low drawl, and Harry gratefully unclenched his fist. He released the tension one knuckle at a time, hiding his relief.

"Where's your recycling?"

"That's so fucking cute," chuckled Theo. "Love that."

Harry turned stiffly as Theo took a step closer. He was, for better or worse, contemplating what might happen to him if anything at this party came to blows. Every single guest had a visible weapon, plus surely more invisible ones. Harry, meanwhile, was an outsider, a cop. The opposite of everything they stood for, and now he stood in the snake pit unarmed.

But suddenly it seemed other dangers were more interesting to consider.

"Come on," said Theo, beckoning Harry with a motion of his chin. Harry, however, hesitated a beat, resenting the summons.

"What'd Malfoy want?"

"Nothing." Another chin thrust. "Come."

Harry's jaw clenched, but he followed. Theo led him on a serpentine path out to the backyard, circumventing an enormous and ill-cared for tree before bringing him through a side door into one of two garages.

"This is mine," Theo said, pulling at a string overhead to illuminate a buzzing, uncovered bulb.

The space was neat and orderly, unlike the rest of the backyard, which had been filled with lumber and auto parts and unmowed grass. Here there were a variety of bike parts as well, but they had clearly been arranged in some purposeful context. Two motorcycles that didn't appear to be in working order sat against the wall, leaned obligingly for attention. Theo ran a hand over one of them fondly, like saying hello to an old friend.

"We don't have to go back inside," Theo said.

Harry scratched his forehead, folding his arms over his chest.

"You shouldn't let him talk to you like that," he said.

Theo didn't even blink. "It's not worth fighting."

"Then why come home at all?"

"Because fuck him, that's why."

"In what way are you fucking him?"

"Gross. And that's not the point."

"Enlighten me."

"Just spite, I guess. Reminding him he made me. The misery of it," Theo said with a grim smile, "keeps me going."

It wasn't enough for Harry. "But—"

"Jesus," Theo said, exasperated, and took two long strides to have Harry's face in his hands.

If pressed, Harry would confess that he had known it was coming; that he had long suspected the kiss that followed wouldn't be soft. It did not take him by surprise; not entirely.

It wasn't soft. It was angry, and precisely as spiteful as Theo's many mannerisms had suggested it might be, but blearily, out of the corner of Harry's eyes, he could see the black ink from Theo's knuckles stroking his face; the cold metal from Theo's rings brushing gently across his cheeks.

So he pulled Theo closer, turned to shove him against the wall of the garage, the two of them stumbling to circumvent the obstacles on the floor. Theo's hands slid under his sweater and he inhaled so sharply, so rapidly it hurt. The breath that escaped Theo in return was ragged and torn, closer to a sob than a gasp, and then Harry shoved him again for good measure, fitting their feet like puzzle pieces on the floor. He leaned his hips against Theo's and stayed there, and gradually, the kiss soothed to a softer, more manageable pace.

Harry's lips were still brushing Theo's when he said, "Nothing would spite him more than your happiness."

"How do you know?" asked Theo hoarsely.

"I know," said Harry. "Believe me, I know."

He kissed the edge of the hawk's wing where it met Theo's neck, running his tongue over the place where it met the base of Theo's jaw.

Outside, they could hear the sound of Christmas music alongside the sound of glass tinkling, the clink of beer bottles and cheap wine. Shouts of something incoherent about fucks and bikes, the sound of Nott's slurred speech.

"You want revenge? Come home with me," said Harry. "Wake up in my bed."

"He'll hate that," Theo mused aloud, toying with Harry's hair.

"Yeah, maybe, who cares. Do it because you want to," Harry said. "Because someday he'll be dead and you'll be old, and you'll be the only one thinking about all the time you wasted." He kissed Theo again, angrily this time. "Do it," he murmured, "because I know what the fuck I'm doing in bed."

"Jesus," Theo groaned again, his eyes closing briefly before refocusing on Harry's face. "Sure you want trash like me dirtying up your sheets, Officer?"

"I," Harry said, "can set you straight."

"Ha." Theo's laugh was free of melancholy, perfectly amused, and Harry recalled the furtive conversation Theo had just had with Draco, the state of the Death Eaters' clubhouse, piecing it all together and wondering if he'd still feel like this if Theo's true vocation was anything close to what the evidence suggested. "I'd like to see you try."

He made his calculations quickly: It didn't matter. It didn't fucking matter. Maybe it would eventually, but that was future Harry's problem. They kissed again, Theo's hands fumbling for Harry's zipper this time, but Harry took a step back, beckoning him with a glance.

"Make a call, Nott," Harry said. "My house. My bed. Or—"

"My rage?" Theo guessed drily, and Harry shrugged.

"You can bring it with you. Two whole bedrooms. Plenty of space."

There was a pause.

"Don't you have somewhere to be Christmas morning?" Theo's voice was heavy with suspicion, or with dread.

"Not anymore," Harry said.

The idea that maybe they were two people who didn't belong anywhere at all seemed enough to persuade him. Theo glanced over his shoulder to where the party went on outside before turning back to Harry, running his thumb over his lip and flicking it into the shape of a smile, like lighting a match.

"Same," said Theo, turning over his shoulder with the motion of his chin. "Let's go."

a/n: Some updates: the last episode of Olivie Blake is Not Writing for 2019 just posted on youtube, and the discussion for this month's S.P.E.L.L. read is now available on tumblr. One more day remaining in the advent! Thank you so much for following along.