A week later, Harry still hasn't left, and Theo can't figure out why.

He's there in the mornings, kissing Theo quickly before he disappears to work, then he's back in the evenings, to eat an unhealthy amount of food and drink copious amounts of the finest firewhiskey Theo's father could procure.

It's strange, to say the least.

Theo is used to being left alone, especially after a momentous fuck-up like brunch at the Burrow. He's used to his friends backing away, giving him space that always feels colder than usual. He knows Blaise never means for it to be cold; Blaise always worries about invading Theo's space, about upsetting him, like he's still a fragile ten-year-old with a murderer for a father.

Draco always means for it to be cold. He has a talent for finding the white-hot pressure points that can hurt people the most, even if he doesn't realise it. Even if he thinks he's just expressing his displeasure with Theo.

Theo had expected a good month being left alone. Harry's presence is bemusing and confusing and Theo cannot for the life of him figure out why Harry keeps coming back.

Theo feels like he's on suspiciously solid ground, ground that could give way any moment to the shifting sands below, familiar sands that Theo has drowned in before.

If he could just work out why…

Draco's menace of an owl chooses that moment to dive bomb Theo's window, crashing through and scratching Theo's shoulder with its razor-sharp talons. There's a letter attached to its leg, because of course there is, and Draco manages to convey what a monumental fuck-up and disappointment as a friend Theo is while still, technically, being polite.

He wants to meet at the Leaky Cauldron, so Theo can apologize in person to Granger, and 'heal the rifts in their friendship in person'.

Theo has never, ever pretended to be anything less than hostile acquaintances with Granger.

Harry finds him with Draco's letter, his hands folding and unfolding the parchment. He leans against the doorframe, observing, and for a moment Theo hates that this is familiar.

"What's that?"

"Letter from Draco," Theo answers tersely. "He wants to meet for lunch. At the Merlin damned Leaky Cauldron."

"You don't like the Leaky?"

"Fucking hate it," Theo snarls, and his hands clench, crumpling the parchment. He didn't mean – he didn't want – he doesn't want Harry to see him like this.

Harry pushes off the doorframe, walking over to Theo and gently prying the letter out of his hands. "So ask Malfoy to pick somewhere else."

"Can't," Theo says. "This is my punishment."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up. "For what?"

"For being a dick at the Burrow." Theo snorts. "Fuck. Maybe he'll drag the Weasel – Weasley – down there too, and I can apologize in person." Theo's mouth twists around 'apologize' like the word is a lemon he's biting into.

"It wasn't all your fault, though. Ron was - not being polite."

"Doesn't matter, does it? It upset Granger, so I'm naturally in the wrong."

Harry's lips flatten into a line. "Let me come with you," he says, and it sounds less like a request than an order. Theo can see why all those little Aurors listen to him.

Theo slumps into the nearest chair, crumpling Draco's too-courteous letter in his palm. "Fine."

If he has a drink or two before he heads to the Leaky, who can judge?

Harry sits with him, but he doesn't drink.

It only occurs to Theo how beneficial it might be to have Harry on his side when they arrive at the Leaky, and Granger greets Potter, beaming.

"Harry! I didn't know you would be coming. Did Draco invite you?" She stands up to give him a hug. Draco stays seated at their table, scowling at Theo.

"No, Theo did," Harry says, and confusion flickers across Granger's features.

"Oh! How… nice." She clears her throat, sitting down and nodding at Theo with a hesitant smile. "Hello, Theo."

"Granger." The sharp jerk of his chin counts as a nod, he thinks. "Draco. Glad to see you're not dead in a ditch, yet."

"Ah, give it time," Draco says, with narrowed eyes and a knife sharp smile. Theo doesn't miss how Harry presses close to him, even though he's got ample space on his half of the booth. He lets his hand rest on Harry's thigh. Harry darts a glance at him, a small smile appearing and disappearing, but Theo just stares Draco down.

Draco doesn't look away.

Theo knows right then that he'll last maybe ten minutes at this table, max. Best to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Granger," he addresses the witch in question. "I apologise for my brutish behavior at your in-law's – sorry, the Weasleys' – brunch. It was inexcusable, and it won't happen again."

Granger has the nerve to look taken aback, as though he hadn't been called to the Leaky with the express purpose of a forced apology. "Oh – thanks, Theo. It's quite alright, please don't worry yourself about it."

"I won't." Theo grins at her, and Harry shifts closer at his side. Draco's eagle-sharp eyes catch the movement.

"How did Theo come across you, then?" he asks. Granger shoots him a look, a we're not supposed to mention it look.

Harry refuses to rise to Draco's bait. "I've been around Nott Manor lately," he says, and Theo would be proud of his neutral tone if he wasn't busy plotting the quickest exit strategy. "Theo showed me your letter, by the way. Great handwriting."

Granger raises an eyebrow, and Draco slings an arm across the booth behind her back.

"Be careful, Potter," he warns. "Theo doesn't play by your rules. He makes his own."

Draco slices his eyes towards Theo as he speaks. Theo's hand tightens on Harry's thigh without permission. He supposes that means Draco still hasn't forgiven him for his behavior at the Weasleys' brunch.

He misses Harry's shrug, but he hears him clear as day when he says, "I've never had a problem learning new rules."

That's an outrageous lie if Theo's ever heard one, and he knows that Draco is aching to call Harry out, to start on one of his Potter rants about Quidditch and a dragon and almost killing me in the girl's bathroom. He even opens his mouth, taking a deep breath, before one glance at Hermione deflates him.

Theo snorts. He's disgusted, and disappointed. The Draco he knew never would have let himself give Potter a break, not for a second.

Granger is smiling nervously, and Draco is giving him the evil eye. Under the table, Harry's hand brushes his, lightly resting on his fingertips. Theo jerks his hand away. The air is becoming too thin to breathe, and he's got to get out of here.

"Well, this was lovely," he says. He's apologized; he doesn't need to sit here anymore, waiting for Draco to absolve him. "But I've got some business elsewhere, so I'll have to be taking my leave. So glad we've had a chat, Draco – Granger."

He gives Granger a civil nod, his gaze brushing straight past Draco, the traitor. He doesn't have to look at Harry to know that he's watching Theo stand, and make his escape.

The door to Diagon Alley has never looked more appealing. He can feel Draco and Granger's stares piercing the back of his head as he stalks towards it.

Theo leaves the Leaky like he's exiting hell. He barely registers the door slamming behind him, or the bricks behind the Leaky peeling apart and letting him into Diagon Alley.

He doesn't allow himself to be surprised when Harry is right on his heels.

Theo's feet are pointing towards Luxe before he even starts thinking about a destination, and he gives in. Might as well – Pansy and Daphne will probably be there, and they're always up for a good Draco-bashing session. He can probably schmooze some free drinks, and –

Harry falls into step beside him. He matches Theo's strides, his shoulder bumping Theo's every other step, as if to remind Theo that he's there. He's still there.

Why hasn't he left?

"Where're we going?" Harry asks, after they've walked half a block and Theo's steps are beginning to slow, his thoughts weighing him down.

He can't take Harry to Luxe. Luxe is full of desperate, drunken nights, and memories Theo has made a point to forget. But he doesn't know where else to go. Nott Manor? Nott Manor is tainted. Theo can't take Harry there, not when Theo can feel in every bone of his body the chilling emptiness of the place, the emptiness that he can't escape, that's stayed since that horrible night where fists and kicks gave way to a bright green light –

"I don't know," Theo confesses, and that might be the first time ever he admits to not knowing something. His breathing is choppy, unsteady, out of control.

Harry's hand finds Theo's, warm and solid and frustratingly comforting. He laces their fingers together. They've stopped walking in the middle of the street, but Theo doesn't care. He turns, and he looks, and Harry's emerald green eyes (avada kedavra green eyes) are steady and true.

"I've never shown you my house," he says, neutrally, watching Theo carefully.

Theo inhales deeply, latching on to the lifeline Harry has thrown him. "It should have been Draco's." That's all he knows about Grimmauld Place, really. Draco loves to complain about it whenever he catches a hint of Potter – or, he did.

Harry scoffs, but he doesn't comment. He's waiting, Theo realizes, waiting for Theo to answer the question that he didn't ask.

Theo imagines a world where Harry didn't follow him home from the Burrow, where Theo didn't kiss Harry, where Harry didn't stay, and his stomach lurches unpleasantly.

"Fine," he says, shaking the nauseous feeling off. Really, what better option does he have?

A grin slides across Harry's face, quicksilver swift. "Hold on," he says.

That's all the warning Theo gets before Harry apparates them out.

a/n: i accidentally let my little sister get her hands on this one, which I suppose is a good thing for those of you following this, because it may mean more frequent updates...