Firstly and most importantly: HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMARILLIS39! love you bb! x
I won't ramble here too much. This is massively inspired by Skam France, please go watch if you haven't seen it.
Triggers! This does have an element of an unreliable narrator and mental health issues. There are conversations surrounding it later in the fic.
Without further ado, grab a snack and a drink and enjoy!
The silence between a heartbeat - that's how long it took to fall in love.
Theo lay back listening to the songbird, thinking of everything that had led up to that one second where everything changed.
Theo pulled himself up on the steel pipe, completing the last of his reps, and dropped heavily to the floor. It would soon be time for the mandatory 'socialise for wellbeing' hour - the Ministry's new regime for the promotion of wizarding rights. He swiped at his lip as he reached for his prison top. Since the war and the political purge, the government had set about to do a complete overhaul of their systems. With fresh blood in the ranks, they had an almost dogmatic approach to the New World Order.
He stretched his neck from side to side and stood in front of his door. His heart slowed from the exercise burn as he waited. Lock by lock, creak by creak, the doors of the cell row opened.
He sighed a quick breath and bounced on the spot, shaking his arms out by his side. Theo resented the contrived break from his cell. At least in the old regime, you knew where you stood with Azkaban - death, madness and solitary. All that the pageantry amounted to was a self-congratulatory liberal wank, whilst cockteasing freedom to the incarcerated.
He stilled as the door to his cell was unlocked and opened, revealing Auror Wickham - a fifty-something curmudgeon with a nasty case of halitosis.
"Afternoon," Theo chirped, a nonchalant smirk in place as he braced himself. Wickham stepped into the cell, his frown darker than usual.
"How's the weather out there today?" Theo drawled, lacing his words with humour as adrenaline spiked in his veins. As per their routine, Wickham's hand shot out, curling its calloused grip around Theo's throat to shunt him back to the wall of the cell. Theo barely had a chance to draw a breath before Wickham spun him, pressing his face to the cold stone.
"Lovely to see you too," Theo groundout as Wickham roughly patted him down; he'd grit his teeth to silence his grunt as the Aurors questing "pats" knocked the breath from his chest.
"Fucking Death Eater scum," Wickham snarled by way of parting endearment as he gave Theo a final shove into the wall before stalking from the room.
Theo straightened and brushed himself off. Because that was, and still remains to be, the inconvenient truth of it all; in order to truly create the utopian post-war society, they had black-listed every low-life, thief and crook; everyone who'd ever had a mark against their name, anyone who'd ever been suspected of being involved with the Dark Lord's regime in anyway. One toe out of line, and they were thrown in Azkaban faster than you could ask for a reach-around. And though Theo didn't carry the Dark Mark upon his arm, his father's legacy was prolific enough to ensure his position amongst the ranks of the criminal underbelly, without ever having lifted a finger.
He ducked out onto the walkway and meandered through the lingering inmates to head for the stairs. Could Theo have been more careful? Of course he could have, his friends had been. They all knew that they were marked - Theo just hadn't cared. He had been wandering around the Manor with nothing but nightmares, whiskey and his father's ghost to keep him company.
He'd been having a good few days - he'd been invincible. The world around him had been in sharp focus: the colours shining bright, every sense on high alert. To him, all he'd needed was a bottle of whiskey and his joint as he'd gatecrashed another Muggle rave. The lights had flashed a thousand colours and the bass had thrummed in his chest, moving his feet as if he were a marionette on strings. Every cell of his being was on fire, every nerve tingling as it had prepared to take flight. Sweat had dripped down his back as his eyes had flicked around the warehouse, noting how the lights could be just a little brighter, a little more flashy, if only the Muggles knew how. He'd laughed, feeling his magic at one with the music around him. At the time, he had taken the most reasonable and logical step to ensure that everyone else was as connected as he was: he had pulled his wand from his pocket and set to work.
The Aurors had wasted no time in carting him to Azkaban, and by his five hundred and forty-sixth rotation of his cell, the world finally lost its shine once more.
Theo slipped through the amassing crowd to his usual table. He'd ruffled Draco's platinum hair as he'd plopped down in the seat beside him.
"Morning sunshine," Theo grinned.
"Why you so fucking happy?" Draco grumbled as he fought to flatten his hair.
"Gwynn is doing more of the tattoo today," Theo replied as he waved to the older man in question.
Gwynn had been in Azkaban for longer than Theo had been alive. He was a peaceful man, highly focused on whatever task he had at hand, be that murder or art. He had managed to maintain his sanity during the Dementor reign by perfecting hand-tapping tattooing using a broken quill and his ration of ink.
Theo slipped his arm from his sleeve, leaving his top hanging from his neck as the elder man straddled the bench beside him. He meticulously unrolled his burlap case and pulled out several vials of ink and selected a long quill nib. Carefully, he eyed the spiralling lines that he'd etched over the months, blooming from Theo's chest, stretching over his back before beginning the descent down his arm. Theo had no idea what Gwynn's final design was, but he was happy to give the elder man his body as a blank canvas.
"Well fuck me," Draco drawled after some time had passed. Theo looked up from where he'd been focused on Gwynn's ink work to see an array of emotions flash in quick succession over Draco's face. Theo followed his gaze to see movement at the Auror station. He watched, a frown creasing his brows as he tried to discern what had spooked Draco - and then he saw it.
The group of scarlet robes parted to reveal The Boy Wonder, Potter Extraordinaire.
Theo's lips pulled into a smirk as he recognised the same unruly hair, though now a strong jaw of stubble rivalled it. Potter greeted the other Aurors with an easy smile, accepting their enthusiastic handshakes. And yet, it was those green eyes that Theo could see from across the room that gave him a second pause.
The world had been tepid grey hues but Potter's eyes were so green, that they were the only colour Theo could see.
"Just what this place fucking needs," Draco sighed as he lit his cigarette.
But Theo watched, quietly cataloguing the way that Potter moved - coiled and excited as if he wasn't entirely certain of his movements until after he'd made them. He noted the way that Potter smiled - his eyes crinkling as every line of his face imbued his laughter.
"All done for today, kid," Gwynn grunted as he swiped the blood from Theo's arm, cleaning the new layer of work. Theo offered Gwynn a quick thanks and potentially had a conversation with him, he wasn't sure.
All he could remember about that moment was the way that he had felt, drawn to seeking Potter out in the crowd, like a moth to a flame. Potter was his only light, the colourful focus of his grey world.
And that had only been the start.
It had been like that everyday thereafter, steadily getting worse. Theo tried to ignore it, had tried to ignore him.
In the days where sleep was a distant friend, he paced his cell and practiced his wandless magic. He'd repeat rep after rep, burning the energy that singed his tingling nerves. During the 'mandatory-be-social-because-we-care-about-you' time, his tattoo would grow; Theo's laugh would be loud, he'd entertain the others around him. He was the sunshine that coursed through his veins, like nothing could stop him - like anything was possible. And Theo would always know. He'd know where Potter was in the room, or on his rounds. Once or twice he'd catch Potter's green eyes on him, and Theo would throw a wink and smile as his heart would skip in his chest.
And some days things would be fine. He'd enjoy the little things - Gwynn's pervasive calm and Draco's reliably prickly countenance; the routine; the normalcy. He could breathe without burning or drowning, he could move without flying, and rest without sinking further into a cocoon.
But just as the sun would set, darkness always followed, bringing with it a numb blanket of grey. Over the months, Theo would spend days where twenty-two hours he'd lie curled on his bed, wishing to remain hidden from the rest of the world. But then the 'parade-our-inmates-around-in-their-social-time-because-we-care' time would happen and a piece of Theo would die inside.
Because while everyone talked around him, annoying him with their grating voices, he'd feel Potter's eyes on him and the reality of the situation would carve another slice into his soul. He could fool the others and himself by talking the pretty words and dancing in circles as though the colour from the world never faded to grey; but no matter what he did, it would never change the fact that he was the Death Eater scum who wore the black prison garb, while Potter looked on - the guard in red.
As the months passed, he told himself he didn't care. He didn't care that this was his reality, his world. He didn't care that his prison had become his personal hell. He didn't care that the beautiful demon who tortured him daily thought of him only as a criminal.
It wasn't that he didn't care. He did. Of course he did. His life had been reduced to the four tall walls that housed veritable nightmares, hidden somewhere in the North Sea. He missed freedom, he missed his friends, he missed his…
Well, there wasn't much else for Theo to miss.
But the point was, Theo didn't care. He didn't really care that he hadn't felt fresh air on his skin in over a year, that he hadn't seen the sky or held someone close.
And then one day, everything changed.
Theo had just finished his exercise for the afternoon and was stood waiting for the door to open, to release him into the playpit for the 'get-to-know-thy-neighbour' time when slowly, it dawned on him that something was wrong.
As the seconds ticked by, no sound came. No creak of the doors. No thunk of the locks.
As seconds turned to minutes, voices around him started to rise.
As the minutes stretched on, bangs of items thrown at cell doors resonated through the stone tomb and shouts rang through the still air.
Theo began to pace.
He walked well into the night, circling the confines of his cell, singing the words of a lullaby his mother had sung to him when he was a boy.
And at the same time the next day, Theo had stood in the same spot, waiting for release from his cage.
The prison had been silent as everyone held their breath, waiting to see what would happen. They very quickly realised that their doors would not open that day either.
It took three days for the prisoners to accept their new fate.
Theo scoffed as he heard his father's voice whisper in his ear: The broken are the quickest to fall in line.
It was just a matter of ensuring that they never had hope in the first place.
Theo adjusted to his new reality. He would sit by his door and look through the barred slat that lay halfway down. He would watch the guards patrol the halls, the swish of their cloaks as they passed by his door. Everytime, he would wonder if it was Potter's boots he'd seen. If it was Potter's shadow that blocked his light as they took post outside his cell.
He didn't know how many days went by since their doors were permanently locked, but eventually the meals were reduced in portion sizes too. Three-square of scraps a day.
He hadn't heard one complaint from his neighbours.
And still, Theo paced and sang to himself. He would sing songs from his childhood, songs from the Quidditch stands at a match. He would sing long and winding tunes that told tales of heroes and dragons. And sometimes he sang short little ditties with a catchy motif over and over until all he could hear was the notes repeating over one another like an endless, echoing feedback loop.
The prison was silent during the day, the air heavy with acceptance. It was when the sun set, that the prison came alive. The nightmares had never not been a thing, given the population of the institute, but it was only when hunger gnawed at their bones, that fear began to seep through every pore and into the screams that filled the night.
Without any real contact, time ceased to have any meaning other than light and dark.
Things changed again.
It happened one morning. Theo lay in his bed, watching the dust motes float in the early morning light that filtered through the slat in the door. He hadn't left his bed in a few days, save for the necessities. It was easier to hide now, the outside world didn't exist anymore. He watched a mote of dust travel listlessly through the breeze, glinting white before disappearing into the shadows.
He heard movement outside his door as the guards swapped their post.
Theo blinked slowly, numb.
Quietly, a pure whistle sounded. A slow sweet tune, that twisted and turned. An ambling walk through the minor thirds.
The whistle pierced through the veil that covered him, sharp and bright. Theo grit his teeth as his fingers curled into his blanket. It wasn't that he disliked the tune - it was objectively a good tune, and the guard was clearly a skilled whistler. Some people couldn't control the pitch of their whistle, others couldn't control the tone, but this guard was a songbird.
When the world was awake and alive, the songbirds were welcome. They blended into the background, an ambient soundtrack to life. But on the nights where sleep was merely just a concept that existed in the minds of the peaceful, the songbirds were a toll of dread. A sign of failure. To Theo, a songbird's call in the predawn light, was another sign that he had yet again failed to sleep. And sometimes he didn't care, sometimes he was so full of sunshine that sleep was only a hindrance anyway. But the times when he was darkness, when he was a shadow hidden beneath blankets, the birds were just another symbol of his failure.
Theo rolled over in his bed, pulled the blanket tighter around him in an attempt to protect himself from the guard's keen tune. But no matter how hard he tried, the guard's whistle still floated through, spinning its merry, unwanted dance through his skull.
"Do you mind?" Theo snapped, his voice rough from disuse. The whistling ceased, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Theo sighed a shaky breath of relief and curled up, bringing his knees to his chest.
"Nott?"
Theo cracked an eye open, staring into the gloom. His teeth clenched at the sound of his name after so long, but it was a jolt of fear that snapped down his spine that froze him in place.
Why now?
Why now after so long?
He heard the sound of a step towards his cell and curled tighter in on himself, protecting himself from the world.
"Fuck off, Potter."
Theo held his breath as he heard the next step still. Finally, after what seemed like an agonising eternity, he heard Potter's steps retreat and Theo could breathe once more. His held breath slipped tremulously through his dry lips. A single tear slipped over the bridge of his nose, and solemnly travelled over his cheek before disappearing into his hairline. His chest burned with poisonous anger at yet another songbird who sought to remind him of his failure.
Days went by - maybe weeks? At some point, Theo started exercising again. He paced and hummed to himself. He breathed easier, his thoughts moving faster, his chest lighter. But still, he was trapped in his cell, his body thinning from the meagre food that arrived on his tray.
And every evening, he would hear the pure whistle of a jaunty tune that accompanied the approaching booted steps. And every time, the whistle would silence just moments before the steps would stop outside his room, and the guard would take his post.
Potter.
Theo's ears pricked, picking up the light cadence of the Gryffindor fight song as the booted steps hopped up the stairs. Today would be the day when Theo apologised. He had tried so many times - he'd gathered his breath to speak, the words held on his tongue and froze, staring at the unmoving door.
He had repeated the same practice nightly. Finding the words to say, but never saying them.
Theo lay in his bed, staring up at his dark, blank ceiling.
"Stellae Autem Resistis," he whispered with a flick of his fingers. He felt the pulse of his magic flare down his arm and suddenly the darkened space filled with hundreds of twinkling little lights. Theo's lips tilted to a smile as he folded his arms behind his head. One by one, he set about picking out the constellations and mapping the night sky he had summoned to his cell.
"Impressive."
Theo started at the voice, ceasing the charm and dousing the lights. He sat up on his bed, his pulse pounding in his throat as he peered through the dark to where he could make out the shadowed outline through the slat in his door.
"Potter I -" Theo halted, his lie dying on his tongue. There was nothing he could say, no way of misdirecting the blame.
"Easy," Potter murmured placatingly, his low voice rumbling through the shadows. "Just be careful yeah? Summoning the galaxy in the dead of night is really easy to see through here." He knocked a knuckle against the bars of the slat.
Theo swallowed, his jaw clenching as he nodded. "Sure," he said shortly, uncertain of the ground he stood. He should be in deep shit - he'd broken the number one rule of Azkaban: prisoners cannot wield magic.
"Get some sleep Nott," Potter said as he straightened to move away.
It was now or never.
The words burned on Theo's tongue. His chest ached for the green that he'd been deprived of in his grey, dark cell.
"Sorry!" he blurted, more forcefully than he intended. He winced, biting his lip as he held his breath in his chest. Potter paused before crouching back down.
"Nothing to be sorry for, just be more careful yeah?" he said. Theo rolled his eyes in the darkness and bit his lip harder in frustration. It was mighty unhelpful that Potter wasn't psychic, but then again, if he were he supposed it would actually be a curse bec-
"No," Theo choked out, "I meant for the other day -" he scraped a hand roughly through his hair in frustration " - week, whatever. Whenever I told you to fuck off." He swallowed thickly and huffed a definitive sigh. "I'm sorry."
Potter was quiet.
Theo grit his teeth, popping his jaw as he curled his fingers tightly in his blankets.
"It's alright," Potter replied softly. Theo's chest loosened and he hung his head between his shoulders, willing his pulse to slow.
What on fucking Earth was he thinking?!
"I'm sorry too," Potter continued, pulling Theo back from the precipice of his thoughts. "I realised it was poor form to be whistling at the ass crack of dawn when you lot are trying to sleep." He chuckled weakly as he shifted to lean against the door.
Theo frowned slightly as he looked to the darkened outline through the bars.
He wet his lips nervously. "But I like your whistling."
He watched, scrutinising every shift of the shadowed form. Potter laughed quietly and pushed off the wall.
"Just maybe not first thing in the morning yeah?"
The corner of Theo's lips twitched in a smile. "I've never been a morning person," he replied tentatively. His smile bloomed across his face as he heard Potter's responding chuckle.
"Get some sleep, Nott," he said as he retook his post. Theo huffed a feeble sigh of amusement and lay back on his bed.
His eyes grew heavier and heavier, the darkness around him not quite as lonely as it had been before, when he heard the faint lilt of a whistled motif.
One conversation turned to two, that quickly turned to five and more, until Theo stopped counting. Potter had become his guard in the night. He had grown accustomed to the shadow who lingered at his door, keeping him company in the dark.
Theo learned that there had been a government election because of reasons that he didn't care for, though he enjoyed hearing the passion in Potter's voice as he'd recited said reasons why. He learnt that the sudden confinement to their cells and the shortage of food was the 'appropriation of budget spending'.
"It's fucking ridiculous," Potter whispered harshly from where he sat on the other side of the door. Theo turned his head to peer at the man through the slat. "It's not that I agree with 'Mione, but she's been in my fucking ear every single day since the new expenditure was published in the Prophet. It's hard to disagree with her."
Theo snorted. "Just admit she beat you into submission. Acceptance is the first sign of recovery for your ego."
"Piss off," Potter chuckled. "What I mean is though, she's got a point. I know she's coming at it from her 'save the world' point of view, but she doesn't see what I see." He turned, and though Theo couldn't quite discern his features in the dark, his mouth still went dry at the thought. "I know she's got the best intentions and she's doing the thing that she does best, but she doesn't see you," Potter continued, "she hasn't seen the actual reality."
Theo shrugged loosely. "She's an activist, she'll always find a cause to believe in. I'm just thankful she's inadvertently on my side this time."
A quiet fell between them. Theo swore he could make out the outline glasses in the gloom.
"I am too, y'know," Potter said in a low tone, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not right, what they're doing."
Theo swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat as his lips twitched into a soft smile. Gryffindors and their righteousness.
"It's not that bad," he said easily. Potter straightened, his boots scuffing loudly against the floor as he turned to face him fully.
"How can you say that? You're -"
"A prisoner?" Theo cut in. Potter tutted but Theo continued, not allowing him a chance to gather steam. "The way I see it, there could be soul-sucking bin bags on guard instead of…" He paused, weighing his words.
"Instead of…?" Potter prompted, his voice croaking as it trailed off.
Theo's pulse skipped, stuttering his breath. "Rather fuckable eye-candy." His words were coloured with the smirk that pulled at his lips as his chest tightened.
Potter hummed thoughtfully. "You're not wrong. McEvans in those trousers."
Theo's bark of laughter echoed from the stone walls before he had a chance to cover his mouth, while Potter sniggered on the other side of the door.
"I suppose you have a point though," Potter whispered. "If nothing else, I'll be a happy man if I never see another one of them."
Theo sobered, quirking an unseen brow. "You do seem to be catnip to them."
Potter snorted. "Isn't it just my luck."
"Where's my invite?" Theo quipped.
Potter's shadow stilled and he cocked his head. "To?"
"The pity party you just decided to throw for yourself."
"Fuck you, Theo," Potter scoffed, a smile in his voice.
"Only if you buy me dinner first, Harry."
Over the next few months, Theo listened to the hushed whispers that filtered through his cell door. He learnt of Harry's unfortunate muggle relations, and the strained relationship he persisted in maintaining with his cousin. He learnt of the cupboard under the stairs and the broken toy soldiers. He listened to Harry's stories of sneaking through Hogwarts before things had gone sour, to his retelling of events that Theo had lived through, from Harry's point of view.
All the while, Theo would eat the contraband that Harry sneaked through the bars. At some point, Harry had spoken to Granger about their... conversations, and the woman had taken it upon herself to feed him. It also seemed that she had chosen Theo to be the guinea pig for her bakery tests.
"More blueberry than banana," Theo grunted, as he swiped the crumbs from his lips. The muffin was sweet and fluffy enough that he'd managed to enjoy it, even through the fog of his senses. He sat leant against the door in his usual place, cocooned in his threadbare blanket, coaxed out of bed by the promise of food.
"You alright?" Harry asked as the silence between them stretched too thin. Theo grit his teeth, as irritation grated his nerves. He knew this wasn't Harry's fault. He knew that this was just because the world had lost its colour once more.
"Fine," he said, his voice deadened. He sighed heavily and raised his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms and blanket around them. "Sorry."
Harry's boots scuffed against the ground as he settled against the door. "It's alright, I get it," he replied softly.
Anger bloomed in Theo's chest. No, no he didn't get it. How could he?
Harry was free.
Harry could leave.
Harry didn't burn in the sun or was poisoned by darkness.
He was just Harry.
Free, happy Harry.
"Don't say that," Theo muttered, "don't lie."
That had been something his father would say: "Don't lie, I know you don't love,"; "Don't lie, I know you did it,"; "Don't lie, I know you killed your mother,"; "Don't. Lie. You poisonous child."
Harry clucked, his form still in the darkness. "Okay," he said brightly and he suddenly unfolded his legs to get to his feet. Theo took a long drawn inhale, bracing against the knives that sliced through his heart.
"I'll speak to you tomorrow," Harry said as he brushed off his robes.
Theo let out a dark laugh that slipped like tar between his lips. "Of course you will, and I'll be here, as per usual Potter." His tone was deep, rough with the strangled hold the shadows had around his throat.
Harry's movements stilled.
Theo grit his teeth and closed his eyes in a lame attempt at fortifying himself.
"Right," Harry said quietly before he started to move away. Theo's chest cracked, spilling the toxic pain to his lungs, that seared with every breath. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips quickly.
"One thing," he said, raising his voice. Harry's steps paused. Theo shook his head slightly as his grip whitened on the blanket. "Draco's more of a sweet-tooth than me, get his opinion on Granger's new project yeah?"
Harry was silent before Theo heard him sigh shortly. "Sure Nott, whatever you say."
Theo curled tighter in on himself with every receding footstep until all that could be heard was the murmurs of his neighbours' nightmares. He let out a shaky breath and dropped his head back against the door behind him and welcomed the numbing balm of solitude on the pain that tore at his heart and the anger that seared through his veins.
Time passed. That was the only thing really that could be expected from Azkaban. Theo hadn't been given a life sentence - only two years. He was due to be released two months after Draco. But that was all he knew. He knew that the sun would rise and set, he knew that his life was constrained to four walls.
He knew that his songbird hadn't whistled his tune for at least a few days - maybe a week or three.
Theo grunted as he pulled himself up on the bar, sweat dripping between his shoulder blades and down his spine. It wasn't that Harry had moved or left; every night, Theo would find a package, a perfectly wrapped brown package, filled with Granger's admittedly improved baked goods.
And every night, a shadow would stand at its post outside his door, watching. Guarding.
Theo listened to the boots as they approached from where he lay on his bed. He heard the muffled conversation of the guard change, and then the sound of boots retreating.
Within minutes, a package slipped through the bars of his door.
Theo rolled out of the bed, his feet landing silently on the floor. He padded over, crouched, and gently unwrapped the paper. Today's menu was a pastrami baguette and a fair slice of loaf cake. Theo lifted it to his nose and his lashes fluttered shut in pleasure as the scent of cinnamon and apple filled his senses.
He sat on his haunches and handled the baguette; he had to stop the moan of ecstasy as fresh bread, meat and mustard awakened his taste buds. He flicked his gaze up while he chewed, searching through the gap in the bars for Harry. The light of a full moon filtered through the cracks of Azkaban's walls. Theo could see the guard stood, bathed in the ghostly light, leant against the parapet, looking out over the floors below. His heart squeezed in his chest at the sight of Harry, the slight furrow of his brows as he thought. His beard had grown thicker, like Theo's; his hair longer too, tied back with a loose black ribbon that rested against the upturned colour of his robes.
Beautiful bastard, Theo thought absently as he hungrily traced every lithe line. He knew there had been something growing between them in their whispered conversations. He knew he had fucked up. Every part of him wanted - ached - for Harry. It wasn't just when his blood sang with golden light that the guard occupied his every thought. It was when things were slower, more manageable - when he could breathe easier.
But the strangest thing was, Harry still made him feel good. Theo felt invincible when he drew a laugh from him, and the longer he spent in his company, the more Theo felt like he could fly.
And yet time still passed at its normal pace, instead of zooming by in a haze.
Theo sucked a mustard seed from between his teeth.
He'd pushed Harry away, as he knew he would - as he should and always will, regardless of whether he regretted his actions when the darkness eventually cleared. For fuck's sake, he was Harry Potter, fucking saviour of the fucking world. Golden bollocks extraordinaire. He was literally the guard of Theo's cell. If the disparity of their circumstances wasn't enough to convince anyone that Harry was too good, and way out of his league, then Theo supposed nothing would. And that wasn't the darkness talking, that was just how it was.
But even then, Theo could make it work. A sordid affair, a fall from grace.
He huffed a soft dark laugh as he took another bite.
As much as he told himself that the fact that there was three feet of iron and stone between them was the reason why they could never, the truth twisted between his ribs, writhing under his skin.
Even if the circumstances were different, even if the world hadn't fucked them up quite as thoroughly as it had, Theo knew it was only a matter of time. He knew that he would one day turn and push Harry away again. Theo knew he'd rail against him, he'd snap and bite because the shadows had taken the colour away, and Harry would refuse to allow him to be alone.
Theo also knew that he'd never quite felt this way about anyone before. He'd had passing fancies, delightful fucks, even romantic summers. But he'd never burned, he'd never ached.
He was torn between the selfless and the selfish.
"Can you tell Granger to opt for Dijon rather than whole-grain please?" he said before taking another bite.
He watched the shadow carefully, waiting.
Eventually, Harry turned his head towards the cell and nodded. Theo saw the moonlight reflect off the wizard's glasses, obscuring the green he'd seen only in his mind for months. He sighed and plopped the unfinished sandwich back in the wrapper.
"Harry I'm -"
"Oh I'm 'Harry' again now, am I?"
Theo sucked his teeth as he brushed the crumbs from his hands. "It's your name isn't it?"
Harry paused before turning away, shaking his head.
Perhaps it was the defeatist nature of the action, or maybe it had been the quiet dismissal, but Theo reared as the ache that spread within his chest billowed.
"I'm sorry!" he rushed, coming forward to wrap his hands around the bars in the door. "I'm sorry," he weakly repeated. "I can't -"
"No, don't," Harry said. He spoke in an even tone, his words measured and low in the night, but still, Theo froze as if Harry had commanded it.
He waited, his grip whitening around the cold bars. Harry twisted, his red robe flaring dramatically as he turned on his heel and stalked over to Theo's cell. "You don't get to say sorry because you don't have anything to apologise for," he growled as he hitched his trousers and dropped into a crouch that mirrored Theo's.
Theo's mouth went dry as he took in the details of Harry's face as the guard ran a rough hand through his hair. In the half-light, the shadows were stretched, paling the palette: Harry's high cheekbones were white against the dark smudges of exhaustion under his eyes; his lips had flattened to an angry white line under his dark beard.
But his eyes were the same.
Wild and wide as they flicked back and forth, constantly moving, searching Theo's face.
"I do," Theo croaked, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He felt mesmerised, hypnotised by the man's closeness. "I -"
"No," Harry commanded, "you don't. I was pissed - confused maybe, sure." He ran his teeth slowly over his bottom lip. "At the end of the day Theo, this whole situation is fucked up. And yes I went home and moaned to 'Mione, but that's just it isn't it - I went home." He trailed off, his face etched with the pain that Theo felt. "I went home and left you here, as I have done, everyday, for months."
Theo dropped his head to catch his breath. After so long of not seeing Harry's eyes, to suddenly have them so intensely focused on him - it felt like his soul was being torn apart.
"Well, that's kind of the point." Theo looked back up, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth in an attempt to alleviate the tension.
Harry tutted. "Fuck off, that's really not the point and you know it." He paused, his expression suddenly morphing into one of shock. His eyes widening under his frames as he licked his lips.
"What?" Theo asked.
"It isn't the point...is it?" Harry asked, his voice less certain than it was before.
Theo's brows furrowed at the sudden shift in tone. "I'll be honest here, my point is I'm sorry for being a cunt, and you're telling me no, and I won't lie, I'm very confused right now."
Harry didn't move, his face still stricken. It was a moment before he finally looked away and roughly cleared his throat.
"Right, yeah. Sure." Harry scratched at his eyebrow above his glasses before looking back up and that was the moment.
That was the moment that time slowed.
The clouds shifted, sparking a flash of white to pulse through the spiderweb cracks in the walls, bathing Harry in a mosaic of opalescent light.
Theo's heart beat once and then he saw them.
The green. Theo's veins ignited with the sunshine that looked down over green meadows that spurred in the wind, that danced through the green leaves to the forest floor. His soul glittered like sunshine through an emerald, sparking the birth of a thousand stars through its precious stone.
His breath hitched in his throat, trapped in a heartbeat.
Every line, every detail of Harry's face was so crisp, so clear, it was all he could see - all he would see.
The web of moonlight refracted from his glasses, imposing a fracture of silver across the fathomless green.
And it was through these cracks that Theo fell.
He shattered, scattered to a thousand pieces as he grew too big for his body and swamped in his skin.
And then his heart beat again.
Theo took a shaky inhale, his system suddenly aflush with nervous energy.
"My point is," Harry said, pulling Theo so violently from his reverie that he tipped forward slightly, as if drawn in by the other man's voice. He tightened his grip on the bars and forced himself to refocus, blinking as he fought to maintain an outwardly calm facade.
"My point is," Harry repeated, his tone rough, "that I immediately forgave you, but you didn't have to apologise in the first place. You're here, in this fucking place. You're allowed to have a bad day."
Theo pursed his lips and glanced around at the world. It was the same. Nothing had come starkly into focus, the colours were their usual ambience - no creeping shadows or glittering light. And yet -
He looked back to Harry who was watching him closely, his dark brow furrowed to a soft crease.
He was colour. He was in focus.
"There are always going to be bad days," Theo replied, his voice cracking as he burned like the sun. "There will be good days too - excellent days even, for me anyway." His lips twisted into a wry smile as his eyes pricked with the emotion that choked his throat. "It's not this place that makes it worse." He shrugged hopelessly. "I'll be out soon and nothing will change." He leaned closer to the bars, his chest yearning as he catalogued every detail of Harry's face. "I'll always be me, and you'll always be you."
Harry's lips parted, his eyes holding Theo's. He was still.
"Do you promise?" he murmured, barely moving his lips. Theo frowned as his pulse jumped at the thrall of the other man's voice.
"Wha-"
"Do you promise that you'll always be you?" Harry repeated.
Theo blinked as his chest panged. The idiot wasn't understanding, he thought bitterly. His jaw tightened as he swallowed thickly, the words rushing to his tongue.
"Hey."
Theo looked up at Harry's quiet beckoning.
"I don't want you to promise anything else," Harry continued, a look of gentle urgency upon his face. "I don't expect anything else from you, just promise me that."
Carefully, Harry lifted a hand to cover Theo's that wrapped around the bars of the cell door. Breath rushed from his lungs as his body erupted into flames. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of another, and even longer since he had been touched without expectations. The feel of Harry's warm, calloused hand holding him, securing him in place, the soft trail of his thumb that traced the path around to Theo's wrist.
The selfless and selfish.
Theo shook his head slightly and looked down, weighing his thoughts. Harry didn't understand, but then again, he wasn't asking for anything. Theo knew he couldn't have it all, but he could have that, couldn't he? But perhaps Theo could have Harry's company, he could be the shadow in his sunlight.
Tentatively, he bit his lip and nodded his head, looking up to meet Harry's eyes through his lashes.
"I can promise you that."
The days passed quicker, every rise of the sun met with the same four walls, the same dismal grey and stale hope. But then night would come, and so as the moon would rise, so too would his songbird sing.
Theo paced the same worn steps he'd done a thousand times before, energy fritzing through his veins like uncontrollable sparks. His muscles tensed and coiled with every step, his thoughts raced, overlapping, intertwining, echoing around his head.
"Where did you go?" Harry whispered through the bars. Theo blinked, allowing the dark cell to phase back in. He shrugged nonchalantly and turned an easy smile to Harry, meeting the curious gaze.
"Nowhere," Theo said, "everywhere." He laughed lightly and tapped the side of his head. "I'm not an occlumens, never was able to get my head around it, but I did manage to get the whole memory part of it down. It's the only thing that's kept me sane in here."
Harry nodded slowly. "Makes sense."
"If you think about it," Theo continued breezily, "if you can remember everything, then you can go wherever you want. You're not trapped by this." He gestured loosely to the walls around him. "You want to go to the Yule Ball or to Honeydukes? All right here," he said with a grin, tapping his head once again.
Harry chuckled quietly. "I see your point. So where did you go this time?"
"Here," Theo replied, "well, another time here." He paused, a small smile dancing on his lips as a new thought struck him. "If you can go anywhere, are you really bound by time?"
Harry made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. "By just revisiting memories?"
Theo nodded, his smile widening as sunshine sparked through his body. "Exactly, you could just keep hopping from one timeline to another."
"But what about making new memories?" Harry asked quietly, as he met Theo's excited gaze. "You can't go forward if you're trapped in the past."
"But I'm not trapped," Theo said, turning to face Harry more fully. "I'm here, in the present with you now, but I'm also with you in the past. And when tomorrow comes, I'll be with you then too."
Harry smiled slightly as he eyed him through the bars. "I suppose you're right."
"I am," Theo replied with a sure nod. He paused, tapping his fingers against the cold floor. "Where would you go?"
Harry raised a brow and peered at him over the rim of his glasses that had slipped down his nose.
"Any memory?" he said; Theo nodded. "I don't know," Harry sighed, turning away to look out onto the walkway. "I could say the usual: the Hogwarts Express for the first time, Diagon Alley for the first time, flying you know -" he frowned " - actually quite a lot of first times now that I think about it."
Theo laughed, "That good huh?" He bobbed his brows up and down at Harry, who scoffed.
"I didn't mean that, though now that you mention it…" Harry turned to him with a half-cocked grin, that made the heat pool in Theo's navel. "I just meant -"
"In a whimsical time before it was normal to have these conversations through prison bars?" Theo supplied.
Harry gave a low chuckle as he ran fingers through his hair. "Yeah, that'd be the one."
Theo noted the drawn lines of his face as Harry preoccupied himself with a thought.
"This place gets to you that much?" Theo asked.
Harry shrugged. "I challenge you to find anyone who isn't affected by this place. It's bloody miserable." As if to prove his point, a shudder ran through this body, clattering his teeth.
"Drama queen," Theo laughed. "How long is your term? You guys swap around, right?"
Harry suddenly stilled, and focused on picking at this thumb. "Ah, not long. A couple of months left I think."
Theo frowned. "Don't try to lie Love, you're shit at it. How long is your term?"
Harry sighed and leant his head back against the wall, before tilting to look at Theo. "Six months."
Time was relative within the confines of his cell, but Theo was sure it had been longer than six months since Harry had walked into Azkaban.
"You mean you have six months left?" he asked, as he tried to piece together the myriad of sunsets and mornings that had passed.
Harry shook his head and cleared his throat. "No, I've been here a year now, there's a couple of months left."
Theo's heart skipped in his chest. "Did they say you couldn't leave?"
"No, no, I opted to stay on," Harry replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Theo swallowed as heat pricked his cheeks. "You know that makes no sense right?" he laughed softly. "If you hate this plac-"
"And leave you entirely?!" Harry cut in, his incredulous tone echoing from the walls. Theo winced and raised a placating hand to the wide green eyes.
"Okay, well I didn't mean that," Theo said, as he tried to temper the grin that threatened his lips. "I just meant this place is miserable, you should leave while you can."
"I will," Harry replied shortly, turning his head to face the walkway once again. "In a couple of months after your release."
Theo couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face.
"How many months over the end of your contract are you?" he asked tentatively.
Harry was silent for a moment before he huffed a deflating sigh through his nose. "Eight."
Theo laughed quietly, the light from his veins bubbling up his throat and into the quiet night air.
"You're an idiot," he murmured warmly.
He heard the thunk of Harry's head hitting the wall as he leant back once again before the other man's quiet reply joined his.
"Shut up."
Theo sighed at the click of the lock. He blinked, refocusing his tired eyes on the swirls of the antique rug. He was exhausted, his bones weary and groaning with every step. With jerky movements, he struggled out of his robes and he walked; he strained and flapped against the extra material he hadn't had to deal with for two years as he bumped into a side table. Once free, he unceremoniously dropped it to the ground and grabbed at the neck of his prison garb that lay underneath; he pulled it seamlessly over his head as he started up the stairs of his home and flung it over the nearest bannister.
He hopped across the landing as he tried to undo his boots, chucking one over his shoulder before setting in on the other.
That one knocked into a hideous priceless vase that exploded across the varnished floorboards.
Free of his shoes, Theo quickly divested his trousers and underwear, flicking them away with a flourished kick. He pushed down the double door handles of his room and strode in, feeling freer than he had in his entire life.
No father.
No Dark Lord.
No bars on his door and more than twenty square feet to call his own.
Theo meandered through the bedroom, straight through to the bathroom. He wasted no time turning on the shower. As he stepped under the steaming spray, a guttural moan tore from his throat at the pure ecstasy that shivered over his skin.
He stood there, his head bowed, watching the dirty water sluice from his body and spiral down the drain. He was thinner, leaner than he used to be. The combination of restless aggravation and exercise for his sanity had left every line of him carved. Theo shook out his shoulders, feeling months of knots unravel under the burning water.
At some point he had lowered himself, and sat under the pounding water, not thinking, not feeling. Just simply decompressing under the constant thrum. He lost track of the amount of time he was in there. It was only when the pads of his fingers were ridiculously pruned, that he considered that - perhaps - he should leave the shower.
Theo groaned as he stood, his body loose and warm as he wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist. He ambled over to the mirror and took in the ragged beard that lined his jaw. With a tut of disgust and an admonishing look at his reflection, he pulled the soap, dish, and badger brush from the cupboard and methodically set to work. He hacked ruthlessly at the beard, until it was short enough to slather in the thick white cream he'd mixed up.
Stroke by stroke, his breath came easier. This he was used to. The same smells of spiced cologne and clean soap. The same movements of sure hands that ran the razor down his jaw. The same pervasive silence that permeated the old halls of Nott Manor.
Theo grabbed the damp cloth and dabbed at his sensitive, newly cleaned skin, reexamining his reflection. His hair was long; he'd managed to hack at it occasionally in prison but still...He ran his hand through his shaggy hair, spiking it this way and that. Deranged hedgehog, he thought as he promised to find the nearest barber in the morning...
Maybe in a couple of morning's time, he amended as he padded back through to his bedroom and over to the coffee table that the elves had set, in preparation for his arrival. He swiped at the carafe, poured a healthy glass of whiskey and took a sip. His eyes fluttered closed as the smokey caramel burn swam over his tongue.
As he savoured the taste, he plucked up the silver tin and tobacco pouch that were wrapped with a black ribbon, tied in a bow. Theo smiled endearingly as he slowly unravelled the silk, thanking the gods that Basten had chosen to stay at the Manor, after all this time. As far as Theo was aware, the elf had been there for several generations - though, he wouldn't put it past his ancestors to replace the elf and call it by the same name. Basten had always looked after him: feeding him when his father denied him or when the shadows crept in too close, comforting him from the night terrors, supplying him with a steady chain of tobacco and whiskey; making sure he didn't try to fly too high when the sunlight burned through him.
Theo placed the cigarette between his lips, drawing the burnt smoke across his tongue as he settled into the chair, a tumbler of whiskey held loosely between his fingers. The silence of the Manor was deafening. After so long being caged in a hollow tomb, the dark magic that dripped from the Manor's luxurious walls seemed positively palatial.
A pop sounded throughout the room, jolting Theo from his reverie. He turned his head to see Basten wringing his tiny hands.
"Master has a visitor," the old elf croaked. Theo's brows rose as he took another drag of his cigarette.
"Who?"
"It is Harry Potter here to see Master." The elf nodded his head, his ears flapping. Theo jolted, burning his fingers on his cigarette.
"Bring him here," Theo said as he shook out his hand with a grimace. "Did he say why he was here?"
The elf shook his head. "No Master, only that it was urgent."
Theo swore as Basten disappeared with a pop. He quickly stood up and began to cross the room to the armoire, his nerves a jitter, when a second pop sounded behind him.
He froze, slowly rolling his eyes at his overenthusiastic elf.
"Master Potter for Master, sir." Theo turned to see the elf bob his head promptly, congratulating himself on a job well done.
"Thank you Basten," Theo said with a gentle smile, careful to avoid Harry's gaze. "That'll be all."
The elf bowed once and popped away.
Theo's throat clicked as swallowed. No matter how much he prepared himself, no matter how many nights, how many hours he'd spoken to the man before him, his heart still danced to a tune that only Harry knew whenever they were together.
"Sorry I -"
Theo looked up at Harry's faltered words. "What?"
Harry chuckled quietly, rubbing a hand across the back of his reddened neck. "I'm sorry for barging in like this, I can wait…" He gestured his thumb loosely over his shoulder to the door.
"No no," Theo blurted, afraid that now he had Harry again, if he walked through the door, he would disappear forever. "Why are you here?"
Harry shifted his weight, tucking his hands into his trousers. He wore the all-black uniform that usually lay under his Auror garb, sans the scarlet cloak.
"I quit."
Theo frowned, his mind screeching to a halt.
"Pardon?"
Harry shrugged nonchalantly while the rose tint that bloomed across his cheeks betrayed him. "I quit," he continued, "I wanted to a while back. I realised that with everything going on, I can't do anything to help where I was y'know?"
Theo narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand, you're an Auror, you're the Dark Wizard Catcher Extraordinaire!"
"Yeah well," Harry met his gaze, "maybe I strongly fucking disagree with what the Ministry deems to be a Dark Wizard."
Theo sucked in a breath, his heart squeezing in its usual way whenever Harry did anything.
This man…
This beautiful, ridiculous, principled green-eyed fuckwit…
The man who had sat with him every night, keeping him company in the dark.
His songbird.
"I'm sorry," Theo began, the words sticking his throat, "about all those times when I turned on you." All those nights, Harry had been there, whether Theo had wanted him or not. Even after he had warned him, even after Harry had said not to apologise.
But too much was at stake. He couldn't cage his songbird. As much as he wanted to love and cherish him, he couldn't - Theo would make him miserable.
Harry took a step forward. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't matter now. That place is gone, it's behind us."
"But it does matter," Theo urged, feeling the faint shadows of desperation creep in. Harry was here. In his home. A free man - both of them were. They'd had this conversation before but Theo had been selfish; he'd been a drowning man clinging to his nearest saviour - The Saviour. But now… Now he needed to be selfless. He needed Harry to understand what he hadn't back then.
"I told you before, it happened and will happen again." Theo scraped his teeth across his lip. Harry faltered, the shine dimming in his eyes. "And it pisses me off."
Theo sighed, resigned and defeated by his thoughts. He was doing the right thing, for once in his miserable life. He looked up at Harry, taking in every detail. Savouring the colours and lines.
He needed to be selfless.
He needed to set his songbird free.
"The thing is," Theo began, his voice cracking, "I don't know - I don't know how to control this thing within me and it's killing me. I'm scared - no," he shook his head, "terrified that you can't handle it. Actually, no, I -" Theo looked off to the side, searching the room for the words as his heart broke in his chest " - I don't want you to handle it. You're you! The guard who fed me through the bars. The bars I was behind because of this thing within me."
Harry stilled, his green gaze steady. "Meaning?" The single response felt like a death knell, a full stop - a warning.
Theo swallowed, shoring himself against the pain from the crack in his chest.
"Meaning that it wasn't because I was locked inside. I am the way I am - always have been, always will be. Sometimes, I'm not going to be nice, like I said," he shoved a hand roughly through his hair, pulling at the roots, "sometimes I'm gonna sleep for a whole week. Sometimes, I won't want to do anything, sometimes I'll get excited over stupid stuff." The words tripped easily from his tongue, building with intensity as he listed them.
Harry reached for him. "I can handle that -"
"No, I'm being serious," Theo cut in, stepping back. He needed to understand!
Harry paused, his eyes wide and searching. "Me too."
Theo's twisted laugh echoed around the room. "Except I'm gonna put you through hell, don't you understand?!" He gestured wildly, his arms wide as pain wracked through his body. "I'm going to yell, I'm going to leave, I'm going to blame you for all sorts of stupid shit." He dropped his hands loosely to his side, a hopeless smile on his lips. "You know, there is treatment for this. Draco sorted it with Mungo's a couple of years ago. Sometimes I won't do it though." He stepped closer to Harry, who watched him with a narrowed gaze, spots of colour speckling his cheeks. "And you're gonna want to check and it's going to piss me off. So sometimes I'll lie -" He smirked, his voice raw with the emotion that choked his throat. "I'll tell you that I did it even though that won't be true and I don't know why, but I tend to do that when I feel good." A bitter laugh slipped past his lips. "When I feel like I'm the sun and the world and I'm invincible to all the pain." He shrugged slightly, meeting Harry's steady gaze once again. "And I feel good when I'm with you."
Harry took a step closer, shaking his head. "And I -"
"Yeah, but that's just it, isn't it," Theo snapped.
Harry flinched. "What is?"
"That's it, this," Theo gestured between them, "I don't want this to change but it will." He shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "It will." He looked back to Harry, his smile hopeless and broken. "And it'll be my fault." Theo's breath hitched against the pain. "And I don't want that," he shook his head, "I don't want that. I don't want to cause you pain, I don't want to scare you or hurt you, I don't want you to suffer because of me."
Harry was still, the final word echoing in the space between them. "You're making an awful lot of decisions for us both right now," he said quietly. Theo opened his mouth to speak but Harry continued, "No, I understood the first time we had this conversation and I understand you now." His eyes were piercing with his vehemence. "Maybe it'll happen, sure." He shrugged, shaking his head. "But we'll see."
Theo pursed his lips and turned away. He didn't understand, he never understood. "No, it will happ-"
"You don't know that!" Harry bit back. "I might say stupid shit too, and I'm not -"
"It's not the same," Theo sighed.
"So?!" Harry held his arms out wide. "So? You'll have to deal with me too though, right?" He huffed a dark laugh. "I'm not perfect! You think you're ever going to get a full night's sleep lying next to me with my nightmares? Think again!" He dropped his hand to his hips. "I'll leave too, I'll slam the door and everything. I don't do love, I don't do relationships. Fuck, I haven't got a fucking clue what a healthy one is." He looked beseechingly at Theo, taking another step closer. "I'll get angry with you and give you the silent treatment, I'll expect you to leave at any point, just like the rest of them." He took another step. "But the truth is, I'd rather have you annoy me, shout at me, rage and ignore me, than not have you at all."
Harry stopped, his cheeks flushed with his temper. "So yeah," he said quieter, "we'll see."
Theo stood frozen, his lips parted. Of all the things he had expected Harry to say, that hadn't been one of them.
"You know what?" Harry said suddenly, a look of determination crossing his face, "Do you want me?"
Theo blanched. "Of course, that's never been a question."
"Good, well I want you too. So how about this - from now on, we'll deal with each other day by day. No expectations, no pressure, just us." He closed the last of the space between them. "No, even better, we'll deal minute by minute."
The world stopped.
Theo looked into the green eyes that had been the colour of his world for months. Every fibre of him yearned for the man before him, desperate in wanting to love someone so close, and yet so far away.
And there he stood, inches away, within Theo's reach, willing to try, understanding the truth and not running from it.
Finally.
Theo lifted a trembling hand to cup Harry's jaw, tilting it up.
"Minute by minute," Theo whispered against Harry's lips.
A vow.
There was a pause, like the world held its breath until they crashed into one another, a cacophonous crescendo to a tremulous note. Theo gasped in desperation as his teeth clacked with Harry's, his fingers scrambling over the buttons of his shirt.
Harry buried a hand in Theo's hair, pulling him closer, consuming him - stealing the breath from his lungs; while his other trailed down Theo's chest, his fingers leaving a burning path in their wake. With ease, he slipped a finger into the knot of the towel and pulled, leaving it to fall to the floor in a thud of finality.
Theo choked a sob and whimpered into the kiss as Harry pulled him in, wrapping him in a secure embrace. After so long of being alone, so long since he had felt kind touch, to have Harry surround him, his large hands pulling at him with the calloused pads scraping his skin, to the strong arms caging him, holding him together as he shattered - it was too much.
He pulled back, drawing a broken breath into his burning lungs as Harry placed biting kisses down his jaw.
Theo was on fire. His world aflame with glitter and light and he wanted more.
He needed more.
His trembling fingers gave up trying to undo the buttons of Harry's shirt; he released a jubilant laugh when he heard them scatter across the room as he tore it open. Harry's dark chuckle slipped across his skin as his lips trailed down Theo's neck.
It was everything.
It was too much.
It wasn't enough.
Theo's fingers fumbled with Harry's belt until calloused fingers calmed their erratic movements. Deftly, Harry did away with the offending clothing, leaving him bare before Theo. Harry smiled softly, his chest heaving, his green eyes wild as he looked up. The breath that was left in Theo's body was pushed from his chest as his heart squeezed its devastating patter.
"You'll be the end of me," Theo whispered, as he cupped Harry's jaw.
"Good," Harry grunted, colliding their lips once more.
They fell, their limbs tangled, lost in the softness of each other's kiss. Theo huffed a laugh as Harry wasted no time in straddling him, his hands placed on either side of Theo's head. Blue eyes met green, soft smiles of wonder on their lips.
Freedom.
There was nothing between them.
No clothes, no bars, no societal divides.
Just Theo and Harry.
"You promise?" Theo breathed, too afraid to give body to his words. Harry's lips quirked higher, his gaze softening further. He knew. He knew what Theo asked of him, for patience, for understanding…
For freedom.
"I will make this promise to you, every minute of every day." Harry leaned down and brushed his lips gently over Theo's. "I promise you, minute by minute."
A broken cry tore from Theo's throat as Harry circled their cocks, gathering them in his palm.
"I promise you freedom," Harry whispered as he began to move his hand. Theo arched his back from the floor, his blood singing with sensation.
"I promise you."
Theo broke.
He reached for Harry with a desperate whimper, kissing the promise from his lips. Theo's hips twitched as he sought friction: against Harry, against his fingers. Their breaths came in heavy gasps, tearing through the silence of the room. Theo's hands pulled at Harry, hungrily tracing every line, every muscle.
His existence began at the loving touch of Harry's kiss and ended with the electric pleasure that burned with the feel of their cocks moving together in the security of his hold.
Theo was desperate, his pleasure compounding his urgency.
"And I you," he choked as Harry's promises echoed in his ears. Harry's face lit with his smile, his skin flushed, dewy with exertion.
"Good," he said roughly as he leaned down to capture Theo's lips once more. He twisted his palm and tore Theo's soul from his body.
The world whitened, reduced to a single point of ecstasy that burned through every vein of Theo's being.
His hands slipped over Harry's shoulders as he felt the man judder with his own release, and pulled him in, enveloping him in an embrace.
Theo's heart pounded against his ribs, as Harry's puffed breath cooled his heated skin. He traced the lines to his high ceiling, basking in the afterglow, his arms curled around Harry.
"You realise what this means right?" he croaked, his voice hoarse. Harry lifted his head and rested his chin against Theo's chest. He blinked blearily, his brow quirking slightly behind his glasses. "You're stuck with me now," Theo added. And though he said the words wrapped in his usual silken confidence that had always been his weapon and his armour, his chest ached from the fear behind the statement.
Harry made him vulnerable - made him weak - there were no two ways about it.
The corner of Harry's lips twitched, softening his warm gaze and Theo's heart skipped a beat.
"About damn time."
...thoughts?
Comments let me know you're there. Till next time my dears.