Author's Note: Just some flangsty eighth year Nottpott. For Canttouchthis and the wonderful group at the House of Nott for being filthy enablers - I mean for encouraging my love of Theo. Hope you like!
This piece has been neither alpha'd nor beta'd; mistakes are my own.
I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; no copyright infringement is intended.
Theo dropped his head over the back of his seat, releasing a sigh. Blinked several times at the ceiling. Fixed his facial features into stoicism.
Suppressing the urge to grind his jaw, Theo listened to the soft bubbling across the surface of his potion. His thoughts spun the same desperate oath on a repeating, bedraggled cycle.
Not Potter not Potter not Potter anyone but Harry fucking Potter.
He straightened in his seat. "Of course, Professor. That will be fine."
"Of course it will," Slughorn announced with a chortle, clapping his hands in delight as though Theo had offered him a lifetime supply of crystallised pineapple. "Two of my star pupils working together, after all."
His eye twitched.
Across the room, Theo caught sight of Draco sniggering and fought the pull of a smirk. Obviously, no one had informed Slughorn that all of Potter's sixth year Potions prowess had been as a result of a nicked textbook, and the boy was as useless with a cauldron as Theo had been at navigating Daph's breakdown over which dress to wear to Hogsmeade the weekend prior.
Of course, the thought of being partnered with Potter bothered Theo on a level that went far deeper than his Potions inadequacies.
Theo gave his potion a stir as half the room began to relocate, and his shoulders stiffened when Potter hefted his cauldron onto the empty spot at Theo's workbench. His hair was messier than usual, a flush in his cheeks as he walked away and returned with an armload of supplies, and Theo's upper lip curled at the chartreuse shade of Potter's concoction.
Not in a million years would Theo ever trust a healing potion Potter brewed.
It was painfully evident Potter didn't care for the partnership either, and Theo gave a disdainful sniff. He wasn't the one being forced to work with someone who couldn't tell a weevil from a scarab.
"If you cost me my Outstanding in this course," Theo drawled under his breath, "I will make your life miserable."
Potter's eyes tightened with a flash. "Wouldn't dare affect your precious grades," he muttered, flipping his textbook open. Theo watched as he haphazardly sliced a few roots, rolling his eyes.
"If you put those roots in like that," Theo ground out, "your potion is going to―"
Ignoring him, Potter scraped the botched roots into his cauldron; Theo grimaced as the contents erupted, splashing Potter. Some of it spilled on the sleeve of Theo's robes.
Cocking a brow, Theo finished with a cold, "Explode."
Theo could already feel the beginnings of a migraine as Potter hastily vanished the mess, two spots of colour staining his cheekbones once more.
"Sorry about that," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair as he took in the sad state of what remained of his potion.
The words still ran through the back of Theo's mind, though a little softer. Not Harry Potter. He shook out his shoulders, releasing some of the tension, and lowered his voice so no one could listen in. "Stir in a replenishing draught," Theo said, "and a teaspoon of lacewing flies, precisely. That should sort you out with enough to submit."
Potter's head swivelled to face him, brows leaping high on his forehead, and a flicker of suspicion flitted across his face. Theo cursed the warmth that crept into his face at Potter's blatant assessment.
Finally he looked away, dragging a hand across the back of his neck. "Thanks, Nott." Then he walked off to the classroom stores.
In his absence, Theo cast a spell at Potter's potion to mend his poorly chopped roots, and some of the angry bubbling subsided. He released a sigh and muttered to himself, "Anyone but fucking Potter."
It would be a long six weeks.
Theo couldn't pinpoint the exact moment in time when he had stopped viewing Harry Potter as a nuisance, and instead began noticing other things. Like the strong line of his jaw and the hint of stubble he wore. The assertiveness with which he carried himself―in every class but Potions. The disheveled spirit to his hair, and the way he was quick to a grin in a way that Theo couldn't reconcile.
In fact, if he was honest, he rather thought Potter to be the antithesis of himself. With his heart on his sleeve and his need to stand up for everyone. The very thought made Theo cringe.
And when he really considered the matter, the only thing Theo could truly think of that he and Potter had in common was the fact that, as of the end of the war in May, neither of them had parents. It was a macabre comparison indeed.
It often came as a surprise that Theo felt any sort of attraction for the bloke. But physical interest wasn't akin to affection―or at least, that was what he liked to tell himself.
They were halfway through what had been deemed their eighth year by the professors―though it was more like what seventh year might have been if the school hadn't been run by torture-happy lunatics―and Theo had mixed feelings at the thought of leaving Hogwarts.
A part of him looked forward to going off on his own; to walking away from everything that reminded him of the war and never looking back. Another part dreaded the thought, because Hogwarts felt more like home than his ancestral manor ever had. And with Theo's father below ground, Theo was in charge of the estate.
He wasn't certain he cared for the responsibility that would come with that.
Still, there couldn't be any harm in a fresh start. Especially with the glaring reminder in the form of Harry Potter sitting at the other end of his bench in Potions three days a week. At their shared library table in the evenings as they researched for the project Slughorn had assigned.
Each pair was to construct or modify―and brew―a potion of their own choice. It was the sort of task Theo hadn't expected until the Potions mastery he sought to study after Hogwarts. And Potter was certainly no potions aficionado, which meant Theo would be stuck doing most of the work.
Even so, Potter hadn't been useless.
Presently, he squinted at Theo over his glasses, gesturing towards the textbook open before him on the library table. "I know Slughorn wants us to tweak an existing potion to improve upon its uses, but what if we just created something entirely new?"
Theo cocked a brow; maybe the sentiment had been premature. "Because, Potter," he drawled, turning the page in his own book, "potion development is both time-consuming and tedious. We only have six weeks to finish this project."
"Only because," Potter pressed on, glancing away, "he suggested we might get bonus credit."
The words were enough for Theo to pause his perusal and turn his full focus on Potter. "Why do you care about extra credit? As far as I can tell you're barely hoping for an E." He carded a hand through his hair. "Why are you even taking NEWT Potions anyway?"
"Because I need it." Potter pursed his lips, looking put out. "To get into the Auror program."
"Ahh," Theo returned with a grimace. "Odd that the Chosen One didn't get a free pass."
Potter scowled at him. "I did, technically. But I told Kingsley I wanted to earn my way in like anyone else."
"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Theo snickered.
"Or," Potter said, rolling his eyes, "I simply want to be taken seriously by my peers."
Theo turned fully towards him and made a face. "Seriously? You killed the fucking Dark Lord. I can't imagine anyone else around the DMLE can possibly boast something like that. If anything, I'd have thought they'd beg you to be an Auror."
As Potter glanced away, shifting in his seat, Theo wondered whether he'd struck a nerve. At last, Potter released a sigh. "At any rate, the higher rank I manage on my Potions NEWT, the better."
"Fine," Theo clipped, folding his arms as he leaned back in his seat. "If you're serious about it, I've got a couple ideas for potions I've been working on. For my mastery, mind you―not for this."
Potter's stare tightened with consideration. "That's what you mean to do after Hogwarts, then? Pursue a mastery?"
"If I can get on with a potions master, yes." He hesitated for a moment, debating how much he wanted to share with the man. "They're in high demand, and it's rather difficult when your surname is synonymous with Death Eater."
As a long moment of silence hung between them, Theo grew increasingly certain Potter was going to mock him, or perhaps simply remember who he was and walk away. Instead, he blew out a long breath. "I imagine it is," he said softly. "But you didn't fight in the war, and you never took the Mark―so far as I'm aware."
Theo wasn't certain he was breathing; he hadn't realised Potter had even paid him any mind before this assignment. He hastily cleared his throat. "No. I didn't."
Potter's eyes locked on Theo's, a flash of emerald green that set his heart racing. Theo had to force himself to draw a breath, and he clenched his jaw into a hard line. Potter didn't look away for longer than felt acceptable, until at last he shrugged and said softly, "I don't know, Nott. I think where we come from doesn't have to define us. If you want to study potions at a higher level, I hope you do."
It felt as though the air had been blown out of his lungs. "That simple, eh," Theo drawled, wrenching his eyes away. "I'm sure it is, for someone like you."
In his periphery, he saw Potter flinch.
"I didn't mean―"
"Forget it," Theo muttered, the hot sting of shame crawling into his cheeks. "I shouldn't have said anything. If you want to do the potion that way, we can. I'll work on something tonight."
He wanted to run, to bury the nightmares that still haunted him―that would always haunt him―and hide behind the walls he had spent years building. To escape from the penetrating sear of Potter's gaze, his vulnerability, the way he acted as though he believed Theo could simply decide to do something that society had deemed out of reach.
"Nott."
Theo couldn't manage to meet his eyes again. Not when he so desperately longed for whatever had been hidden there beneath the surface. "It doesn't matter, Potter. Just let it go."
Finally Potter looked away, his jaw hardened into a firm line, and whatever Theo might have seen in his face was shuttered away. Good. Self-loathing prickled along the surface of Theo's skin as he returned to his studies. And they fell into an awkward, tense silence, until finally Theo couldn't take it any more, packed his books, and left the library with barely a nod.
No one would ever mistake him for a bloody fucking Gryffindor.
Theo had come to dread Potions class, because it meant time spent with Potter. Potter, who hadn't spoken to him since their strange not-quite-argument in the library two weeks prior. Theo wanted to apologise, to make amends at least, but his blasted pride wouldn't let him. Because he was afraid of what might come of it.
He feared that Potter might still push him away. But even more, Theo feared that he might not. That Potter might look at him again in that way, as if he saw Theo as more than another Death Eater's son, another nameless Slytherin, embroiled in blood purity and everything the wizarding world as a whole had grown to fear as a cold reminder of what had almost happened.
Although he hated what his life had come to, he had no idea how to walk away from any of it. He couldn't simply decide to do something else because all Theo knew was all he had ever been.
For as much as he had never connected for his father―and that was putting the tension between them mildly―he had been Theo's biggest influence. His mother had died when he was eight, and he often wished it had been the other way around; that his mother had been the one to raise him instead.
Maybe Theo's life wouldn't have ended up so royally fucked.
"Have you got a jar of rose petals?" Potter asked in a curt, unfriendly tone. "I'm out."
Theo bit down hard on his tongue to suppress a rude retort―Potter hadn't done anything wrong―and he reached into his satchel and slid a small jar across the table without a word.
Potter pursed his lips, rolled his eyes, and carried on with his potion. They'd had to work on their collaborative project outside of class hours, as Slughorn had kept regular assignments in class, but they'd been relegated to the same work bench for the duration of the project. Theo would have moved otherwise.
He looked longingly towards where Draco and Blaise had been assigned to work together.
"You know," Potter said into the awkward tension again, "you don't need to act like I've done something to upset you. I made an effort to be nice to you, and you've been treating me like filth ever since." Beneath the casual tone, Theo could sense something akin to hurt. "I guess I must have been wrong after all―in thinking that there was something more to you."
Theo suppressed the anguish that clutched at his chest, hindering his ability to draw a full breath, and scowled at the table. "Nope," he snapped. "This is just how I am."
"I don't believe that," Potter ground out, forsaking his conversational efforts. "I know you aren't just a prat, Nott. You've never treated me like the rest of your house, even during the war."
There was no way Theo was going to explain why. That some part of him had always envied Potter's easy connection with his friends. And that, as the years passed and the situation grew more dire, Theo had privately hoped that Potter might have been his way out of the nightmare that had grown increasingly real.
But even now, Theo couldn't escape the terrors that haunted him.
He scowled at the table, hating himself as the words fell from his lips. "You don't know anything about me."
Hated the visceral and encompassing tightness in his chest; the slight quake in his fingertips.
"You're right," Potter said, his voice quiet. "But would it be so terrible?"
Theo didn't know how to answer that; he could hardly think over the rush of blood through his head as he attempted to parse the sentiment into something that made sense. He forced a thick swallow, nausea churning in his stomach at the thought of allowing himself to open up to someone like Potter. Because he knew exactly how it would play out, and every damn time, Theo would be found wanting.
"Yes," he breathed at last, unable to look the man in the face.
He could only imagine how transparent he must be, and he despised it.
Potter's face remained blank and steady, as though he'd expected Theo to disappoint him again. To shun his attempts, again. "Fine," Potter breathed, "but no one can say I didn't make an effort." He slammed the jar of rose petals down onto the table in front of Theo and didn't speak another word.
Shame and regret curdled together as one in the pit of Theo's stomach until he was certain he would simply dissolve into the floor and evaporate as though he'd never existed.
Fear swam within him, blurring his vision, because he knew if Potter saw who he really was, he would never try again.
And some part of Theo, deep within himself, wanted Potter to go on believing that it might be worthwhile. Maybe if he didn't know everything, he might still see Theo as a worthy cause. But not if Theo kept pushing him away; the battle raged on.
"Potter," he bit out at last, the pair of them lingering at their workbench as the rest of the class completed the day's assignment.
"What."
Theo drew in a deep breath. "Your effort is wasted on me."
Potter didn't look at him; didn't miss a beat. "We disagree, then."
Emotion pressed down, firm and stifling, on Theo's chest, and he didn't remember how to breathe. He clenched his hands tight under the table, nails biting into his palms. Heat stung at the backs of his eyes and he blinked away the threat of tears.
"Okay," he said at last, and allowed his eyes to flit sidelong to meet Potter's. "But honestly, it's your loss if you―"
"Nott."
Beneath the table, Potter's knee nudged against his own, and Theo froze. He couldn't tell if it had been accidental.
"Okay," Theo said again with a tight nod. His chest felt as if it couldn't possibly contain the throbbing of his heart. "Alright then."
He thought he saw just the faintest tilt of humour on Potter's face.
Theo drifted the streets of Hogsmeade, hands in his trouser pockets as the brisk winter air brought a flush to his cheeks. Although he didn't care to wander the village alone, he knew if he spent the day with Draco and Blaise, he would be up to his eyeballs in Firewhisky at the Hog's Head by dinner.
The thought hadn't held much appeal, when Theo much preferred brooding alone.
He slipped into Scrivenshaft's to pick up a new quill and a fresh stash of ink, and as he made his way towards the register, he nearly collided with Potter.
"Nott," the man offered with a stiff nod. They hadn't spoken beyond brief discussion about their classwork in a little over a week. "What are you doing here?"
Theo made a face and brandished his supplies. "What do you think I'm doing here?"
Potter grimaced, lifting his brows awkwardly. "Right. Of course. Hermione wanted to look at books." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, then lowered his voice and added dramatically, "Forever."
Despite himself, a snort pulled from Theo's throat. As though summoned, Granger's head popped out from behind the nearest shelf and she offered Theo a thin smile. Theo tensed at the familiarity of it, when they had never once spoken directly to one another.
With a surge of courage he didn't recognise, Theo drawled, "I'm going to Honeydukes." When Potter's bright stare landed on his, he added a brusque, "You know. If you wanted a break."
The moment the words were free of his lips, Theo regretted them. He felt heat creep into his face, but before he could fumble his way through a retraction, Potter said, "Sure. That would be alright. Let me just tell Hermione."
Then he vanished; Theo gaped at the spot where Potter had just stood as he processed what was happening. Moments later, Potter returned, looking as though he'd rid himself of an arduous task.
"I didn't mean for you to leave your friend behind," Theo said, clutching his ink wells awkwardly in one hand.
"She doesn't mind," Potter said. "She'll be here for hours. I'll just get her a packet of sugar quills and meet up with her for the trip back."
Theo wished he hadn't asked, but still, he felt a pleasant swirling of intrigue in his stomach as Potter waited patiently while Theo paid for his purchases, and then walked at his side towards the sweets shop.
Potter's presence at his side felt like a glaring magnet for attention, and Theo could feel eyes lingering on the pair of them. He shifted, uncomfortable, and wondered whether Potter regretted accepting the invitation, when it meant being seen in public with Theo. Or maybe he was just used to people watching his every move.
Honeydukes was busy as ever, and Theo wished once more he had given the idea even a brief moment of thought before asking Potter to join him. But once more, Potter appeared not to notice as he browsed an array of sugar quills, presumably for Granger.
"What's your favourite?" he asked, and Theo snapped free from the haze of his thoughts.
"Always liked liquorice wands."
Potter lifted a brow, swivelling his head towards Theo. "Honestly?"
Theo shrugged, oddly defensive over his preferred snack. "I don't care for things that are overly sweet. Besides, too much sugar will rot your teeth."
"You sound like Hermione," he snickered. "You two could bond over dental hygiene I imagine."
Bristling, Theo swiped a packet of liquorice wands from the shelf, straightening his shoulders. "I can't imagine she'd appreciate the comparison."
Potter frowned, walking at his side as he selected a few additional items. "You make it sound like we sit around talking about how much we hate you," he said, the tone conversational, the topic decidedly not. His shoulder brushed Theo's in the crowded shop. "When in fact, that isn't the case."
"At any rate," Theo drawled, plucking Potter's sweets from his hands. He drew in a shaky breath for courage. "These are on me. Thanks for joining me."
"No you don't," Potter huffed, reaching to reclaim his purchases, but Theo pushed forward to the register and gave Potter a stern look. Finally, he relented, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Fine, then Butterbeers are on me."
Theo froze, then wheeled to face him; Potter simply stared him down, as though daring him to object. Attempting to ignore the voracious beat of his heart, Theo said, "Fine."
As they left the packed and overheated shop, Potter turned to face him. "I was hoping to talk to you about something, anyway."
"What's that?" Anxiety rose in Theo's chest of its own accord as the pair of them slipped into the Three Broomsticks.
Potter glanced away, uncertainty flickering across his face for a moment. "It was Hermione's idea, really, but I told you how I'm hoping to do well on my Potions NEWT, and you're one of the top in the class, and―" He cut off, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I thought you might be willing to help me out a bit. I'd pay you of course."
Theo's heart felt sank into the pit of his stomach. Of course, Potter only wanted something from him. Inwardly, he cursed himself for allowing the time they'd spent together that afternoon to mean something. Still, he couldn't stand to say no.
"What do I need your money for, Potter?" Theo asked, pursing his lips. "I'll help you prepare for the NEWT, but I don't want money. Why doesn't Granger just help you?"
They settled into a booth and Potter ordered two Butterbeers from a passing server, before lifting a brow. "Have you seen Hermione preparing for exams? It's frightening as hell. Besides, she doesn't have time to tutor me, and honestly, I don't want her to. She's very... enthusiastic."
Despite the flicker of irritation Theo felt at the whole situation, he couldn't help the thought from emerging deep in his mind that Potter wanted his help.
"I'll help you," Theo said again, softer. "Once this assignment is through we can continue on one or two nights a week if you like."
Theo watched as the tension sank from Potter's shoulders, and he gave a crooked grin. "Thanks, Nott. I appreciate that."
"Answer me one thing, though." Theo jolted as the server returned with their drinks, and he took a sip as he pondered the thought. "Why are you so keen on becoming an Auror? One might think you've had enough of saving the wizarding world. Hero complex that deeply ingrained?"
Potter looked as though he might take offense, before Theo snickered and allowed a hint of a smile.
"Believe it or not, Nott―" Potter fought a grin at the repetition, "but I never wanted any of this thrust upon me. I didn't even know magic existed until I was eleven because I lived with Muggle family who never told me about my parents. I suppose there is a part of me that just... wants to be sure the world I love is safe and protected. My friends, and the people I've come to recognise as family."
Theo pondered the response for a moment as they both sipped their Butterbeers. "I don't know if you've ever been told this, Potter, but you're incredibly Gryffindor."
Sliding his eyes up to meet Theo's, Potter said, "I almost ended up in Slytherin."
Theo nearly choked on his drink. "You."
"Me." A goofy grin spread across Potter's face, and Theo couldn't quite comprehend the way his heart jumped alive at the easy banter between them. Theo couldn't remember the last time he'd allowed anyone a glimpse inside his walls. "Ultimately, I told the Sorting Hat I didn't want to be Slytherin―I'd heard too many things, and I'd just met Malfoy, so..."
He couldn't help it. A full laugh burst forth at Potter's tone, and Theo grinned widely at him as they met eyes.
Potter took a drink of his Butterbeer and mused, "So Nott does know how to smile."
"Course I know how to smile," Theo drawled, a hint of warmth still lingering. The statement was a little jarring, though he didn't care to let on. "I used to smile all the time. Suppose I haven't had all that many things worth smiling over in recent years."
The teasing warmth fell from Potter's face. "And now?"
Theo felt a significance behind the words that he couldn't quite wrap his head around. "Now... I guess I could stand to learn again."
"I think..." Potter trailed off, staring into his Butterbeer, and Theo forgot to breathe in case he missed it. "We've all got to learn how to live again, yeah? After the war and all. The last few years haven't been easy."
Whether or not the words were meant to be reassuring, Theo felt a wash of shame sweep through him, and he glanced away. "I suppose your side would feel that way."
And just like that, it was a stark reminder that they came from different words; that there would never really be a shot at anything. The smile he'd worn only minutes before now felt foreign and out of reach.
"On any of us," Potter added, taking another casual sip of his drink, as though this wasn't a topic that most people still avoided, even amongst close friends and relatives. Theo supposed Potter had earned the privilege of talking about the war in such a cavalier manner. "Nott."
Theo flinched, dragging his focus back to Potter with a courage he didn't feel. "I didn't fight in the war, Potter."
Potter only shrugged, as though the differences between the two of them were minute and not glaring. "Do you want to know why I've tried to get to know you this year?"
"Sure," Theo muttered, his hands shaky.
"Because," Potter said, hesitating for a moment while his green eyes searched Theo's. "I'm not blind, Nott. I know how easy it would have been for you to go along with your father's wishes; to become a Death Eater as well. Probably easier than to stand up against him, yeah?" Despite himself, Theo nodded. "I don't care that you didn't fight in the war, when it probably would have meant another wand against us if you had."
Theo couldn't comprehend anything in the moment. How Potter could so easily see through the walls he'd spent years building, as though they were made of glass. How he could see the parts of Theo that he'd long fought, desperately, to keep hidden.
Theo didn't have any words in response; he could only stare, jaw clenched, brow furrowed, and hope he didn't crumble into dust.
"So," Potter finally said quietly, looking away, "yes. I do believe we all had a rough time with the war."
Even so, Theo couldn't give in. He clung to the broken and disjointed parts of him that threatened to spill forth on the table between them. "I don't want your pity, or whatever this is."
"This is a drink." Brandishing his mug, Potter leaned back against the upholstery, shaking his head. "This isn't about pity or anything else, Nott, if you honestly believe that. I just thought... well, truthfully, you aren't the only one who's been lonely this year."
Theo swallowed with no small amount of effort. "You always have people around you."
"I have Hermione," Potter corrected, "and she's great, don't get me wrong, but she's struggling with her own burdens from the war and she's thrown herself into schoolwork more than ever. Ron didn't come back to Hogwarts, and truth be told, he and I aren't on very good terms since his sister and I broke up."
"Oh," Theo said dumbly, wondering why Potter was telling him about any of this. Until that moment he hadn't remembered that Potter dated Weasley's sister, and it only served to reinforce the idea that he would never be interested in Theo. He grimaced. "My mates just drink, now. And my father's dead."
Drumming his fingers on the table, Potter glanced his way again. "I heard. I'm sorry."
"It's alright. He and I never got on anyway. Does feel weird, though, not having any family left."
"Yeah." Potter nodded slowly. "You sort of get used to it eventually, but not really."
Theo forced a facetious smile. "Reassuring. Thanks."
"It wasn't meant to reassure." Potter's lips twitched all the same, and he relaxed into his seat as if this wasn't the strangest interaction Theo had ever had. "But I suppose I should tell you that you're not alone, or something like that."
"Am I not?" Theo's gaze locked on Potter's.
Green eyes seared into his own. "No. Not unless you're going to push me away again."
Almost without noticing, the tension, the careful fear, that he'd carried in Potter's presence had begun to seep away, and Theo reached inside himself for an answer. "No," he said quietly. "I think I'm done with that."
In return, he was rewarded with a wide grin, and the sparkle in Potter's beautiful green eyes made Theo catch a sharp breath as he muttered, "Thank Merlin."
At some point Theo couldn't quite rationalise, Potter slipped into his life almost seamlessly, as if they'd known one another for years, properly and beyond peripheral acquaintances. Although their Potions project came to a conclusion, they simply carried on without breaking stride.
One or two nights a week, they met to study Potions and prepare for their NEWTs which were only a handful of months away.
Until one night Potter caught up to him in the corridor, flushed and a little out of breath, and suggested they go flying that night instead. Theo had never been much for Quidditch, but he'd always enjoyed the freedom that came with flying, and he'd agreed without allowing himself to overthink the situation.
And Theo's life, which had grown increasingly isolated over the years, shifted. He didn't know whether he ought to term Potter a friend―or whether he merely withheld the term to avoid disappointment―but he was the one with whom Theo spent most of his free time.
Almost begrudgingly, the one Theo thought about when he woke up; during restless nights when he couldn't sleep.
It was an issue in itself, when Theo couldn't always get a read on Potter, and he didn't dare make a move and ruin the tentative peace. When he thought on it overlong, he struggled to grapple with the idea that he was deserving of such a thing.
But for the first time in years, Theo allowed himself to smile and laugh and carry hope that maybe life didn't have to be such a bleak, grey landscape stretching before him in every direction.
Sometimes, the grey was broken by a burst of green.
Theo nearly collided with someone in the corridor on his way to meet Potter; it had been unseasonably warm and they'd decided to swap studying for flying that evening. But a flush crept into his face at his clumsiness, which only compounded when he realised he was staring into the wide brown eyes of Hermione Granger.
"Nott," she gasped, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where―"
"It was my fault," Theo interrupted, thinning his lips. "Suppose that's what I get for being in a rush." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back; the last thing he needed was for Granger to know he was in a rush to see Potter.
The flicker of interest across her face alerted him that his words hadn't been overlooked, and Theo wished he could dig himself a hole.
"You're meeting Harry tonight, aren't you?" she asked, offering a smile. "I thought he mentioned that at dinner."
"Ah," Theo mused with a grimace. "Yes. We're going for a fly." When she only beamed at him, he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. Despite all the time he'd spent getting to know Potter, Granger still felt a little elusive and intimidating. He always felt as though he needed to make a good impression on her. Which was ridiculous, because it wasn't like he and Potter were together.
"I'm sure it's a nice night to go flying," Granger replied.
He shifted; jammed his hands in his pockets. "Should be. Did you want to join us?"
"Me?" Her eyes shot wide. "No, I'm not much for flying."
"Right."
Theo thought he'd known that; another unwelcome flush clawed its way up into his cheeks. He ducked his chin into a nod, making to carry on.
"Theo?" He froze mid-step, then wheeled back towards her; a jolt chased through him as she wrung her hands together, looking uncomfortable as he felt. "I just wanted to say―thanks for being there for Harry this year. He's been dealing with more than he likes to let on, but I know he really appreciates having you."
For a long moment, Theo stared at her, his face as blank as he could manage. He wondered whether Granger could see through him; if she realised how every moment spent with Potter was both a thrill and a knife in the chest. At last he cleared his throat. "Thanks, Granger. It goes both ways, I guess. He's helped me through a lot this year as well."
Something hung in her eyes, heavy and significant, as though she didn't know whether to speak it aloud.
"Just... be patient with him, alright?" A line formed between her brows as she chewed on her bottom lip. "He doesn't always―well, he can be rather daft, sometimes."
Theo frowned, his chest tight. He made a deliberate effort at a deep breath. "What do you mean?"
Although she lowered her voice, an apologetic smile came across her face. Theo wanted to gather the shreds of his dignity and run. "I know you and I don't know one another that well yet, but... I can see the way you look at him."
It was Theo's worst nightmare come to life. He wrenched a hand through his hair, staring hard at the floor. "I'm not―it's fine. It's not like I'm going to―" He released a long breath, wishing she would leave him alone.
"It's okay, Theo," she breathed. "I promise."
Something in her voice stalled the anxiety that pulled tight across his chest, and Theo forced himself to meet her stare. "He isn't even―he couldn't―"
"He hasn't told a lot of people," Granger said, "but why do you think he broke up with Ginny after the war?"
As her words sank in, Theo's head spun, chaos and a blur. It took all of his focus to keep his breathing steady. "Oh."
"Oh," she echoed, another soft smile pulling at her lips. "Anyway. Have a nice fly, Theo."
"Thanks," he choked out, watching her go.
Theo found Potter outside the broom shed, leaning against the wall. His green eyes tracked Theo's approach, lips curling with a hint of a smile. "Hi."
"Hi," Theo returned, eyes tightening.
"Thought you might have gotten lost." Potter snickered, but Theo's stomach churned, and he couldn't quite manage a laugh.
Theo cleared his throat, averting his gaze. "No."
"Nott?" The teasing nature vanished from Potter's voice as he cocked a brow. "Is everything alright?
A vast array of thoughts swirled through Theo's head, jumbled and refusing to make sense. He drew in a long breath, searching inside himself for some hint of courage that had long been obscured. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut, wrenched a hand through his hair, and muttered, "Are you gay?"
"Yes?" The surprise in Potter's voice caused Theo to crack one eye open, then the other. "I thought you knew."
"Well, I wondered," Theo spluttered, "but how was I supposed to know?"
Potter grimaced, folding his arms across his chest. "Never mind the time I invited you to get a drink? I knew you were. I don't know, Nott―I don't know how I could have been more obvious."
"Okay, even if," Theo said, pacing, "I suspected you were, you've dated girls. Maybe I convinced myself otherwise." His thoughts grew frantic as he sifted through their interactions of the past months, wondering what he might have missed by trying to persuade himself that Potter would never be interested in him.
Potter remained blank-faced, his stance tight with tension. "Dated girls. Past tense."
"Oh."
Shrugging, Potter turned to stare hard at the wooden paneling of the shed. "I guess I thought you just weren't interested. That you only wanted to be friends."
Theo gaped at him. "Did you genuinely think I was going to make a move? Yours is the house synonymous with courage and bravery―mine's just... I don't know, self-preservation. Maybe if you'd so much as given a hint―"
"I've given you plenty of hints," Potter retorted.
"Like what!" Theo exclaimed, genuinely baffled. They mostly spoke of classes and schoolwork, sometimes of the war and the ways in which wizarding Britain had shifted. Every so often Potter asked more about what Theo wanted to do after Hogwarts and they would discuss the future. But never did they talk about things of a romantic nature, and they typically skirted around mentions of people they'd dated.
Wide green eyes locked on his, Potter's brows high with alarm. "I don't know. I suppose I thought since we'd been spending so much time together you'd―"
Of its own volition, a mirthful laugh broke free of Theo's lips. He clapped a hand over his mouth, confusion pulling at his brow. It was only then he realised how close they were. "This is ridiculous," he breathed, "that we're genuinely debating this."
"It is," Potter muttered. Then he lowered his voice, expression shifting into indecision. "To make everything clear, then, you and I are both―"
As he fell silent abruptly, the pair of them stared at each other for a long moment. Theo's head spun with so many thoughts he couldn't wrap his head around any of them, and the only thing that made any sense whatsoever was the way Potter looked at him.
Yes. The word hung on the tip of his tongue, but with the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, he couldn't force himself to speak. It was Harry fucking Potter.
As his heart thudded a steady, desperate cadence in his chest, Theo felt a rush of something he didn't even recognise.
He took a step forward, wrapped a hand around Potter's neck, and kissed him. In the instant their lips touched, Theo knew it was by far the most impulsive thing he had ever done―but the feel of it set off something within him that bolstered his waning courage.
Another moment later, Potter kissed him back, the tentative contact shattering when he caught Theo's jaw in his palm.
His heart raced, blood pulsing a dull roar behind his ears when Potter's tongue traced his lips, grazing his own, slipping into his mouth. Theo fell into the kiss, skimming a hand along Potter's chest, threading his fingers into his messy hair.
Potter pushed him back against the wall of the shed, the hard lines of his chest flush against Theo's; a groan slipped from Theo's mouth when Potter bit down on his lower lip, sucking the flesh into his mouth.
Finally he drew back, the emerald of his eyes nearly encompassed by the back as they slid open to meet Theo's. Dragging his fingertips along Theo's cheekbone, he murmured, "That's a yes, then."
Theo could scarcely breathe, but a laugh fell free. "Of course it's a fucking yes, you prat. You don't even know―"
"I have an idea."
He could see the truth of it in Potter's eyes, but still, Theo shook his head. "I thought I would never be―that you would never see me like that."
"Certainly not," Potter teased, "if you thought I was straight all this time."
Theo scowled but ignored the jab. He ducked in, pressed another lingering kiss to Potter's lips. Felt the surge of warmth race through him when their tongues brushed, the kiss deepening. He dragged a hand along Potter's hip to the small of his back, allowing himself a slow perusal of the muscles of his back and shoulders.
"What happened?" Potter asked when they broke apart. "Tonight."
Pursing his lips, Theo drawled, "Ran into Granger. She thinks you're daft."
Potter's brow furrowed. "I'm not daft."
"A little daft." Theo smirked, eyeing him for a moment. "Though I suppose maybe we both are."
"You," Potter mused, "are certainly daft." His lips twitched with amusement. "Though for someone who claims to be all Slytherin, you're braver than you think."
"Lies," Theo whispered, toying with the hair at the nape of Potter's neck. "But if I am, it's all your fault."
"I can accept that." Potter grinned, and the warmth of it left Theo breathless, an ember stoked in his chest at the thought of where the road ahead might lead.