Team: Falmouth Falcons

Main Prompt: Selfishness

Option Prompts:
Quote: " I wouldn't blame you if you hated me."
Word: Fleeting
Object: Pocket Watch

Word Count: 2938

Nott Your Average Mother's Day

"Would you slow down?" Harry demanded as they ran.

"The chase is no fun when it's easy," Theo called over his shoulder with a laugh. "Keep up, Chosen One!"

He relished Harry's growl that sounded behind him as he rounded another corner. Realistically, Theo knew Harry was probably in better shape than he was, but this was his home, and he knew these hallways better than anyone. He could sprint from one wing to another with his eyes shut.

"I swear to Merlin if you're rushing us to a bedroom right now—"

Theo barked out a laugh, nearly stumbling in the process. "I told you, this isn't a lewd surprise, prat."

"I never know with you," Harry retorted as they continued down the halls of Nott Manor.

Theo smirked to himself, slowing his pace as they reached the room he'd been guiding them toward. Harry caught up to him, nearly crashing into his back.

"Easy there, Potter," Theo teased. "Such low expectations and yet you're the one jumping me."

"Funny." Harry rolled his eyes. "Now what's the surprise?"

They reached a door at the end of the hallway, one that didn't match the other dark ones they'd passed along the way. This one was older, the faded red paint chipping away. "In here," Theo said softly, his hand resting on the doorknob. He didn't turn it, not right away. Like all the past times he'd been to this part of the house, entering this room was… difficult.

"This is where you murder me, isn't it?" Harry frowned.

Theo snorted, feeling some of his nerves dissipate. "A little paranoid, are we?"

The other wizard lifted an eyebrow. "You're aware that multiple people have tried to kill me a fair handful of times, yeah?"

"Nah, had no idea."

A smile broke across Harry's face as he softly elbowed the other man. "Just open the door, Theo."

"As you wish." Theo swallowed, burying the grief that accompanied him every time he visited this place, and pushed open the door. "Welcome to my mum's room."

The room before them was smaller than most of the other spaces in the manor. A couple bookshelves lined the walls, while an armchair was positioned by the window at the back. A fireplace on one side displayed various old photos across the mantle, coats of dust blurring them beyond recognition. In front of the fireplace was a coffee table, similarly dusty, and a deep burgundy sofa.

Harry seemed to be at a loss for words. "Theo…"

"I was nine," Theo murmured softly. "I was sitting right there." He pointed at the space on the floor between the sofa and fireplace. Harry said nothing, for which Theo was grateful as he recalled the worst day of his life. "I didn't understand what was wrong— she was on the sofa, reading a book, and I was sitting on the floor poking at the fireplace with some metal stick like an idiot kid. Suddenly she was just… doubled over, coughing, and I didn't understand what was happening."

"Did you know she was sick before?" Harry asked quietly as the two moved deeper into the room. Theo stopped by the sofa, staring at the rightmost spot.

"No," Theo whispered. "She didn't even know. Not until she was coughing up blood, and maybe not even then, because she was slumped over dead by the time I'd found my father in his study."

"I'm sorry," Harry frowned, taking Theo's hand. "That's awful."

Theo sighed, glaring at the carpet. "Yeah. No one's fault, though. She was just ill."

Harry said nothing, evidently at a loss for words. Theo couldn't blame him— this probably wasn't the type of surprise he'd had in mind.

Theo rolled his head around once, trying to swallow the pit of guilt and dread that had begun to bubble in his gut. He reached the hand that wasn't holding Harry's into his pocket, pulling out his father's old pocket watch that his mum had given him so many years before.

It was almost time, he realized, briefly running a thumb over the dark metal.

"You don't mind waiting in here for a bit, do you?" Theo asked quietly as he turned back to the messy-haired man beside him. "I just… I don't feel quite ready to leave yet."

"Not at all," Harry assured him. "Honestly, there's no rush—"

"HARRY, HARRY WHERE ARE YOU, HARRY PLEASE HE'S GOING TO—"

Theo jumped away in shock at the sudden screaming that'd come from somewhere suspiciously close to Harry's… arse?

He watched in shock as his boyfriend pulled a mirror from his back pocket. "Ron?" Harry spoke into the mirror frantically. "Ron, what's happening?"

"What is that?" Theo exclaimed, snatching the mirror away to examine it. He was startled to find nothing but darkness as he peered into it, and the shouting had ceased.

"Two-way mirror," Harry explained. "Ron's in trouble, I need that back."

He held a hand out expectantly, his face urgent, but Theo didn't move.

"Theo?" Harry questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

"I— Look, Harry, I'm sorry," Theo sighed, pocketing the mirror beside Harry's wand, which he'd snuck away from the other man earlier.

Harry's eyes widened. "Theo, what the hell is going on and why can't I have my mirror back?"

Theo shook his head and sighed.

"What are you doing? Ron's in trouble, I have to—"

"You can't," Theo replied sadly. "I'm sorry."

Harry felt around his pockets. "Where's my wand?"

"Just let me explain—"

"Where's my wand, Theo?" Harry demanded.

"Let me explain!"

"Start talking then!"

Theo ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Alright, well… how familiar are you with blood magic?"

"Not even a little," Harry snapped impatiently. "Get to the point."

Theo grimaced, pacing around the old room, though he still diligently avoided the sofa. "I wouldn't blame you if you hated me when this is all over, you know."

Harry crossed his arms. "Just tell me what's happening, Nott, now."

Nott. Theo winced at the acid in Harry's tone. If he was peeved now, he'd be impossible when he found out the truth. "My father… my father is well-versed in the area." Harry raised an eyebrow expectantly when Theo paused, and the former-Slytherin continued, "And he says… well he says I could see my mum again."

Harry's anger slipped into visible confusion. "I'm not following."

Theo sighed and moved to lean against the back of the armchair by the window. "Dark magic reaps some big rewards. Blood payments, for instance, can potentially let us bring back the dead, if done correctly."

"Blood payments," Harry repeated quietly, his expression disgusted. Suddenly, his features shifted, his eyes widening. "Theo, where the hell is Ron?"

"We needed a pure-blood," Theo whispered, not meeting the startling green eyes that he couldn't bear to properly acknowledge.

"Where is he?"

"My father was going to use you!" Theo shouted, pushing away from the chair. "Alright? You think he's okay with us, Potter? You think he was going to let us be happy?"

Harry wasn't having any of it. "Where's Ron, Theo?" He demanded.

Theo pulled out his pocket watch once more, glancing at the small hands. "Honestly? Right now he's probably downstairs somewhere bleeding into a goblet."

The look on Harry's face made Theo wish he could bleed into a cup himself.

"Harry—"

"How could you do that?" Harry yelled. "That's my best friend!"

"IT WAS HIM OR YOU!" Theo roared back. "My father wanted you dead, and I was given a choice."

"You should've chosen me," Harry snapped, beginning to pace himself. He paused for a moment, turning toward the door behind him.

Theo shot a quick Colloportus before he could open it. "Sorry," he sighed. "I need you here until it's done."

"This is insane," Harry informed him, looking torn between murderously angry and hopelessly devastated. "You can't let him kill Ron, Theo, you can't."

"It was him or you," Theo repeated hoarsely. "I couldn't let him kill you."

"But you could let him kill my best friend?" Harry retorted, futilely trying to pull at the lock door. He kicked it hard, and the noise made Theo wince.

"I'm selfish, alright?" Theo growled. "I wasn't about to live in a world that didn't have you in it."

"You may as well," Harry challenged. "Because assuming I don't kill you for this, I'll have you thrown in Azkaban."

Theo shrugged helplessly. "But you'll be alive."

Harry turned away and kicked the door again, while Theo simply sighed and looked back down at his pocket watch.

He'd just turned seven the day his mother had given it to him. He'd begged his father, who'd told him he could have one of his own when he was older, but his mother had snuck it away and given it to him as a birthday gift.

He glanced toward the sofa. "Supposedly, she'll materialize right there," he murmured.

Harry stayed by the door, glaring daggers.

"She's supposed to appear where she died," Theo went on, more to himself than anything else. "We're not actually sure whether she'll be back forever, or if this is a brief visit. Not much certainty with blood magic."

"And yet you're willing to sacrifice Ron?" Harry spat.

"Yeah, actually, I am," Theo rolled his eyes, not willing to pretend otherwise. "I love you, not him. I'd throw Granger and the other Weasleys off a cliff too if it meant keeping you alive."

"You're awful," Harry stated with contempt.

"You knew that when we started this," Theo laughed bitterly. "And look at us now."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Theo, please let him go. Please. I'll do anything, I'll help you get away from your father. Hell, we could switch it to be him who—"

"Who dies?" Theo guessed. "I can't sacrifice your friend, but you can sacrifice my father?"

"Your father, the Death Eater?" Harry shot back. "Yeah, that's right actually."

Theo scowled. "It's too late anyway. When she manifests in that seat," he nodded at the sofa, "it'll have been done. And the ritual is meant to happen any second now."

"I hate you for this," Harry whispered, angry tears welling. "That's my best friend that you've just sent to die."

"I told you I wouldn't blame you," Theo shrugged, though inside he still wanted to die himself. "I have to see her."

Harry paused for a moment. "Please? Theo, please? I am begging you. I'll do anything, literally anything. Save my best friend. Call this off."

Despite his best efforts, Theo couldn't help but meet his boyfriend's eyes, and the second he did, he regretted it. In them, he saw nothing but a storm of sorrow and fear and disbelief and betrayal. He'd done that, he'd put all of that there, into this man that he loved so much.

"I'd do it again if I could, you know," he said quietly. "Even knowing it meant our time together was going to cap out at seven months, knowing just how fleeting this would be, I'd still do it again to keep you alive."

Harry's hands clenched into fists and he looked like he was going to scream. He opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a different voice interrupted.

"Theo?"

Theo turned sharply, his heart in his throat, the sweet, melodic voice thrusting him back to 1989, the last time he'd heard her speak.

And there she was, turned toward him with a confused expression, in the same spot she'd been all those years ago. "Theo?" she asked again. "I don't… what's going on? Is that you?"

"Mum," he croaked, his feet carrying him to her in a dreamlike state. Some part of him was aware of Harry sobbing against the door, having slid down to the floor, but he couldn't look away from the woman on the sofa.

He stopped just before reaching her and dropped down to his knees. "Mum, yeah, it's me."

"Theo," she breathed, reaching for his hands. He let her take them, but hissed when she did, the cold of her skin startling him. "You look so old. I don't understand," she frowned.

Something throbbed in his head, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. This wasn't right, this wasn't right. She felt like ice, cold and stiff, and her confusion was turning to something worse. Something darker.

"It's alright, Mum," he assured her, holding her hands tightly. "You've been gone for a while, but it's going to be fine."

"I don't understand," she said again, her pitch rising. "What is this? Why am I so cold?"

"I wanted to see you," he tried to explain. But how was someone supposed to explain this? Her panic increased, her hands shaking as she looked around the room. Theo watched her eyes land on Harry, still sobbing against the door.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" she realized, turning back to her son. "Aren't I? He did this, his dark magic."

Theo realized she was talking about his father and felt a chill run down his spine. "Mum…"

"He shouldn't have done that," his mother shook her head. Her grip over his hands tightened back, and suddenly he couldn't pull them away. "Neither of you should have. You should have let me go."

"How could I?" Theo cried, still tugging at his hands. "Mum, please, let go!"

"This was wrong," she hissed. Across the room, the window slammed open with a harsh crash, making Theo jump, and a strong wind blew inside, leaves rushing inside and a blanket flying off the couch and across the room.

Theo's mother's hair flapped wildly around in the breeze, her eyes practically white as she fixed him with a disappointed glare. "This wasn't magic you should have messed with, Theodore," she said in a low voice. Theo swallowed hard, his eyes flickering toward Harry who was staring back with wide eyes.

Theo shook his head. "Mum, what are you—?"

"Was it worth the cost?" She asked, releasing his hands and standing at last. She loomed over him as her nightgown billowed in the wind and the room darkened around them. Her voice lowered with each spoken word until she sounded like someone entirely foreign. "Was such a fleeting reunion worth another person's life?"

Theo backed up along the floor, moving to draw his wand. His mother jerked her head once and his wand flew from his hand and out the open window.

But Theo had Harry's wand, too. He glanced over, finding Harry now standing, once again trying to pry open the sealed door.

Throw him the wand, his conscious screamed. Save him!

Theo's mother advanced, her skin turning grey and beginning to crack in various places. "You wanted this," she whispered in a voice that most certainly didn't belong to the mother he remembered. It was low, and gravelly, and it echoed around him.

Was he going mad? And where the hell was his father through all of this?

He had a hold of the wand, still in his pocket, but he needed to get it to Harry before she could disarm him. The wind continued to pour into the room aggressively.

"Blood was paid," she rasped. "More blood than he thought would be needed."

Theo stared at her in horror. "What are you talking about?"

"They took him," she uttered throatily, an eerie smile stretching across her face. He'd run out of floor to cross, his back against the stone around the fireplace.

"Who?" he demanded in a shaky voice as she lowered herself down to his level.

"The others," she replied simply, her smile still in place. Her pupils had faded away, her grey skin breaking like a porcelain doll that'd been dropped onto pavement.

Throw Harry his wand, Theo, his inner voice continued to scream.

But her hand rose toward him slowly and his instinct and desire to survive kicked in before he could stop them.

He drew the wand and tried to shoot off the first curse he could think of, but once again, she sent the wand flying. Out of options and other ideas, Theo found the last thing he had on his person.

The pocket watch.

He grasped the chain tightly and lifted it so that it dangled between their faces. It fluttered about in the wind, the faded gold shaking before his eyes.

His mother paused, the white eyes stuck on it as it swung around. She took it carefully, and Theo watched with wide eyes as her skin lightened and her pupils returned. The outside air steadied gradually, until at last, his mother looked more like herself. Still dead, but she seemed… normal.

"Theo," she whispered, looking at him once more. He trembled as she gently rested a cold hand against his cheek. "My son."

He nodded against her hand, stubbornly refusing to cry as his throat tightened. "I miss you," he gasped.

She nodded. "I know. But I have to go."

"Please don't—"

But before he could say another word, she faded away before his eyes, the pocket watch dropping onto the rug. He stared at it as an internal numbness rose to devour him.

A moment later, the door inexplicably creaked open, reminding Theo that he wasn't alone.

Harry watched him with a mixture of loathing, pity, and sorrow.

"Harry," he breathed. "Please."

The other man let out a short, hollow laugh. "Goodbye, Theo." He left, presumably to find his best friend's body.

Harry left Theo in the room of his dead mother with nothing but a pocket watch and the sharp sting of regret.