AN: Right, so...I'm sorry? (smiles hopefully).

Clearly December to February are just not good writing months for me. To make matters worse, I went from two days of work to five in January (more than doubling my work hours) and it took a little longer than I expected to adjust back to full time work. I'm still finding it hard to balance work, life, health and kids and somehow squeeze writing time into my schedule - but I am working on it.

Anyway, I finally managed to carve out some time to get this chapter done. It's not quite what I had planned, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Again, I am SUPER sorry at how long it's been (almost...checks calendar...oh god six months). I'm the worst :(

Chapter Sixty-One

Conflicts of Interest

Theo:

He stares up at the canopy of his bed, ignoring the rustling movements of his housemates getting ready for the school day. Theo knows he should join them. If he stays in bed any longer he will miss breakfast and if he missed breakfast again he'd have to put up with Blaise and his stupid knowing looks and Daphne's thinly veiled questions of concern.

Theo grit his teeth, flicking a wandless hex at the canopy of his bed. It fizzled out, barely leaving a mark on the sturdy wood. He scowled. Why couldn't they all just leave him alone?

'Alright, come on Draco,' comes Blaise's persistently cheerful voice, the sound of bed curtains being pulled back echoing behind his words. 'Let's go get some coffee into you. I'd rather you weren't a complete and utter sodding nightmare today and-oh...er...well, this is awkward.'

A faint echo of interest piques beneath the heavy weariness that has seeped into Theo's bones. His head twitches, but he doesn't turn his gaze away from the ceiling above.

'Is that Potter?' Greg says.

That get's Theo's attention.

'Do I...wake them up?' asks Blaise, his tone a strange mixture of uncertainty and delight.

Theo rolls his eyes. Perverse wanker.

'Uh, I'm not sure that's-'

Greg cuts off and Theo hears the rustle of sheets and the tell-tale grumbling of Draco waking up.

Theo casts a quick tempus. With a heavy sigh, he sits up and pulls his curtains aside. He is not interested in whether or not Potter actually is in their dorm.

Which, of course, he is.

Theo blinks, an eyebrow raising as he glances across at the next bed to see Draco blinking sleepily down at the Gryffindor currently curled around one of his excess pillows.

Draco's expression morphs into sudden realisation, his grey eyes widening as he stares down at the-Boy-Who-Is-Not-Draco's-Boyfriend.

'Potter?' he says, his voice as bewildered and sleepily-confused as his expression. 'What the fuck are you doing here?'

Potter, who is still passed out asleep, does not respond. Theo snorts.

That garners him the startled attention of Blaise, Greg and Draco, none of whom had realised that he was awake.

'Don't mind me,' says Theo dryly. 'You may return to gazing at your Not-Boyfriend.'

All traces of sleep vanish from Draco's expression in an instant, his gaze narrowing into pinpoint distrust as he glares at Theo.

Hurt attempts to curl itself around the base of Theo's spine. He shoves it away, reminding himself that it was Draco who had caused the mistrust between them. If he'd just been able to do his job-

Potter grumbles something incoherent and vaguely distressed.

Genuine concern flickers over Draco's face and, seemingly unconcerned with his audience, Draco gently grasps Potter's shoulder, giving it a soft shake.

Theo rolls his eyes and pushes up out of bed, not in the mood for any of Draco's relationship drama.

'Harry? Harry wake up, you're—'

Draco's voice cuts off in a rustle of sheets and bed springs. The whole room freezes in static tension. Draco is on his back on the bed and Potter is leaning over him, magic curled around one raised fist, eyes wide with fear.

Theo freezes with a shirt in his hand. Somehow he manages to fight the urge to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Potter's complete overreaction and fear is almost familiar and it makes Theo's mouth go dry and (though he still doesn't care about Draco and his stupid infatuation with Potter), now he can't look away from him.

'Harry,' says Draco in a carefully controlled voice, his entire body rigid and yet motionless, as if Potter is a wounded animal that will attack at the smallest provocation.

Air whooshes out of Potter's lungs and he squints down at Draco, the confused frown easing away some of his panic.

'Draco? What…what are you doing in my room?'

Draco raises one eyebrow, the only muscle to move in his face. 'Actually, I was about to ask you the same question.'

'Huh?' Potter blinks and then looks around. 'Where am I?'

'My dorm,' says Draco, and his gaze flicks over to Potter's fist, still surrounded in the soft glow of angry red magic. 'I know you hate me at the moment, but it would be really great if you could not hit me with that.'

Potter jerks, seeming to only just see the magic he's summoned, and sits back abruptly—all but scrambling off Draco. He shakes the magic away from his fist, his eyes larger than usual without his glasses to obscure them. He mumbles something, his gaze flickering around the room in confusion.

'Pardon?' Draco asks, sitting up slowly, as if he's still not certain that Potter isn't going to hit him after all.

Potter, who is squinting at Blaise, Greg and Theo with no small amount of embarrassment and nervousness, looks back at Draco. He swallows audibly.

'I said I don't hate you,' he says.

Draco's gaze narrows. 'You could've fooled me,' he says sharply, turning away from Potter and rummaging around his bedside table.

Despair so raw it almost hurts to look at flashes across Potter's overly expressive face. Merlin, how did that boy function with emotions that severe? Theo has to look away, swallowing sharply and trying to keep the boy's overly intense reactions from seeping under Theo's skin like an infection.

'I—'

'Here,' says Draco, cutting him off and thrusting a pair of thin frames at Potter.

'Oh. Thanks, I—,' says Potter, putting the glasses on only to take them off immediately to stare at them. 'These aren't my glasses.'

'No,' says Draco.

'They're my prescription,' says Potter, putting them back on and blinking rapidly.

'Yes.'

'You have glasses with my prescription?'

Draco sighs heavily. 'Yes. I bought them for you. I was sick of looking at those hideous frames you insist on wearing.'

'I...oh. Thanks,' says Potter, his voice low and guilt-ridden. 'You can have them back once I find mine.'

'What in the name of magic am I going to do with a pair of glasses with your prescription?' asks Draco archly. 'What are you even doing wondering around the castle and breaking into other house dorms without your glasses?'

'Uh, I'm not…sure,' says Potter, glancing around again—as if he might find the answer to Draco's question in the furniture around the dorm. He rubs the back of his neck. 'I think I was in the hospital wing.'

Draco's gaze narrows. 'I thought you were going back to the dorms?'

'I was. I mean I did,' Potter frowns and rubs at his head with a sigh. 'Everything is…cloudy. My head hurts.'

Draco's gaze narrows in concern but Blaise snickers.

'And here I thought you Gryffindor's were too good to drink. How'd the birthday boy fair?'

Potter tilts his head, and the gesture is so idiotically innocent that it instantly eases the tension in the room. Theo feels his shoulders relaxing. Immediately, irritation shoots up his spine. What does he care if Potter is relaxed or not? In fact, what does he care about any of them?

Theo rolls his eyes and resumes getting ready for class, deciding that the best course of action is to pretend that none of them are there. After all, that's how Draco has been treating him.

'But I didn't have anything to drink,' Potter protests. 'We just sat around eating chocolates and talking about…oh god. Romilda.'

'Romilda?' asks Draco, his tone tight and disbelieving. 'You were talking about Romilda Vane?'

'No,' says Potter, his voice filled with such mortified horror that Theo can't help looking over at them again.

Potter shudders, groans and runs his hands over his face.

'I think I kissed her.'

'You kissed Romilda Vane,' repeats Draco, his voice deceptively flat.

Faint amusement creeps up Theo's spine and, despite his internal convictions that he does not care, he can't help but peek a look at the definitely jealous and furious expression that has fitted across Draco's face.

'Oh god. Yeah I…I think I definitely…Oh why on earth would I kiss Romilda Vane? I don't even like her let alone…Bloody hell this is going to be all over the school by now. Ugh for fucks sake I really just don't need this right now.'

Potter flops back on the bed, his hands over his face as he continues to throw a tantrum that is almost worthy of Draco's performances. Theo rolls his eyes. Again.

'You said you were in the Hospital Wing, right? Maybe it was food poisoning?' says Greg in what he mistakes for a helpful manner.

Theo sighs. 'Why would food poisoning make him kiss a girl?'

Greg shrugs and throws Theo a look as if to say "at least I'm trying to help". Theo scowls at him.

'You know,' says Blaise in a contemplative voice. 'There were several rumours not that long ago that some girls in our year were planning on slipping you love potions. And you did say you were eating chocolates.'

Draco stiffens but, despite the rage that tightens his face, says nothing.

Potter sits up. 'That…would actually explain it. You know…I think I remember Ron and Ginny acting all weird to. I mean, it's hazy, but I'm pretty sure Ron and I ended up in a fist fight over…her.' He shudders again, and runs a hand over his face. 'As if we hadn't had enough fights lately.'

'That still doesn't explain things.'

It isn't until four sets of eyes turn to him that Theo realises he's the one who has spoken. He keeps his face stiff and continues to go through his school bag. Where the hell did he put his potions bag?

'It doesn't?' asks Blaise.

Theo sighs heavily, annoyed at having to point out what is, to him, quite an obvious flaw in their reasoning. 'Not if Potter is gay,' he says, keeping his voice carefully void of interest.

Silence stretches out for an uncomfortably long moment, sending an itching sensation under Theo's skin. He chances a look at the other boys and finds Potter frowning back at him. Theo looks away quickly.

'Love potions don't alter your sexuality,' he says stiffly.

'But…' Potter trails off, confusion evident in his voice.

'Maybe you're not gay?' suggests Blaise, in what Theo suspects is a carefully soothing tone.

'But I have to be,' says Potter, sounding almost alarmed. 'I mean I like-,' he cuts himself off, almost choking on the words, and Theo glances over in time to see Potter's gaze flick to Draco and away again (honestly, does that boy actually think he's fooling anyone?) 'I like boys,' Potter finishes insistently.

'Yes,' says Blaise patiently. 'But that doesn't necessarily mean you're gay.'

Potter gaps at him. 'It doesn't?'

'No,' he says, amusement lighting up his face. 'You might just be bi.'

'Bi?' Potter's face scrunches in confusion. 'You mean…bisexual? As in…oh,' he says this in a voice of dawning realisation, his whole posture relaxing suddenly. 'Oh. You mean I like boys, and I like girls?'

An outright grin spreads across Blaise's face. Until he catches sight of the expression on Draco's face, and then he ducks his head in attempt to hide it.

'That would be my guess,' says Blaise, trying (and failing) to hide the amusement in his voice.

'Well,' says Potter, and scrubs a hand through his hair. 'That explains that. I just…I never thought I could be both. Hell I never thought I was gay until…until…'

Again, his gaze flicks to Draco and away again. He clears his throat and says awkwardly, 'I suppose I should go…'

Theo rolls his eyes. 'By all means, continue having a crisis of identity. No one else here seems to care.'

Potter flushes bright pink and, just for a moment, Theo can almost understand why Draco is so infatuated with the idiot. Then he remembers what would happen if any of their parents found out about this little meeting and cold sweeps through him.

He doesn't know why he does it, only that the words are halfway out of his mouth before he's fully processed the idea to even speak. 'Although I am curious,' says Theo, dropping his school bag and straightening to stare at Draco in genuine, if disdainful, bafflement. 'Do you really think you're going to get away with this?'

Potter blinks stupidly, but Draco has gone stiff and glowers at Theo.

'Theo don't,' warns Blaise in a low voice, and there's Greg right behind him, shaking his stupid head anxiously, both of them so nervous of upsetting Precious Potter and His Highness Draco Malfoy that it instantly sets a fire burning through Theo's skin.

Once upon a time they had treated him with that same kind of care. Now they barely even tolerate his presence. His hands clench.

'Don't what?' he asks. 'It's a perfectly valid question. He's not even doing a good job at hiding it.'

'Hiding…what?' asks Potter, slowly glancing back and forth between Theo and Draco.

'Your relationship,' says Theo and levels Draco with a faint smirk. 'Have you told your parents yet? They must be thrilled—,'

Draco surges to his feet wand in hand but Blaise is there already, throwing up a shield between the two of them even as they attempt to hex each other. The spells hit Blaise's shield and cancel out, dismantling the shield in the process.

'Stop it,' Blaise barks, stepping in between them. 'Now.'

Draco, breathing heavily, glowers at Theo. Theo doesn't dare take his eyes off him. Even as Blaise moves into their line of sight, turning to face Draco.

'Draco,' says Blaise in a quiet voice. 'Don't.'

'Why shouldn't I?' Draco growls.

'Because you know why he's doing this,' says Blaise, and Theo narrows his gaze. 'You understand what's going on.'

Draco shakes his head. 'That's no excuse,' he snarls. 'No one else has said anything. Not even Pansy—'

Draco cuts off and there's a beat of silence in which the tension in the room increases and then,

'We aren't in a relationship,' says Potter in a small (and pathetically miserable) voice. 'You don't have to fight. We aren't together.'

Theo snorts. He can't help it. It's such a dismal attempt at subterfuge that it's laughable. 'Right,' he says.

Potter glances at Draco, but despite the fact that Draco could no doubt feel Potter's gaze (with the intensity with which Potter looks at anyone it's hard not to notice), Draco doesn't look away from Theo. Theo keeps his breathing even, his expression carefully neutral but for the slow, deliberate smirk he gives Draco.

'I looked out for you,' Draco says in a low voice. 'I gave you a place to stay. I gave you clothes and food and a safe place to hide from your father and you can't even look the other way?Just once?'

'Once?' Theo laughs. 'Once? What about this is a one time thing, Draco?'

'You heard him say it, there's no relationship, alright? It's over!'

'The hell it is! How can it be over when you're in love with him?'

Potter jerks. His eyes go bright and wide behind his glasses. Glasses that fit his face nicer and don't look old or broken or pathetic and Theo's hand clenches around his wand remembering a time when Draco had given him gifts that made him feel better.

'That's not—he doesn't—'

'Tell me, Draco,' says Theo, cutting off Potter like he doesn't even exist. 'What will the Dark Lord do when he finds out? Hm? You think this will end well for you? And what about the rest of us, huh? When he finds out that we knew and we said nothing. This doesn't just affect you, Draco!'

'Look just stop it, alright?' Potter bursts out.

He pushes up from the bed and steps between them, almost tripping in his too-big pyjama pants—as if no one has ever bought him clothes that fit properly—and, though Theo's parents have always been meticulous of his presentation, the knowledge behind that…the fact that there was no one in Potter's life that cared enough to dress him appropriately. It sends a simultaneous surge of pity and irritation up Theo's spine.

Potter was not like him, and, more importantly, he was not like Potter.

'No one's hurting anyone, okay?' says Potter, turning those infuriatingly imploring eyes on Theo. 'No one needs to be hurt because of me. I'm going, alright? I won't come back.'

'Admit it,' says Theo, not looking away from Draco. 'Admit that you're in love with him.'

'He's not,' says Potter, stepping closer to Theo. 'We aren't together, okay? There's nothing—' Potter's voice catches and he swallows hard, shaking his head, '—nothing between us.'

Behind him, Draco's eyes go wide. Anguish flashes over his features, but it's gone just as quickly as it came. Theo's blood boils. He clenches his hand around his wand.

'Admit it,' says Theo and raises his wand to point square at Potter's face. 'Say it.'

'Whoa,' says Blaise and makes to move but sparks of red fly out of the end of Theo's wand. He freezes. 'Theo, come on, mate. This isn't you.'

Theo shakes his head. 'Isn't it?' he asks, his voice thick and wavering. 'This is who they want me to be. It's who they beat into me. My father would be so proud.'

'You aren't your father, Theo,' says Blaise.

Draco makes a noise.

'Shut up Draco,' snaps Blaise, shooting a glare back at him. 'It's different for you. You know that your parents will never abandon you. They love you. You know that. It's not like that for all of us. It's not like that for Theo.'

The fear and the anxiety and the shame coil deep within Theo's gut and he feels his face twist. 'Say it!' he snarls at Draco. 'You think I won't do it? You think I won't send a bombarda right into those pretty green eyes? Or maybe a diffindo. Add a few scars to that fancy lightning bolt, hey?'

'Theo—'

'Say it!'

Draco stares, storm grey eyes roiling with emotion, his face pale and desperate and furious. Theo thinks for a minute that Draco might challenge him. Might call his bluff and tell him to shove off. He doesn't though. He can't. Theo realises this just as Draco's shoulders slump. He can't risk it. Because Theo is right.

'I love him,' says Draco, his voice low, the words bitten out through clenched teeth. His gaze is hard and furious. 'Are you satisfied?'

Theo drops his wand and doesn't answer. How can he?

Theo has Potter at wand point, and yet there are three other people in the room who could disarm Theo and protect Potter. And they would, too. Theo can see that. Oh, not before Theo hexed him, but really, how much damage could Theo do with one spell? Even he's not sure of his own conviction.

Still, Draco isn't willing to take that chance. Even now, rejected and alone, he's still protecting Potter. More proof that this "relationship" runs far deeper than either of them seem willing to admit.

Theo turns away in disgust. Though who he's more disgusted with (Draco, or himself) he doesn't know. He heads for the door.

'Theo,' says Draco, still in that same low voice. 'If you tell anyone, if you put him in any danger, I'll kill you.'

Theo looks back. Draco's expression is stony and defeated, and yet there's that edge to his voice and a glint in his eye and a determination that Theo has seen only once before. The only time that anyone ever stood up to Theo's father.

This isn't Draco throwing a tantrum about not getting something he wants. This is not Draco making idle threats of running to his farther and having his way. No, it's far deeper than that.

For the first time in weeks, Theo is sure that Draco is telling the truth.