AN

Major Character Death

Ah, but first, let's have a much overdue Talk. (Writing that scene was like pulling teeth.)

March to June 1996, 6th year

Headmaster Dumbledore was very disappointed with Harry for being unable to retrieve the memory he had asked for. Harry was certain the old man could have easily obtained it, himself, if he really wanted to, and let all the attempted guilt-tripping slide off him like water off a duck's back and decidedly did not mention in any way that he had actually seen the memory in question.

They were now 'entering the realms of guesswork and speculation', the old man told him.

(Harry thought they had already entered that realm from the very beginning and that everything the old man said and speculated should be taken with a grain of salt and the memories viewed neutrally – especially considering that they were a very specific selection of memories and did not paint the full picture of the person known as Tom Riddle.)

(Also, accidentally poisoning your mistress was not a crime and that the poor house-elf had been convicted regardless only confirmed that the Ministry of Magic had been just as incompetent as it was now even forty odd years ago.)

(And refusing to hire someone based on mere rumours … If anything, giving Riddle the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor would have allowed the old man to keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn't getting up to any nefarious deeds.)

(It would also have prevented the nightmare that must have been trying to find a new teacher for the position every single year for four decades.)

At least Harry had gotten more clues for potential Horcruxes. Might prove to be useful, should he ever stumble across Helga Hufflepuff's Cup or Salazar Slytherin's Locket. Not that the now familiar magic of one of the Dark Lord's soul shards would have given it away to Harry anyway or anything – and that didn't even take into account that Harry's soulmate, if he had been smart about it, had most definitely hidden his Horcruxes in safe and heavily warded and severely cursed places.

Yeah, maybe if Harry ever found himself with too much free time and enough motivation to go looking for them … Never mind. He would rather try to best the old man in a duel to win the Elder Wand. Or recreate the Sorting Hat from scratch. Once he found the time. Stupid homework.

"It's just – so – boring," he complained for the tenth or twentieth or maybe even the hundredth time.

"Then find something else to occupy yourself with," Susan replied dryly. "You don't need to get good marks on your homework as long as you don't fail the subject – the N.E.W.T. exams next year are all that matters." She sniffed. "Besides, you are an individual of high intelligence and if I can manage to keep up my good marks while dating the most attention-demanding girl on the planet, then surely you can keep your marks while dating your best friend and working on various side projects to keep your boredom at bay."

"You're dating Pansy?" Harry asked.

"Why do you think we've been sitting at the Slytherin table at meal times more often than the Hufflepuff table, hm? Did you not notice us shamelessly flirting right next to you?"

Harry blinked at her.

"I will take that as a no."

"Perhaps you should work on your communication skills," Luna said in a serene voice. "You have been ignoring the stars falling from Narfason's skies for too long already and it has been festering in your mind."

Harry turned to stare at the Ravenclaw.

"Perhaps reconciling your chariot's spiritedness and appetite with reason would do both of you some good," she continued solemnly, "lest you accidentally set the earth on fire."

Theodore averted his eyes, looking visibly uncomfortable.

Susan looked between the three of them and then narrowed her eyes at whatever she saw. "I thought you had gotten better," she said quietly, almost accusingly.

Harry sighed and said nothing on the matter.

o

It was not Harry's problem that the blonde boy and his minions did not spend their Saturdays in the library or otherwise occupying themselves with things that could be done outside their dormitory. If Harry wanted to use their dormitory for a private conversation with Theodore, then Harry would do so. And there was no way past Harry's wards if Harry did not want anyone to trespass (with the exception being Luna).

Everything was set up for a private conversation – the privacy charms and the wards, the ambience and the mood – only, they weren't having a conversation.

Neither of them actually wanted to do this and neither of them knew where to begin.

They sat there in silence for a long while, until Theodore sighed and said, "Lovegood is a good friend."

"And surprisingly perceptive," Harry replied.

Theodore frowned. "I admit that I may not have understood all of the implications she made."

This time, it was Harry's turn to sigh. "I think she was telling us very explicitly to talk."

"About what?"

Harry gave Theodore an unimpressed look and said, in a flat voice, "Our communication skills."

"We are – fine, are we not?" Theodore said, and his voice steadied as he continued, "You told me you did not want to be a Lord and when I overstepped, you punished me appropriately. You told me you did not want to have intercourse again and so I knew what to expect. You told me to trust you and I did."

"That is not communication, Theo. Communication is a two-way street. You have to tell me what you want, too. And I don't really care about the intimacy of it all – if you want more, all you have to do is ask. But you have to ask, Theo."

"That's –" The look overtaking Theodore's usually composed expressions could only be described as stricken.

"What?" Harry asked, perhaps a touch too sharply for his friend visibly flinched. "It is what, Theo?"

For a moment, Harry thought Theodore would not answer – that Harry would have to force the truth out of him, somehow. But then his friend took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself.

"I am afraid," he began softly, "that you might one day leave me. I am afraid that you might get bored of me – find someone or something more intriguing or …" He averted his eyes. "You might get annoyed because I want too much … decide it would be more interesting to hurt me or deny what I asked for – and then I would rather not have asked in the first place."

Harry had already opened his mouth to refute all of Theodore's worries, but then he paused. He had to admit, turning it over in his head, that he could actually get behind that. He could see why Theodore would think of him like that.

"You once told me that you do not make assumptions – that you ask, instead."

"My father did not like it when I questioned him about the way he treated mother, about her death."

"But I am not your father," Harry pointed out calmly.

"No, you are not," Theodore agreed quietly. He took a shaky breath, then another. "I want too much."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Did your father tell you that?"

"No."

"Did someone else? Did I?"

"… No."

"How much is 'too much'?"

"I do not know."

"Hm." Harry crossed his arms. "That should not stop you from asking for what you want. If it is ever 'too much', you can rest assured that I will tell you so – and I will not leave because of that. I would leave you, if you were to ignore my boundaries, if you were to ignore me saying no – but you would never do that. And I wouldn't, either, if you would just tell me what your boundaries are."

"I do not have any."

"You always either stiffened or froze completely whenever I touched you. You still do, sometimes. And it never happened with Susan."

"Because I never had a crush on Susan," Theodore snapped and then blushed.

"Oh," Harry said, and then, "You dislike public displays of affection – like holding hands or kissing in front of other people."

"Neither do you."

"Yet I do it all the time, because I want to test how far I can go until you say no. But you never do."

"Because it is fine, Harry," Theodore said, almost sounding exasperated. "And holding hands or exchanging light kisses is nothing major – other people do it all the time. You never made me truly uncomfortable."

"Alright," Harry said, still sceptical. "What counts as 'something major', then?"

Theodore blinked. "Do you remember what we walked in on just this morning?"

Harry wrinkled his nose, eliciting a small laugh from Theodore. What they had 'walked in on this morning' had been Susan and Pansy snogging in an alcove not far from either of their common rooms. And 'snogging' in this case meant 'eating each other's face'. Harry had been scarred for life.

"Still," Harry said. "You have to tell me when you want me to do something and you have to tell me when I hurt you. I don't like seeing you vulnerable. I don't like you being vulnerable."

"But you are my everything," Theodore croaked. "You saved me. You opened my eyes to the truth of the world."

"You told me you would let me walk away," Harry replied as he rose from his bed and walked over to where his friend was sitting. "And that was the greatest gift you could have ever given me."

"I would," Theodore said, though there were tears gathering in his eyes and his voice broke over his next words. "But I don't want you to ever leave me. Please don't leave me."

"I won't," Harry said, reaching out to tip Theodore's chin upwards, so he could look him in the eyes. "Because you are mine, Theo. You belong to me. I trust you with my life, Theo – not Susan or Luna or anyone else, only you."

Theodore stared at him with wide eyes. "I trust you with my life as well, Harry."

"I know," Harry said, before leaning down to kiss him.

"I will try to be better," Harry said, later, when he had settled down next to Theodore.

"And I will try to – tell you – what I want," Theodore said.

Harry smiled at him and then put his feet on the other boy's lap. Theodore, predictably, stiffened. When Harry turned his head to look at him, he saw the tension in his jaw and how his hands hovered above Harry's ankles.

"Hey," Harry said gently.

Theodore let out a quiet breath.

"Okay?" Harry asked and Theodore nodded.

"Mhn," he said, finally letting his hands rest on Harry's legs, and then, "Maybe we should allow Malfoy and the others to access the dormitory again."

o

On a fine summer day at the end of June, Lord Voldemort overthrew the Ministry of Magic and revealed his return to life and power to the world.

Harry thought it was rather nice of him to wait until the end-of-the-year exams had been concluded.

Headmaster Dumbledore thought Harry was a lost cause and had to be eliminated, so he could not join the Dark Lord and plunge the world into chaos – at least Harry got the strong impression that this was what the old man thought when he asked Harry to meet him in his office and attacked him out of the blue.

Perhaps not exactly 'out of the blue', but still …

It had begun with the old man asking Harry once more about Professor Slughorn's memory. (Harry was fairly sure that the old man had by now somehow forced it out of Slughorn and didn't need Harry to do it anymore and that was the reason their Potions Professor had suddenly resigned.) And then Dumbledore had gotten angry, actually voiced his suspicions about and disappointment in Harry out loud (Harry had never thought the old man would ever admit to either out loud) and how he had hoped to steer Harry in the right direction – but now he could see that it was futile.

Or perhaps Dumbledore did not think that Harry would join Lord Voldemort, but rather follow in the man's footsteps (because Harry was apparently not the type to carve his own way, uh-huh) – and, therefore, Harry was a threat.

"You are so very similar, you and Tom," the old man said, in-between non-verbal Stunning and Body-Binding Spells.

Harry kept to dodging and blocking, interested enough to hear the man out first.

"You are both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles," the old man said.

Very circumstantial, in Harry's opinion. And whose fault was it that Harry had been raised by Muggles in the first place, hm?

"You share the ability to converse with snakes, a sign of a Dark Wizard."

How did the old man know about this, again? Harry had never put his Parseltongue ability on public display and certainly not, ever, told the headmaster.

"You were sorted into Slytherin," the old man continued. "Where you quickly rose in the ranks, using your heritage and skills and charms."

Not true at all. Harry had used his Gift and he had used it to make everyone leave him alone. And, for some reason, he doubted someone with the very Muggle surname 'Riddle', who had had no magical education prior to Hogwarts and no special Gift to assert his dominance, could have quickly risen in the Slytherin Hierarchy. Charms alone would not have been nearly enough – Slytherins were very particular about their hierarchy.

"You excel in academics and are exceptionally talented at magic – wizards of such power that you can cast non-verbally without trouble. You share a wand core and, most importantly, you share part of his soul."

Harry wasn't even using the damn wand that had never quite fit him right and even less so after he had gotten rid of the soul shard and how did Dumbledore even – Harry blinked. Huh.

Oh, whatever.

The barmy old headmaster was resorting to Curses, now – the Blasting Curse, various Cutting Curses and – was that the Entrail-Expelling Curse?! Harry had to admit to being impressed. Although Harry was also a bit sad to see some of the instruments he had wanted to steal one day be smashed into tiny bits and pieces.

"I should have never allowed you to befriend Mr Nott. I did not want you to go down the same path as Tom. It saddens me to see what has become of you. He has made you selfish. I was hoping Miss Bones' influence might pull you back towards the light, but, alas, it seems I was mistaken."

Yada, yada, yada. Harry looked mournfully at yet another smashed instrument. The old man couldn't have chosen a different location to attack Harry, could he?

"Neither of them influenced me," Harry said, flicking a Disarming Charm to the side. "I've always been like that. If anyone inspired me to change, it was Luna."

"But Miss Lovegood did not bring about the change I wished to see."

Harry chose not to ask what kind of change he was talking about, but the old man answered on his own accord, anyway.

"You see, Harry, I needed you to be willing to sacrifice yourself for the Greater Good."

"Because of the Horcrux?" Harry said and Dumbledore faltered, creating an opening for Harry to freeze him in place.

Harry sighed, assuming a relaxed stance and rolling his neck and shoulders. "So you wanted to groom me into a sacrificial lamb? You should have tried harder."

"But I did try, Harry. I did try."

"By asking me to come to your office for questioning about things I knew nothing about?" Harry said, arching an eyebrow. "I had no idea what had happened to Professor Quirrel – I still don't. I never bothered to find out what was attacking the students in the year after that, nor did I bother investigating why the attacks stopped all of a sudden."

Although he had a good guess about that one, now.

"Or by implying I had done horrible things – like being behind those attacks and being the one who cursed Umbridge? Or did you think implying the friends I had chosen were wrong and trying to push me into the arms of people you had chosen for me would work? Or, maybe, you thought finally paying attention to me and treating me with respect after five years of nothing but suspicion and disappointment would change my mind about you and your cause?"

Harry shook his head and gave the old man a pitying look.

"I wanted you to find the right path on your own," the old man said. "I thought there was still good in you."

Harry doubted that very much.

"I suppose you meant well." Harry said, shrugging. "I guess you failed, miscalculated, made a mistake. And now you want to erase that mistake, isn't that right? But what happens then? I thought I was supposed to defeat the Dark Lord? Wasn't that what the Prophecy said? Or did I misunderstand that?"

"My dear boy, that Prophecy never specified that you had to be the one to do it," Dumbledore replied evenly. "Aside from the fact that there were actually two people born who fit the description, the Prophecy merely foretold that someone with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord would be born. And either must die at the hand of the other – but as the Horcrux shall be the reason for your death, one could argue that Lord Voldemort did, albeit indirectly, kill you. Or, perhaps, he has already done so on that Halloween night over fifteen years ago?"

Harry opened his mouth – and then closed it again. It wasn't that he had ever believed the Prophecy – but the old man did. Only, put like that … It truly was an interesting point of view. One Harry had to think about for a moment, not noticing how the old man freed himself from the full-body bind – he really should have known better. Dumbledore wasn't gifted, but still able to cast non-verbal and wandless magic. Harry should have cast stronger spells, layered the magic binding the old man, put up wards to prevent him from casting magic, himself. But he hadn't. And he did not see the Killing Curse coming until it was too late.

AN

Haha, whoops?