AN

Character Death. Not sure if it counts as 'Major'.

November 1995 to January 1996, 5th year

Harry was still bored. And a bored Harry was starting to get ideas. It didn't help that he kept dreaming about a corridor he had never seen before and, for some reason, couldn't do anything about. His dreams were boring. School was boring. He wasn't making any progress with the investigation of his two Hallows' magic and that was boring him. But Theodore was not boring. And Harry got ideas.

Theodore Nott was the only person Harry trusted with his life. Susan he trusted, too, but not with his life. It was irrational, because if it ever came down to it, there was nothing Theodore could do that could possibly save Harry's life if Harry, himself, couldn't do it. It was an interesting thought all the same. Harry was also fairly certain that the same could be said in reverse – Theodore trusted both Susan and Harry, but only Harry did he trust with his life. Harry knew that. Harry still wanted see it for himself, to test how far he could go.

Normal people would start with small things and then begin pushing further and further. Harry, of course, did the reverse.

Which was why the two of them found themselves up on the highest of Hogwarts' towers one night and Harry asked Theodore, "Do you trust me?" and Theodore replied, "Always." without hesitation and then Harry tripped them both over the railing and they were falling, falling, falling down the Astronomy Tower.

Afterwards, Theodore could not stop looking at Harry in silent awe for a whole week.

So Harry had gotten the answer to his question.

But he was still not satisfied.

Too easy.

There were many boundaries that could exist between two people, depending on the individuals and their specific relationship. For example, Theodore had never initiated physical contact with Harry before and this did not change after Harry kissed him one evening. Theodore had also never broken their physical contact until Harry had done so and this did not change, either. Theodore accepted everything Harry was willing to give him, yet never asked for anything. Theodore did not enjoy public displays of affection – Harry didn't, either, but he still tried it out, just to observe Theodore's reaction. If Harry took Theodore's hand under the table, he got to watch his friend be torn between being uncomfortable because of everyone around them and being in a state of pure bliss because Harry was holding his hand. Very interesting to watch.

There were many things Harry could test Theodore's boundaries on. Harry wasn't a violent person, so he refrained from that one – the physical violence, at least. He wasn't exactly sure what one would count as 'emotional violence'. The emotional boundaries were so much more complicated to explore in general. Theodore, for his part, just let him. Theodore never even questioned him.

Harry did not intend to be mean on purpose. Harry did not try to disrespect Theodore – he didn't try to physically harm him or humiliate him or take away his choices. Sometimes, Harry wondered if there were any choices for him to take. Theodore never objected. It made Harry all the more curious. How far could he go? How long until something would change irrevocably between them? When would enough be enough? Or would Theodore silently endure until it was entirely too late for both of them? Harry wanted to know. Harry needed to know. It was like an itch under his skin that needed to be scratched. If he would claw away his skin while doing so – well, that was no one's business but his and Theodore's.

Harry was neither interested in romance nor sex. Theodore was very much aware of that even without Harry giving voice to it. Harry was merely curious. He had noticed Theodore's infatuation with him and it had simply made him curious. Sometimes, Harry just wanted to crawl inside of Theodore's mind and take a look around. Perhaps he should give learning Legilimency a thought.

As intriguing as all of this was, it did not keep Harry occupied most of the time and he still needed another project to keep the boredom at bay.

"You could start a practical study group for Defence," Susan mused.

"I believe the pink toad would be very much against that," Harry replied.

The next day, the High Inquisitor issued a decree that 'all student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs were henceforth disbanded' and needed approval from the pink toad, herself, before they could re-form.

"That can't be a coincidence," Susan said with furrowed brows. "And why three people? Most friend groups consist of three people or more. It's as if she wants us all to live in isolation or something."

"No practical study group, then," Harry said, sipping his tea and glancing at the Head Table, trying not to glare at the old man sitting on his throne, who was waving his wand around.

They were sitting with the Hufflepuffs for once, because Susan began complaining if she had to sit at the Slytherin Table too often. Neither of the houses minded anymore after four years of this. It wasn't like the three of them were the only people doing this – there were more than enough inter-house friendships to get the students to mingle during most meals. People mostly sat at their own House Table and mostly interacted with their housemates, but certainly not exclusively. The pink toad did not seem to approve of this, but she hadn't enacted another Educational Decree so far.

"You know," Susan said, "now I want you to teach one all the more."

"Breaking the rules, Susan?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows in amusement. "Didn't think you had it in you."

There was a challenging glint in Susan's eyes. "Do you?"

Harry threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, certainly. But the answer is still no."

"Why not?"

Harry chuckled once more, then rested his head on Theodore's shoulder. Theodore did not freeze up this time – he had slowly stopped doing so over the past weeks. Harry felt oddly proud of his friend for it.

"Because Harry hates most people and would prefer to be left alone," Theodore answered in his stead.

Susan crumpled. "Right. Of course. Don't know why I forgot about that. For Christ's sake, Harry!"

"I could try teaching you defensive magic," Harry offered. "But you know I use magic in a wildly different way compared to everyone else."

"See – and I had forgotten about that part, as well." Susan sighed. "Despite being so powerful, you would be bloody useless as a teacher, wouldn't you? You just think of something and then do it – no wand or incantation or practice required. And then you pretend that you did it the normal way, after all, just to get the teachers off your case."

Harry grinned at her and said nothing.

"Have you grown bored of daydreaming about Diggory, yet?" Theodore asked.

Susan rolled her eyes at him. "I admit that having something else to read would be rather nice, but I do not want to risk it."

"Weren't you all for breaking the High Inquisitor's rules just a few minutes ago?" Harry asked, still grinning.

Susan picked up her cup of tea. "It was a momentary lapse in sanity," she said, her prim tone betrayed by the upturned corner of her lips.

Harry laughed in response. He could feel the vibrations of Theodore's supressed chuckle where his cheek was pressed against the other boy's shoulder.

"I would like some duelling," Harry mused, "get some experience in combative magic."

"Like the Duelling Club from our second year?" Susan asked. "Only with a more competent instructor?"

Harry considered it for a moment. "No," he eventually said. "No, I was thinking more along the lines of real combat – experience out in the field, fighting – I don't know – 'bad people' – enemies – or something."

"Like an Auror," Susan offered.

Harry made an impatient sound. "No. No, not at all."

"You are talking about a war," Theodore said quietly.

Harry craned his neck to look up at him, but he was too close to see the expression on Theodore's face clearly.

"Maybe," Harry said, absentmindedly casting a few privacy charms to save the poor Hufflepuffs around them from the conversation he was fairly sure would follow.

Susan scowled. "I would hope not. A war, Harry? Really?"

Harry shrugged. "Not one I started, that's for sure."

Susan's scowl deepened. "I do not like where this is going. I do not like it at all."

"What about fighting the Dark Lord?" Theodore asked.

"Eh," Harry shrugged again. "I don't think so."

In response to this, for some reason, surprise overtook the clear disapproval on Susan's face. "Whyever not?"

Harry slowly sat up properly again, just so he could tilt his head to the side and put a hand to his chin. "That's a complicated question. But I have no desire to fight against the Dark Lord. As long as he leaves me be, leaves us be, I really don't care what he does."

"You-Know-Who has done terrible things in the past," Susan said quietly. "He murdered almost all of my family. I don't want anyone else to go through that ever again."

"He murdered my parents, too," Harry said. "He's the reason everyone thinks I'm a child-saviour. I still don't feel like fighting him unless absolutely necessary."

"And you do not think it is already necessary?"

Harry blinked. "No. Why would it be?"

Susan gave him a searching look. "I don't understand you, Harry. I really don't."

o

Harry yawned. It was the seventh time already, this day.

"Did you not sleep well, Harry?" Susan enquired.

Harry shrugged. "Had a rather strange dream. I think my magic somehow reacted to it? I'm not sure what exactly happened, but it certainly wasn't normal."

Susan arched an eyebrow. "When is anything ever normal with you?"

Harry grinned. "Fair enough."

"So what did you dream about?"

The corridor. The damn corridor again. At least it hadn't only been the boring corridor, this time. Harry remembered being a snake. Snakes were nice. Snakes were fascinating. Snakes perceived the world in a very different way compared to humans, smelling the air with their tongue, gliding with smooth motions, stalking their prey with determination before striking swiftly – Harry had enjoyed being a snake in his dreams. Harry could also talk to snakes, so there was that.

"I think," Harry said slowly, remembering the blood on his tongue and the blood in his vision – there had been so much blood everywhere, "that my dream is not something you would feel comfortable hearing."

Susan gave him a strange look.

Harry grimaced. "It was rather … brutal."

There was a flash of an emotion Harry didn't catch, before Susan smoothed out her expression. She dropped the topic after that.

Theodore, meanwhile, continued eating his breakfast, seemingly unconcerned. Harry had already told him about his dream – including the man Harry had coiled around, the bleeding man he had bitten and strangled and most certainly killed. As a snake. In a dream. With magic involved, somehow.

There was a commotion over at the Gryffindor Table and soon after Professor McGonagall escorted all the red-heads out of the Great Hall. Harry looked up at the Head Table and saw the old headmaster watching the group leave with a grave expression. The pink toad looked both curious and vaguely annoyed. The other teachers had put their heads together to talk among themselves, their expressions grim.

It didn't take long for the rumours to spread.

Arthur Weasley, Ministry employee and father to all the Gryffindor red-heads – a man Harry had actually met during the holidays – had died.

That was how far the rumours were in agreement. The manner of death wildly differed with each story. Harry, for his part, was inclined to believe the blonde boy, because the blonde boy had written directly to his father and while Lucius Malfoy had not provided many details, Harry was sure his words could be trusted in this regard.

Attacked in front of the Department of Mysteries – where Arthur Weasley had had no business of being in the middle of the night. Attacked by what? Well, Harry had a good guess.

This was no coincidence.

Theodore agreed with him. Theodore was also very worried about him. Harry didn't try to offer any comfort.

The winter holidays were just around the corner. Susan, as always, offered Harry and Theodore to come home with her, but Harry declined. He also kept ignoring the letters from his godfather that arrived almost daily, now, begging him to come to Grimmauld Place.

Instead, Harry took a few days to meditate by himself – to look into himself and see whether he could find the correlation between his dream and Arthur Weasley's death. He did find it. It was not what he had expected – although, in hindsight, he really should have seen it coming. There it was, dark and sinister and foreign and not at all belonging to Harry, concentrated in the lightning-bold-shaped curse scar that marred Harry's forehead, it's tendrils extending to somewhere outside of him, somewhere far, far away, somewhere … Funny, how Harry had never really thought about his curse scar all that much, only that it was mildly inconvenient, because people kept recognizing him as the Boy-Who-Lived-Despite-Being-Hit-With-The-Killing-Curse – which, actually, how did people even know about that? The only people who had been present to witness it other than Harry and the Dark Lord were his parents and his parents were dead.

So it was a connection and at the end of that connection was the Dark Lord Voldemort,

The magic felt eerily similar to the little black book. Harry remembered the little black book fondly, because it had occupied his mind throughout most of his second year. The magic also felt like the ring that had held the Resurrection Stone. And wasn't that curious? Perhaps there was a connection between those three items. Harry had no way of investigating that, though, as he had destroyed both the book and the ring.

Either way, Harry could not just use Fiendfyre on himself. And he had no idea how to burn away the scar without potentially harming himself. Theodore looked very alarmed when Harry shared this with him, then paled and refused to leave his side from then on – not that it made much of a difference as Theodore was always at Harry's side.

Incidentally, this provided Harry with the distraction he had sorely needed. Harry was sure he could find a way to get rid of his scar – or rather, the thing that resided in his scar. Harry was gifted. There was no way he wouldn't be able to find a way.

Incidentally, this also prompted Theodore to cry. It was the first time Harry had ever seen Theodore cry. That, more than anything, solidified his resolve to never tell Susan about this, ever. To be honest, Harry didn't know why, exactly, Theodore was crying, only that the news about the dark and sinister magic in Harry's curse scar that somehow connected him to the Dark Lord had upset him.

Harry almost gave in to the urge to gather Theodore into his arms, hug him tight and tenderly brush away the tears from his cheeks. But then he paused to consider the opportunity this presented. Theodore was crying because of him. Theodore was crying. It was beautiful. Harry wouldn't have been able to tear his eyes away even if he had wanted to. Part of him still wanted to cross the distance and give Theodore all the comfort he needed. Because Theodore would never do it. Theodore would never ask. For all that he talked back to Harry on a daily basis and kept him from doing questionable things – like entering Knockturn Alley on his own – he never asked for things for himself, never made requests of Harry that were for his benefit instead of Harry's.

Harry was absolutely certain that in this moment, Theodore wanted nothing more than for Harry to embrace him and reassure him that everything would be alright, that Harry would find a way – and Theodore should know this, Harry thought, that there was no way Harry wouldn't find a way. This was Harry, after all. Harry had a Gift and he would put it to bloody damn well use.

Theodore was a silent crier. There would have been no need for him to stifle his sobs, because it was only the two of them, alone in their dormitory – everyone else had gone home for the holidays. There were no sobs to be stifled, only silent tears rolling down his cheeks, gathering at his chin before dripping down onto his collarbone. The look on his face was utterly devastated, as if his heart had just shattered into millions of pieces and would never be whole again – his eyes wide open and full of desperation, his mouth slightly parted, and, of course, the tears streaking his cheeks.

Harry crossed his arms and cocked his head, waiting, observing, wondering what would happen next, wondering what to do – to give in or do nothing – to, maybe, do something other than giving comfort. He didn't actually want to actively hurt Theodore, although he was more than aware what his inaction did to the boy. But there was something nagging at him, something was telling him to see how far he could take this – to see whether Theodore would still stay, even if Harry –

Huh.

Huh.

"Theo," Harry said softly, as he uncrossed his arms and took a deliberate step forward.

Theodore's eyes widened a fraction and he took a step back, almost subconsciously, his hands raised as if to stop Harry from advancing.

Harry narrowed his eyes, held back the smirk that was threatening to overtake his lips, and took another step forward and then another and another – until Theodore's knees hit the edge of one of the beds and he could retreat no further. Harry felt like a predator on the prowl. Harry delighted in that feeling.

"Theo," Harry repeated, tone still gentle, quiet even in the empty room. "What do you want me to do?" Harry took another step that brought him right into Theodore's personal space, their noses almost touching. "Tell me what you want, Theo."

"I –" Theodore's voice cracked. He gulped. His eyes flitted to the side and back to Harry and away again. "I –"

"Tell me," Harry commanded quietly. "Tell me, Theo. What do you want?"

"I – I want," Theodore's whole body was tense and he looked ready to bolt at any second. "I don't – I can't – I can't, Harry. I can't –!"

"Oh, Theo," Harry said tenderly, slowly raising his hand to the other boy's face, gently wiping away the tears, ignoring the way Theodore flinched at the first touch. Harry smiled, the feeling lodged in his chest bittersweet and oh, how thrilling this felt. He let his hand fall back down to his side and took a step back. Theodore remained frozen in place. As Harry continued smiling fondly, Theodore's face scrunched up and he began to genuinely sob.

"Look at me," Harry said softly, but firmly. "Come, now. Stop crying and look at me, properly. I am perfectly alright. I will not die of this. I will find a way to get rid of whatever connects the Dark Lord and me and I will become stronger because of this. There is no reason to cry over something that will not endanger either of our lives in any way. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Theodore hastily wiped his cheeks with the sleeves of his robes and nodded.

"Come on, say it out loud, Theo."

"There is – no need to cry," Theodore said dutifully, his voice hoarse. "You are – you are going to be absolutely fine."

Harry's smiled widened. "There you go. Okay?"

Theodore returned the smile shakily. "Mhn."

AN

Ah, well, it could be a lot worse.

I am experimenting a bit with Harry's and Theo's relationship – it's kind of fun. And just to make sure everyone understands this: They are, Harry and Theo, both at fault for this mess.