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Part Three

"And this is going to be your bedroom!"

Harry wandered around the room that Sirius had chosen for him with his mouth open. There were traces of green in the corners of the ceiling, as though it had once been decorated in Slytherin colors, and then Sirius had scraped the paint off—or spelled it off, Harry thought, that was probably more likely. Now there was a gigantic white four-poster bed with white sheets in the center, and a huge fireplace with a white mantel above it, and a silently roaring lion prancing above the window.

"You can cast spells that will change the color of anything you like," Sirius told him anxiously. "White is just the default color. But I promise, if you want to change everything so that it's pure red and gold, I won't be angry."

Harry laughed, full and free in a way he couldn't remember doing before, and turned around to grin at Sirius. "No, you'd probably love it, right? A way to thumb your nose at your ancestors."

"Of course." Sirius perked up more. "Does that mean you do want red and gold, then?"

Harry had to actually pause and consider it. He'd stopped thinking about the kind of colors or decorations he wanted in his room when he was five years old. He had known by then that even if the Dursleys moved him out of the cupboard someday, they would never let him change things in their house.

And then when he went to Gryffindor—well, he'd had House pride, and it had still seemed like a miracle that he was allowed to have a bed.

But what would he want, if he really could have his own space and everything would be to his taste?

"I think," Harry said slowly, "I'd like blues. And some greens, but not the kind of blaring color that Slytherins wear. And a bit of gold, but not overwhelming, you know? Sometimes stepping into the common room at school is like having my eyes splashed with paint."

Sirius laughed, much the same way Harry had, and twisted his wand through a complicated motion. The bed and the curtains and the mantel shimmered, and turned a complex mix of colors: blue on the bed-curtains, blue shading into a delicate green on the sheets, and aqua edged with gold on the mantel. "What do you think?"

Harry looked around and felt a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Yeah. Yeah, that's pretty much perfect, Snuffles."

Sirius dropped his wand and transformed immediately, springing on Harry and spilling him to the floor. Harry laughed and grabbed Sirius's neck to keep his godfather from licking his face. "That's so gross!"

Sirius barked and barked, flung himself off Harry, raced around the room, and leaped up to roll on the bed and wallow in the sheets with his paws in the air.

Harry felt as though he might simply break apart with happiness.

"Harry, can I talk to you?"

Ron seemed nervous, but Harry could understand that, with the distance that had grown between them lately. So he nodded, said, "Sure, Ron," and kept his face calm and serious as they left the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley watched them go with a little smile. Harry wondered if she had noticed the way he acted around Ron and Hermione, too, and was hoping for a reconciliation.

Harry had it in his power to offer that. He just wasn't sure how long it would last when his friends found out about the oath he was going to swear.

Ron took a deep breath and stood with his hands stuffed in his robe pockets for a minute after they reached the library. Harry leaned on the wall and watched him.

"I'm sorry," Ron blurted.

"You've already apologized for what happened during the summer, Ron," Harry said, as gently as he could. "And you know I wasn't—happy about it, but I'm not going to yell at you about it again."

"This isn't about what happened during the summer."

Oh?

Harry could feel his surprise attempting to break through to the world, but that would make things more antagonistic than they had to be. He just blinked and asked, "What are you apologizing for?"

"For telling you that you shouldn't yell at people in the common room." Ron fastened his eyes on the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. "Reckon I'd be pretty angry, too, if people kept calling me a liar when I knew he was back."

Finally.

But the last thing Harry wanted to do was discourage Ron from actually speaking up and thinking on his own. He smiled warmly instead and reached out to clap his oldest friend on the back. "That means a lot, Ron. Thanks."

"I noticed that you—kind of stopped talking about it. Was that just because you thought Hermione and I would never accept your side, or what?"

"I decided it didn't really matter what they thought of me. I couldn't convince them, so I should just stop talking about it."

Ron gave him a weird look. "Really? After the way you spoke up in Umbridge's classes during the first month?"

"Well, that was why I changed my mind. Because that did no good, and just made more people hate me because I cost Gryffindor points. And Angelina hate me because I was in detention during Quidditch practice." Harry waited for Ron to laugh, and then said, "Hey, you know you should train harder, right? Because you could still be a great Keeper."

Ron's ears turned red, along with the rest of his face. "But you know about all those Quaffles I missed!"

"I know, but you don't think Oliver Wood or any of the other really great Keepers were born just knowing how to do it, right? They had to practice constantly. Oliver was always out there practicing even when it was too cold or rainy for the rest of us to fly."

"You didn't have to practice."

"Flying, maybe not, but you know how hard Oliver trained me during that first year, especially with the rest of the team getting used to flying with a new Seeker."

"You think I really could be a good Keeper?"

"Yeah, I do."

"But the Slytherins…"

Harry noted with distant amusement that his first instinct when someone mentioned Slytherins was to bristle defensively. He dismissed it. Theo and he knew where they stood, and Theo didn't need Harry's defense in a random conversation. "Sure, that song Malfoy made up was stupid, but we managed to control ourselves and not attack them the way we wanted to, didn't we?" In truth, that was mostly because Harry had been distracted by hoping that something good would come out of giving Pettigrew to Sirius. "You can do it, Ron. I know you can. I've seen how great you've been with the games we play at the Burrow."

Ron was smiling now, more fully than Harry had seen him during any talk about Quidditch in months. "Thanks, mate. Maybe we can practice at the Burrow, if Mum thinks it's safe enough to leave the Fidelius here?"

"Of course."

Ron waved at him and jogged away up the corridor. From the set of his jaw, he was probably going to dig into the Quidditch books Harry had got him for a Christmas gift. Harry was smiling as he turned around.

He paused when he saw Hermione standing there with her arms folded. "Yeah? What is it?"

"That was kind of you."

Harry rolled his eyes a little. "I meant what I said about the summer, Hermione. You apologized, and I might—still feel weird about it, but we got past it."

I'm planning to swear a pact of neutrality with Voldemort, but sure, we're past a silly argument in the summer when you decided not to write letters to one of your best friends.

Hermione bit her lip. "It just seemed sudden, that's all."

"What seemed sudden?"

"The way you started ignoring Seamus, and McLaggen, and some of the others who were always trying to make you react. And Umbridge. Is there something you aren't telling us, Harry? Something that happened related to that?"

"You know what happened, Hermione. Pettigrew got handed over, and I started thinking that maybe I stand a chance at living with my godfather."

"Oh, Harry."

"What?"

"I still don't think Dumbledore is going to let you live with Sirius," Hermione said, taking a step towards Harry and speaking very quietly. "I wasn't—deliberately trying to eavesdrop on the Order meetings, but I was pretty near the kitchen when Mrs. Weasley started talking about it, and—it was all about how irresponsible Sirius was, and how strong the blood protections on the Dursleys' house were."

Harry gave a tight little smile, wondering as he did so whether those protections had ever existed, and what kind of proof he would have to confront Dumbledore with to make him agree that the Dursleys were vile. On the other hand, maybe nothing would ever do it, and Harry would have to make his peace with that. "Well, I don't see how they can exist, if they're based on love. The Dursleys don't have any love for me."

"None?"

"None whatsoever," Harry said, sure of it. Maybe Dudley had changed a little after their confrontation with the Dementors, but concern or shame weren't the same as love.

Harry was pretty sure he was learning what love meant for the first time. It hadn't been safe to hope he would really get to live with Sirius, before this.

And he knew that what he felt for Theo, he'd never felt before.

"Well." Hermione looked a little disturbed. "Then I hope Dumbledore and whoever else is in charge of making the decision talks to you and realizes it would be cruel not to let you live with Sirius."

Dumbledore isn't in charge of the decision-making anymore. He won't even look me in the eye, how could he be?

Harry smiled at her and said, "Let's hope so."

Theo had already told Harry, before they left the school for Christmas, that he would be sending his gift to Harry the day after. That was fine with Harry, although he'd sent Theo his gift already, a copy of an old book from the Grimmauld Place library that Sirius had handed over without question when Harry had asked for it.

Now, Harry sat waiting for Theo's owl the night of Boxing Day, feeling as though he was being carried along with the strokes of the owl's wings.

The bird landed on Harry's windowsill in absolute silence. A barn owl, creepy in the way that all of them seemed to be, with their weird, pale faces.

And it did have a package strapped to its leg.

"Hi, beautiful," Harry said, with a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was going to burst his door down. But he knew most of the other people in the house had already gone to bed, and he extended his arm to the owl, which hopped onto it and stared at him with glittering eyes and talons. "Can I take the package?"

The owl appeared to seriously consider the notion. Harry just waited, staring at the owl, and sure that no bird Theo had sent would be seriously hostile to him.

The barn owl finally inclined its head, and Harry gleefully opened the package. It was small and light, and he wondered, for a moment as he opened it, if Theo had sent him an essay or something like that.

It wasn't an essay, but it was a scroll. And as Harry stared at it with his mouth open, he realized it was more than that.

He had to sit down on the bed. His legs were too weak to hold him. The owl hooted and shifted in displeasure.

It was a draft of the oath that he would swear to Voldemort.

And the one that Voldemort would swear to him.

Harry explored the contract with shaking, reverent fingers. Theo had actually underlined a few phrases and footnoted them at the bottom of the scroll, explaining what they meant and that some of them, which Harry might have taken in the wrong light, actually weren't as bad as they looked. Harry swallowed again and again as he traced the letters with his finger.

Theo had done this for him. Risked Voldemort's wrath for him.

Yes, Theo had said Voldemort was pleased with him for finding some way to take Harry out of the war. It didn't matter. Harry's hands were still shaking as he whipped another piece of parchment out of his trunk, set the owl on the windowsill—it hooted again—and began to write a letter to Theo.

You did this. I can't believe you did this. Do you know how important it is to me, to have the information before I swear the oath? Do you know how much I want to kiss you right now?

It was that and other nonsense that made Harry flush when he looked back at it. But he thought Theo might rather appreciate that the contract had made him write nonsensical things. So he finished scribbling and then held out the letter to the owl.

As if relieved it could finally get away from Harry, the owl snatched the letter at once and vanished into the night.

Harry fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. His cheeks were still burning.

He wanted to kiss Theo.

He was pretty sure he was falling in love.

"Harry."

It was their first night back at Hogwarts, and Harry had taken the first excuse to slip out of Gryffindor Tower with his Invisibility Cloak that he could, pretending to be tired and going up to bed. But then, of course, he'd had to wait forever for someone else to open the door so he could escape. He was burning as he flung the Cloak off and reached for Theo.

Theo lunged forwards at the same time, with a rough, impatient noise, wrapping his arms around Harry and plastering his mouth to Harry's.

Harry kissed him the way Theo had kissed him before they left, his hands digging into Theo's shoulders, and Theo shuddered and moaned and clung closer, and—

Without quite knowing how it happened, Harry found himself opening his legs, inviting Theo between them. Theo sagged forwards, an expression on his face somewhere between disbelief and wonder, and then moved back and forth.

Harry let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

It didn't last long, not that first time, just long enough to let Harry absorb the sensation of Theo's hard cock touching his, cherish the sound of Theo's gasps, and the way that his hands dug and dug and dug until Harry's shoulders ached. The flood of warmth when he came was unexpected, but Harry followed him a second later.

The bliss he felt wasn't unexpected.

In the aftermath, Harry pressed his forehead against Theo's chest, breathing hard. Theo stroked his hair with hands that shook.

"I didn't—I didn't come looking for that," Theo whispered. It was the first time Harry had heard his voice crack. "I would have been fine without you offering that."

"I know," Harry said, and lifted his head and smiled at Theo. His boyfriend? His lover? Harry didn't know. Just his Theo, maybe. "But I did offer it, and so I was perfectly fine with you taking it."

From the way Theo's face changed, Harry wondered if he should have said that about "taking." But Theo wasn't lunging forwards and attempting to maul his face off, so Harry didn't regret it.

He kissed Theo again instead, and they stayed with each other until Theo stepped away, eyes searching Harry's face.

"You'll both swear the oath," he said. "He wants to meet you in February."

"February?"

"That should be enough time for both of you to decide if you need any changes to the oath's wording." Theo hesitated. "And I think—he has a secret, the secret of why he targeted you in particular, and why he wants so badly for you to remove yourself from the war. I think he needs that much time to make up his mind that it won't be dangerous to tell you."

Harry nodded slowly. "I did wonder why there were so many provisions in the oath for keeping silent on secrets."

"Yes." Theo kissed the back of Harry's hand, his eyes brilliant. "But you'll swear it, and everything will be fine."

Harry swallowed. "Except for the Muggles and Muggleborns he'll target in the wake of my oath." It was ridiculous that he was confessing this insecurity to Theo, of all people, who had done so much to bring him down this path, but he was.

Theo's smile was dark and slow. "Why not ask for him to stop doing that in the oath?"

"I—he wouldn't agree."

"Oh?" Theo leaned nearer, so that his warm breath poured over Harry's neck. "I am sworn to keep some of the Dark Lord's secrets," Theo whispered. "But it only applies to things he told me directly, because he doesn't think I'm clever enough to pick up on anything important from hints."

"What if he finds out—"

"He won't."

Harry swallowed and nodded. Theo spoke with that iron certainty that made Harry sure he was right. He'd used the same tone to tell Harry he wanted him, and to give him the gift of Pettigrew. "All right."

"The Dark Lord is terrified of death," Theo breathed. "He believes you can defeat him, kill him. Why, I'm not certain, but I'm sure it relates to that secret he's making up his mind to tell you. But he wants to stay alive more than he wants anything else. Make peace, true peace, a condition of your oath, Harry. He wants your neutrality more than he wants to continue torturing and murdering Muggles and Muggleborns."

"You're sure?" Harry asked, despite his own thought that Theo must know. All he could think of right now was the oath falling apart in the last stages.

"I am beyond sure." Theo caught Harry's hands and spread out his fingers one by one, never taking his eyes from Harry's face. "I might gamble with my own safety, but never with yours."

"And to think all of this came about because your father showed you that Pensieve memory," Harry mumbled, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Theo's smile was dark and warm and inviting. "I believe we would have ended up here anyway, but yes. It began with that."

And he leaned forwards to kiss Harry again, and Harry was more than happy to lean against him and make this their reality for the next few moments.

"Whose owl is that, Harry?"

"I don't know," Harry was able to say truthfully as the eagle-owl settled silently on the table next to him and stared at him with an open beak. That he knew it was Voldemort's could go unsaid. He held out a tidbit of bacon, and the owl snatched it. Only after it had swallowed did it condescend to extend its leg.

Harry undid the scroll with shaking fingers. This should be the final version of the pact.

"Who's it from?" Hermione asked, leaning over.

"Unsigned on the outside," Harry said, and pretended to frown at it. "I'll look at it later, after I've had the chance to cast a few detection charms on it."

And that wasn't even a lie. Harry trusted Voldemort to act in his own self-interest, but he was also still insane, or had been a few months ago. Checking it over was the smart thing to do.

He caught Theo's eyes as he stood and the owl took flight. Theo was giving him a smile without giving him a smile, so that there was brightness in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. It was one of Harry's favorite expressions.

"Harry?"

It was Ron this time, but Harry just shook his head and stuffed the scroll in his robe pocket. "Come on. We don't have time to worry about it right now. You know what Umbridge will do if we're late to her class."

Harry knew he was the only one who felt Theo's eyes burning on his back as they left the Great Hall, but that was all right. He was the only one who needed to feel them.

"What do you think?"

Theo's voice was a soft hiss. They had met up outside the library, in case Harry needed to use his Invisibility Cloak to slip into the Restricted Section and check some of the books on oaths to soothe his fears.

Surprisingly, that hadn't happened. The revised pact of neutrality was even more straightforward and clear than the first version had been.

Harry swallowed and flipped back the hood of the Cloak so he could look at Theo. "I think—I think this is the oath we're going to swear, unless he wants to change anything."

Heat flared in Theo's eyes, and he leaned forwards to pin Harry against the wall outside the library. Harry went along with it, half-laughing as he did. "What? Was something I said sexy?"

It was still strange to use that word about himself and Theo, but he was able to say it because of Theo. Theo, who had given Harry a chance at a family and a real home and peace. Theo, who had changed everything.

"I once never thought there was a chance that I could have you here, like this, looking at me like this," Theo whispered, and slid his hand over Harry's forehead, tracing the edges of the scar. "And yet, here you are. More open-minded and capable of compromising than I ever suspected you could be."

Harry might have answered that, but Theo leaned in and stole Harry's reply with his mouth.

Harry once again lost track of how long they kissed, but Theo finally took a step back, half-bowed, and vanished in the direction of the dungeons. Harry traced his finger over his lips, and thought that in a short while, he would truly have everything that mattered.

Peace from the war. A place to live with Sirius. An oath from Voldemort, and information about why he got attacked in the first place, the kind of thing Dumbledore said he was too young to know in first year.

And Theo.

"I have made the changesss you required."

Harry swallowed. He had forgotten how being close to Voldemort made him feel. The pain in his scar throbbed sickly, and the magic around him seemed to press down on his body like a cloak made of cold shadows.

But he walked forwards steadily across the graveyard where he had seen Voldemort resurrected and Cedric killed less than a year ago. Of course Voldemort had wanted to meet here, and of course Theo knew how to Apparate and could bring him.

Voldemort was still, watching Harry. He wore a cloak so white it seemed to blend into his skin, and cut a patch of light in the darkness of the evening. Harry shivered slightly from the chill, and Theo promptly murmured an incantation. A Warming Charm flitted across Harry's skin that had to be wandless, since Harry knew already that Voldemort wasn't going to permit them to draw a wand in his presence.

"I saw those with the copy of the scroll that you sent me." Harry's voice was trembling, but he didn't think anyone could blame him for that. He swallowed and switched to Parseltongue. "Thank you for making the changes I requested."

Voldemort stared at him in silence, and Harry thought it might be the first time that Voldemort had heard him speak the snakes' language. Well, technically Tom Riddle had heard him do it, but the diary shade didn't count.

"Mr. Nott spoke true," Voldemort hissed. "You are indeed a Parselmouth."

"Yes." Harry thought he should keep his responses simple until he knew Voldemort and understood his moods better.

Which might be never. It wasn't as though Harry intended to spend a lot of time around him after this.

Voldemort studied him, head tilted to the side as though he would gain a better view of Harry from the corner of his eye. Then he said, "Will you permit me to draw my wand and cast a spell upon you?"

"That depends on what kind of spell it is."

"Nothing harmful, I assure you. Having come to this ground of truce with the intention to form a pact of neutrality, I would lose my magic if I cast something harmful on you."

That sounded good, but Harry didn't know how much he believed it. On the other hand, he trusted Theo's assessment that Voldemort really wanted this truce, and he could hardly break the confidentiality of Parseltongue to ask Theo about it.

And Theo's reaction when Voldemort drew his wand ought to tell Harry something.

He swallowed. "All right."

Sure enough, Theo didn't twitch when Voldemort's wand came whispering out of its holster. Harry still waited with tension vibrating through him as Voldemort swirled it through the air and whispered something that didn't sound like Latin, but didn't sound like Parseltongue either.

Voldemort glowed for a long moment. So did Nagini, who had lifted her head to observe them from behind a headstone.

And a light shone from above Harry. He reached up, startled, wondering if something was on his head that he didn't know about.

He found his hand closing over his scar.

Voldemort gave a low, shocked laugh, probably the most human sound Harry had ever heard him make. He lowered his wand, and the glow vanished. Harry kept feeling at his scar for a moment, but it didn't hurt, and the spell didn't seem to have left a trace behind.

"Which spell was that?" he asked. Theo wrapped an arm around his shoulders as Harry shook.

"A spell to identify certain artifacts that are very important to me." Voldemort's voice was still low, and he sounded as if he were seeking the right words to translate from another language to Parseltongue. "I keep—one of them on me at all times, and Nagini is entrusted with guarding another. It seems that you have one as well."

"How? I didn't take anything from you!"

"I am not accusing you of theft. Peace."

Harry bit his lip, hard enough to make him wince, and reminded himself that they were here to broker a truce. He settled with a long sigh and shudder. Theo wrapped his arm harder around Harry in response.

Voldemort was staring at Harry with those brilliant eyes that cut through the darkness of the graveyard. "I believe that you carry an impression of one of these artifacts, not the actual object. It probably happened the night I came after you in Godric's Hollow."

Harry swallowed at the mention of that night, thinking about his mum's voice and what she would say if she could see him now.

He shook that off. She had died to save him, and he would always love her, but she and Dad weren't here anymore. Harry had to make his own decisions to save his life. "But just the impression of one isn't worth much, right?"

"On the contrary, it is worth everything." Voldemort gave him an odd smile. Harry thought he might be trying to make it sincere and not really know how to do that. "I have extra motivation to protect you now."

Harry nodded uncertainly. That was good. He thought it was good. He reached out for Theo's hand, and found Theo waiting for him, gripping his fingers tightly, although of course he couldn't understand what Harry and Voldemort's conversation was really about.

Harry looked up at the Dark Lord. "Shall we swear the oath, then?"

"If you will agree to one addition."

Harry stiffened, tension thrumming through him. He should have known that Voldemort would betray him—

"Peace, little serpent. I believe it is one you will enjoy."

Cautiously, Harry nodded. He could sense that Theo had drawn his wand when he shifted closer to Harry, and stood ready to defend him if he had to. What Theo had said was really true. He was prepared to attack the Dark Lord to protet Harry.

Harry swallowed. I'm not the only one who will try to defend my life after all.

Voldemort traced his wand back and forth in the air. Harry thought he was inscribing runes there, the same kind of runes that were along the edges of the contract. When Voldemort spoke again, it was in English. "That I will bind all my Death Eaters with the same oath I am signing here, that they will never harm you or those you hold dear, unless in self-defense."

"I—I thought they were swearing the oath?"

"They swore not to attack them," Voldemort said, a moment before Harry felt a puff of air on his ear from Theo. He had probably been about to say the same thing. "But they did not swear not to harm them."

Harry grimaced. That was a subtlety he had missed. But Theo, standing behind him, only radiated satisfaction, and Harry decided that he didn't have to worry about something else going wrong.

Voldemort pulled out the contract scroll and inscribed the runes along the edges of it. Then he gave Harry an eager, monstrous, tender smile. "Shall we, my dear friend?"

Harry nodded shallowly and knelt, holding out his hand. Voldemort clasped it, his skin cooler than it should be. Harry stared down at the faint pattern of scales running down Voldemort's fingers and arms and wondered if, like a snake, he was sensitive to the cold.

Not that Harry would have the opportunity to use it against him if he did find out.

Theo was their Bonder, and they swore the oath in terms hardly less strict than an Unbreakable Vow, from what Harry understood of it. He shuddered as the weight settled on his magic, and even Voldemort drew in a sharp breath. Nagini came close to watch them, her own weight crushing the grass, her eyes flat as they stared at Harry.

Harry stood back up when it was done, and Theo promptly wrapped his arm back around Harry's shoulders. "You did so well," he whispered.

"You did indeed," Voldemort said in Parseltongue, eyes fastened on Harry. "Holder of something little less precious than my soul. You will not regret that you have sworn this. My word on it. And I will tell you the secret of why I attacked you in a week's time, as agreed."

Harry swallowed and nodded. He was thinking now of how he would have to explain this to everyone, Sirius included.

But it was worth it. He felt Theo's warmth beside him as they walked back to the Apparition point, and he was sure of that.

Theo shuddered all over when they appeared back at Hogwarts, and grabbed Harry, holding him close. Harry grunted as he lost some of his air with how fiercely Theo was holding him. Theo turned his head to the side and whispered into Harry's ear, his words a tumbling rush of warmth and confession.

"I thought I'd lose you. I thought you'd never agree. I thought you'd never be mine, and if you were, you'd insist on dying by fighting the Dark Lord. I thought you would never agree to swear the oath…"

On he went, and Harry embraced him tightly. It was the closest he had seen Theo come to breaking down. He had been such a tower of strength as he guided Harry through finding a way out of the war.

But Harry could be there for him, too, could whisper, "I'm here," and hold Theo until he stopped shaking and stepped away far enough to look Harry in the eye. No further than that, though, and the next moment he leaned forwards and eliminated the distance between them by kissing Harry.

Harry flung his arms around Theo and kissed him back, feeling as though his blood was made of light.

There would be so many troubles forwards on the path, but they had each other, and this moment of soaring in the darkness.

The End.