A/N: NSFW warning for the end of the chapter, where Theo has a bit of fun with himself.

ooo

The next few weeks passed rather quickly, and while the weather outside turned colder and greyer with every day, Theo and Neville's room grew even cosier and more comfortable with every time they visited. Neville had stayed true to his word and had put a tremendous amount of effort into getting to know everything about Theo and had slowly altered and added to the room to make it more comfortable for both of them.

In addition to the initial books about Herbology, the room now always provided a rather impressive collection of Charms books, in particular ones about healing, that Theo devoured at any given chance. There was also a small brewing bench at the far back of the room now, where Theo could experiment with potions and salves, and learn more about their magic. And upon their last visit to the Room, after Theo had complained about the chill in the air and how he never seemed to be able to warm up at this time of year, he had even found a warm, woolly throw on his arm chair, that looked remarkably similar to the one he had in his room at Nott Manor. — his favourite one, that his mother's house elf had knitted for him when he was little. It was blue. A similar shade to the fabric of his armchair, which had turned a soft cerulean colour not long after Theo had told Neville about his mother's favourite weekend robes, that she always used to wear when she took Theo on fun day-trips to the seaside, and how he could still picture the airy fabric flowing in the salty summer breeze.

The sofa, — Neville's preferred spot in the room — had turned a rather violent shade of red instead. Because, of course, that was Neville's favourite colour. Theo had had to try very hard not to roll his eyes the first time he had spotted it. Honestly, could that boy get anymore Gryffindor than this? But despite the fact that Neville's bold colour choices had resulted in a rather mismatched looking set of furniture, Theo couldn't help but find it endearing. He thought it rather suited their personalities and liked how the room reflected the nature of their newly found friendship: Chaotic and unconventional, but undoubtedly beautiful.

Theo's favourite thing about spending time with Neville, however, was the fact that he also got to learn more about him.

He learned the little things, like that Neville didn't have much of a sweet tooth, with the exception of his great aunt's homemade oatmeal biscuits, of which he (allegedly) could eat a whole batch in one sitting. Or that he'd never particularly liked toads, which was probably why Trevor kept trying to get away from him, and that he'd really love a Crup one day, but he'd settle for a regular dog too. (Go figure! Theo was a cat person through and through.)

And then there were the more serious things. The ones that were uttered into a quiet room late at night like a confession. — when they were too tired and worn out to keep up their protective walls and allowed themselves to be vulnerable. Things like the fact that everyone always assumed Neville would go into Herbology one day, but that he actually hoped to become an Auror like his parents. He'd even gone as far as begging Professor McGonagall to let him pick up Transfiguration again after dropping it the year before.

And that everyone thought his worst fear was Professor Snape, but that it was really the fear of disappointing people, and that the Boggart had only turned into Snape, because the Potions Master had once told Neville that his lack of talent in the art of potion-making was rather depressing, considering how great of a Potioneer his father was; and that it was lucky that Frank Longbottom would never know how terribly inept his son was at his favourite subject, as it surely spared him a great disappointment.

Theo had felt tempted to storm out of the room, find Snape, and personally strangle the man for this horribly insensitive and downright disgusting comment. …And he would have, had it not been for Neville asking him to stay with that disarmingly grateful and distressingly fond look on his face.

So, Theo had stayed, chest aching and simultaneously blooming with admiration for the brave Gryffindor, as he wondered if he'd ever met someone as strong and unfalteringly kind before; and feeling unreasonably proud at the fact that Neville had chosen him to share all those secrets with…chosen him to be vulnerable with.

He sure counted himself lucky to be friends with such an amazing person. …There was only one problem with that. — And that was that with every little detail that Neville offered up about himself, with every secret he told, and dream he shared, that strange feeling of admiration in Theo's chest became more difficult to ignore. Every time Neville smiled, Theo's stomach fluttered; every time he laughed, Theo's heart stuttered; every time Neville touched him, — and unfortunately Neville's hand found his shoulder or knee more often than he'd prefer — Theo's whole body began to tingle and his breath caught in his throat.

It was undeniable at this point: Theo had a major crush! …On his FRIEND. His very male and probably very straight friend. Not that Neville had ever talked about his sexuality with Theo before, nor had he ever mentioned a girlfriend… but that was beside the point. The point was that Theo himself had no business having a crush on a man. He had worked so hard on trying to repress that side of him, and now Neville had to come charging into his life like the brave and courageous hero in one of those spicy fantasy novels that Tracey liked to read, and mess it all up.

"Terrible habit, that."

Theo was pulled out of his reverie with abrupt force, jumping at the sound of the soft voice. He had come up to the owlery in the hopes of finding some inspiration to draw — something to distract his mind — but then ended up just sitting here and stewing in his own thoughts for Merlin knows how long.

He chanced a glance at the nearly burned down cigarette in his hand and shrugged.

"Blame my father for it."

Draco raised an eyebrow, as he dropped to the floor next to Theo and pulled his legs towards himself into a cross-legged seat.

"I know your father is to blame for most of the terrible things in your life, Theo. But surely, smoking Muggle cigarettes is not one of them."

Theo snorted. "Bloody well is." As if to make a point he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and took a deep drag from it. "He'd never admit to it, but he's been hooked on these things since the Seventies."

When Draco still looked dubious, he continued: "He caught me stealing one when I was fourteen. I thought I was gonna get a pretty bad lashing for it, but all he did was hand me the whole packet and then forced me to smoke all the remaining cigarettes in it… one after another… until I stopped coughing and my tongue got used to the horrible taste. 'If you want to smoke, you are going to do it properly, Theodore.' He said. …and so I did. It becomes quite addictive after a while, you know?"

"I thought your main goal in life is to defy everything your father encompasses and not become like him." Draco said pointedly.

Theo cast him an amused look.

"Maybe…" He mused, after taking a last drag from his cigarette, throwing it on the floor and vanishing it. "But smoking comes rather low on my list of priorities."

"What's he think about it?" Draco asked after a moment of silence.

Theo stiffened. "Who?"

"You know who." The blonde retorted impatiently. "The boy who's been distracting you for weeks. Your…crush…or boyfriend or whatever."

Despite the cold December air, Theo could feel his face heat, as he shifted uncomfortably; not sure what to say.

"I don't have a —"

"Oh, don't deny it." Draco sighed. "We've been through this already, and I'd rather we could forgo all the tedious small talk and careful prying and just cut to the chase."

Theo swallowed uncomfortably. "And what's the chase?"

"That he's a Gryffindor, of course. And that he's on the other side of the war."

Theo's insides turned to ice. There was no way Draco could know this. He was just guessing and throwing out wild ideas to see how Theo would react. With that in mind, Theo schooled his face into an expression of mild amusement and raised a haughty eyebrow.

"I think you've lost your mind." He said, trying to keep the wobble from his voice. "I'd never liaise with Gryffindors."

Draco shrugged, his icy grey eyes boring into Theo's as if he was tempted to break into his mind and see for himself.

"If it was any other house you wouldn't keep him a secret, because it's perfectly acceptable to associate with Ravenclaws… or even a Hufflepuff. Frowned upon maybe, but not something that would endanger either of you." His gaze grew unbearably intense as he continued. "So my guess is that it's either a Gryffindor, or it's someone ridiculously young, like a first or second year, …which obviously would be inappropriate and I would want to tell you now, as a friend, that you have to —"

"It's not a first or second year." Theo interrupted, feeling slightly sick at the idea. Unable to look Draco in the eye any longer, he dropped his gaze to his hands and shook his head. "I'm not that much of a pervert."

"So a Gryffindor then." Draco sighed after a short pause. "I thought as much."

"Was it really that obvious?" Theo asked, his voice small and almost fearful.

"No…" Draco shook his head lightly. "But I know you, Theo. I know you've never really believed all the crap our fathers tried to teach us and that you're not interested in their political views. …And I also know that you're not a fucking pervert."

At that Theo looked back up, surprised at his friend's forgiving outlook on his situation, considering how much he already knew.

"But…" He began, a wave of self-loathing and trepidation rushing through him as he steeled himself to say it… to speak his truth. "Draco…" He rasped, lip quivering and eyes stinging. "I do think I'm gay, though."

The amused, slightly exasperated scoff that escaped Draco's throat took Theo completely by surprise.

"Of course you are." He said, and then had the cheek…the audacity… to roll his eyes at Theo.

"WHAT!?" Theo gaped at him. Surely, he didn't understand? How could he be so relaxed about this.

"No…Draco…I don't think you understand. I know you've had your suspicions and everything, but I think you were right. …I think I'm actually —"

"Suspicions?" Draco interrupted, incredulous. "You think I didn't know?"

Looking both amused and a little offended, Draco ran a frustrated hand through his white-blonde hair and then shifted on the spot so he could look Theo directly in the eye.

"Listen, mate…" he said, his voice shifting into a calm and soothing tone, as if he was approaching a scared animal. "I've seen your memories, remember? Did you really think your father's abysmal treatment could make that go away? It's not something you can choose. It's who you are."

Tears began to roll down Theo's cheeks and he wiped at them aggressively; a stale, almost bitter taste on his tongue as he shook his head.

"What if that's not who I want to be?" He whispered after a long moment of silence.

Draco shrugged. "As I said: You can't choose. If there was a way to choose who we love I'd still be an item with Pansy and would prepare to marry her and start making those perfect pureblood babies my father so desperately wants me to have. But here we are. I have yet again disappointed my father…like I always do." He added, a sad gleam in his eyes, as he let out a deep sigh. "Anyway.. This is about you. And there's nothing wrong with being bent, okay? …Now, dating Gryffindors on the other hand…"

"Oh, fuck off." Theo huffed, and he couldn't help himself: he laughed, as he gave Draco a not-so-gentle shove with his shoulder.

"Thank you." He added quietly, because he meant it, and because he was so unbelievably grateful to have Draco's friendship. He was feeling much lighter already, almost relieved. Of course he would still rather not be, well… gay…, but if Draco didn't shun him for it, then maybe he could work more on accepting it himself too.

"How are things with your family?" He asked after a few more seconds of silence. "I know you were worried about them."

Draco's expression didn't waver, as he shrugged. "The situation hasn't really changed."

The only sign that the topic was upsetting him, was the twitch of a muscle along his sharp jawline, but Theo had a feeling that he was probably occluding to hide how worried he really was.

"I'm sorry." He muttered after a long while. "That really sucks."

"It is what it is." Draco sighed with a very final tone in his voice that told Theo to not press the subject any further.

"Just for the record…" He said instead, partially to change the topic, but also because the thought was still gnawing at him. "There is nothing going on between the secret Gryffindor and me. We really are just friends."

Draco looked at him with sharp, calculating eyes. "But you like him?"

Theo's mouth went dry, as he nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know…maybe? I mean, I guess…but I don't think he's…well…'that way inclined'"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at him. "You mean gay?"

Theo swallowed thickly. The word still sounded wrong — forbidden — in his ears, but he nodded. "Yeah…that."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Well…no." Theo said carefully. The truth was he had never allowed himself to even consider Neville to be anything other than straight. The thought that the handsome Gryffindor could be interested in men was too dangerous. If Theo got his hopes up, he would just end up hurt.

"Then you can't know." Draco insisted matter-of-factly.

"It doesn't matter, though." Theo retorted, shaking his head stubbornly. "Our friendship is more important to me than a silly little crush. I don't want to ruin what we have."

There was a moment of tense silence in which Draco looked like he was going to challenge Theo's statement, but then he seemed to change his mind, let out a deep sigh and declined his head in assent.

"Very well. Just —" He cast Theo an imploring look, the icy grey of his eyes laced with worry. "Please be careful, okay? I've seen too many people I hold dear get hurt lately. I don't want you to become one of them."

Theo's throat went uncomfortably tight, as he nodded, but before he could say anything, Draco was on his feet and pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Anyway, I'm heading back to the common room. It's fucking freezing up here." He cast a wordless Scrugify on him to blast any remaining feathers and straw off his robes and then headed towards the tightly wound spiral staircase that led back down into the main part of the castle. "Don't stay out here too long, okay? You'll freeze to death."

Theo tried to muster a smile, but he felt like it was probably more of a pained grimace, and nodded. "Yeah, alright. I'll come down in a bit." — thinking that he'd rather prefer to stay up here in this mind-numbing cold than face the reality of his problems any time of day, as he watched Draco disappear down the steep steps into the castle tower.

ooo

Theo had just added his meticulously cut hawthorn berries to his latest batch of blood replenishing potions when he heard the door to their room open behind him. Refusing to be distracted at such a crucial stage of brewing the potion, he didn't look up and instead focused on counting his stirs — three clockwise, followed by eight anti-clockwise, repeat four times. When he had finished the sequence, he added seven crushed rosehips and a stick of cinnamon, gave it another 10 clockwise stirs, and then finally looked up to find Neville already standing right beside him.

"Hi." He said, offering Theo a bright grin.

"Hi." Theo answered, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped and forcing his lips into a responsive smile.

'Get a fucking grip, Theo!' He chided himself internally. This stupid crush of his was getting worse with every time he saw Neville.

The other wizard didn't seem to notice, however, and curiously leaned in to peek into the cauldron in front of Theo, getting unbearably close in the process.

"What are you making?" He asked, his eyes wandering over all the ingredients Theo had laid out as if he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"Blood replenishing potion." Theo answered with a half-shrug. "Always good to have that in stock."

Neville hummed in agreement and it was only then that Theo noticed he was holding something.

"You brought a plant." He said, gesturing towards the small flower pot in Neville's hand that was housing several rather plain looking shoots, — only a few inches high and of a dark, murky green.

"Oh… yeah!" Neville said, looking down at the plant as if he wasn't quite sure what it was doing in his hand. "I forgot. I wanted to see if it can grow in here." He walked over to the window and placed the pot carefully on the windowsill there, taking a moment to caress the small leaves fondly, before he turned around and looked at Theo with an excited smile.

They had discussed the windows in their room before. Considering the layout of the castle and where the room was located, it shouldn't be possible to have windows in it, so their best guess was that they were enchanted windows like the ones the Ministry had in their underground offices. The only question was: did they still give off natural light and could plants grow in it?

"What is it?" Theo asked, tapping his wand against the cauldron to put a stasis charm on his potion, before walking across the room to join Neville at the window.

"A Northern Blue Flag Iris." Neville said with a wistful smile. "...my mum's favourite."

"Oh." Theo said, not quite sure how to respond to that. He knew about Neville's parents and their horrific fate, of course — tortured into insanity by Draco's mad aunt — but Neville rarely spoke of them with him.

"I'll leave it here and see if it grows." he said, giving the plant one last, affectionate stroke, before walking over to his favourite sofa and plopping down on it. "And if it does, I'll give it to my mum as a Christmas present. It's hard to tell what she likes and doesn't like, but she's always responded really well to irises."

"Are you spending Christmas with your parents then?" Theo asked, following Neville's suit and dropping in the cerulean armchair across from him.

"Yeah." He said, gnawing at his bottom lip. "Well...I spend Christmas with my Nan, but we always go and visit my parents on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. They're in St. Mungo's."

"Right…" Theo muttered, chest constricting painfully, and then added a quiet: "I'm sorry." because he really meant it. … because Neville had lost so much to a war that Theo's family had supported…because Theo's heart ached at the thought of little Neville hearing all the stories about how strong and kind his parents used to be just to then be presented with the empty shell that was left of them. It wasn't fair. Neville didn't deserve any of this. And the thought that Theo couldn't do anything about it was torture. He wished he could make it all go away.

"It's okay." The soft voice pulled Theo out of his spiralling thoughts and he looked up to find warm, hazel eyes looking at him sadly. "I mean, it's not. …but we can't change anything about it. We can only change the future, so I'm choosing to focus on that instead."

And there he was again: Strong and courageous Neville, who was so inherently good and kind, and never lost hope that one day the world might be a better place than it was right now, despite having seen so much darkness in his own past. He was so brave — so beautiful — and it made Theo's whole body ache with the need to hug him, to squeeze him so tightly and whisper reassuring words into his ear…just to give him something back of all the things he offered so freely to everyone around him. …but they didn't have that kind of relationship. At least not yet.

"I think I want to quit smoking!" He blurted instead, and then felt himself blush furiously, because here they were talking about loss and the war and all the serious things in life… and then he had to muck it all up by talking about a stupid bad habit. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You…do?" Neville asked, looking surprised — but not put out — at the sudden change in topic.

"I…err…yeah." Theo started, and good grief this was all ridiculous. When had he become so inept at having a coherent conversation with someone? "It's a terrible habit that I picked up from my dad, and I..." He paused briefly, hesitating, because all of a sudden, he realised why the thought had come to his mind at a moment like this… why talking about Neville's parents and the hope to change the future had triggered his decision. Sucking in a deep breath, he raised his gaze to meet Neville's and added with all the sincerity he could muster: "I don't want to be like my dad."

At that, Neville's expression morphed from confused to warm, almost fond.

"You're nothing like your dad, Theo." He said, smiling. "You've told me what he's like, and I don't think you could be like him even if you tried. You're far too good for that."

Theo scoffed, but didn't know what to say, so he remained silent. He didn't really believe that there was anything very 'good' about him — not with how messed up in the head he apparently was — but he somehow couldn't get himself to try and convince Neville otherwise. He wanted Neville to think good of him…and most importantly he wanted to be good for Neville.

"If you still want to give the old smoking the boot, I'll definitely support it though." Neville added with a light smirk. "It's not good for you and…" He trailed off, a light blush creeping into his ears as he dropped his gaze down to his hands, looking abashed.

"And?" Theo prodded, curious as to what could have gone through the Gryffindor's mind to make him so flustered.

"And…it changes the way you smell." Neville admitted after a moment. "Well, it masks your natural scent…and…and I like the way you smell. You smell like your magic feels, all cool and calming, but with a hint of something spicy… it reminds me of that time of year when autumn changes into winter and I…well, it's nice. Really nice."

Neville bit his lip, seemingly in an attempt to stop himself from any further rambling and shook his head, before burying his bright red face in his hands.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled through a gap between his fingers. "I'm being weird again."

Yes…that was very weird indeed Theo thought. He didn't know what was stranger: The fact that Neville knew what Theo smelled like, or the fact that he apparently liked it. No one had ever told Theo before that he smelled 'nice'. Surely that wasn't something you'd share between friends? And if he had noticed that Neville also happened to smell really good — warm and earthy, and somehow both sweet and savoury, like a lush summer meadow made up of fresh herbs and vibrant wildflowers — it was only, because he had never smelled anything like it before. Not because he liked it…right? It wasn't at all that he constantly felt the need to hug Neville and bury his face in his chest until he felt completely enveloped in that sweet-summery scent; or that that scent symbolises hope for Theo, or that it made his heart race and fill his stomach with butterflies every time he smelled it. …it wasn't that at all.

"Uhm…Thanks." He muttered eventually, shaking his head lightly to rearrange his thoughts and distract himself from the fact that Neville looked adorable when he blushed. "I guess that's one more reason to quit smoking then, huh?"

"Yeah…" Neville huffed out an awkward laugh, but looked rather relieved at how gracefully Theo had managed to ignore the weird tangent their conversation had gone off to and steer it back to the original topic. "Terrible habit really."

ooo

It wasn't until much later that evening — after Theo and Neville had said good night and left for their respective dorm rooms, just to then use their enchanted notebooks to say good night again — that Theo allowed his mind to wander back to Neville's comment about his scent, and how flustered he looked when he'd made it.

'Well fuck…" he thought, feeling irritated at the way his stomach flipped every time he remembered that pink dusting across the bridge of Neville's cute, rounded nose, and the way the tips of his ears had turned so adorably red. 'You really do like him, you fucking prat, don't you?'

Heaving out a sigh, he flipped over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, feeling frustrated. Why couldn't he just be normal? — Fancy a cute girl with pretty, doe-like eyes and a sweet, dimpled smile — but no! He had to be gay, didn't he?

His stomach gave a strange jolt as he acknowledged the word.

Gay. — He? Theodore Nott? Was… GAY?

'Yes! And there is nothing you can do about it.' His mind insisted, remembering Draco's words from the afternoon before. 'So you best just get used to the idea and learn to accept it. So what if you like men? Loads of other men do too.'

Other men…

Theo tried to imagine how he'd react if someone else told him that they were queer. Would he have judged them for it? He would like to think that he would never judge anyone for their sexuality. That he'd react very much like Draco had with him: reassure them and tell them that it's just who they were and that it didn't make them weird or wrong.

So why did he always judge himself so harshly?

His stomach churned, as he thought of his father's reaction when he found out about his son's sexuality, and maybe that was the answer to it all. There wasn't anything wrong with Theo… it was his father who was in the wrong. It was his father who had taught Theo to believe that he was a pervert, something low and disgusting that deserved to be tortured and shunned.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to imagine what it would be like had he not had that influence from his father. What it would be like to be confident in who he was. Would he be able to openly admit to finding men attractive? To, maybe, even find himself a handsome bloke and not be scared or ashamed to hold his hand in public?

His throat felt uncomfortably tight, as he pictured himself walking down the corridors with a handsome boy. …Someone who liked Theo for who he was, and was proud to be Theo's boyfriend. …someone he could trust and rely on…and just be happy with.

Theo's chest constricted at the thought. He wanted that. Desperately.

He wanted to hold hands…to cuddle and be held by strong arms… to make out… kiss… run his fingers through thick hair and across firm, toned muscle…

He huffed out a frustrated sigh, subconsciously pressing his hips firmly into the mattress below him, as a strange sensation settled in his lower abdomen. There was something weirdly arousing about acknowledging (if maybe not quite yet accepting) his sexuality…like he was finally allowing himself to feel all the things he hadn't felt in such a long time, and now that he had opened the floodgates it was hard to close them again.

He squirmed, a light bucking of his hips, that caused a delicious bit of friction in just the right spot.

"Oh fuck!" He hissed, turning onto his side and cupping his hand over the place where his cock was beginning to strain against the soft fabric of his pyjama bottoms, a wave of pleasure travelling right to his core.

Suppressing a renewed wave of guilt, he pressed his eyes shut and told himself again: 'It's okay to be attracted to men and it doesn't make you weird or gross…just different.'

He kept repeating those words to himself like a mantra, as he slid his hand below the waistband of his pyjama pants, slowly inching further down until his fingers finally reached their destination and wrapped around his already swollen shaft.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a groan, tentatively running a hand across his full length, slowly and deliberately, while allowing himself to think of someone else touching him…A man. Someone very handsome, preferably taller than him, with broad shoulders, strong hands and a dashing smile.

Without warning, the image of Neville flitted before his inner eye, smiling wantonly down at him as he wrapped his broad hand around his cock; his long fingers fitting perfectly around Theo, squeezing just the right amount and tugging at just the right pace.

Fuck!

Theo bit back a loud moan; a searing heat swirling in his gut, as he began to stroke his length in earnest now, setting a relentless pace.

Somewhere at the far back of his mind he acknowledged vaguely that even if he was okay with being gay, jerking off to thoughts about your good mate was probably still very inappropriate. But he was too far gone at that point. Too consumed with lust to give it another thought. He would deal with the guilt of it all the next day. Right now, he just needed some release.

Stifling another groan, he swiped his thumb over the tip of his leaking prick, imagining what it would feel like to have Neville's tongue swipe across it instead, lapping up the bead of precum, before sliding his gorgeous, soft lips all the way down his length.

He began to jerk his hips, meeting every stroke of his hand with a harsh thrust, wondering just how much of his cock Neville would be able to swallow, when a sudden, searing bolt of pleasure caused his hips to stutter and he came without warning, coating his hand and inside of his pyjama bottoms in hot, sticky seed.

Breathing heavily, he let his head fall back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, allowing himself to come down from his sudden and premature climax, and trying to block out the nagging feeling of guilt and inadequacy for just a moment longer.

He knew he would regret this the next morning; knew that he really needed to get a grip on himself and sort out whatever stupid feelings he had for Neville if he wanted their friendship to work. But in that very moment, when he was tired and sated, and feeling so incredibly comfortable, he really couldn't be bothered to worry.

Instead, he reached for his wand on the bedside table, cast a simple Scourgify on himself and then let his heavy eyes fall shut, allowing himself to drift into a deep, untroubled sleep.

ooo

Ok, who thinks Theo is going to beat himself up about this tomorrow? Because I do!