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Chapter Nineteen—Acceptance

"Are you all right, Professor Lupin?"

Sirius held back the choking cough that wanted to leap out of his throat and turned around to smile at Harry. The smile he got in return wasn't much like James or Lily's, but that look of wide, wondering curiosity was all Lily. Really, it was amazing that no one who didn't know the secret had guessed that he was her son yet.

The boy was becoming less guarded around Sirius and more relaxed. Sirius would absolutely use that to guide him away from the Dark, corrupting politics of Slytherin House, and into a—

He burst into hacking again, and bent over at the waist. Harry hesitated, then stood up from the chair he usually sat on during their conversations and took one step forwards.

Sirius straightened with a gasp and a shake of his head. "I'm all right, Mr. Grayson." Using the false name was still grating, but it got easier the more he did it.

"If you're sure."

Merlin, his eyes were so wide and earnest. Sirius smiled and nodded. "A few of the other professors were coughing last week," he said, lying just a bit. The coughing had probably come from swallowing their water too fast, but it was true that both Professors Vector and Babbling had done it at the high table. "I don't want you to worry about me."

"If you're sure, sir."

"Of course I'm sure!" Not like Sirius would have shared his worries about the coughs that kept plaguing him with Harry even if he had been an acknowledged Potter.

Harry leaned back in his chair a little and waited. Sirius's impact hadn't dulled his self-possession or made him relax completely, more was the pity. "Then do you want me to tell you a little more about what I heard in Slytherin?"

"Of course! Tell away!"

Harry nodded. He was such a serious little boy, but very good about reporting things with detail and accuracy. "Well, a lot of the Slytherins are whispering about how maybe the Dark Lord should be returning soon—"

"Don't call him that," Sirius said, more sharply than he'd meant to.

Harry blinked and focused on him. "What, sir?"

"Call him You-Know-Who! The Dark Lord is what people who followed him, Death Eaters, called him."

Harry paused and blinked as if he were surprised. Then he shrugged and said, "Sorry, sir. It's the name all the other Slytherins use, so it's the one that's uppermost in my mind when I'm talking about this."

"It's fine. I just wanted to warn you. What are they saying, and why do they think he's returned?"

"Well, apparently some of their parents have been summoned. I don't know exactly how that works. Or they think they've been summoned? There are dreams and visions. But most of the people whose parents get them won't talk to me because of my blood, so I don't know much about them. I just know what I overhear listening to other people talk."

Sirius grinned. Son of a Marauder, all right. I lost count of how many times we eavesdropped on people at Hogwarts.

"It's all right. Even the bit about the visions and dreams is valuable information. Take care of yourself and don't do something dangerous trying to spy, all right? We need you to be whole and healthy."

Harry gave him a small, uncertain smile. It broke Sirius's heart to think he had no one in his life who expressed liking for him like that, but, well—obviously not. Not with what Lily's bitch of a sister had done, and not with him surrounded by Slytherins.

I wish he'd been Sorted into Ravenclaw. He's smart enough for it, and it really would have been easier for everyone involved.

"Thanks, sir. I'll be careful, I promise."

Sirius started to speak, but a coughing fit bent him double at the waist, and he had to clap his hand over his mouth when it felt as though hie entrails would come out of it. His stomach hurt, his body radiated pain, and he nearly fell over before he caught himself against the side of his desk and managed to straighten.

"Sir?"

"It's okay," Sirius rasped out and stood. "I suppose this is a bit worse than what the other professors had, but I can take care of it."

He managed to get Harry out of his office, smiling at him as he went, and then fell against the door, racking coughs moving through his body like waves of invaders. His hand clenched, and his fingers felt sharp-tipped for a moment.

He knew what this was, and it wasn't a sickness, not truly. He was suffering the side effect of constantly drinking a werewolf's hairs in the Polyjuice Potion.

Sirius had made sure to stay in his quarters behind extensive wards on the night of the full moon, since Minerva wasn't the only professor by a long shot who knew Remus's condition and would expect him to transform. He'd cast some prank spells in the Shrieking Shack that would emit howls and snarls if someone who knew what Remus was tried to track him there. And he hadn't been stupid enough to drink the potion during the hours that a werewolf would be vulnerable. He'd just stayed in his quarters, marked essays, and rejoiced in some time being himself.

But now…

Now he felt as though he was about to start growing fangs and claws and maybe fur any minute, and he had no idea what to do. There were no long-term studies on drinking a werewolf's hair in Polyjuice.

Sirius closed his eyes and forced himself back to his feet. He really had no choice. He would do anything for Harry, lie to anyone except James and Lily, drive himself into the ground, to bring Harry back to them.

Why are people so easy to fool?

Harry frowned to himself, considering the question, as he walked back to the Slytherin common room. The air around him was cold, as usual in the dungeons, but pure and free of magic in a way that let him know he was alone. Ever since he'd done the meditation and work with his magic to half-drown the Weasley twins, he was a lot more likely to feel power around him even before someone showed up.

But the question that had been hovering in his brain, really, since he started speaking with Professor Lupin on a regular basis popped up again.

The Slytherins had been easy to fool at first because of his blood status. And Theo and Draco were now too involved with him to see him clearly. Some of the other Slytherins might have, but they either had no interest in Harry or were a bit cautious around him because of his Potions talent and friendship with two purebloods.

But the professors? There was no reason for them to be so easily fooled. After all, they were adults and had a lot more knowledge than Harry or any other Slytherin his age did.

Why are they all convinced that I'm an innocent wide-eyed Muggleborn who would leap off a tower before I hurt someone?

In the end, Harry thought, it might come back to blood status. They just saw him from a different side than did the other Slytherin students and Slughorn. Saw him as someone who couldn't possibly lie to people or survive the politics of Slytherin because he hadn't been born and trained to it.

Their view of Muggleborns is just as stupid and blinkered as the view of other purebloods.

Harry sneered a little. Had he cared more about other Muggleborns, or been in a House with more of them, maybe he would have found common cause with them, set up a cadre of people of "lesser" blood status who would trick and rob the purebloods blind.

But as things stood, Harry was in Slytherin. He was important to the Dark Lord. He had protection and the semi-friendship of two purebloods who, at the very least, wouldn't want someone else harming him before they got their Galleon's worth from him.

I am who I am. And glad of it.

"You—wish to begin."

Theo nodded, holding his father's gaze. He had never heard his father astonished before, never more than mildly surprised. It was a heady thing, to see the way that his eyes fixed on Theo now, as if finding him of importance for the first time. Theo, not his Heir. "Yes, Father."

Father tilted his head as if examining Theo from several angles. Then he gave an abrupt nod and turned away. "Come with me." He began to lead Theo down the black-walled and blue-floored corridor in the direction of the meditation room.

Theo buried his own disappointment as he followed. That he had got a reaction from his father should have been enough. It was stupid to hope for more than that.

Besides, if this worked out, then he might build the kind of relationship where he could hope for more than that from Harry.

Theo buried that thought deeply, though, as they halted in front of the door to the meditation room. That was something he absolutely could not hope and wish for right now, or Father would pluck the thought out of his head and mock him for it.

And Theo honestly didn't know what he would do if he received mockery in the matter of courting Harry.

"You will go in and begin the process of meditating on a courting gift," Father said, his voice carrying the cadences of ritual. Theo straightened and paid close attention to his father. "You will give yourself over properly to consider both what a spouse may do for the Nott family and what they might do for you personally."

"Yes, Father."

"You will not consider only your own interests and intentions, so that both the family and the one you court might benefit."

"Yes, Father."

Father studied him once more, as though Theo was a curious insect who had escaped from his Potions lab, and then stepped back and gave a flourishing bow in the direction of the meditation room. It made Theo gape at him so much that he almost forgot what he was here for. Only Father's soft, sarcastic, "I believe you have a task to do," made him flush and turn away from his sire to stare at the door.

He already knew that the door wouldn't open if his intent wasn't serious, or if the magic judged him incapable of meditating enough to discern the ideal gift for Harry, or in a half dozen other circumstances. Before this night, he would have said that it wouldn't open if he were too young, either.

But now he knew himself. Now he knew what he wanted, and he was sure that he wanted Harry for the rest of his life.

So Theo thought as he stared at the heavy ebony door, carved all over with representations of chimeras, the ancient Nott family symbol, and the door shivered and opened. Beyond lay only darkness.

Theo didn't turn to look in his father's direction, as much as he wanted to. He knew what came next was between him and the darkness of the meditation room. So he strode inside, and heard the door shut behind him with a booming finality.

He did not walk into the darkness that had appeared beyond the door at first. Instead, torches lit all around the room, with dark purple and blue and green flames. Theo knew the colors were a good sign, since they were the color of a chimera's fire.

In the center of the stone floor—dark blue and gleaming, rippling away like waves to walls that were as dark green as scales in color—was a complex circle. Lines dashed out of it to the sides, half-visible, lines that could transform it into a pentagram or many other shapes on command. Theo knew, because Father had told him, that few if any other pureblood families had circles as complex as this, because they didn't need them.

Theo walked forwards, his steps steady, and sat down in the exact center of the circle, inside a triangle that was ornamented with representations of fire on each side.

The fire noticed him.

Theo had been warned to expect this, but it still made his breath catch sharply and his cheeks flush. He hadn't really been able to grasp what his father had meant by the fire's notice until it happened.

And now, he would have found it hard to describe to anyone else. Like the eye of a dragon opening on the other side of the world, like a glimpse of a chimera's claws and nothing else as it flew above him, like the whip of a scaled tail from his own back when he had none—

The noticing settled. Theo took several deep breaths. The room had accepted him at a fundamental level, and now it waited to see whether he could dive to that level in his own mind, the way he would have to to create the perfect courting gift for Harry.

Theo remained still long enough to settle his thoughts as well as he could. Then he dived down, and down, and down, into his own mindscape.

Before, he had never really thought of himself as having a mindscape. His father had taught him the beginnings of Occlumency and meditation since he was young, and not only for this. But Theo had mostly concentrated on being able to defend himself if he encountered a Legilimens, not knowing himself.

Now, he would have no choice.

Down he swam, and down. He had always more than half pictured the inside of his mind as an ocean, and it was like that now, surging and retreating, flowing and leaping. Theo found himself in deep blue water, the color of the circle and the floor he was sitting on, that he could somehow see perfectly through. He lifted his head and took a deep breath.

Harry was standing in front of him.

Theo floated slowly around him. Harry stood, or floated, with his feet not touching the sand beneath him. His breath exhaled in slow bubbles. His hair streamed around him, and his eyes were fiercely shut.

Theo knew, instinctively, that Harry wouldn't open his eyes until Theo proved that he knew him. He floated closer.

Harry was lovely like this, Theo could privately admit. His frown was fierce, but so were the lines of his face, and Theo knew he would be just as determined and strong a lover as he had been a friend.

Or an ally. Have I treated him like a friend?

Theo swallowed slowly. No, truly, he hadn't. Harry was—he was more than what Theo had allowed him to be. So far from a Mudblood that it was incredible Theo hadn't realized that the first time he met him.

Harry's eyes flared open.

Theo stared into the dark green, that matched the color of a real ocean if not the one around him, and thought, I know what gift to get him.

"You don't have to keep smiling about it all the time."

Harry blinked and looked up. "What?"

Draco was standing in the door of the Malfoys' potions lab, scowling. Harry had come down here hours ago to play with the crystal cauldron that Theo had sent him for Christmas, which was good for subtle potions and would keep any experiments that went wrong from having any effect outside the cauldron itself. It was the best gift Harry had ever got, excepting maybe the basilisk skin from the Dark Lord.

(And that had come with a dangerous favor that made him uneasy to think about now).

"You don't have to keep smiling about the cauldron."

"Er. Why does it bother you, Draco?" Belatedly, Harry thought that maybe Draco would have preferred that Harry show the same level of appreciation for Draco's gift, a book about famous Seekers, but even though Harry liked it, it just—couldn't compare.

"That's a ridiculously expensive gift for Christmas, you know that?"

"Maybe Theo just likes me."

For some reason, that made Draco give an irritated crack of laughter and lean hard against the side of the doorway. "You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"That's not a Christmas gift, Harry. Or not just one. That was Theo's excuse to send it. That's a courting gift."

Harry felt as though his brain had just stumbled to a halt, something he couldn't remember ever happening to him, even when he'd got the letter that invited him to Hogwarts. He gaped at Draco for a long moment, and then said, "What? Why?"

"Theo likes you, like you said." Draco made a gesture as irritated as his laugh. "He wants to court you, marry you if all goes well."

Harry stood and stared at the wall for a moment. He had never thought that Theo's feelings for him took that shape. Wanting to stay close to Harry to take advantage of his Potions knowledge, yes. Maybe he knew something about Harry's closeness to the Dark Lord from his father, that would make sense as well.

But marriage?

A moment later, Harry began to smile. He saw Draco regarding him warily, but he couldn't really pay attention to that.

Why shouldn't someone want to marry him?

I'm smart. I'm talented. I'm powerful. I've forced Theo and Draco both to admit that they can't just classify me as a Mudblood and have done, that they have to respect me. I have adults who want to use my talent, too.

Why not leverage that into a true commitment?

Harry considered for a moment the fact that he wasn't in love with Theo, then shrugged. Maybe that would come with time. For the moment, Harry could surely put up with him for the sake of courting gifts and being desired.

"You can't just accept the gifts."

"Yes, I can," Harry said, and mustered a sweet smile for Draco. "But thanks for telling me it was a courting gift. Now I can write the proper note of acceptance."

Draco stood gaping at him in turn. Then he whirled and stomped away.

Alone in the potions lab, Harry laughed. He felt more pleased about this than he did about the headline in the Daily Prophet for that morning, which said Auror James Potter was in St. Mungo's with doubts about whether he would recover.

I have a future to plan.