The weight of the decision settled over the room like a coiled viper.

Theo stood firm, magic crackling at his fingertips, his gaze locked onto Harry's like this was a done deal.

Like he had already claimed him.

And Harry?

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Some part of him—the part that had spent years being pushed around, manipulated, used—wanted to fight it. Wanted to resist.

But another part?

A part he didn't want to look at too closely?

That part wasn't mad about it.

And that was concerning.

Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You do realize what you're saying, right?"

Theo's jaw clenched. "Of course I do."

Harry gave him a flat look. "So, just to clarify—your solution to my impending forced marriage is to… what? Force me into a different marriage?"

Theo didn't blink. "Yes."

Harry groaned. "Salazar's bloody ghost."

Lord Nott chuckled, sipping his tea like this was all highly entertaining. "Well, if you're going to do something, Theo, best to do it right."

Theo ignored him. His focus stayed on Harry.

Unwavering.

Unshaken.

Possessive.

"You're mine," Theo said simply.

And that—

That made Harry's magic hum in response.

Because those words…

Those words felt real.

More real than anything had in a long time.

The goblins watched, intrigued, as Ragnok tapped his long fingers against the desk. "The contract can be drawn up immediately," he mused, "but it will require a blood seal."

Harry sighed dramatically. "Of course it will."

Theo smirked. "Having second thoughts, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "At this point? I should be used to people trying to marry me off."

Lord Nott snorted. "Yes, but this time, at least, you'll be marrying into a family with taste."

Harry choked.

Theo grinned.

Ragnok pushed forward a blank parchment. With a wave of his clawed hand, runes began to carve themselves into the surface, glowing with the unmistakable shimmer of binding magic.

"The contract is simple," Ragnok said smoothly. "A betrothal, valid under both magical law and goblin law. Once signed and sealed, any prior claims—" his sharp gaze flickered to the Weasley contract, still sitting incriminatingly on the desk "—will be rendered void."

Harry stared at it.

Theo grabbed the ceremonial dagger without hesitation.

Harry barely had time to react before Theo sliced his palm, letting dark crimson drip onto the parchment. The contract absorbed it immediately, runes flaring with power.

Then Theo turned to him.

Waiting.

Unyielding.

Harry exhaled slowly. "You're really doing this."

Theo's lips curled. "You're really stalling."

Harry huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane."

Theo leaned in slightly, smirking. "And you like it."

Harry didn't deny it.

Instead, he took the dagger, cut his palm, and let his own blood fall.

The parchment glowed violently, magic surging, and for a split second, Harry felt it—

The shift.

The binding.

The moment the world acknowledged that he was no longer his own.

He was Theo's.

And Theo was his.

Lord Nott clapped his hands together, pleased. "Well, then. That settles that."

Harry groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I can't believe this is my life."

Theo smirked. "Oh, I can."

And Death?

Death laughed.

Because finally—

Harry Potter was claimed.

The magic settled heavy over the room, coiling between Harry and Theo like an invisible thread. It wasn't just a signature on parchment. It wasn't just an agreement.

It was binding.

Permanent.

Harry could feel it, humming in his blood, a presence that settled somewhere deep in his chest. Something that recognized Theo as—

As his.

And that?

That was going to take some getting used to.

"Well," Lord Nott mused, flicking his wand to summon a glass of firewhiskey, "now that that's settled, I suppose we should discuss how to ruin Dumbledore."

Harry let out a slow, pleased breath. "Finally, something fun."

Theo chuckled darkly. "I've been waiting for this part."

Ragnok smirked, clearly amused. "We have already begun reclaiming what was stolen." His sharp claws tapped against the table. "But the matter of the marriage contract—" he gestured to the ruined Weasley contract, now void from the blood seal "—is something that will require… public knowledge."

Harry blinked.

Theo grinned.

"Oh," Theo murmured, far too pleased with himself, "you mean we need to announce it?"

Harry groaned. "You're enjoying this too much."

Theo's lips curled. "You're just mad you didn't think of it first."

Lord Nott took a slow sip of his drink. "A public betrothal announcement will ensure no other… attempts are made on Harry's inheritance." His smirk turned pointed. "And it will humiliate the Weasleys spectacularly."

Harry considered this.

Then he smirked.

"Well," he drawled lazily, "we wouldn't want to disappoint them, would we?"

Theo tilted his head, dark eyes glinting. "I'll make the arrangements."

Harry sighed dramatically. "Oh, how kind of you."

Theo's hand curled around his wrist—brief, firm, possessive.

"You have no idea."

Harry swallowed.

Because something in Theo's voice?

Wasn't a joke.

That night, as the goblins prepared the final documents and Lord Nott began his delightfully vicious legal assault on Dumbledore's accounts, Harry lay in his Gringotts suite, staring at the ceiling.

The contract's magic still lingered around him, thrumming through his veins.

And the shadows?

The shadows moved.

Death was watching.

"Satisfied?" Harry muttered, rolling onto his side.

The air shifted, and Death's presence curled against his spine like a cloak.

"More than you know, little heir."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, well. Glad someone's happy."

A low chuckle.

"You should be happy too, Harry."

Harry huffed. "Why?"

The shadows curled tighter, a whisper of something inevitable threading through the air.

"Because you are his now."

Harry swallowed hard.

Because he knew.

And soon?

The whole world would too.