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Theo clicked the button to send the message and immediately panicked.
‘We could meet up at Stonehenge, if you’re interested in a bit of pagan fun?’
Why the bloody hell had he sent it?
The churning of his gut only increased when his mobile dinged.
‘I’ve got no plans x’
This was beyond Theo’s paygrade, honestly.
Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, he threw it in the grate and stepped in. “Malfoy Manor, Little Lord’s Chambers!”
*
Theo knew that the travelling parlour was always an option, of course. It was keyed to allow entry at any time of day or night to most of the original Serpentis crew, Theo quite obviously included. But he didn’t need to spend time faffing about, wandering the halls of the Manor and ducking every elf and nosy portrait he passed.
He needed to get straight to the source.
The emerald green flames died down, and Theo immediately clapped a hand over his eyes.
“Sorry, Mummy and Daddy, but Theo needs help,” he said, peeking just enough to tottle over to his favourite chair and collapse into it. “Cover up the naughty bits unless you’re finally inviting me to join, would you?”
“Theo,” Draco growled. That was indication enough that they’d registered his presence, so he removed his hand and hoped for the best.
Hermione still had on her silky little nightgown, and Draco had only just popped his mussed blond head out from under the duvet, so luck was clearly not on Theo’s side.
“It’s not even gone half seven,” Hermione protested. “What sort of emergency could possibly require you to barge in on us at this ungodly hour?”
“Oh, Salazar, it’s my biggest cock-up yet,” Theo moaned. He’d always been too impulsive, and now it was come to ruin his life.
“Second biggest, considering how you just ruined the culmination of all my efforts this morning,” Draco groused. Theo rolled his eyes. He’d be right back in place, locked in, as soon as Theo left. Maybe even sooner. “What is it, then?”
“Yes, come sit and tell Mummy and Daddy,” Hermione cooed. Merlin, he loved that woman. In a purely platonic way, of course, but she did bring a levity to Draco that he’d been missing, and Theo loved that. His best friend only deserved the best, and Hermione Granger (soon to be Malfoy, as long as she approved of the ring Draco, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo had been sweating over the last few months) was certainly the best.
Or possibly second best, if things with this bloke went the way Theo was hoping they would.
Always eager to please, Theo threw himself on top of Draco, who was still on top of Hermione.
“Oof,” Draco wheezed, “budge over, you bloody great erumpent!”
“Shan’t,” Theo pouted. Not because he was especially difficult; merely because that was his role—the wilful, mischievous child—in their little non-sexual ménage. Could be sexual, one day, if Draco ever learned to share.
He wouldn’t, though.
Draco squirmed out from under Theo, scooting up to sit with his back against the headboard, and dragged Hermione’s upper half to rest in his lap, bringing Theo along like the little symbiotic parasite he was.
Once arranged to Draco’s satisfaction, Hermione’s fingers started running through Theo’s hair, and he sighed. This. This was what he’d needed.
“D’you remember that fellow from last Yule? The one who disappeared?”
“Yes,” Draco growled. Theo couldn’t help but smile. As put-upon as he acted, Draco was fiercely protective of Theo. And as a poor little orphan (at the tender age of thirty-one), it was precisely the sort of friendship Theo craved.
“The one you could’ve been sexting? But you missed all the cues, and then he suddenly deleted his profile and you never heard from him again?” Hermione’s voice was sweet and gentle as she summarised the humiliating extent of his prior acquaintance with just_hp_awesomesauce. Mostly humiliating because, as much as he tried, muggle humour just didn’t click with Theo. He always missed the cues. And he’d really bunged it up with just_hp_awesomesauce.
“Thanks, yes, that’s the one,” Theo said dryly.
“Don’t tell me it’s happened again. It’s decided: there’s no one as fickle as a London gay. We’ll book a holiday to Berlin for you. Or New York. Somewhere with gays who are actually out, not closeted and flighty.” Draco reached across Hermione to pat Theo on the head. “Someone who deserves you. However low that bar may be, that guy certainly didn’t clear it.”
Theo tilted his head back and smiled at his very best friend. “Love you, too, Drakey.”
“But did it happen again? Is that why you’re here?” Hermione, Salazar bless her, always kept them on topic.
“Erm… no. In fact… he came back. Well, it’s the same guy, different profile.”
“How do you know it’s the same guy?” Hermione asked, always curious about methods.
He sighed. “Well, he was ‘just underscore hp underscore awesomesauce’ before, but now he’s ‘bottle underscore of underscore brown, the number four, and the letter u.’ It’s extremely obvious.” His name might’ve changed, but he’d always be just_hp to Theo.
Hermione’s hands stilled in his hair. “Is it?” She asked, frowning down at him.
“Yes. And if it weren’t, he has two additional abdominal muscles but the exact same furry little happy trail. His quads are extremely identifiable. They’re quite developed. Like he’s a rugby player or something.”
Hermione got a dreamy smile on her face. “Like broom thighs.”
That was clearly a reference to Draco’s quite well-developed quadriceps, obviously. And while Draco was drool-worthy (thanks largely to Theo’s artistic direction of his workout regimen), he couldn’t hold a candle to just_hp.
“So, he’s back, with a new profile. Any explanation?” Draco asked.
Theo sighed. “He got divorced.”
The collective sharp intake of breath was about what Theo’d expected.
“Yeah, so… that’s where he was, I suppose. But now he’s divorced and available and all that rot.”
“And is he out?” Draco’s words were clipped and short. It had been an ongoing issue for Theo, so he understood exactly where Draco’s prickliness was coming from. For whatever reason, Theo simply couldn’t resist those closeted scruffy types. Pale skin and a furry body and he was in love. Or… near enough for a night, anyway.
“He’s… getting there. He says.” Theo didn’t know whether to believe him or not, truthfully. And it was a secondary concern, honestly. Mostly, just_hp was so bloody fit that Theo didn’t terribly mind if it all ended in a flaming pile of rubbish. Just as long as they shagged before that bit.
Draco scoffed, but Hermione made a soft noise. “You really liked him, though, didn't you?”
She was so perceptive. Really, Draco couldn’t have ended up with anyone less perceptive—emotionally repressed as he was, poor sod, he really needed someone who could read between the horribly posh sneers and smirks. Although, Hermione swore he wasn’t nearly as emotionally repressed as Theo thought.
“I did,” Theo said wistfully. “He was funny. And clever, in a sort of lager lad type of way. And I think he’s got the same sort of fucked up childhood as me. Something dodgy with his parents and all. He didn’t ever give any details, but he sounded like a bit of an orphan.”
“Someone sort of like you and sort of normal, then?” Hermione asked, smiling at him again. “Besides the ghosting, he treated you well?”
“He did.” He really had. He’d responded promptly, except when he was at work—some sort of law enforcement, Theo’d gathered—or at his mate’s cottage, where there wasn’t any reception. (Theo did wonder if he’d actually been with his wife then, or if he really had been with a mate.)
“And did he apologise for the ghosting?” Draco asked, apparently not quite as ready to forgive as Hermione.
Well, honestly, that was entirely on brand for the two of them.
“He did. Said he’d been trying to make everyone happy, then got into a terrible row with a friend and realised he’d only been making everyone miserable, including himself. And he’s still trying to figure out how he fits into it all, but he’s no longer lying about who he is, just hasn’t explicitly come out yet. Although his work mates know, he said. So that’s good for something, yeah?”
Draco sighed. “Well… I suppose it is. He’s on a probationary period, though.”
Hermione laughed and twisted back to kiss Draco’s cheek. “So generous of you, our great and wise Arbiter Elegantiarum.”
“Lord Justice will do,” Draco said with a smile. He put a hand on her jaw, turning her face back to his, and kissed her deeper. Actually, it was a fairly heated sort of embrace. Theo didn’t mind a spot of voyeurism, but he’d rather be an active participant than kept on the sidelines. And he’d rather it be with just_hp, no matter how stunningly attractive his two friends were.
“Stop!” Hermione protested, though she didn’t seem overeager for Draco to actually stop. “Come on, Theo will be repulsed.”
“No, he won’t,” Draco retorted, and—oh! To be so known by one’s friends, it was a true delight, in Theo’s opinion.
“Then he’ll start asking to join, and you’ll get annoyed—“
“Because you never learned to share!” Theo interjected into Hermione’s well-reasoned argument.
“—yes, actually, precisely that! And our lovely morning will end with Theo storming off in a huff and you sulking the rest of the day. And everyone will know we’ve had a row when they arrive for the party tonight, and then they’ll all get entirely too involved in our affairs,” Hermione finished.
Draco tried to look serious, but instead just looked indulgent.
“Point to Hermione,” Theo offered helpfully. Draco shot him a glare but it didn’t look terribly serious.
“Right, so. What’s the emergency, Theo?”
Ah, yes. That had been the reason for this impromptu visit.
“I asked him if he wanted to meet up,” Theo said, swallowing thickly. “And he said yes.”
*
Within a few measly hours, they’d coached Theo through setting up a meeting spot (a small cafe near Stonehenge) and time (half six), organised wardrobe for him (essentially Draco’s weekend wardrobe, but much tighter-fitting), and consulted with the house elves on how they could make the New Year’s Eve party muggle-appropriate, if Theo liked him enough to bring him along (not much of a challenge, given the number of titled nobility Pansy had brought here over the years). After a shot of liquid courage (vodka; Theo was not at all interested in firewhisky or any of its amber-coloured cousins), all the remained was for Theo to apparate to the cafe (luckily, one he was well-acquainted with).
“Good luck,” Hermione said simply, grinning at him. “You look wonderful.”
“He’d be an utter fool to turn you down, Theo,” Draco sniffed. “But don’t bring him along if he’s just going to bang on about football, yeah? Or else Pansy might try to steal him away for a night spent with her and Adrian.”
“Oh, God, that’s true,” Hermione agreed, eyes round as she realised exactly how true that was. “She’s been so obsessed with Skins.”
“Right,” Theo nodded, though, truthfully, he wasn’t worried. Pansy was always good to take a disappointment off his hands, but she rarely overstepped if Theo was truly on the pull.
“And be safe!” Hermione added, stepping closer to Draco. Theo watched as his best friend wrapped an arm around her. His heart squeezed. He wanted that. He was happy for them, of course, and he didn’t really want Hermione, but he wanted that familiarity and love and care.
Maybe he would get lucky and things would work out with just_hp.
“Well, I’m off then. Do try and hold yourselves together in my absence, won’t you? Cling to each other comfort and such.” Theo grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the ginger jar next to the fireplace and threw it in the grate. “Stick and Stone, Amesbury, Wizard’s room!”
The emerald green flames rose higher and higher around him, and then he swirled through the Floo system, landing with a thud in the dingy back parlour of the Amesbury pub.
Theo brushed the soot on himself and barely glanced around. It was poor form to congregate in the travelling parlour, especially in a predominantly muggle pub, so he didn’t expect to see anyone about.
Theo drew in a steadying breath and pushed the door open, stepping through the curtain of muggle-repelling wards and into the main room of the local. It was busy, but not yet crammed full. He found a gap between jovial patrons and leaned against the bar, surveying the room. Just_hp was meant to be wearing a green jumper with an H on the front. Sounded a bit naff to Theo, like something the King Weasel himself would wear, but that was alright. Theo could always curate a wardrobe later. Or have Pansy do it.
He frowned, hoping the man in the brown tweed bellbottoms wasn’t just_hp. Money could do a lot, but it couldn’t fix brown tweed bellbottoms. Or frosted tips—Theo wondered briefly if any salons still offered frosted tips, or if this fellow had chosen to diy. He wasn’t sure which was worse.
Salazar, he hoped just_hp didn’t have frosted tips.
It wasn’t that Theo was superficial or obsessed with image or anything, but he was a bit of a twink in gay London in 2010. Almost 2011. There was no excuse for anyone to not put in at least a little effort.
He felt a wave of relief as the frosted tips man started making out with a woman who must have invested in eyebrow pencils, it was so thick and dark. At least that one was no longer a contender.
His eyes flitted over the crowd again. Still no green jumper with an H on it.
Someone brushed past him, coming from the loo, Theo guessed, as it was down the same corridor as the travelling parlour. Theo’s gaze nearly slid over the fellow, but his hair was messy in such a specific way. It immediately put him in mind of Harry Potter, Theo’s Hogwarts crush.
How messy those years had been. Fourth year had been like a gift from Merlin himself, all those delicious little articles about him in the Prophet. Of course, they all implied Potter was shagging Hermione Granger, but Theo had never believed that.
For one, Theo knew for a fact that Hermione had told Viktor there was nothing there. The Bulgarian had spent an awful lot of time in the Slytherin common room, mostly because he was somehow distantly related to Greg Goyle, and also because he was unbelievably awkward; so Slavic it was nearly painful to try and interact with him. Really an impressive accomplishment, considering the general reputation for Durmstrang students was already abysmal.
But of course, in addition to having first-hand (well, second-hand, as Greg had been forced to translate Viktor’s unintelligible mumbles into something closer to English) knowledge of the remarkably strong stinging hex Hermione had cast at Viktor when he’d tried to kiss her, Theo had also spent years studying Harry. Observing the Saviour of Magical Britain had been Theo’s second favourite hobby as a lower student at Hogwarts (the first being, obviously, giving the old wand a tug, usually whilst imagining The Boy Who Hopefully Lived in a Closet). And because of that, Theo knew what Harry Potter looked like when he fancied someone. (The fantasy of The Chosen One being so completely undone, just with a single wave, that he dribbled his pumpkin juice was one that featured heavily in the opening scenes of most of Theo’s wank sessions during fourth and even fifth years.) And Potter had certainly never behaved like that with Hermione, whom he seemed to consider some sort of sexless, amorphous inconvenience most of the time. Hardly the behaviour of a besotted Gryffindor.
Pity he’d turned out to be straight.
Although, if Ginny Weasley-Potter were anything like her muggle counterpoints—brash, aggressive professional athletes—perhaps it was some sort of double Lavender marriage, both bearding for the other.
Did lesbians have beards, actually? Or was it…
Theo tried to think what the female equivalent of a beard would be. Long hair? False eyelashes? Those long, curved nails that Pansy loved to get and would obnoxiously click and clack on every available surface?
The messy-haired man seemed to be searching for someone, still standing rather awkwardly near the bend of the bar, looking over all the patrons seated at tables and booths.
Green jumper, Theo noted absently. Wouldn’t that be funny, if just_HP had messy dark hair like Harry Potter did?
“What can I get you, mate?”
Theo turned to the barkeep. “Glass of bubbly, my good sir. Whatever’s eye-wateringly dear.”
He watched the burly local flavour as he reached for a bottle on ice, forearms flexing as he pulled a champers glass from the rack overhead. Maybe if things didn’t go well with just_HP, Theo could make this little pub his new watering hole. Get to know Wiltshire more intimately.
But he really hoped things went well with just_HP. He was funny and charming in a sort of awkward way. They’d talked about all sorts of things—favourite movies, cats vs dogs (both preferred cats, thank Salazar), Chinese vs Indian takeaway (here they differed, but they both liked the other, so it wasn’t a major concern), a deep appreciation for Come Dine with Me and Ab Fab.
They couldn’t talk about the things that really mattered, unfortunately (how absolute crap butterbeer was, why Gobstones didn’t deserve to be considered a sport, Celestina Warbeck’s utter perfection, etc etc) but one day… maybe one day, Theo would apply to break the Statute for just_HP.
If everything went well.
The bartender slid the champers over to him, and Theo handed him a tenner with a nod of thanks.
He sipped it and grimaced. Eye-watering in a different way, unfortunately. The messy-haired lad was still surveying the room, shifting back and forth on his feet like he was nervous, perhaps. Theo did his own survey of the patrons, still looking for a green jumper with an H on the front.
The messy-haired fellow ran a hand through his hair, and Theo couldn’t help but look. He always looked.
No ring.
He pursed his lips. Should he go over and say hello? Ask him if he was looking for someone? See if there was an H on the front of his jumper?
Theo could just see the start of a flush on the other man’s cheeks, and decided it would be worth it just to get a glimpse of his face. He pushed off the bar at the same time the muggle turned towards him.
Round glasses reflected the lights of the pub, but Theo knew what colour those eyes were.
His jaw dropped, and his stomach along with it.
The other man’s jaw did the same, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, nearly.
Theo was frozen in place, but the man in the green jumper wasn’t. Theo glanced down. A bold, white H was on the front.
Well, fuck.
“Theo Nott?”
Theo nodded dumbly. “Harry bloody Potter?”
“Er… yes.” Harry bloody Potter shoved his glasses back up his nose. Theo had a few inches on him, but Potter was rather broad, in a very swoony sort of way. The Boy Who Lived for the Gym, perhaps? “Sorry, you aren’t… waiting for someone, are you?”
Theo’s mouth snapped shut. “I… am. Are you?”
The Chosen One nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to be ‘TheOdorable,’ would you?”
“Just underscore H P underscore awesomesauce? Or, rather, bottle underscore of underscore brown, the number four, and the letter u?”
They both stared at each other.
“I thought you really liked HP sauce,” Theo blurted out.
Harry…er, Potter? Theo wasn’t sure which seemed more natural. At Hogwarts, he’d always been Potter, even when Theo was imagining increasingly romantic scenarios between the two. The natural Slytherin-Gryffindor antagonism was always going to mean an adversarial shag, full of biting and rough pounding and nails digging in. Love bites so dark they looked like bruises.
But they weren’t enemies anymore, were they?
Harry blushed even more.
No, that sounded wrong. Potter blushed even more.
That was more wrong.
Harry bloody Potter blushed even more. “Er… well, I do, actually. But also it’s my initials. TheOdorable. Theo-dorable. I get it now. I thought… well, I thought you couldn’t spell, actually, but Theo makes more sense.”
“You could have asked,” Theo retorted, hating the idea of someone thinking he couldn’t spell ‘adorable.’ Utterly offensive!
“I didn’t want to embarrass you, if you didn’t know already,” Harry bloody Potter said with a little shrug. “I…Godric, I don’t know how to do this.”
Theo studied the other man. The front of his hair was neatly combed, perhaps even with a dab of hair product. Harry bloody Potter had tried to limit his hair raking to the back of his head, it appeared. His high cheekbones were pinked up. He had a beard—nice and thick and neatly trimmed, but still a beard. And that jumper certainly pulled nicely across his shoulders.
“What are you drinking?” Theo asked finally.
Harry bloody Potter let out breath. “Er… lager?”
Theo nodded. “Snag that table there, will you? I’ll order your drink.” He could do this. He could be the one taking charge, topping from the bottom.
Harry bloody Potter nodded and looked more than a bit relieved to be ordered about some.
Within minutes, Theo had Harry bloody Potter’s Carling and set it down on the table in front of him, plopping into the other chair with his glass of champers.
“So,” Theo began, deciding to get the information he was most interested in right at the front. “You’re divorced? No more Mrs. Ginevra Weasley-Potter?”
Harry bloody Potter grimaced. “Right, yeah. Erm… went through all final in June. Might’ve gone on longer, but I decided to just give her whatever she wanted, just to get it done faster. It wasn’t… she wasn’t terribly happy about it at the time.”
“As one might imagine,” Theo said.
Harry bloody Potter nodded. “Yeah. But she’s not angry anymore. About a month or so after it was final, she moved in with one of her teammates. Gwenog Jones? So she’s happy.”
Theo’s brows arched. “Bit of a May-December romance there, isn’t it?”
With a shrug, Harry bloody Potter took a generous gulp from his pint. He set it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then winced. “Sorry. Cheers?”
“Cheers,” Theo echoed, raising his glass. To Harry bloody Potter.
“And you… you said you’re… all your friends know. I’m trying to match that to what I know about you from school, so… Malfoy knows?”
Theo nodded. “Of course. My best mate, really. Bosom buddy. All that. And the rest of the Serpentis crew, obviously. Pansy, Daph, Zabini, Hermione… all of them.”
Harry bloody Potter’s brows furrowed and he shoved his glasses up again. “You’re friends with Hermione?”
Theo snorted. “You mean Mother? Yes, of course. I’m her favourite child. Mummy and Daddy Draco simply dote on me.” Theo paused, a thought occurring to him. “It wasn’t Hermione, was it? She said you had it out a bit, there at the end. Just before she left the Yule log farm.”
A woman at a table nearby screeched with laughter. Harry bloody Potter glanced away, his shoulders hunched up about his ears a bit. He cleared his throat and took a gulp of his pint again, even repeating the mouth wipe with the back of his hand.
They’d have to sort that out, and quickly, if this were to progress beyond the walls of the pub.
Harry bloody Potter shoved his glasses up again. “Right, erm… yes. It was Hermione. She was quite… convincing. Usually is, you know. I mean, it’s easy to forget that, when she’s banging on about something, but once it’s over you sort of see it all at once, and then it’s a bit of an embarrassment, really. Like being hit upside the head with how many times you’ve been a utterly stupid idiot? And ignored her? The one lesson I can’t ever seem to learn. Well… there’s plenty of lessons I can’t seem to learn. Never did too well in Potions, except for when I was using Snape’s old text, but Hermione said that was basically cheating, and looking back on it, yeah, it mostly was. I mean, I think she was also cross that I was getting better marks than her in a subject other than Defence, but she did have a point. And it… well. It wasn’t a good book for me to have access to, in the end.” Harry bloody Potter was nearly gasping for breath by the time his nervous rambling petered out.
Theo frowned, wondering what that little statement was about.
Harry bloody Potter waved a hand, then raked it through the back of his hair. “The… spell. Malfoy. It was from that book.”
“Oh! The time you nearly killed my best friend!” Theo nodded and sipped his Champagne, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. Fascinating, how deeply The Chosen One could blush. Like a delicate English Rose, only with a beard.
“Erm… yes. That time. Sorry about that,” the Gryffindor mumbled.
Theo shrugged. “He’s fine. Those scars got him quite a bit of action when he was at Uni, so I don’t think he holds much of a grudge over it, to be honest. And obviously Hermione doesn’t mind.”
Harry bloody Potter frowned. “Malfoy went to Uni?”
Theo sighed and rolled his eyes. Did this chap just ignore everything Hermione said? Surely she’d mentioned this to him.
“I thought Hermione was putting me on,” he clarified.
“She doesn’t really do that,” Theo said, curling his upper lip with distaste. “But yes. Draco went to uni. I went to uni. We all went to uni. Even Pansy Parkinson went to uni. It’s a requirement for Serpentis upper management, but everyone’s encouraged to attend a few courses, get a better feel for muggles.”
“I never went to uni,” Harry bloody Potter said a bit forlornly.
“I know,” Theo replied dryly. “You didn’t even finish secondary school.”
Harry bloody Potter’s face set in a stubborn, challenging expression. “It did try to kill me every single year,” he said hotly. “And I did sacrifice myself to save all of wizarding Britain. Twice.”
“Well,” Theo said, feeling the little shit in him take over, “was it really self-sacrifice that first time? You were an infant, weren’t you? Hardly an informed choice. Now, the second time, I’ll grant you. That was proper noble of you. Very touching and all. I mean, I wasn’t there. I was hiding at the Malfoy estate in Bayeux, trying to avoid that naff tattoo on my forearm. But from what I’ve heard, it was a real tear-jerker.”
Harry bloody Potter gaped at him for a moment, so Theo sipped his champagne and gave him a cheeky wink.
There was that peaches and cream blush again, and then those stubbornly-pursed lips (Salazar, was that a face they taught Gryffindors? He looked so similar to Hermione just then it was more than a bit uncanny) twisted into a smile. And then he chuckled.
“‘Naff tattoo?’”
“So not my style,” Theo said flippantly. “I mean, Draco can pull it off. He’s all Prince of Darkness and everything. Rather Gothic in style. But it would absolutely derail my entire twink aesthetic, all those thick black lines, and that evil little snake. And who would want an arm with that inked on it to give them a handy?”
Harry bloody Potter laughed at that, and Theo couldn’t help his own smile. This was… good. This was, perhaps, better than good.
“So, Harry bloody Potter. Tell me,” Theo said, leaning forward and giving Harry bloody Potter a wicked look, “has anyone ever called you ‘Chosen One’ in bed?”
*
Harry licked his lips and forced out an awkward chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to buy himself some time. This was mental. The whole thing. Here he was, in a muggle pub (or at least, mostly muggle), with Theodore Nott. TheOdorable. The same guy Harry’d been twisted up about for over a year.
“Not… not yet,” he finally said. Merlin, who was this absolute doorknob? Harry hadn’t been this awkward in years. He was the Chosen One! A bloody Auror! Saviour of the Wizarding World! And yet here he was, stuttering and giggling and blushing like a right pillock. He might as well have regressed back to the pumpkin juice-slobbering episode of fourth year. When he’d outsmarted a dragon and was also completely undone at the sight of a pretty girl waving at him.
Harry sighed. They’d have to have this conversation, and Harry would have to talk about how embarrassingly inexperienced he was, except for the encounters that weren’t… like this. The kind that were hurried and rushed and had very little talking and usually ended with Harry feeling a bit raw and hungover and ashamed and like he couldn’t look himself in the mirror after. “You’re the first… I mean, not the first, I’ve had encounters and so on, but mostly it was… not a lot of talking.”
Theo’s eyes widened momentarily, and Harry took a healthy gulp from his pint. Had it all been a mistake, coming here tonight? He’d liked TheOdorable so much. He was clever, even if he missed sarcasm sometimes, and funny in that dry, posh way. And those photos they’d swapped. Merlin. They’d lit Harry up from the inside out. Theo was compact and delicate and… smooth. And fit. Like if that one dramatic bloke with the really high-pitched voice on the funny American singing programme were British and didn’t cry in every episode. Or if the floppy-haired one from One Direction had grown up posh and kissed boys. And was an appropriate age.
“Well, that’s alright,” Theo said easily. “It’s not often I get to break ground, so to speak. And you’ve always been a quick study, haven’t you? I remember that from school.”
“Er, I mean… I did alright.” Harry drummed his fingers on the table. It was nice that Theo wasn’t going to make Harry detail every embarrassing sexual encounter he’d had, but… he should know, shouldn’t he? Or maybe that wasn’t something blokes did with each other?
“Not like Granger, of course,” Theo said airily. Harry liked the look of him. So self-confident and self-assured, in those posh country clothes, his brown hair falling in a wave over one eye. Harry took a steadying drink. “But you did well enough. And I remember you on your broom.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, “always liked riding my broom. Lucky me, they needed a Seeker from first year.”
“Lucky, lucky you,” Theo agreed. “And lucky me. I watched you. More than I ought to’ve. Bit of an open secret, in the dungeons, about how often I watched you. Of course, I put all of that out of my head the moment you married the girl Weasley. More or less.”
“Sure,” Harry said, hoping they weren’t going to talk about his failed marriage.
Theo sighed. “And then, I spent far too long being ground up and spit out by the gays of Greater London. Well, really the gays of Britain, because I certainly didn’t allow geography to constrain my swiping. It’s one of the major benefits of our type, you know? Cross the country in the blink of an eye, practically. Shagging without Borders. But you stood out, you know. Last year.”
Harry did know, because Theo had stood out last year, too. They hadn’t talked about it, though, when he’d come back to the app with a new name. He’d wondered if TheOdorable knew he was the same bloke who’d asked about his Yule log. Harry had known it was the same guy even without looking at his name. He’d opened the grid to see a photo that took his breath away. The first time they’d chatted, Theo’d had a very artsy rumpled-bedsheet photo for his profile, and Harry had spent many late nights staring at the creamy expanse of his skin, the way the sheets looked almost silk. The one leg, bent at the knee, foot flat on the bed, so the sheet fell away and was artfully (and frustratingly) arranged around the… area of interest. The second time, after Harry’s divorce, it had been a sun-drenched shot on a giant boat of some sort, two fingers dipping into a tin of caviar in a way that made Harry’s entire stomach clinch. Those tiny, wet budgie smugglers. Just the bottom part of his face, mouth open, tongue out, ready to lick his fingers clean.
It was an extremely hot picture and Harry had immediately saved it. And studied it enough to locate the same little mole, just above and to the left of his belly button. He’d know, instinctively, that it was the same person, but that had confirmed it.
And then, last, like any good wizard cop, he’d looked at the name and seen it was the same.
“You stood out, too,” Harry said, his voice a bit hoarser than he’d hope it would be. He cleared his throat. “Both times, I mean. I knew… as soon as you popped up on the grid, I knew it was you.”
Theo winked and grinned lasciviously. “Recognised that lower half, did you?”
Harry felt his face heat, and knew it was bad enough to be noticeable when Theo threw his head back and laughed. God, even his laugh was hot. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Don’t worry, I recognised you, too. I mean, the obsession with brown sauce was my first hint. But I’d know those abs anywhere. And your thighs. Very unique. Makes sense that they’re from a broom. I’d wondered if you played rugby or something, but quidditch makes much more sense.” Theo’s gaze traveled up and down Harry’s body in a way that made his heart speed up and his mouth water. Well, if Theo was going to look at Harry so closely, Harry’d do the same.
Turnabout’s fair play, after all.
Harry wanted to lick Theo’s throat, and squeeze his arse, and kiss him until his lips were scarlet and swollen. He wanted to tug Theo’s hair, and watch him arch his back, and make him close his eyes and moan.
He could see the entire night playing out in front of him. They’d slip into the loo—no, they’d go to Harry’s house, or maybe Theo’s flat or manor or wherever he lived, make it really romantic and take his time. Harry would have Theo take off all his clothes and lay on the bed—crawl onto the bed, stretched out before him like a buffet. He’d ask Theo to touch himself. (Would he actually do it? Harry wasn’t sure, but he most definitely wanted to try.) Sit next to him on the bed, above him, and bare his throat. Kiss and suck and lick just there, on the hollow below Theo’s jaw, until he’d marked him. Harry would scrape his teeth along Theo’s nipples, just hard enough to hear him hiss, as he slid his way down to Theo’s cock. He’d tease him, barely touching his balls and his hole; one long, firm lick down Theo’s length before he turned him over. He wanted Theo’s face buried in a pillow to muffle his sounds—no, Harry wanted to hear it. If he wasn’t being secretive and sneaking around anymore, he wanted it all to be loud and drawn-out. He’d run his hands down the ridge of Theo’s spine, fold him until his knees were under him, his arse raised up in the air.
And Harry would lick him there. He’d never managed it before, in the storage closets and loos and dark corners of the Burrow (Harry’s greatest shame, all the times he’d fooled around with George while Ginny got drunker and drunker). There hadn't been room or space or time or the inclination, really, but he wanted it with Theo. Wanted to shove his tongue wherever he could, see how long he could have Theo whimpering and crying and begging for Harry’s cock.
He’d stretch him out, of course. Lube up his fingers and slide them inside, so slow and careful. Make a space for himself inside Theo. Open him up and prepare him with his hands and mouth until he could grip Theo’s slim hips and notch the head of his own cock into Theo’s hole and push. Theo would moan and gasp, and Harry would keep his pressure and pace steady and slow until he was fully inside. And then he’d wrap his arms around Theo, and pull him upright so his back was flush against Harry’s chest, and he’d drive into him, over and over and over until they were both shouting, their balls drawn up and tight. Harry would pump his release deep inside Theo, leaving it there, marking him and owning him and claiming him, and Theo would come all over himself and Harry’s hands and arms, breathless and gasping.
“I think you should come to the party with me,” Theo said, snapping Harry out of his daydream.
“What?” Harry asked.
“Come to the party with me tonight,” Theo said. “Just a bunch of friends, hanging about. Amazing food—the best food, although I hope you don’t have some weird New Year’s Eve superstition about tree nuts, because there won’t be any. But the liquor will more than make up for it, if you do.
“Like… as your date?” Harry couldn’t quite make sense of what Theo was saying. And what did tree nuts have to do with anything? “Or as friends?”
“As my date,” Theo said, watching Harry’s face carefully. “Or… I mean, as friends, if you don’t want—“
“No,” Harry blurted out. Then shook his head, seeing the way Theo’d drawn back. “I mean, no, I don’t want to be something other than your date. I’d like to be your date.”
Theo’s face split into a bright and open grin. “Excellent.” He drained the rest of his champagne, and Harry did the same to his lager. It looked like they were going… now. “You’ll know just about everyone, of course. You’ve never been to Malfoy Manor, have you? No, of course not, when would you’ve? Well, it’s lovely, obviously, though you won’t see Lucius or Narcissa tonight—they’re at the estate in France, naturally. But it’ll be everyone from work, from Serpentis, at least all the senior staff, and some of the junior staff, but only the ones worth spending time with. And a few others—Greg Goyle should be there, and maybe have his wife, Hannah, with him. You remember Hannah Abbot? Oh, and Daphne’s new boyfriend should be there, too. Neville. He’s one of yours. So that’s good.”
Theo was rambling and nervous, and it immediately put Harry at ease. Only one of them could be nervous at a time, apparently. Or at least, only one could be visibly nervous.
Harry’s stomach was certainly churning with nerves at the prospect of returning to Malfoy Manor and spending New Year’s Eve with a bunch of Slytherins.
“—just pop through the Floo. Can’t apparate onto the grounds, not anymore, unless you want to walk about a mile. That was a change after their uninvited houseguests moved out, of course. And—oh bollocks. You have been there,” Theo said, his face going pale as he stared at Harry with wide eyes.
Harry nodded. “Er, yeah. Once. But if Hermione can go back…”
Theo let out a breath. “Right. Of course. Narcissa redid the entire house, afterwards. Hermione said it’s hardly recognisable. Ship of Theseus, Hermione called it—replaced so much she argued it wasn’t the same house anymore, but of course it is. Narcissa didn’t replace the foundation or the walls or anything. Except she did knock a few down.”
“It’s fine, really,” Harry said, and it was. “I mean, I still go to the Ministry, and I watched my godfather die there. And I go to Hogwarts every so often, and I died there. Malfoy Manor wasn’t… great, but I don’t know that I’ve ever had a nightmare over it.”
Of course, Harry didn’t get many nightmares, now that he was no longer hosting part of Tom Riddle’s soul. But they didn’t need to get into that just yet.
Harry didn’t want to think about the past. He wanted to focus on right now, the moment he’d be coming out to more people than he’d ever come out to before. Probably most of the wizarding world would know Harry was gay by the end of the week, the way Slytherins liked to gossip. And he was… well, Harry was surprisingly ok with that idea. In fact, it felt nice, to know that he wouldn’t have to talk around that part of himself, try and hide that he was gay.
Maybe they’d even hold hands. Or kiss at midnight, there, in front of everyone.
Harry stood abruptly, suddenly eager to go to Malfoy Manor. Theo copied him, looking a bit startled.
“Well?” Harry asked with a cheeky grin. “They don’t call me the Boy Who Lived because I sit around all day, you know.”
*
“Don’t be nervous,” Theo said, brushing soot off the front of Harry’s jumper. There was no soot, of course, but it was a perfectly reasonable excuse to touch that firm chest of the Boy Who Was No Longer in the Closet, At Least Mostly. “You know most of them already. And Hermione’s already broken the ice as the first Gryffindor to willingly enter Malfoy Manor. At least since the creepy little rat man was killed during the war. Proper noncey, that one. Bit of a paedo vibe, considering he was sleeping with young boys all those years.”
Harry laughed and shook his head. “Are you serious about anything, ever?”
“God, I hope not,” Theo gasped dramatically. He grasped Harry’s hand and tugged him forward. “Come on, you can’t stay in the travelling parlour all night. I’m not having my New Year’s kiss amongst the Floo ash. House elves would never let me live it down, cheeky fuckers.”
Theo pulled Harry into the corridor. The paintings all reacted dramatically, but they’d long been silenced (Narcissa had always found them rather judgmental about her interior design choices, but the final straw was when Draco brought Hermione around, and Lucius had a premonition of the portraits running off his best chance for genius-IQ grandchildren; he’d personally cast the silencing charm on every single portrait in the Manor and the outbuildings).
It was nearly silent even as they stood just outside the ballroom, thanks to the house elves’ silencing spells, no doubt. Theo turned to Harry and put a hand on his chest. Again. Just to see if it had changed in the last thirty seconds. Theo’s own heart was thudding wildly. “Relax,” Theo murmured, more for his own benefit than for Harry’s. “They’ll be a bit surprised, but every single Slytherin has heard about the time Vince Crabbe walked in on me moaning your name while I went at it in the shower, thanks to too many games of Veritaserum or Dare.”
“You what?!” Harry choked out.
“You heard what I said.” Theo gave him a wink. He wanted to kiss him—was desperate to kiss him—but it felt too soon. Harry was too skittish, like a little baby bear cub out foraging for nuts by himself for the first time. “Ready?”
Theo watched Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. That was undeniably attractive, actually. Theo could feel the cloud of lust descending around him, and knew they had to get around people or else he’d lose it, right there in front of the ornate ballroom doors. They’d end up shagging on the no doubt priceless antique rug, and then Theo would have to sit through one of the elves lecturing him on how difficult it was to get seminal fluid out of antique, hand-knotted wool. (It wouldn’t be the first time for Theo to be on the receiving end of that lecture, and that was precisely how he knew it ought to be avoided at all costs.)
“Come on,” Theo cajoled, turning his eyes into limpid pools of brown poo, like a cow. That was how Pansy described his ‘please, Daddy’ face, at least. The descriptor hardly mattered—it was bloody effective. “Come meet my friends and let’s get proper pissed on champers. Trust me, you’ve never had food and bev like Malfoy food and bev. It’ll both change your life and ruin it, all at once. You’ll feel so poor and common but also have a food-orgasm. And I bet Hermione’s nearly tipsy, herself. She might even be doing her choreographed dance routine with Pansy and Daphne already.”
“Hermione might be what?!” Harry spluttered.
Theo grinned. “Let’s go see for ourselves.”
“Yeah, alright, then,” Harry said with a nod. Theo waved his hand at the doors and they both opened, revealing the party already in progress.
Hermione was performing the choreographed dance routine Pansy had peer pressured her into learning. Although at this point, Hermione participated so enthusiastically it led Theo to theorise that she was actually using the Single Ladies choreography to signal to Draco that he really ought to be ring shopping—and soon. Pansy and Daphne were waving their hands in sync with her, the men of Serpentis stood around watching.
There were other, less interesting people scattered about, but they hardly mattered.
Draco saw him first. Obviously. There was some obscure magic woven into Malfoy Manor that notified any Malfoys of when people arrived on the property.
“Theo!” Draco said, turning to him with a wide grin. Theo braced himself for the moment it froze, then watched Draco’s face rapidly cycle through confusion, understanding, anger, and, finally, polite indifference. “And you’ve brought Potter.”
Hermione paused mid-hand turn in the choreography. She was utterly brilliant—Theo believed wholeheartedly that she was a literal genius—but sometimes, when she was caught by surprise and couldn’t quite make sense of how circumstances had led to that moment, her mouth gaped into something resembling a fish and Theo always thought she looked… well, rather dim-witted then.
Like she did now.
But Narcissa had taught her well, apparently, in the ad hoc ‘How to be a Malfoy’ lessons for the witch Narcissa was utterly convinced would be the next Lady Malfoy. Hermione stepped out of the dance and hurried over to Draco’s side. Her face had gone from rather dim-witted trout to welcoming, pleasant, Lady of the Manor. Remarkable transformation, in Theo’s opinion.
“Harry? What… Theo, darling, don’t tell me this is…?” Hermione stood on her tiptoes to greet Theo with a kiss on each cheek, but, he noticed, didn’t extend the same greeting to the Chosen One.
Internally, Theo grimaced. The entire situation was beyond complicated and had moved into absurdist.
“Erm, right. Well, as it turns out, there are at least two wizards using muggle dating apps in London,” Theo said with a little laugh. “May I present Just underscore HP underscore awesomesauce? Also known as bottle underscore of underscore brown, the number four, and the letter u? Or, as you may know him, Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived?”
“Hi,” Harry said, flashing that awkward closed-mouth smile Theo remembered so well from Hogwarts. “Erm, thanks for having me?”
“Nonsense, of course you’re welcome,” Draco said smoothly, offering a hand to Harry. They shook hands as if neither had ever performed the ritual before.
“Yes, welcome, Harry,” Hermione echoed, stepping forward and giving Harry a brief hug. “So glad you could come.”
“Thanks, yeah,” Harry said, glancing over at Theo. Theo gave him an encouraging smile. It was going to be fine. Harry would settle in, and everyone would accept him, and it wouldn’t be the scandal of the century, Theo Nott, Death Eater’s son seen with the Chosen One.
“That can’t be Harry Potter!” Neville Longbottom shouted it across the room, making his way over with a plate piled high with food, his drink trailing after him. (Theo was more grateful than ever that the Malfoy’s invested in elf-charmed glassware; if they had to rely on Neville or Greg or really half the room properly charming their drink, the floor would be nothing but sticky puddles and shattered crystal.) “What brings you to the Snake Pit?!”
“Er… Theo invited me,” Harry said, shooting him a glance. Theo waited to see if Harry would say anything else, perhaps disclose that they’d been on a date, as opposed to just two blokes who ran into each other. Maybe Harry wasn’t actually ready to come out to all of wizarding society. Maybe this was yet another man who didn’t want to claim Theo publicly, just wanted to keep things casual and quiet, late night messages and early morning cabs. Harry cleared his throat and smiled at Neville. “We were at a pub, on a date, and he suggested we come here.”
Neville blinked, looking between the two men, then nodded. “Yeah, I’d prefer this to a pub on New Year’s Eve, that’s for certain. Glad you’re here, mate. We need to catch up! Haven’t seen you since your—er… in years, I mean.”
“Sure, yeah,” Harry agreed. “And you’re… er, you’re dating Daphne Greengrass?”
Neville’s cheeks turned pink and he nodded eagerly, looking over his shoulder to give Daphne a love-sick crup pup look. “Yeah. She’s brilliant. She’s a solicitor, you know. Can’t believe she actually agreed to go out with me, but I wasn’t about to argue with her!”
“I get that,” Harry said warmly. He put his arm around Theo’s shoulders, drawing him closer. Theo felt his entire body go a bit gooey, his insides warm and fluttery. He probably had cartoon hearts for eyes at this point. “Felt exactly the same when this one actually turned up to meet me.”
“Oh, it’s fresh, then? Makes sense, feel like I would have heard about it otherwise.” Neville nodded and smiled at Harry. “Theo’s a good one. I’d say you both lucked out, you know.”
“Me, too,” Theo said. He turned his face up to Harry and smiled at him. The two of them, here, in front of all of Theo’s friends (and some of Harry’s). And Harry was holding him. Telling everyone they weren’t just two straight blokes (not that anyone would mistake Theo for straight). That Harry wanted to be with Theo, and not someone else.
Theo tore his eyes from Harry and looked over at Draco and Hermione, wanting to see how Mummy and Daddy were receiving this entire affair.
Draco was rolling his eyes, but there was no mistaking the soft smile on his lips. Hermione was watching them closely. Always on the lookout for Theo’s heart, she was. Pansy shoved her way into the little group, raising one eyebrow.
“So, the Chosen One finally chose to come out the closet?” Pansy asked, crossing her arms and giving Harry the up and down inspection. She scoffed. “And in those jeans?”
“What?” Harry asked faintly.
Theo narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Pansy. You’re hardly one to talk. You look like you swept the floor of a craft shop and glued it all to a bandeau top and called it a dress.”
Pansy threw her head back and laughed. “You utter cow! This is couture!”
“It’s a mess,” Theo countered, though he didn’t actually mean it. Well, the dress was a mess, but not in a hideous way.
“All the best things are, darling.” Pansy turned back to Harry. “Well. Don’t mess it up. You can half-ass a hetero relationship all day long, you know. Women are socialised to accept the absolute barest minimum from men. Just look at what Hermione put up with when she dated your thick-headed Weasel at Hogwarts. But Theo’s got standards. So put in the work.”
Pansy was a bitch, but she was Theo’s bitch. He smiled at her fondly. She sneered at him.
“Alright,” Harry said amiably.
Pansy pursed her lips. She was going to do something shocking, Theo just knew it. She always had to gather her courage, or perhaps she was just waiting to make sure all eyes were on her.
She huffed. “And, as for that whole business at Hogwarts. Before the little scuffle. I suppose things worked out for the best.”
Theo’s mouth dropped open. Was Pansy actually apologising to someone? Perhaps the entire night was some sort of absinthe-induced fever dream. Theo’d never had absinthe, he was fairly certain, but none of this made any sense.
“Yeah, suppose so,” Harry agreed.
The group was frozen for a moment, until finally, Pansy tossed her geometric bob, her diamond earrings flashing in the light, and stuck her nose up in the air. That meant she was done with this honest and vulnerable conversation, Theo knew.
“Right, you two,” Hermione said, taking Harry by his other arm. “Let’s get you drinks, shall we? And then I believe there was talk of a game of off-pitch quidditch, if you’re interested, Harry. Have you ever played? They mark off a big chunk of the forest, just beyond the gardens, and play there. You have to dodge all the trees. It’s dreadfully unsafe and honestly shockingly dangerous, but it does seem like something you’d enjoy.”
Theo would enjoy it, too. Watching Harry dart in and out of trees, breakneck speeds and daring manoeuvres, his thighs straining to hold himself close to the shaft of the broom.
“Looking a bit pink there, Theo,” Harry whispered, eyes alight.
And then he winked. Harry bloody Potter winked at Theo, and if he hadn’t been before, Theo was absolutely besotted then.
*
Harry was breathless. It was hard to say if it was from the adrenaline rush of Draco’s unreleased, top of the line spec broom, or from dodging and rolling and feinting in pursuit of the snitch in near pitch-black, or from the way Theo’d watched him so closely, licking his lips and not trying to hide his interest at all.
Or maybe it was the way they were pressed up against each other. The quidditch game had come to an abrupt end as the time approached midnight, Hermione shouting that she wasn’t about to miss her New Year’s kiss just because they were overgrown toddlers with undersized prefrontal cortexes.
Theo had rushed out to where Harry had dismounted, eagerly running his hands all over Harry’s body.
“Salazar, was that sexy,” Theo breathed.
Harry felt cocksure and invincible.
“Liked that, did you?” Harry asked, raising a brow and feeling much more like the confident Auror he was meant to be.
“More than Hermione loves books.”
The rest of the party, the ones who had stayed inside during the quidditch game, came out to the garden. Someone started a countdown.
“I’m going to kiss you,” Theo warned him. As if Harry needed to be warned.
Harry nodded. “That’s good. I’d planned on kissing you.”
“Here. In front of everyone,” Theo added.
Harry couldn’t resist it a moment longer. He brushed Theo’s hair out of his eyes a bit, cradling his cheek. He was just so… so small and delicate, compared to the size of Harry’s hand. “I don’t want to hide. Had quite enough of that for a lifetime, I think.”
Theo’s lips parted, and it was exactly the sort of moment Harry had never let himself imagine. There was a shout, and a chorus of cheers, and the burst of fireworks above them, and Auld Lang Syne started playing, and Theo closed his eyes and leaned forward.
Harry’s breath hitched. This was it.
Theo’s lips pressed against Harry’s, and Harry closed his own eyes. It had never been like this. Never once had he kissed someone and felt so at peace. Like something had slid into place, a key fit into a lock.
He’d never felt so romantic about a kiss.
Theo slid one of his hands down Harry’s chest, across his abs, and then to the front of Harry’s trousers. He felt his ears go hot and he moaned into the kiss. Romantic turned very quickly into sexy.
“I think I’m done socialising,” Theo whispered against Harry’s lips.
Harry nodded. So done. Wanted to disappear from the world and lock Theo up in a room and snog him senseless. Strip all his clothes off and kiss and lick and bite and suck—
Harry stumbled, and he realised Theo was moving them, steering him back inside. Harry, with the strength of will he hadn’t known he possessed, broke their kiss. “Where are we going?”
“Floo,” Theo said, hurrying him through the ballroom and into the corridor.
Harry grinned. This was the good that came after the bad. And it would only get better from here.
***