Chapter Text
“We have to do something for Neville’s birthday, too. It’s just one day before mine.”
Theo sighs and turns his head. Harry is standing in the doorway of Theo’s bedroom and interrupting the lounging time Theo has been attempting to have on his bed. “You are free to put a party together. Get Cassie to help you, if you want. I am not putting a party together.”
Harry frowns at him and walks over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t know you hated Neville that much.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Then why—”
“I have no time or effort to expend on him right now,” Theo says, and gestures at the piles of parchment sitting on his bedroom table. There’s summer homework, correspondence from people like Lucius Malfoy who Theo has to play word games with, paperwork pertaining to the Nott estate that he more or less inherited from his father, and letters from many, many people who want to know if Harry’s Prophet story about what happened in the graveyard is really true. “I’m busy.”
“You’re not too busy to have a birthday party for me.”
“I started planning that three months ago, so I’m only in the stages of wrapping up the planning now.”
“Three mo—” Harry’s voice trails off, and he stares at Theo hard. Theo blinks innocently back. “Three months ago, we didn’t know that I would be coming here for the summer to live.”
“Three months ago, I didn’t know I would be coming back here to live. But I knew you weren’t staying with the Muggles, and I knew that we would do something special to celebrate your birthday. I had no idea about Longbottom. So.”
Harry visibly wrestles with this. Theo sprawls on the bed and watches him, admiring the way that Harry frowns at him and nibbles at his lip with sharp white teeth that, yesterday, bit—
“Neville will be upset if we have a birthday party for me and not him,” Harry says at last.
“I don’t think that’s true at all, based on what I know of him.”
Harry’s hands gather into a knot on his knees, and then the real, true words burst out of him. “I’ll be upset if we don’t have a birthday party for him, too.”
And that’s that. Theo sighs. Why did I bring Harry here for this summer, if not to make him happy? “All right,” he mutters, desperately resigned. “We’ll make it a joint birthday party and we can have some plants for Longbottom’s sake, how’s that?”
Harry lets out a joyous laugh and flings himself at Theo. They roll around on the bed for a moment, and they end up with Harry straddling Theo’s hips and smiling down at him. It’s an expression that has more than a bit of manipulation to it, Theo notices, intrigued.
“And Sirius said that I would never persuade you to give a party for Neville.”
“That’s it, I’ve got to prove Black wrong.”
Harry laughs again, a deeper version this time, and leans over to kiss Theo breathless. Theo winds his arms around Harry’s shoulders and kisses him until his own lips feel numb, until there’s a rush of heat through him that means he rolls over and pins Harry’s shoulders to the bed. Harry is staring at him with dark eyes, the laughter gone, or moved deeper into him.
“Now that I’ve captured you,” Theo whispers, sliding a hand down Harry’s shoulder and towards his trousers, “what am I going to do with you?”
“Make me happy,” Harry says.
Theo never knew that a breathy voice like that could make him so hard. He crushes Harry to him, one arm around his lower back, and Harry gasps and rocks up and then down. Their groins are perfectly aligned. The world bursts into wheeling fireworks inside Theo’s head.
Someone knocks on the door.
Theo turns his head to the side and snarls something wordless. The wards in the house, responding to his intent far more than a verbal command, seal across the door, locking it so that Black (or whoever) can’t come in.
Harry laughs beneath him, breathless, and arches up into Theo, whispering against his cheek, “Make me come.”
This is a marked change from what they’ve done with each other before, but it doesn’t matter. Theo bends his head and kisses Harry and moves his hips sharply, one way and then the other. Harry rides along with him, gasping, his mouth opening. His tongue is slippery and warm beneath Theo’s, his hands are grasping, his hips are sharp and angular and—
Harry comes.
So does Theo.
*
It’s only after long moments of languorous panting on the bed that Theo remembers, right, someone was knocking on the door and trying to get in. He still doesn’t intend to let them in, but he can read the wards to see who it was.
He snorts a little when the wards report back to him that it was indeed Black. The man always seems to require Harry’s attention when he’s with Theo, lately.
Well, he can’t have it right now.
“Hmmm,” Harry says, and rests his head against the side of Theo’s neck. Theo shudders a little from the warmth of his breath, the smell of it. “You realize that we didn’t even take our clothes off?”
Theo laughs softly and rolls over to face him. Harry is looking at him with shining eyes. “Do you mind that?”
“No. I just thought you might.”
“Because I’m so prissy?”
“I never thought of you as someone who would willingly have sex with someone else while still dressed,” Harry says, which doesn’t really answer the question. He reaches out and trails his fingers through Theo’s hair, his eyes half-shut. “Mmmm. I really liked that, Theo.”
“Good. Then that means we can do it more often.”
“Yes. And I’ll tell Sirius to bugger off.”
Theo laughs before he can help himself. Harry cuddles closer still, his eyes bright and fascinated.
“He’s worried about me, you know,” Harry murmurs, and Theo just nods indulgently, because he understands that and it’s one of Black’s few redeeming features. “But he doesn’t need to be.”
Theo blinks, not understanding. “You think you have some way to take care of Voldemort?”
“No.” Harry lifts his head to look Theo in the eye, and Theo is captivated by the deep shine in his face. “I mean that he worries about me with you. Thinks that you’re going to break my heart or something like that. He mutters about it all the time. How you just don’t know what you’re doing, and you’re wrong about things, and I should find a nice boy to settle down with.”
Theo shakes his head slowly. He didn’t know Black was saying those specific things to Harry, but it’s not really a surprise. “And what are you going to say to him?”
“What do you think I say?” Harry lowers his head until his nose nearly rests on Theo’s cheek and it’s overwhelming trying to look him in the eye. “I say no. Obviously.”
“I mean, I know, but…”
“I’ll tell it to him even more firmly in the future.” Harry’s fingers make their way into Theo’s hair and tug, and Theo closes his eyes despite himself, tilting his head further back to feel the way Harry’s touching him, despite all the lessons that his father tried to teach him about never being so vulnerable with another human being. “He doesn’t see how special you are to me.”
Theo lies there and feels as though Harry has grown wings and spread them to cradle Theo in the warmth. His heart is beating steadily, but it still feels like he might be about to die.
He would be all right with dying, like this.
*
“If we might have a strategy discussion?”
That was the only thing Mrs. Zabini said before when she came through the Floo. Theo half-inclined his head to her and went to fetch Harry. He did ask Blaise, but Blaise gave him an ancient look and said, “My mother wouldn’t want to discuss strategy with me,” then turned and walked out of the room.
Theo does worry about that, a little, but he worries more about the way that Isabelle Zabini smiles and turns to them when she sees Harry in the doorway of the sitting room, beckoning them inside with gentle motions of her fingers.
“You are so fascinating, Mr. Potter,” she says, with a wide smile that makes Theo want to grip his wand. He doesn’t have to, though, because they’re inside his house and she did swear an oath. She did. “Who knew that you would spread word like that of the Dark Lord’s return?” She laughs a little. “I can see why he wanted to kill you so badly.”
Harry shrugs. “I don’t know why he wanted to kill me when I was a baby. But yeah, I’ve made myself a bit annoying to him since I came to Hogwarts.” He tugs on Theo’s shoulder and seats them both on the couch facing Mrs. Zabini, instead of further away and separately, the way Theo planned on.
Theo half-frowns, but then he feels the weight of Harry’s hand on his shoulder and sees the frown that he’s sending at Mrs. Zabini in turn, and has to control himself so that he doesn’t laugh aloud.
Harry seems to have made the same assumption that Black did when Harry met Blaise’s mother for the first time. As though she would have any interest in romancing or bedding Theo. Theo doesn’t understand all the reasons behind her murdering her husbands, but he does know they were all more powerful, wealthier, and older than he is. A lot of his importance rests on Harry.
Harry’s hand tightens, and he pulls Theo abruptly into his side and turns so that he’s half-shielding him from Mrs. Zabini’s gaze.
Oh.
Theo draws in the warmth and scent of Harry’s body through his nostrils and thinks that he might have made a mistake, just the way Black did. Harry doesn’t think Theo will become Mrs. Zabini’s next husband. He just wants to shield him from becoming a victim, making him safe and secure.
Harry senses danger from Mrs. Zabini, and might think she’s able to skirt her oath. He’ll protect Theo as best he can.
It’s incredibly flattering, even if it’s also unnecessary. Theo gently touches Harry’s shoulder and holds the touch until Harry looks reluctantly into his eyes, then shakes his head a little. Harry tilts his own head and raises his eyebrows.
It amuses Theo, but they do seem to have got much better at non-verbal communication since they started sleeping together.
Harry finally sighs noisily through his nose after long moments of Theo holding his gaze and conveying as much confidence and trust as he can, and he leans back and loops an arm around Theo’s shoulders instead. Mrs. Zabini looks even more intensely amused. Harry meets her eyes and says with less graciousness than Theo would have hoped for, “What did you want to talk to us about?”
“Strategy discussion.” Mrs. Zabini arranges her robes around her. “As I said.”
“Strategy in what sense? To fight Voldemort?”
Theo holds back and lets Harry take the lead. It’ll be good for his confidence and his standing in Mrs. Zabini’s eyes. Besides, Theo is curious himself.
Mrs. Zabini jerks and then looks as if she would have liked to stop herself. She taps her fingers on her knee for a moment. “My son told me that you say the Dark Lord’s name. I confess I was not prepared for the impact.”
“Strategy in what sense?”
Mrs. Zabini stays silent for almost a full minute, studying Harry out of dark eyes. Harry stares back. Theo lets his hand squeeze the middle of Harry’s back, both because it’s out of sight of Mrs. Zabini and because he could use the reassurance. He’s doing well so far.
“In shaping the political future of Britain,” Mrs. Zabini says at last, and sits back, relaxing a little, the pleats of her robe falling into new patterns. Theo thinks it’s a signal of a sort of surrender. “For years, I have not been able to trust my allies in this country or have much influence because the Dark Lord would corrupt them and take what I did have. Then, in an era of peace, Britain turned inwards and forgot to look for help from outside its borders. Now I have the chance to regain what I lost.”
“Would this involve torturing people?”
Mrs. Zabini pauses for a moment. “No.”
“What about killing people?”
“In general, I find killing people worth less than keeping them alive. I kill only those who have outworn their usefulness and who have become dangerous to me.”
“So every one of your husbands, then?”
Theo gasps. It sounds as though all the air has been sucked out of the room other than that. Mrs. Zabini’s eyes have gone wide again, wide enough that Theo thinks he can see through them to the bottom of her heart.
Harry leans a little forwards. “I’m trying to decide if you’re someone I should ally with,” he says, almost apologetically. “If you kill people because they’re going to be useless to you, then I don’t know if our alliance would do any good. What happens when you decide that I’m the one who’s become useless to you?”
Mrs. Zabini sits so still for a moment that Theo reaches out to the wards, ready to capture her if she tries to get up and do something. And then she throws back her head and laughs the most open laughter Theo has ever heard from someone.
Harry gives her what seems to be a puzzled smile, leaning a little back into Theo to keep hold of his hand. Theo grips it back and squeezes. He’s still not entirely sure what Harry thought he was doing, if he didn’t expect this reaction.
No, wait, maybe Harry did. Or he hoped for something like it. For Mrs. Zabini to act openly, so he could understand her better.
“I would swear reciprocal oaths with you, if that would help,” Mrs. Zabini says, when her laughter has shaken into nothing more than a slight tremble of her robes. But Theo thinks he can still see the brightness of the laughter in her eyes, the way her hands twitch. “You would swear not to touch my own allies or hinder them in their activities.”
“What kind of ‘activities’ do you foresee your allies performing?” Theo asks, because he’s caught that even if Harry hasn’t.
Mrs. Zabini gives him a smile that’s sharper than the ones she’s bestowed on Harry. “Some of them would be aimed at taking control of your Ministry.”
Harry opens his mouth, but it’s Theo’s turn to pull him a little back so that Harry is more behind him. He squeezes Harry’s shoulder and back and hopes he can convey what he needs to without being too open about it. Let me handle this.
Harry seems to struggle with that for a moment. Then he ends up nodding and leaning back so that Theo can speak.
Theo smiles at him and squeezes his shoulder again. “To run it from Italy?” he asks. “That seems like it would be a long Apparition or Floo journey each morning.”
“I have no desire to do it myself, sweet boy,” Mrs. Zabini says. “I would simply ensure that magical Britain would have a climate more favorable to certain…imports that I want to make. Not to mention becoming a more pleasant place for my son, if he decides to stay in or visit Britain after he finishes at Hogwarts.”
Theo nods. That’s about what he expected. “What do you think of the current Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge?”
“He is a fool.”
Harry stiffens a little at Theo’s side and then relaxes. Theo squeezes him again. That was what he was trying to get across to Harry: they hate the Minister anyway, and if it’s not Death Eaters taking over the Ministry, it will probably be someone who can be reasoned with. Or at least run the Ministry more efficiently.
“Why should we trust that whoever takes over on your instructions will be better?”
“You should trust that because it is true,” Mrs. Zabini says, and for a moment, her voice thickens. “You have no idea how the outside world views magical Britain. Such a collection of fools, they say, trusting to their isolation from the Continent to shield them against consequences. The day is rapidly approaching when British wizards and witches may not be able to be accepted at schools abroad, did you know? So great is the disgust with blood purity in your country, your failure to contain or bargain with the Dark Lord, and the insular mindset.”
“So you are saying that Beauxbatons or Durmstrang wouldn’t send an acceptance owl to an eleven-year-old in our country?”
“They might still do that. That would be before much of the bollocks was taught in your country and some blood purity ideas quite so entrenched.” Mrs. Zabini makes a little move with her hand. “But if you wanted to pursue certain studies, enter certain areas, visit certain magical creatures when you are older? No.”
“And you think you can change things?” Harry blurts.
“I think I will change things. For the sake of my son, who loves this country for reasons that I do not understand.”
Harry gives an uncomfortable little wriggle. Theo holds back a laugh. Harry probably doesn’t think this is the greatest motivation in the world, and that changing the whole country for one person is—not evil, perhaps, but simply not something he should be sympathetic to.
But Theo is. Both because Blaise is his friend, and because it would provide Harry and him with what they need most, political allies against Voldemort. If the Ministry becomes better, that’s a bonus. If not, then that’s no different from its already long history of corruption.
“We could study the wording of such oaths as we would need,” Theo says. “We would need to take some time to come up with them.”
Mrs. Zabini nods, and then slants a glance at Harry. “And you, Mr. Potter? Do you intend to let Mr. Nott do all your talking for you?”
“I trust Theo.”
Theo’s heart gives a single hard thump at the adoration in Harry’s eyes. He leans back towards him, and their hands brush. Harry gives him a small, contented smile.
“I see,” Mrs. Zabini murmurs.
Theo knows he should be wary. Mrs. Zabini will probably find a way to exploit their affection for each other. That’s the kind of thing that she knows all too well how to do.
But he finds it hard to care, or look away from Harry.
We’ll survive what she tries to do. We’re too strong together not to.