hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-11-23 08:42 am
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-11-23 08:42 am
Entry tags:
HP - Thousandth Man-verse - My Weakness is None of Your Business
You don't have to be celebrating Thanksgiving to give thanks for the really great people in your life. Very much dedicated to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
circe_tigana for hatching the idea and cheering me on the entire time. Thanks also go to dorrie6, ethrosdemon, phineasjones and plumsnickety, with a special thanks to jonem for the lovely art.
This would not be possible with the fabulous tag team ofserialkarma and lalejandra. I am thoroughly in your debt, also, thanks to everyone who enjoys this and takes the time to let me know.
Harry Potter
Thousandth Man-verse
Theodore Nott/var.
My Weakness is None of Your Business
In Theodore's experience, paranoia only surfaced in people who felt they had done something morally questionable or were (rightfully) suspicious of being accused of wrong-doing. He found such hyper-sensitivity trying. But he could tell when more people than usual were watching him -- it wasn't paranoia; it was awareness.
Theodore was very aware; being involved with a Gryffindor required a certain amount of vigilance -- nevertheless, just because he could recall the smell of Neville's sweat and could still taste Neville on his lips when he stepped into the Slytherin common room was no reason for Theodore's senses to be so on edge.
He was accustomed to the curious glances from the younger years, and he could sense Draco's unmistakable stare without making eye-contact, but there was something else permeating the air, and it seemed to be coming from a rather unexpected place. Queenie Greengrass didn't look away from Theodore's inquisitive glance, and he nodded when she beckoned him over.
He was waylaid by Draco, sprawled on the leather sofa with legs akimbo. "Nott," he said, spreading his legs and fixing Theodore with what Theodore presumed was the Malfoy version of a lascivious look. "Just the person I was looking for."
"You seem to be looking for a playmate." Theodore snorted under Draco's appreciative smirk. There was a trick to getting rid of Draco without inciting his temper, especially in a room full of people.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Do you fancy a game then?”
Theodore pretended to consider Draco's proposition. “I’m sure your games are extremely diverting, but I have to see Queenie about something.”
Draco scowled and looked over at Queenie who was observing them intently. "Your loss."
"Isn't it always," Theodore said with a knowing grin.
"Perhaps another time then."
"Perhaps, now if you’ll excuse me, Queenie requires my presence."
"That's probably all she'll get." Draco was rather surly, but at least he didn’t seem too put out. There was a fine line between dissuading Draco and flat-out rejecting him, thereby incurring the wrath of an out-of-sorts Malfoy.
The former required a certain finesse that Theodore had honed almost as sharply as Blaise; the latter was only for the foolish and the masochistic.
Crossing the room purposefully, he stopped in front of a black lacquer desk covered with parchment and textbooks. Queenie Greengrass seemed greatly engaged in whatever she was working on, her quill scrawling trails of purple ink across her parchment at an alarming rate.
"You required my presence," he said, after waiting several moments for her to stop and acknowledge him. "What can I do for the lovely Miss Greengrass?"
Theodore was greatly taken aback by the derisory glare Queenie gave him. "So glad you could join me." Her tone was extraordinarily snide. She set down her quill.
Theodore blinked. "Is there something bothering you?"
"You."
"I beg your pardon."
"You asked what's bothering me; I replied 'you.' Do try to follow the conversation, Theodore."
Theodore could feel the frown etching itself onto his features. "Have I done something to offend you?"
"That does seem to be the question of the hour," she said cryptically.
Without waiting for an invitation, Theodore summoned a chair from another desk and dropped down into it. "What is it?" he asked his voice low enough to require Queenie to lean forward to hear him. "Is something wrong?"
Glancing around briefly, Theodore's eyes swept over Draco who now seemed to be propositioning Pansy. Millicent Bulstrode was playing Exploding Snap with Gregory Goyle, and there were several younger years that Theodore only knew by surname -- McNair, Roberts, and another Warrington. There was someone missing.
"Where's Blaise?" he asked, turning back to Queenie sharply.
"So glad you noticed," she snapped.
Theodore bristled at her continuing brusqueness. "Pardon?"
Queenie lowered her voice. "Tell me, did it really slip your mind that there was a meeting of the tergiversari, or did you just decide that preparing for the war was of no interest to you?"
Theodore exhaled sharply through his nose.
"No answer, Mr Nott? That's not like you at all."
Theodore could think of nothing to say and his temple ticked -- it disturbed him greatly. He could feel his heartbeat quickening; he wasn't required to answer to anyone, and yet... "I was otherwise engaged," he said perfunctorily.
Queenie's snort did nothing but inflame Theodore's sense that something was extraordinarily off. "You might want to think of something better than that for Blaise."
"I don't answer to Blaise," Theodore said.
Queenie raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and fixed him with a look. "I never said you did."
Theodore didn't blink, but Queenie was implacable and after several moments of their stalemate, Theodore cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should find Blaise."
"I think that's an excellent idea," Queenie said sitting back in her chair. "Might I suggest your room?"
Theodore felt as though he should say something further, but Queenie picked up her quill and recommenced writing furiously. Realising he was being dismissed, Theodore frowned again and then took his leave, sending his chair back to the desk from which it had originally come.
The house clock hissed at him as he passed, and he paused for a moment before realising that it was only giving the time, which it did one minute past every hour — always in several wizarding languages, including Parseltongue
The nerve in his temple twitched again, and he shook it off as he strode down the hall. The portrait of the life of Rasputin across from their room was occupied, and apparently Rasputin was suffering through being stabbed, yet again. He was making the most unpleasant noises as blood seeped through his robes, and Theodore shuddered slightly as he opened the door of room he shared and stepped in.
Blaise was stretched out on Theodore's bed reading a piece of parchment; his robes had been discarded but his shoes were still on. Theodore frowned.
"How many times have I told you that your shoes do not belong on my bed?'" he said, closing the door behind him.
Blaise made no move to remove his shoes nor did he reply. It took Theodore a moment to realise that Blaise hadn't even acknowledged his presence.
Apparently this was not going to be a particularly pleasant conversations; Theodore couldn't remember the last time he'd fallen out of favour with Blaise. There had been an incident involving turning Blaise's hair blue when they were eight, but apart from that, Theodore couldn't recall anything.
"Queenie told me I might find you here," he said, removing his robe and hanging it in the wardrobe. A quick glance in the mirror assured him that he didn't look nearly as debauched as he felt, and he shut the door before the mirror could give him its opinion. A glance at Blaise showed that he was still pretending to be firmly engrossed in reading, and therefore, still ignoring Theodore's presence.
Sighing internally, Theodore pulled his jumper over his head and bent down to remove his shoes. "She seemed concerned -- if that's what you could call being on the wrong end of a Greengrass -- about my absence from today's meeting of the tergiversari."
Theodore glanced over the side of the bed, Blaise hadn't even turned in his direction. "Blaise," he said, patting the mattress to get attention.
"Zabini." Theodore's voice rose a notch along with his anxiety –- and the anxiety triggered something else. Annoyance.
Theodore stood up and glared at Blaise's profile; Blaise continued reading in silence.
"Blaise Anton Dominico Machiavelli Zabini," Theodore snapped.
Blaise folded his parchment into thirds, and then glanced upwards. "Ah, it's you."
The anger Theodore felt softened slightly. "Hello to you too."
"Is there something you wanted?"
Blaise's tone was extraordinarily dismissive, and Theodore's temple twitched again. The mattress dipped as Theodore perched on the edge of the bed. "About the meeting," he began.
"Ah yes, the meeting that you didn't attend."
"I was otherwise engaged."
"Of course you were."
"Queenie thought --" Theodore's words dropped off as Blaise looked at him, and he felt something in his stomach knot. Blaise didn't look angry or out of sorts -- he actually didn't look anything at all. He was unreadable; it was as though Theodore were talking with a stranger.
"I adore Queenie," Blaise said blandly, "but sometimes I believe she doesn't know when to keep her own council."
"Blaise," he began, shifting further onto the bed. Blaise moved away, and Theodore froze. He was horrible with apologies, except where his mother and Alexandria were concerned -- dealing with Neville had taught him that. He’d made reparations for having done wrong before -- only when he was caught -- but that generally involved serving a detention and didn’t require a verbal apology.
The rigid set of Blaise's face gave away his emotions. He was clearly upset.
"I must confess," said Blaise, "that I'm quite surprised to see you here. I wasn't actually certain you still slept here."
"Blaise--"
"I thought perhaps that you had changed houses. I've never heard of it being done, but if I've learned anything it's that anything is possible. Especially that which you least expect -- after all look at you and your Gryffindor."
"I'm sorry I missed the meeting," Theodore said. And then he promptly clamped his hand over his mouth.
Blaise's eyes narrowed and the parchment in his hand rattled as he gripped it tightly in his fist. "You're sorry?"
Theodore said nothing more, but it was clearly too late.
"You've been reduced to apologising?" Blaise hissed. He slipped off the bed and onto his feet in one motion. Theodore's hand slipped from his mouth as he watched Blaise's face bloom with color; his fingers were pale where he white-knuckled the paper in his hand.
"It's come to this?" Blaise shouted. "I create the tergiversari, this group, to protect you, to protect us, and you repay me by putting me second to a Gryffindor! Do you have any idea what would happen to me -- to my family -- if anyone were to find out that I tried to make certain we were prepared for any outcome of this war?"
Theodore was across the bed in a matter of seconds, and when he stood up, they were face-to-face. Blaise's eyes were huge and the cords in his neck stood out with the strain. It was, without a doubt, the most worrying thing Theodore had ever seen. "Blaise! Lower your voice."
Blaise blinked and took a step away, but his voice was bland and flat when he spoke again. "You don't even care, do you? It's always about him now -- but do you think he's so worried about what happens to you? Theodore, don't be dense."
Theodore’s ears buzzed with the sharpness of being rebuked, but when he tried to step closer, Blaise took another step away. "It's complicated," Theodore paused. "This thing with Neville is complicated."
"Did you even tell him?" Blaise asked, but he cut Theodore off before he could answer. "Of course you didn't -- I don't know why I asked. You have to protect him, right -- is he really so fragile, Theodore? Your precious Gryffindor. Is that what you want, someone who requires looking after?"
It was Theodore's turn to be angry now. "It's not that way at all -- we look after each other."
Blaise's smirk was an ugly thing. "Ah, you mean the way we used to."
"The way we still do," Theodore corrected.
"No, I look out for you, you look out for him, and I don't know who he's looking out for, but I seem to be proverbially pissing in the wind. You know, I never really understood that sentiment until now."
Theodore rubbed his forehead; he felt as though his mind were coming undone. "I will always look out for you," he said, budging closer slowly. He panicked when he realised Blaise was leaving. "You know that."
Blaise made a noise of derision. "From now on I look after myself," he said.
Theodore's words were cut off by the door banging open. "Everything all right in here?" Draco said from the doorway, gray eyes sharp and curious. "I heard all the shouting -- you wouldn't be having fun in here without me would you?" he asked slyly.
Theodore's eyes never left Blaise as he moved towards the door.
Blaise stopped in front of Draco, and Theodore was shocked when Blaise grabbed Draco by the tie and snogged him roughly. A burning sensation went through Theodore's chest as the kiss degenerated into something noisy and lewd and loud.
When Blaise let go, Draco staggered for a moment.
"If you want to play, he's all yours, but I don't think you'll like Theodore's games," Blaise tossed over his shoulder as he left.
Theodore clamped his hands over his head to keep his brain from exploding, and he jerked away when he felt Draco's arm slipping around his waist.
"Not now," he said pulling away and turning towards his bed. "Really."
Whatever Draco said was drowned out by the pounding in Theodore's head, and he climbed onto his bed and lay there numb until Draco stomped out of the room, and he actually did fall asleep.
It was a fitful sleep, full of dreams of bulls and dragons and Alexandria being trapped in a tree while trying to find a pixie.
*
The glorious thing about being an individual in a school full of inner circles was that Theodore was well accustomed to being by himself. Whether during meals, in the library, or simply wandering the grounds, he was perfectly content to follow his own path; although the row with Blaise had him out of sorts, he was perfectly content to be alone. With Neville.
As such, the following afternoon found Theodore visiting Neville in Greenhouse Two, where he was occupied doing something Herbology-related for Professor Sprout.
It was unbearably cold, even for February, and it had just started to snow.
Theodore closed the door behind him in haste and busied himself brushing the snowflakes out his hair as he looked around for Neville. The greenhouses were kept temperate year-round, so Theodore removed his robes, gloves, and scarf and hung them on the provided hooks.
Neville wasn't immediately visible due to the great amount of greenery blocking Theodore's line-of-sight, but the off-key singing clued him in greatly. He followed the warbling noises past six tables and over three rows until he spotted Neville halfway down the row, singing to a glowing, violet-coloured plant.
At first Theodore thought Neville was singing near the plant while he did something else, but Neville had no gloves or shears, and the longer Neville sang the brighter the plant radiated until Theodore had to shade his eyes.
When Neville stopped the plant's leaves rustled in what Theodore could only assume was applause, and he spoke up. "It looks like you've got a fan," he said walking up the aisle. "Should I be jealous?"
Neville turned towards him and coloured. "I don't think so," he said, smiling when Theodore hooked his fingers into his belt loops and tugged him forward. They snogged lazily, and Theodore felt some of the tightness in his chest that he had refused to acknowledge release.
"As much as I like plants, I think they'd probably be crap in bed," said Neville, pressing a kiss to the corner of Theodore's mouth.
"So you only keep me around for the shagging?" Theodore looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's very Slytherin of you, you know."
Neville frowned and stiffened. Theodore snorted and pressed a kiss to Neville's temple. "Relax, I'm hardly here to recruit you."
"I should hope not."
It was Theodore's turn to frown, and he slipped his hands free from Neville's trousers. "Despite whatever propaganda you've heard, we are not all Evil Incarnate -- we strive to be, but alas, we're not."
Neville rolled his eyes. "I would never date Evil Incarnate -- my gran would have my head."
"She'd have mine first," said Theodore.
"Point taken." Neville grabbed a handful of Theodore's shirt and pulled him into another kiss. Neville's lips were dry, but his tongue was aggressive as it slipped into Theodore's mouth, and Theodore's mind blanked for several moments as Neville snogged him thoroughly.
When Neville released him, Theodore smoothed the fabric where Neville's grip had bunched his shirt and considered his lover as he crouched down and opened a bag of fertiliser that was underneath the table. He seemed thrilled to be getting dirty; clearly Neville was no Blaise. He never would be.
This wasn't a bad thing, was it?
Theodore already had one Blaise; he didn't need two. Except at the moment he didn't really have any Blaises at all. "I had a falling out with Blaise the other day," he said shifting his weight to study a crimson-coloured flower that he recognised from the Nott garden. He couldn’t recall what it did exactly -– it was either a hallucinogenic or something to ward off beetles.
Neville didn't look up, but his hands stilled. "Blaise Zabini?"
Theodore made a noise of affirmation as he stroked the petals of the red flower. "I missed an appointment because I was otherwise engaged, and Blaise didn’t approve."
Neville snorted and Theodore looked down. "You mean you were with me when you should have been somewhere else."
"Something like that."
"Does he know," Neville asked, "about us?"
Theodore ran a hand over his face. He had heard of full-disclosure before, but only as something that occurred under veritaserum -- in Slytherin circles, the truth was a very unpredictable and generally frowned upon thing.
"Yes," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Neville stood up immediately and brushed the fertiliser off his hands. "Is this something I should be concerned about?" he said quietly, his jaw tight.
"No," said Theodore with no hesitation. No matter how angry Blaise was, he would never do anything to jeopardise Theodore; Theodore never doubted that.
Neville blinked and ran his hand through his hair, smearing dirt of his forehead. He bit his lip, but stopped when he caught Theodore's frown. "I shouldn't be concerned -- but you are," Neville stated. "Why?"
"Because Blaise is family. I don't fancy falling out with family."
"Does this make him dangerous?"
"Absolutely not. I would die for him, and he would die for me. I don't question his loyalty to me."
"I'm not you."
The nerve in Theodore's temple quivered. "You're important to me -- that's enough."
Neville exhaled softly, and they stood in silence for several moments as though something profound had just occurred. Theodore refused to fidget, but Neville dug into the floor with the toe of his ragged trainer.
Neville broke the silence. "So what did you fight about?"
"The tergiversari.
"What's that?"
"The Slytherin answer to Dumbledore's Army."
Neville's eyes were huge. "How do you know about the D.A.?"
"How do you think? We don’t want to die anymore than your lot do," said Theodore. "Despite whatever you've been told, some of us have a lot to live for."
The simple confession had Theodore's heart leaping around in his chest like a rampaging Blast-Ended Skrewt. He'd finally told Neville, because Blaise had wanted him to, but Neville thought he had confessed for him -- which Theodore was going to continue to let him believe, but it smacked highly of shutting the gate after the gnomes had gotten in the courgettes.
“Are you saying that you’re preparing to lose the war?” Neville’s voice wavered slightly, and Theodore’s pulse rate soared when Neville’s hand came to rest on his chest.
“That’s not what I said.” Theodore looked away; there was no way Neville couldn’t feel his heart pounding through his clothing. Such obvious tells of emotion were unlike him, but he couldn’t very well reach into his own chest and stop his heart.
“What are you saying then?”
“I’m saying that we want to be prepared for anything –- nothing more.” Neville opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason, thought better of it.
For the first time ever, when Neville leaned forward to kiss him, Theodore's mind was somewhere else entirely.
*
Dear Nephew:
I hope this finds you in good health as the cards have informed me that someone in your vicinity shall be coming down with an illness in the immediate future -- hopefully it shall be nothing serious, but one never knows with these things. Of course it could turn out to be something gloriously contagious and life-threatening, but again, one never knows with these things. I have enclosed some herbs just in case.
I am writing after having called on your sister, who is exhibiting the most charming signs of pureblooded-ness, which I hope will lead to other things. Unfortunately your father was not in at the time, but I did have a chat with your mother, which is always a delight. She confessed that she is somewhat concerned about you, but I assured her that you are more than able to look after yourself. You have been raised properly and understand the importance of keeping people close to you; there is naught to fret over.
I must keep this epistle short as we are to have guests tonight, and Lucius has taken to smiting the house elves so we are short of help. I hope to see your father and tell him of our correspondence.
Mordred keep you,
Narcissa Malfoy
P.S. Be certain to take the herbs in the morning with water, and not after supper with milk, as consuming them after dusk with milk has been known to have less than beneficial effects. Think of the story of Rosemary Murphy and that unfortunate incident involving swallowing her own wand.
Theodore re-read the note from his Aunt for the third time and tamped down on the urge to throw something; it had taken him long enough to stop the ticking in his temple and the clenching of his jaw. He banged his head against the headboard in frustration as he let the letter fall onto the bed beside him.
It was obvious from his aunt's letter that she knew of his row with Blaise and was urging him to fix it, which was good advice -- if he hadn't already been trying to do just that.
It had been four entire days, the longest Blaise and Theodore had gone without speaking since they were babies, and it was driving Theodore to distraction. He had no one with whom to curse the tediousness of Quidditch or to join him in discreetly making fun of Draco's Potter obsession.
It was obvious that Blaise was punishing Theodore for being with Neville -- except nothing having to do with a Slytherin or a Zabini was ever simple, and after the last 96 hours it began to seem as though Blaise and Theodore had been on the outs forever.
For Theodore, it was painful and vexing, and it was also impossible to correct since every time Theodore tried to corner Blaise, there was someone around -- Draco, Pansy, Terry bloody Boot, who Blaise had said he didn't even fancy. Never mind meals or classes -- those were impossible for the thicket of students and professors. The last meeting of the tergiversari had been led by Queenie, who had said Blaise was "otherwise engaged,” which had put Theodore this close to hexing her for her cheek.
It was bad enough that Theodore had to pretend as though nothing was happening with Neville -- now he also had to contend with being ignored by the only other person whose company he actually desired.
It was the sort of thing that would make a lesser person crazed; it just made Theodore more determined.
He was going to win Blaise back -- and if he had to do something drastic to get him, well, then so be it. The problem, now, was finding someone who actually had the ability to hex him badly enough to put him in the infirmary. He had tried everything else: pointedly stalking Blaise and sitting in his place at the Slytherin table. He'd charmed all of Blaise's shirts to support various Quidditch teams, and last night he'd transfigured Blaise's bed into an armchair, knowing Blaise hadn’t yet mastered the art of transfiguration well enough to turn it back.
He fell asleep waiting for Blaise to come to bed, and he'd awoken at some point in the middle of the night and found Blaise sleeping with Draco.
He'd desperately wanted to throw a wobbler -- but that was beneath him, and instead he'd charmed Draco's duvet to shrink overnight.
The following morning, when Theodore had left for breakfast, Blaise and Draco were covered by a square of cloth the size of a handkerchief.
Draco had looked very sour at breakfast, but Blaise hadn't even deigned to look in Theodore's direction. Clearly Theodore was going to have to resort to drastic measures. Charming the letter from his aunt invisible, he stuffed it into his robes and got up.
Winning Blaise back would require time in the library, and Theodore was gathering his books from his trunk when someone cleared their throat behind him.
Theodore stood up and glanced over, swallowing a sigh.
Draco lounged against the doorway, hands in his trouser pockets, smirking as though he were selling a product for Witch Weekly and hoped looking like sex would help.
"It's the ever elusive Theodore Nott," he said, licking his lips. "You're a very hard man to pin down."
Theodore shifted his Charms text in his arms. "I'm not particularly keen on playing with pins, Draco, I thought you knew that."
"It pains me that I don't know what you like anymore, Theodore." Draco pushed off from the doorway and stalked across the room under Theodore's less-than-amused eye. "There was a time when I knew everything you liked."
Draco stopped less than a foot away, and gazed upward, lips wet and eyes bright. He smelled of lavender soap, and his hair was arranged just so, which once upon a time would've been more than enough to entice Theodore to 'play.'
Things, however, had changed.
"I have homework." Theodore shifted his books, and attempted to step around Draco. He was stopped by a hand on his chest.
"No one should study as much as you do," Draco said, fingering Theodore's tie. "It can't possibly be healthy."
"You wouldn't know."
Draco scowled. "I don't know what's come over you; you're no fun anymore."
"You’re mistaking me for Blaise," Theodore pulled his tie out of Draco's hand. "I was never your playmate."
Draco's face passed from annoyed to confused to inquisitive. "I see what this is about -- you've found yourself someone new."
"I don't know what you’re talking about." Theodore clutched at his book. There was something prickly stirring in his blood, it made him want to itch violently.
So this was what panic felt like.
Draco's smile was all reptilian. "Or perhaps Blaise has found someone new, and you --"
"Leave off, Draco."
Theodore's neck snapped up as he met Blaise's dark eyes over Draco's shoulder. Unlike Draco, Blaise didn't feel the need to make an entrance -- he stood less than a metre away.
Draco turned slowly between them. "You two have a falling out and aren't even talking, and yet you're still taking up for him. How Gryffindor."
Blaise's scowl was tight. "Be very careful who you insult, Draco."
Draco opened his mouth, but apparently thought better of speaking further; and Blaise relaxed slightly. "I was looking for you," he began, and Theodore smiled, but it lessened when he realised Blaise wasn't addressing him.
"Pansy says she saw Potter practising on the Quidditch pitch, and I know you wanted to see what he was up to, so..."
"Brilliant." Draco slipped away from Theodore and moved towards Blaise. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain Theodore was watching and then he ran his hand over Blaise's chest and his shoulder and his back as he walked towards the door.
"I'm off," he said, pausing at the door. "Don't have fun without me."
Theodore began to count to thirty-two in French, but Blaise moved over to his own side of the room to attend to something.
After reaching trente-deux, Theodore set his Charms text back on his trunk and turned around. "Blaise--"
Blaise paused, crouched over his trunk. "If you thank me, I shall hex the nose off your face."
"I should hope so."
Blaise looked over his shoulder, and Theodore smiled. Or attempted to smile. Clearly this was not the sort of row that could be fixed with a smile, a curse on Blaise's behalf, and a promise never to do it again.
"Whatever it is you have to say, I don’t wish to hear it." Blaise's voice was cold.
Theodore opened his mouth and then thought better of it. Retrieving his Charms text once again, he left. There was no point in talking with Blaise when he was this agitated.
*
It was possible that Theodore was slightly hysterical, and thereby suffering from irrationality, because it had been six days since he'd talked to Blaise and five since he'd been able to touch Neville. Perhaps he was feeling their collective absence greatly, and that was how he had been reduced to this -- however, Notts didn't do hysteria, so Theodore was going to have to admit merely to being extremely confused.
He had heard of 'being in the closet', but he had always heard it used to refer to one’s sexual preferences; he'd never thought he would wind up in a real closet because of Neville. All his previous assignations with other people had taken place in more appropriate settings -- this was just unseemly, and the amount of dust alone was appalling.
When Theodore sneezed and rubbed his nose, Neville smiled at him apologetically. "I know it's not Nott Terrace," he said.
"There's something extraordinarily amusing about being the closet with you," Theodore said as Neville reached around him to prop his wand on a shelf. The faint Lumino was just enough to let Theodore wish he couldn't see the cobwebs and dust and spiders. Theodore hated spiders; nonetheless, it was tremendously relaxing to be able to spend any time with Neville, especially when Neville was virtually plastered against Theodore's body.
It was an extraordinarily small closet.
"So, was there a particular reason you wanted to meet in the closet?" Theodore's lips brushed against the shell of Neville's ear as he spoke. "Or were you simply looking for a change of scenery? I quite fancied the greenhouses myself."
"So do I, but Professor Sprout has double lectures all day and Hagrid was collecting some herbs because one of his vampire rabbits caught a cold -- it seemed a little risky."
"Riskier than normal?" Theodore's dick hardened inside his trousers when Neville's hands came to a rest on his waist, and he had to work to focus when Neville breathed on his neck.
"I know, I didn't think it was possible."
Neville's thigh pressed between Theodore's legs, and Theodore banged his head on a shelf when he pulled away slightly. "Are you going to seduce me," he asked, "or are we trying to have a proper conversation? I just want to know where this is going so I can be properly prepared."
Neville laughed quietly against Theodore's neck, and Theodore’s cock twitched. "I'm sorry; I'm not trying to get you worked up. I just wanted to see if you'd patched things up with Blaise. You didn't look particularly happy at lunch yesterday or at breakfast today."
Theodore exhaled loudly through his nose, and dropped his head onto Neville's bony shoulder. He was soothed somewhat by Neville's fingers rubbing the nape of his neck.
When Neville spoke against the top of his head, Theodore could feel his lips moving against his hair. "Should I take that as a no?"
"He's being very stubborn," Theodore complained.
"A Slytherin being stubborn, I'm shocked," Neville mocked.
Neville grunted when Theodore poked him in the ribs. "You're not helping matters," Theodore said.
"Well, what do you want me to say? I don't think I could be much use to you with this one. I know when I told Hermione --"
Theodore's cock deflated rapidly as he pulled back and looked at Neville hard. "You told Hermione Granger about us?"
"I had to tell someone," said Neville. "You told Blaise."
"Yes, and now Blaise isn't speaking to me."
Neville was quiet for a moment. "He's not talking to you because of me, is that it?"
The nerve in Theodore's temple quivered, and he rubbed his face. His voice was muffled when he spoke.
"Sorry?" said Neville. "I missed that."
"He thinks I've left him for you," Theodore repeated
"Left him how? Were you two involved before?"
"He thinks I've thrown our friendship over for you," corrected Theodore. "It's not true; I could never -- I would never do that."
Theodore shivered slightly when Neville brushed his lips against his forehead. "Jealousy makes people act strange. I've seen a lot of it in my house, you'd be surprised."
Theodore opened his mouth to inquire and then thought better of it. He would keep that information for another time. "Blaise isn't -- Slytherins don’t get jealous."
Neville made a derisory noise and Theodore frowned. “It’s beneath us,” he said.
“So it would be all right if I went and shagged someone else?” Neville asked.
Theodore’s eyes narrowed, and he shoved Neville across the very small space, pressing him against the door. Neville’s eyes were huge when Theodore fisted his robes. “No, it would not be ‘all right’ if you shagged someone else.”
Neville blinked several times under the vehemence of Theodore’s glare. “No, no jealousy issues there,” he mocked looking down at Theodore’s grip on his clothing.
Theodore let go and scrubbed at his face with his hands. This was all Blaise’s fault.
Theodore was disconcerted because Blaise wasn’t speaking to him, and it was making him messy in dealing with Neville. He needed Blaise to make this work. Neville was helping him become who he wanted to be, but Blaise reminded him of who he was.
Theodore needed Blaise full-stop; when he opened his eyes Neville was looking at him with something akin to pity. Which was intolerable.
Clearing his throat, Theodore smoothed out Neville’s clothes. "Blaise and I aren't the same as you and I," he said eventually.
"Don't tell me," Neville said, chuckling. “Tell him."
"I've tried, but he won't listen."
"Make him listen."
Theodore opened his mouth, but Neville interrupted him. "I don’t know how, don't ask, just sort something out. You're a Slytherin, you're resourceful."
"That almost sounds like a compliment," Theodore said thoughtfully.
Neville snogged him lightly. "That's because it is."
*
In better Slytherin homes, sexuality was seen as an extremely fluid thing. The vast majority of the people in the upper echelon were attractive, and therefore it was only natural to be attracted to them. Man to woman, man to man, woman to woman -- as long as the inner workings of the families were not interrupted and a suitable next generation was available when necessary, people weren't terribly prone to asking bothersome questions. Such an open policy allowed them much more liberty to pair off among themselves, and if there was one thing all families shared, it was an interest in salacious speculation and gossip.
In short: as long as a pureblooded heir could be produced when required no one paid too much obvious attention to who was shagging who and when. Experimentation and an adventurous nature were encouraged -- Theodore's mother had been twenty-five when she married his father, who was well over eighty, and no one had batted an eyelash.
When Theodore had realised he vastly preferred the company of Blaise to that of anyone else, male or female, he had simply taken it as a matter of course. He was attracted to Blaise; he was loyal to Blaise, not the bits between Blaise's legs. It didn't matter if Blaise was a boy or a girl -- he was still the same Blaise who continually managed to beat Draco at Flamingo Croquet despite Draco’s cheating, and he always remembered Alexandria's birthday.
Despite the recent insertion of Neville in Theodore's life, nothing had changed for him. Blaise was still Blaise, and no one could compare. He was not going to give that up.
He paused outside the wall of the Slytherin dorms and collected his thoughts. Blaise was not jealous; he was out of sorts, except he had no reason to be, because Theodore was never going to leave him. Ever.
Theodore was also going to have a long talk with Neville about shagging other people and why, despite whatever he had heard about Slytherin practices, it was not allowed and would be punishable by Crucio and castration.
The stone wall evaporated when he said, "Circe's pigs,” and he strode into the common room purposefully. There were several younger years milling around, but Theodore's eyes went right to Blaise, who was firmly ensconced on the sofa between Draco and Pansy. They were playing wizarding Scrabble, which tested ones knowledge of obscure spells and hexes, and by the dour look on Draco's face he was clearly losing.
"I need to speak with you," Theodore said, and Draco glanced up and smiled beatifically.
"I was wondering when you would come to your senses," he said.
"Blaise," Theodore clarified, and Draco frowned.
"I'm occupied right now, Theodore." Blaise replied without looking up from the game board. Theodore's face hardened.
"I'm not asking," he said.
Draco raised an eyebrow and even Pansy looked up. "You heard him." This time when Draco smiled it was all insolence and superiority.
Theodore licked his lips and repeated himself as calmly as possible – resisting the urge to put Blaise in a Full Body-Bind and drag him down the hall. "Blaise, we need to talk."
Blaise sighed.
"We can talk elsewhere or we can talk here," Theodore's tone was deceptively calm, "but we are going to talk."
Blaise rolled his eyes, but after several tense moments, he got to his feet and walked off towards their room.
The walk down the hallway was quiet except for the soft padding of their feet, and Blaise pushed the door open, leaving it ajar for Theodore to follow him.
Theodore only spoke once he had firmly closed the door behind him. "We can't keep doing this -- I can't keep doing this. It's insufferable and it's childish."
"I have no idea what you're referring to." Blaise kept his back to Theodore, busying himself with removing his jumper and unloosening his tie, and he flinched when he turned around and Theodore was right behind him.
"I am not last season's robes," Theodore said very quietly, trying to keep the catch out of his voice. "You are not going to throw me away."
Blaise's face hardened under Theodore's glare. "I have no idea what you're referring to."
"Do not play ignorant with me, Blaise Zabini," said Theodore. "It's unbecoming."
"You have nothing to accuse me of," Blaise spat, his voice low and harsh. "I'm not the one taking up with someone completely unacceptable. I'm not the one pissing all over my family and my heritage by shagging a Gryffindor."
"I'm doing nothing of the sort." Theodore's stomach rolled, and when he opened and closed his hands he could feel his palms beginning to dampen. "You cannot find fault with me just because I'm shagging Neville."
"Of course I can!" Blaise shouted, and it was Theodore's turn to flinch, but when Blaise spoke again his tone was lower. "You're risking your neck for -- for him and I'm just supposed to stand idly by and wish you well. Do you expect me to applaud your choice and become best mates with your boyfriend? It won't happen, Theodore -- I'll see everyone dead first."
Blaise stumbled when Theodore grabbed him by the tie and pulled him close. "You will do nothing of the sort," he said very softly. "I depend on you to stay alive. I need you, Blaise."
Blaise's hands groped at his tie. "You don't need me," he said, loosening the tie and slipping free of Theodore's hold. "You have him now."
Blaise eluded Theodore's grab for his forearm, and Theodore had no choice but to advance until he could trap Blaise against the wall. "Neville is not you; Neville will never be you. He is not your replacement."
Blaise's glare could strip wood, and Theodore blocked Blaise's attempt to get away by putting his arms on either side of Blaise's head.
"This is very intimate," Blaise mocked. "You should be careful, someone might get the wrong idea, and we wouldn't want --"
Blaise's words were cut off by Theodore's mouth, and their teeth clashed together as they snogged. Blaise bit Theodore's lips savagely and yanked at his jumper to pull him closer, making harsh noises the entire time.
Blaise's lips were soft, not dry or chapped, and his mouth was wet and hot. He tasted of orange-flavoured Fizzing Whizzbees, and there was nothing sweet and gentle about being with Blaise the way there was with Neville. There was no slow burn in Theodore’s groin –- with Blaise it was all quick heat. Theodore could taste hurt and confusion and sadness on Blaise's tongue –- and, somewhere deeper, loyalty to the bond they had built.
It was very different from the first clumsy kiss they had shared at twelve, and a part of Theodore lamented that he had fallen for Neville instead, but Neville was different. He was so different and so not like them -- not like anyone else Theodore had ever known.
Theodore needed Neville; Theodore and Blaise were too much alike.
Blaise gasped against Theodore's mouth as he pulled away. "I'm not replacing you," Theodore spoke quietly against Blaise's mouth as Blaise smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in Theodore's jumper. "No one will ever replace you."
Blaise's hands paused in their ministrations, and he averted his eyes under the intensity of Theodore's gaze. "He knows -- you told him."
"I told him because you wanted me to," Theodore corrected.
Blaise rubbed his mouth with his hand. "I didn’t think you would actually do it."
"Salazar's balls," Theodore retorted.
"Okay, I knew you would tell him," Blaise admitted ruefully, his smile just visible through his fingers. "I knew you would tell him if you really felt he was worthy."
"He is."
Blaise didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "You know this means you have to stay with him now."
Theodore nodded and let his hands fall away from the wall. He ran the fingers of his left hand through his hair. "I know."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "This is so unbecoming, Theodore, all this intrigue and secrecy and sneaking around."
Theodore snickered. "It's very Slytherin."
Blaise sighed, but neither one of them started when the door opened behind them with a bang. "You were playing without me." Draco's tone was all surly disappointment, and Theodore dropped his head onto Blaise's shoulder and groaned.
"Yes, we were," Blaise said, resting his hand on the nape of Theodore's neck, "and if you don’t mind we'd prefer to get back to it. Bugger off."
Theodore could just imagine the affronted look on Draco's face, and he sniggered into Blaise's shoulder rather than entering the fray.
"You're hardly worthy of me anyway," Draco retorted, and when the door closed again with another slam, Theodore lifted his head.
Blaise's face was all stoic calm, and then he began to laugh and Theodore joined in. He had missed this. He had missed them.
Blaise let a few more snickers escape before pulling himself together. “I suppose one of us will have to make amends for that at some point,” he said thoughtfully.
Theodore tilted his head to the side. “You’re volunteering, Blaise? And you think I’ve been spending too much time with a Gryffindor –- what’s come over you? Is it Terry Boot?”
Blaise made a dismissive wave. “I don’t think I’m interested in a partner at this juncture in time – it’s hard enough looking after you. Surely I don’t need someone else as well.”
Theodore rolled his eyes.
“Speaking of looking after people,” Blaise carried on, “I believe you had a letter from your sister the other day –- I suppose you’ll want it.”
Theodore fixed Blaise with a piercing look. “You lifted a letter intended for me?”
“You shrank Draco’s duvet, transfigured my bed, and left me to deal with both of these things -– I hardly think lifting one little letter is the same.” Blaise reached into the back pocket of his trousers and handed over a folded piece of parchment.
Blaise said something else as Theodore studied the letter in his hands, but he missed it. His name was hastily scrawled across the front, which was rather odd as Alexandria was rather meticulous about addressing her epistles and his father rarely wrote to him at Hogwarts.
The green wax 'N' on the back of the heavy cream parchment was smeared as though it has been applied quickly and without much thought for appearance, and Theodore frowned as he turned the letter over in his hands. Something was not right, he could feel it. It was the Slytherin way to be suspicious of everyone and everything, yet Theodore couldn't put his finger on what it could possibly be. If something were wrong with Alexandria, surely his father would send him word, but not in a letter. Never in a letter.
This was simply a letter from Alexandria that had not been given its due care. Perhaps Archimedes had gotten caught in a storm somewhere en route and the letter had gotten wet. Yes, obviously that was it.
Shaking his head, Theodore loosened the seal and unfolded the letter. A translucent sheaf fluttered free, and Theodore could see the pastels on it; obviously Alexandria was anxious to show him her latest drawing.
Smiling to himself, Theodore bent down to pick up the etching. His fingers pinched the edge of the paper and his stomach gave a convulsive jolt as though he were being pulled by string attached to his navel. He gave a sigh of resignation as the spell took hold.
He hated traveling by portkey.
-end-
1. Beta byserialkarma and lalejandra. Remaining snafus by me.
2. The tergiversari are copyright ofcirce_tigana.
3. Queenie Greengrass is the property and creation ofserialkarma
4. Title taken from the album The Good Will Out by Embrace
5. I'm going out of town for the holidays, but I hope everyone who's taking time off enjoys themselves and if you don't have any time off coming, dude, that just sucks.
ETN: Shit, I forgot to thankfearlessdiva! Thank you, sweetie!
circe_tigana for hatching the idea and cheering me on the entire time. Thanks also go to dorrie6, ethrosdemon, phineasjones and plumsnickety, with a special thanks to jonem for the lovely art. This would not be possible with the fabulous tag team of
serialkarma and lalejandra. I am thoroughly in your debt, also, thanks to everyone who enjoys this and takes the time to let me know.Harry Potter
Thousandth Man-verse
Theodore Nott/var.
In Theodore's experience, paranoia only surfaced in people who felt they had done something morally questionable or were (rightfully) suspicious of being accused of wrong-doing. He found such hyper-sensitivity trying. But he could tell when more people than usual were watching him -- it wasn't paranoia; it was awareness.
Theodore was very aware; being involved with a Gryffindor required a certain amount of vigilance -- nevertheless, just because he could recall the smell of Neville's sweat and could still taste Neville on his lips when he stepped into the Slytherin common room was no reason for Theodore's senses to be so on edge.
He was accustomed to the curious glances from the younger years, and he could sense Draco's unmistakable stare without making eye-contact, but there was something else permeating the air, and it seemed to be coming from a rather unexpected place. Queenie Greengrass didn't look away from Theodore's inquisitive glance, and he nodded when she beckoned him over.
He was waylaid by Draco, sprawled on the leather sofa with legs akimbo. "Nott," he said, spreading his legs and fixing Theodore with what Theodore presumed was the Malfoy version of a lascivious look. "Just the person I was looking for."
"You seem to be looking for a playmate." Theodore snorted under Draco's appreciative smirk. There was a trick to getting rid of Draco without inciting his temper, especially in a room full of people.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Do you fancy a game then?”
Theodore pretended to consider Draco's proposition. “I’m sure your games are extremely diverting, but I have to see Queenie about something.”
Draco scowled and looked over at Queenie who was observing them intently. "Your loss."
"Isn't it always," Theodore said with a knowing grin.
"Perhaps another time then."
"Perhaps, now if you’ll excuse me, Queenie requires my presence."
"That's probably all she'll get." Draco was rather surly, but at least he didn’t seem too put out. There was a fine line between dissuading Draco and flat-out rejecting him, thereby incurring the wrath of an out-of-sorts Malfoy.
The former required a certain finesse that Theodore had honed almost as sharply as Blaise; the latter was only for the foolish and the masochistic.
Crossing the room purposefully, he stopped in front of a black lacquer desk covered with parchment and textbooks. Queenie Greengrass seemed greatly engaged in whatever she was working on, her quill scrawling trails of purple ink across her parchment at an alarming rate.
"You required my presence," he said, after waiting several moments for her to stop and acknowledge him. "What can I do for the lovely Miss Greengrass?"
Theodore was greatly taken aback by the derisory glare Queenie gave him. "So glad you could join me." Her tone was extraordinarily snide. She set down her quill.
Theodore blinked. "Is there something bothering you?"
"You."
"I beg your pardon."
"You asked what's bothering me; I replied 'you.' Do try to follow the conversation, Theodore."
Theodore could feel the frown etching itself onto his features. "Have I done something to offend you?"
"That does seem to be the question of the hour," she said cryptically.
Without waiting for an invitation, Theodore summoned a chair from another desk and dropped down into it. "What is it?" he asked his voice low enough to require Queenie to lean forward to hear him. "Is something wrong?"
Glancing around briefly, Theodore's eyes swept over Draco who now seemed to be propositioning Pansy. Millicent Bulstrode was playing Exploding Snap with Gregory Goyle, and there were several younger years that Theodore only knew by surname -- McNair, Roberts, and another Warrington. There was someone missing.
"Where's Blaise?" he asked, turning back to Queenie sharply.
"So glad you noticed," she snapped.
Theodore bristled at her continuing brusqueness. "Pardon?"
Queenie lowered her voice. "Tell me, did it really slip your mind that there was a meeting of the tergiversari, or did you just decide that preparing for the war was of no interest to you?"
Theodore exhaled sharply through his nose.
"No answer, Mr Nott? That's not like you at all."
Theodore could think of nothing to say and his temple ticked -- it disturbed him greatly. He could feel his heartbeat quickening; he wasn't required to answer to anyone, and yet... "I was otherwise engaged," he said perfunctorily.
Queenie's snort did nothing but inflame Theodore's sense that something was extraordinarily off. "You might want to think of something better than that for Blaise."
"I don't answer to Blaise," Theodore said.
Queenie raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and fixed him with a look. "I never said you did."
Theodore didn't blink, but Queenie was implacable and after several moments of their stalemate, Theodore cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should find Blaise."
"I think that's an excellent idea," Queenie said sitting back in her chair. "Might I suggest your room?"
Theodore felt as though he should say something further, but Queenie picked up her quill and recommenced writing furiously. Realising he was being dismissed, Theodore frowned again and then took his leave, sending his chair back to the desk from which it had originally come.
The house clock hissed at him as he passed, and he paused for a moment before realising that it was only giving the time, which it did one minute past every hour — always in several wizarding languages, including Parseltongue
The nerve in his temple twitched again, and he shook it off as he strode down the hall. The portrait of the life of Rasputin across from their room was occupied, and apparently Rasputin was suffering through being stabbed, yet again. He was making the most unpleasant noises as blood seeped through his robes, and Theodore shuddered slightly as he opened the door of room he shared and stepped in.
Blaise was stretched out on Theodore's bed reading a piece of parchment; his robes had been discarded but his shoes were still on. Theodore frowned.
"How many times have I told you that your shoes do not belong on my bed?'" he said, closing the door behind him.
Blaise made no move to remove his shoes nor did he reply. It took Theodore a moment to realise that Blaise hadn't even acknowledged his presence.
Apparently this was not going to be a particularly pleasant conversations; Theodore couldn't remember the last time he'd fallen out of favour with Blaise. There had been an incident involving turning Blaise's hair blue when they were eight, but apart from that, Theodore couldn't recall anything.
"Queenie told me I might find you here," he said, removing his robe and hanging it in the wardrobe. A quick glance in the mirror assured him that he didn't look nearly as debauched as he felt, and he shut the door before the mirror could give him its opinion. A glance at Blaise showed that he was still pretending to be firmly engrossed in reading, and therefore, still ignoring Theodore's presence.
Sighing internally, Theodore pulled his jumper over his head and bent down to remove his shoes. "She seemed concerned -- if that's what you could call being on the wrong end of a Greengrass -- about my absence from today's meeting of the tergiversari."
Theodore glanced over the side of the bed, Blaise hadn't even turned in his direction. "Blaise," he said, patting the mattress to get attention.
"Zabini." Theodore's voice rose a notch along with his anxiety –- and the anxiety triggered something else. Annoyance.
Theodore stood up and glared at Blaise's profile; Blaise continued reading in silence.
"Blaise Anton Dominico Machiavelli Zabini," Theodore snapped.
Blaise folded his parchment into thirds, and then glanced upwards. "Ah, it's you."
The anger Theodore felt softened slightly. "Hello to you too."
"Is there something you wanted?"
Blaise's tone was extraordinarily dismissive, and Theodore's temple twitched again. The mattress dipped as Theodore perched on the edge of the bed. "About the meeting," he began.
"Ah yes, the meeting that you didn't attend."
"I was otherwise engaged."
"Of course you were."
"Queenie thought --" Theodore's words dropped off as Blaise looked at him, and he felt something in his stomach knot. Blaise didn't look angry or out of sorts -- he actually didn't look anything at all. He was unreadable; it was as though Theodore were talking with a stranger.
"I adore Queenie," Blaise said blandly, "but sometimes I believe she doesn't know when to keep her own council."
"Blaise," he began, shifting further onto the bed. Blaise moved away, and Theodore froze. He was horrible with apologies, except where his mother and Alexandria were concerned -- dealing with Neville had taught him that. He’d made reparations for having done wrong before -- only when he was caught -- but that generally involved serving a detention and didn’t require a verbal apology.
The rigid set of Blaise's face gave away his emotions. He was clearly upset.
"I must confess," said Blaise, "that I'm quite surprised to see you here. I wasn't actually certain you still slept here."
"Blaise--"
"I thought perhaps that you had changed houses. I've never heard of it being done, but if I've learned anything it's that anything is possible. Especially that which you least expect -- after all look at you and your Gryffindor."
"I'm sorry I missed the meeting," Theodore said. And then he promptly clamped his hand over his mouth.
Blaise's eyes narrowed and the parchment in his hand rattled as he gripped it tightly in his fist. "You're sorry?"
Theodore said nothing more, but it was clearly too late.
"You've been reduced to apologising?" Blaise hissed. He slipped off the bed and onto his feet in one motion. Theodore's hand slipped from his mouth as he watched Blaise's face bloom with color; his fingers were pale where he white-knuckled the paper in his hand.
"It's come to this?" Blaise shouted. "I create the tergiversari, this group, to protect you, to protect us, and you repay me by putting me second to a Gryffindor! Do you have any idea what would happen to me -- to my family -- if anyone were to find out that I tried to make certain we were prepared for any outcome of this war?"
Theodore was across the bed in a matter of seconds, and when he stood up, they were face-to-face. Blaise's eyes were huge and the cords in his neck stood out with the strain. It was, without a doubt, the most worrying thing Theodore had ever seen. "Blaise! Lower your voice."
Blaise blinked and took a step away, but his voice was bland and flat when he spoke again. "You don't even care, do you? It's always about him now -- but do you think he's so worried about what happens to you? Theodore, don't be dense."
Theodore’s ears buzzed with the sharpness of being rebuked, but when he tried to step closer, Blaise took another step away. "It's complicated," Theodore paused. "This thing with Neville is complicated."
"Did you even tell him?" Blaise asked, but he cut Theodore off before he could answer. "Of course you didn't -- I don't know why I asked. You have to protect him, right -- is he really so fragile, Theodore? Your precious Gryffindor. Is that what you want, someone who requires looking after?"
It was Theodore's turn to be angry now. "It's not that way at all -- we look after each other."
Blaise's smirk was an ugly thing. "Ah, you mean the way we used to."
"The way we still do," Theodore corrected.
"No, I look out for you, you look out for him, and I don't know who he's looking out for, but I seem to be proverbially pissing in the wind. You know, I never really understood that sentiment until now."
Theodore rubbed his forehead; he felt as though his mind were coming undone. "I will always look out for you," he said, budging closer slowly. He panicked when he realised Blaise was leaving. "You know that."
Blaise made a noise of derision. "From now on I look after myself," he said.
Theodore's words were cut off by the door banging open. "Everything all right in here?" Draco said from the doorway, gray eyes sharp and curious. "I heard all the shouting -- you wouldn't be having fun in here without me would you?" he asked slyly.
Theodore's eyes never left Blaise as he moved towards the door.
Blaise stopped in front of Draco, and Theodore was shocked when Blaise grabbed Draco by the tie and snogged him roughly. A burning sensation went through Theodore's chest as the kiss degenerated into something noisy and lewd and loud.
When Blaise let go, Draco staggered for a moment.
"If you want to play, he's all yours, but I don't think you'll like Theodore's games," Blaise tossed over his shoulder as he left.
Theodore clamped his hands over his head to keep his brain from exploding, and he jerked away when he felt Draco's arm slipping around his waist.
"Not now," he said pulling away and turning towards his bed. "Really."
Whatever Draco said was drowned out by the pounding in Theodore's head, and he climbed onto his bed and lay there numb until Draco stomped out of the room, and he actually did fall asleep.
It was a fitful sleep, full of dreams of bulls and dragons and Alexandria being trapped in a tree while trying to find a pixie.
The glorious thing about being an individual in a school full of inner circles was that Theodore was well accustomed to being by himself. Whether during meals, in the library, or simply wandering the grounds, he was perfectly content to follow his own path; although the row with Blaise had him out of sorts, he was perfectly content to be alone. With Neville.
As such, the following afternoon found Theodore visiting Neville in Greenhouse Two, where he was occupied doing something Herbology-related for Professor Sprout.
It was unbearably cold, even for February, and it had just started to snow.
Theodore closed the door behind him in haste and busied himself brushing the snowflakes out his hair as he looked around for Neville. The greenhouses were kept temperate year-round, so Theodore removed his robes, gloves, and scarf and hung them on the provided hooks.
Neville wasn't immediately visible due to the great amount of greenery blocking Theodore's line-of-sight, but the off-key singing clued him in greatly. He followed the warbling noises past six tables and over three rows until he spotted Neville halfway down the row, singing to a glowing, violet-coloured plant.
At first Theodore thought Neville was singing near the plant while he did something else, but Neville had no gloves or shears, and the longer Neville sang the brighter the plant radiated until Theodore had to shade his eyes.
When Neville stopped the plant's leaves rustled in what Theodore could only assume was applause, and he spoke up. "It looks like you've got a fan," he said walking up the aisle. "Should I be jealous?"
Neville turned towards him and coloured. "I don't think so," he said, smiling when Theodore hooked his fingers into his belt loops and tugged him forward. They snogged lazily, and Theodore felt some of the tightness in his chest that he had refused to acknowledge release.
"As much as I like plants, I think they'd probably be crap in bed," said Neville, pressing a kiss to the corner of Theodore's mouth.
"So you only keep me around for the shagging?" Theodore looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's very Slytherin of you, you know."
Neville frowned and stiffened. Theodore snorted and pressed a kiss to Neville's temple. "Relax, I'm hardly here to recruit you."
"I should hope not."
It was Theodore's turn to frown, and he slipped his hands free from Neville's trousers. "Despite whatever propaganda you've heard, we are not all Evil Incarnate -- we strive to be, but alas, we're not."
Neville rolled his eyes. "I would never date Evil Incarnate -- my gran would have my head."
"She'd have mine first," said Theodore.
"Point taken." Neville grabbed a handful of Theodore's shirt and pulled him into another kiss. Neville's lips were dry, but his tongue was aggressive as it slipped into Theodore's mouth, and Theodore's mind blanked for several moments as Neville snogged him thoroughly.
When Neville released him, Theodore smoothed the fabric where Neville's grip had bunched his shirt and considered his lover as he crouched down and opened a bag of fertiliser that was underneath the table. He seemed thrilled to be getting dirty; clearly Neville was no Blaise. He never would be.
This wasn't a bad thing, was it?
Theodore already had one Blaise; he didn't need two. Except at the moment he didn't really have any Blaises at all. "I had a falling out with Blaise the other day," he said shifting his weight to study a crimson-coloured flower that he recognised from the Nott garden. He couldn’t recall what it did exactly -– it was either a hallucinogenic or something to ward off beetles.
Neville didn't look up, but his hands stilled. "Blaise Zabini?"
Theodore made a noise of affirmation as he stroked the petals of the red flower. "I missed an appointment because I was otherwise engaged, and Blaise didn’t approve."
Neville snorted and Theodore looked down. "You mean you were with me when you should have been somewhere else."
"Something like that."
"Does he know," Neville asked, "about us?"
Theodore ran a hand over his face. He had heard of full-disclosure before, but only as something that occurred under veritaserum -- in Slytherin circles, the truth was a very unpredictable and generally frowned upon thing.
"Yes," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Neville stood up immediately and brushed the fertiliser off his hands. "Is this something I should be concerned about?" he said quietly, his jaw tight.
"No," said Theodore with no hesitation. No matter how angry Blaise was, he would never do anything to jeopardise Theodore; Theodore never doubted that.
Neville blinked and ran his hand through his hair, smearing dirt of his forehead. He bit his lip, but stopped when he caught Theodore's frown. "I shouldn't be concerned -- but you are," Neville stated. "Why?"
"Because Blaise is family. I don't fancy falling out with family."
"Does this make him dangerous?"
"Absolutely not. I would die for him, and he would die for me. I don't question his loyalty to me."
"I'm not you."
The nerve in Theodore's temple quivered. "You're important to me -- that's enough."
Neville exhaled softly, and they stood in silence for several moments as though something profound had just occurred. Theodore refused to fidget, but Neville dug into the floor with the toe of his ragged trainer.
Neville broke the silence. "So what did you fight about?"
"The tergiversari.
"What's that?"
"The Slytherin answer to Dumbledore's Army."
Neville's eyes were huge. "How do you know about the D.A.?"
"How do you think? We don’t want to die anymore than your lot do," said Theodore. "Despite whatever you've been told, some of us have a lot to live for."
The simple confession had Theodore's heart leaping around in his chest like a rampaging Blast-Ended Skrewt. He'd finally told Neville, because Blaise had wanted him to, but Neville thought he had confessed for him -- which Theodore was going to continue to let him believe, but it smacked highly of shutting the gate after the gnomes had gotten in the courgettes.
“Are you saying that you’re preparing to lose the war?” Neville’s voice wavered slightly, and Theodore’s pulse rate soared when Neville’s hand came to rest on his chest.
“That’s not what I said.” Theodore looked away; there was no way Neville couldn’t feel his heart pounding through his clothing. Such obvious tells of emotion were unlike him, but he couldn’t very well reach into his own chest and stop his heart.
“What are you saying then?”
“I’m saying that we want to be prepared for anything –- nothing more.” Neville opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason, thought better of it.
For the first time ever, when Neville leaned forward to kiss him, Theodore's mind was somewhere else entirely.
Dear Nephew:
I hope this finds you in good health as the cards have informed me that someone in your vicinity shall be coming down with an illness in the immediate future -- hopefully it shall be nothing serious, but one never knows with these things. Of course it could turn out to be something gloriously contagious and life-threatening, but again, one never knows with these things. I have enclosed some herbs just in case.
I am writing after having called on your sister, who is exhibiting the most charming signs of pureblooded-ness, which I hope will lead to other things. Unfortunately your father was not in at the time, but I did have a chat with your mother, which is always a delight. She confessed that she is somewhat concerned about you, but I assured her that you are more than able to look after yourself. You have been raised properly and understand the importance of keeping people close to you; there is naught to fret over.
I must keep this epistle short as we are to have guests tonight, and Lucius has taken to smiting the house elves so we are short of help. I hope to see your father and tell him of our correspondence.
Mordred keep you,
Narcissa Malfoy
P.S. Be certain to take the herbs in the morning with water, and not after supper with milk, as consuming them after dusk with milk has been known to have less than beneficial effects. Think of the story of Rosemary Murphy and that unfortunate incident involving swallowing her own wand.
Theodore re-read the note from his Aunt for the third time and tamped down on the urge to throw something; it had taken him long enough to stop the ticking in his temple and the clenching of his jaw. He banged his head against the headboard in frustration as he let the letter fall onto the bed beside him.
It was obvious from his aunt's letter that she knew of his row with Blaise and was urging him to fix it, which was good advice -- if he hadn't already been trying to do just that.
It had been four entire days, the longest Blaise and Theodore had gone without speaking since they were babies, and it was driving Theodore to distraction. He had no one with whom to curse the tediousness of Quidditch or to join him in discreetly making fun of Draco's Potter obsession.
It was obvious that Blaise was punishing Theodore for being with Neville -- except nothing having to do with a Slytherin or a Zabini was ever simple, and after the last 96 hours it began to seem as though Blaise and Theodore had been on the outs forever.
For Theodore, it was painful and vexing, and it was also impossible to correct since every time Theodore tried to corner Blaise, there was someone around -- Draco, Pansy, Terry bloody Boot, who Blaise had said he didn't even fancy. Never mind meals or classes -- those were impossible for the thicket of students and professors. The last meeting of the tergiversari had been led by Queenie, who had said Blaise was "otherwise engaged,” which had put Theodore this close to hexing her for her cheek.
It was bad enough that Theodore had to pretend as though nothing was happening with Neville -- now he also had to contend with being ignored by the only other person whose company he actually desired.
It was the sort of thing that would make a lesser person crazed; it just made Theodore more determined.
He was going to win Blaise back -- and if he had to do something drastic to get him, well, then so be it. The problem, now, was finding someone who actually had the ability to hex him badly enough to put him in the infirmary. He had tried everything else: pointedly stalking Blaise and sitting in his place at the Slytherin table. He'd charmed all of Blaise's shirts to support various Quidditch teams, and last night he'd transfigured Blaise's bed into an armchair, knowing Blaise hadn’t yet mastered the art of transfiguration well enough to turn it back.
He fell asleep waiting for Blaise to come to bed, and he'd awoken at some point in the middle of the night and found Blaise sleeping with Draco.
He'd desperately wanted to throw a wobbler -- but that was beneath him, and instead he'd charmed Draco's duvet to shrink overnight.
The following morning, when Theodore had left for breakfast, Blaise and Draco were covered by a square of cloth the size of a handkerchief.
Draco had looked very sour at breakfast, but Blaise hadn't even deigned to look in Theodore's direction. Clearly Theodore was going to have to resort to drastic measures. Charming the letter from his aunt invisible, he stuffed it into his robes and got up.
Winning Blaise back would require time in the library, and Theodore was gathering his books from his trunk when someone cleared their throat behind him.
Theodore stood up and glanced over, swallowing a sigh.
Draco lounged against the doorway, hands in his trouser pockets, smirking as though he were selling a product for Witch Weekly and hoped looking like sex would help.
"It's the ever elusive Theodore Nott," he said, licking his lips. "You're a very hard man to pin down."
Theodore shifted his Charms text in his arms. "I'm not particularly keen on playing with pins, Draco, I thought you knew that."
"It pains me that I don't know what you like anymore, Theodore." Draco pushed off from the doorway and stalked across the room under Theodore's less-than-amused eye. "There was a time when I knew everything you liked."
Draco stopped less than a foot away, and gazed upward, lips wet and eyes bright. He smelled of lavender soap, and his hair was arranged just so, which once upon a time would've been more than enough to entice Theodore to 'play.'
Things, however, had changed.
"I have homework." Theodore shifted his books, and attempted to step around Draco. He was stopped by a hand on his chest.
"No one should study as much as you do," Draco said, fingering Theodore's tie. "It can't possibly be healthy."
"You wouldn't know."
Draco scowled. "I don't know what's come over you; you're no fun anymore."
"You’re mistaking me for Blaise," Theodore pulled his tie out of Draco's hand. "I was never your playmate."
Draco's face passed from annoyed to confused to inquisitive. "I see what this is about -- you've found yourself someone new."
"I don't know what you’re talking about." Theodore clutched at his book. There was something prickly stirring in his blood, it made him want to itch violently.
So this was what panic felt like.
Draco's smile was all reptilian. "Or perhaps Blaise has found someone new, and you --"
"Leave off, Draco."
Theodore's neck snapped up as he met Blaise's dark eyes over Draco's shoulder. Unlike Draco, Blaise didn't feel the need to make an entrance -- he stood less than a metre away.
Draco turned slowly between them. "You two have a falling out and aren't even talking, and yet you're still taking up for him. How Gryffindor."
Blaise's scowl was tight. "Be very careful who you insult, Draco."
Draco opened his mouth, but apparently thought better of speaking further; and Blaise relaxed slightly. "I was looking for you," he began, and Theodore smiled, but it lessened when he realised Blaise wasn't addressing him.
"Pansy says she saw Potter practising on the Quidditch pitch, and I know you wanted to see what he was up to, so..."
"Brilliant." Draco slipped away from Theodore and moved towards Blaise. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain Theodore was watching and then he ran his hand over Blaise's chest and his shoulder and his back as he walked towards the door.
"I'm off," he said, pausing at the door. "Don't have fun without me."
Theodore began to count to thirty-two in French, but Blaise moved over to his own side of the room to attend to something.
After reaching trente-deux, Theodore set his Charms text back on his trunk and turned around. "Blaise--"
Blaise paused, crouched over his trunk. "If you thank me, I shall hex the nose off your face."
"I should hope so."
Blaise looked over his shoulder, and Theodore smiled. Or attempted to smile. Clearly this was not the sort of row that could be fixed with a smile, a curse on Blaise's behalf, and a promise never to do it again.
"Whatever it is you have to say, I don’t wish to hear it." Blaise's voice was cold.
Theodore opened his mouth and then thought better of it. Retrieving his Charms text once again, he left. There was no point in talking with Blaise when he was this agitated.
It was possible that Theodore was slightly hysterical, and thereby suffering from irrationality, because it had been six days since he'd talked to Blaise and five since he'd been able to touch Neville. Perhaps he was feeling their collective absence greatly, and that was how he had been reduced to this -- however, Notts didn't do hysteria, so Theodore was going to have to admit merely to being extremely confused.
He had heard of 'being in the closet', but he had always heard it used to refer to one’s sexual preferences; he'd never thought he would wind up in a real closet because of Neville. All his previous assignations with other people had taken place in more appropriate settings -- this was just unseemly, and the amount of dust alone was appalling.
When Theodore sneezed and rubbed his nose, Neville smiled at him apologetically. "I know it's not Nott Terrace," he said.
"There's something extraordinarily amusing about being the closet with you," Theodore said as Neville reached around him to prop his wand on a shelf. The faint Lumino was just enough to let Theodore wish he couldn't see the cobwebs and dust and spiders. Theodore hated spiders; nonetheless, it was tremendously relaxing to be able to spend any time with Neville, especially when Neville was virtually plastered against Theodore's body.
It was an extraordinarily small closet.
"So, was there a particular reason you wanted to meet in the closet?" Theodore's lips brushed against the shell of Neville's ear as he spoke. "Or were you simply looking for a change of scenery? I quite fancied the greenhouses myself."
"So do I, but Professor Sprout has double lectures all day and Hagrid was collecting some herbs because one of his vampire rabbits caught a cold -- it seemed a little risky."
"Riskier than normal?" Theodore's dick hardened inside his trousers when Neville's hands came to a rest on his waist, and he had to work to focus when Neville breathed on his neck.
"I know, I didn't think it was possible."
Neville's thigh pressed between Theodore's legs, and Theodore banged his head on a shelf when he pulled away slightly. "Are you going to seduce me," he asked, "or are we trying to have a proper conversation? I just want to know where this is going so I can be properly prepared."
Neville laughed quietly against Theodore's neck, and Theodore’s cock twitched. "I'm sorry; I'm not trying to get you worked up. I just wanted to see if you'd patched things up with Blaise. You didn't look particularly happy at lunch yesterday or at breakfast today."
Theodore exhaled loudly through his nose, and dropped his head onto Neville's bony shoulder. He was soothed somewhat by Neville's fingers rubbing the nape of his neck.
When Neville spoke against the top of his head, Theodore could feel his lips moving against his hair. "Should I take that as a no?"
"He's being very stubborn," Theodore complained.
"A Slytherin being stubborn, I'm shocked," Neville mocked.
Neville grunted when Theodore poked him in the ribs. "You're not helping matters," Theodore said.
"Well, what do you want me to say? I don't think I could be much use to you with this one. I know when I told Hermione --"
Theodore's cock deflated rapidly as he pulled back and looked at Neville hard. "You told Hermione Granger about us?"
"I had to tell someone," said Neville. "You told Blaise."
"Yes, and now Blaise isn't speaking to me."
Neville was quiet for a moment. "He's not talking to you because of me, is that it?"
The nerve in Theodore's temple quivered, and he rubbed his face. His voice was muffled when he spoke.
"Sorry?" said Neville. "I missed that."
"He thinks I've left him for you," Theodore repeated
"Left him how? Were you two involved before?"
"He thinks I've thrown our friendship over for you," corrected Theodore. "It's not true; I could never -- I would never do that."
Theodore shivered slightly when Neville brushed his lips against his forehead. "Jealousy makes people act strange. I've seen a lot of it in my house, you'd be surprised."
Theodore opened his mouth to inquire and then thought better of it. He would keep that information for another time. "Blaise isn't -- Slytherins don’t get jealous."
Neville made a derisory noise and Theodore frowned. “It’s beneath us,” he said.
“So it would be all right if I went and shagged someone else?” Neville asked.
Theodore’s eyes narrowed, and he shoved Neville across the very small space, pressing him against the door. Neville’s eyes were huge when Theodore fisted his robes. “No, it would not be ‘all right’ if you shagged someone else.”
Neville blinked several times under the vehemence of Theodore’s glare. “No, no jealousy issues there,” he mocked looking down at Theodore’s grip on his clothing.
Theodore let go and scrubbed at his face with his hands. This was all Blaise’s fault.
Theodore was disconcerted because Blaise wasn’t speaking to him, and it was making him messy in dealing with Neville. He needed Blaise to make this work. Neville was helping him become who he wanted to be, but Blaise reminded him of who he was.
Theodore needed Blaise full-stop; when he opened his eyes Neville was looking at him with something akin to pity. Which was intolerable.
Clearing his throat, Theodore smoothed out Neville’s clothes. "Blaise and I aren't the same as you and I," he said eventually.
"Don't tell me," Neville said, chuckling. “Tell him."
"I've tried, but he won't listen."
"Make him listen."
Theodore opened his mouth, but Neville interrupted him. "I don’t know how, don't ask, just sort something out. You're a Slytherin, you're resourceful."
"That almost sounds like a compliment," Theodore said thoughtfully.
Neville snogged him lightly. "That's because it is."
In better Slytherin homes, sexuality was seen as an extremely fluid thing. The vast majority of the people in the upper echelon were attractive, and therefore it was only natural to be attracted to them. Man to woman, man to man, woman to woman -- as long as the inner workings of the families were not interrupted and a suitable next generation was available when necessary, people weren't terribly prone to asking bothersome questions. Such an open policy allowed them much more liberty to pair off among themselves, and if there was one thing all families shared, it was an interest in salacious speculation and gossip.
In short: as long as a pureblooded heir could be produced when required no one paid too much obvious attention to who was shagging who and when. Experimentation and an adventurous nature were encouraged -- Theodore's mother had been twenty-five when she married his father, who was well over eighty, and no one had batted an eyelash.
When Theodore had realised he vastly preferred the company of Blaise to that of anyone else, male or female, he had simply taken it as a matter of course. He was attracted to Blaise; he was loyal to Blaise, not the bits between Blaise's legs. It didn't matter if Blaise was a boy or a girl -- he was still the same Blaise who continually managed to beat Draco at Flamingo Croquet despite Draco’s cheating, and he always remembered Alexandria's birthday.
Despite the recent insertion of Neville in Theodore's life, nothing had changed for him. Blaise was still Blaise, and no one could compare. He was not going to give that up.
He paused outside the wall of the Slytherin dorms and collected his thoughts. Blaise was not jealous; he was out of sorts, except he had no reason to be, because Theodore was never going to leave him. Ever.
Theodore was also going to have a long talk with Neville about shagging other people and why, despite whatever he had heard about Slytherin practices, it was not allowed and would be punishable by Crucio and castration.
The stone wall evaporated when he said, "Circe's pigs,” and he strode into the common room purposefully. There were several younger years milling around, but Theodore's eyes went right to Blaise, who was firmly ensconced on the sofa between Draco and Pansy. They were playing wizarding Scrabble, which tested ones knowledge of obscure spells and hexes, and by the dour look on Draco's face he was clearly losing.
"I need to speak with you," Theodore said, and Draco glanced up and smiled beatifically.
"I was wondering when you would come to your senses," he said.
"Blaise," Theodore clarified, and Draco frowned.
"I'm occupied right now, Theodore." Blaise replied without looking up from the game board. Theodore's face hardened.
"I'm not asking," he said.
Draco raised an eyebrow and even Pansy looked up. "You heard him." This time when Draco smiled it was all insolence and superiority.
Theodore licked his lips and repeated himself as calmly as possible – resisting the urge to put Blaise in a Full Body-Bind and drag him down the hall. "Blaise, we need to talk."
Blaise sighed.
"We can talk elsewhere or we can talk here," Theodore's tone was deceptively calm, "but we are going to talk."
Blaise rolled his eyes, but after several tense moments, he got to his feet and walked off towards their room.
The walk down the hallway was quiet except for the soft padding of their feet, and Blaise pushed the door open, leaving it ajar for Theodore to follow him.
Theodore only spoke once he had firmly closed the door behind him. "We can't keep doing this -- I can't keep doing this. It's insufferable and it's childish."
"I have no idea what you're referring to." Blaise kept his back to Theodore, busying himself with removing his jumper and unloosening his tie, and he flinched when he turned around and Theodore was right behind him.
"I am not last season's robes," Theodore said very quietly, trying to keep the catch out of his voice. "You are not going to throw me away."
Blaise's face hardened under Theodore's glare. "I have no idea what you're referring to."
"Do not play ignorant with me, Blaise Zabini," said Theodore. "It's unbecoming."
"You have nothing to accuse me of," Blaise spat, his voice low and harsh. "I'm not the one taking up with someone completely unacceptable. I'm not the one pissing all over my family and my heritage by shagging a Gryffindor."
"I'm doing nothing of the sort." Theodore's stomach rolled, and when he opened and closed his hands he could feel his palms beginning to dampen. "You cannot find fault with me just because I'm shagging Neville."
"Of course I can!" Blaise shouted, and it was Theodore's turn to flinch, but when Blaise spoke again his tone was lower. "You're risking your neck for -- for him and I'm just supposed to stand idly by and wish you well. Do you expect me to applaud your choice and become best mates with your boyfriend? It won't happen, Theodore -- I'll see everyone dead first."
Blaise stumbled when Theodore grabbed him by the tie and pulled him close. "You will do nothing of the sort," he said very softly. "I depend on you to stay alive. I need you, Blaise."
Blaise's hands groped at his tie. "You don't need me," he said, loosening the tie and slipping free of Theodore's hold. "You have him now."
Blaise eluded Theodore's grab for his forearm, and Theodore had no choice but to advance until he could trap Blaise against the wall. "Neville is not you; Neville will never be you. He is not your replacement."
Blaise's glare could strip wood, and Theodore blocked Blaise's attempt to get away by putting his arms on either side of Blaise's head.
"This is very intimate," Blaise mocked. "You should be careful, someone might get the wrong idea, and we wouldn't want --"
Blaise's words were cut off by Theodore's mouth, and their teeth clashed together as they snogged. Blaise bit Theodore's lips savagely and yanked at his jumper to pull him closer, making harsh noises the entire time.
Blaise's lips were soft, not dry or chapped, and his mouth was wet and hot. He tasted of orange-flavoured Fizzing Whizzbees, and there was nothing sweet and gentle about being with Blaise the way there was with Neville. There was no slow burn in Theodore’s groin –- with Blaise it was all quick heat. Theodore could taste hurt and confusion and sadness on Blaise's tongue –- and, somewhere deeper, loyalty to the bond they had built.
It was very different from the first clumsy kiss they had shared at twelve, and a part of Theodore lamented that he had fallen for Neville instead, but Neville was different. He was so different and so not like them -- not like anyone else Theodore had ever known.
Theodore needed Neville; Theodore and Blaise were too much alike.
Blaise gasped against Theodore's mouth as he pulled away. "I'm not replacing you," Theodore spoke quietly against Blaise's mouth as Blaise smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in Theodore's jumper. "No one will ever replace you."
Blaise's hands paused in their ministrations, and he averted his eyes under the intensity of Theodore's gaze. "He knows -- you told him."
"I told him because you wanted me to," Theodore corrected.
Blaise rubbed his mouth with his hand. "I didn’t think you would actually do it."
"Salazar's balls," Theodore retorted.
"Okay, I knew you would tell him," Blaise admitted ruefully, his smile just visible through his fingers. "I knew you would tell him if you really felt he was worthy."
"He is."
Blaise didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "You know this means you have to stay with him now."
Theodore nodded and let his hands fall away from the wall. He ran the fingers of his left hand through his hair. "I know."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "This is so unbecoming, Theodore, all this intrigue and secrecy and sneaking around."
Theodore snickered. "It's very Slytherin."
Blaise sighed, but neither one of them started when the door opened behind them with a bang. "You were playing without me." Draco's tone was all surly disappointment, and Theodore dropped his head onto Blaise's shoulder and groaned.
"Yes, we were," Blaise said, resting his hand on the nape of Theodore's neck, "and if you don’t mind we'd prefer to get back to it. Bugger off."
Theodore could just imagine the affronted look on Draco's face, and he sniggered into Blaise's shoulder rather than entering the fray.
"You're hardly worthy of me anyway," Draco retorted, and when the door closed again with another slam, Theodore lifted his head.
Blaise's face was all stoic calm, and then he began to laugh and Theodore joined in. He had missed this. He had missed them.
Blaise let a few more snickers escape before pulling himself together. “I suppose one of us will have to make amends for that at some point,” he said thoughtfully.
Theodore tilted his head to the side. “You’re volunteering, Blaise? And you think I’ve been spending too much time with a Gryffindor –- what’s come over you? Is it Terry Boot?”
Blaise made a dismissive wave. “I don’t think I’m interested in a partner at this juncture in time – it’s hard enough looking after you. Surely I don’t need someone else as well.”
Theodore rolled his eyes.
“Speaking of looking after people,” Blaise carried on, “I believe you had a letter from your sister the other day –- I suppose you’ll want it.”
Theodore fixed Blaise with a piercing look. “You lifted a letter intended for me?”
“You shrank Draco’s duvet, transfigured my bed, and left me to deal with both of these things -– I hardly think lifting one little letter is the same.” Blaise reached into the back pocket of his trousers and handed over a folded piece of parchment.
Blaise said something else as Theodore studied the letter in his hands, but he missed it. His name was hastily scrawled across the front, which was rather odd as Alexandria was rather meticulous about addressing her epistles and his father rarely wrote to him at Hogwarts.
The green wax 'N' on the back of the heavy cream parchment was smeared as though it has been applied quickly and without much thought for appearance, and Theodore frowned as he turned the letter over in his hands. Something was not right, he could feel it. It was the Slytherin way to be suspicious of everyone and everything, yet Theodore couldn't put his finger on what it could possibly be. If something were wrong with Alexandria, surely his father would send him word, but not in a letter. Never in a letter.
This was simply a letter from Alexandria that had not been given its due care. Perhaps Archimedes had gotten caught in a storm somewhere en route and the letter had gotten wet. Yes, obviously that was it.
Shaking his head, Theodore loosened the seal and unfolded the letter. A translucent sheaf fluttered free, and Theodore could see the pastels on it; obviously Alexandria was anxious to show him her latest drawing.
Smiling to himself, Theodore bent down to pick up the etching. His fingers pinched the edge of the paper and his stomach gave a convulsive jolt as though he were being pulled by string attached to his navel. He gave a sigh of resignation as the spell took hold.
He hated traveling by portkey.
-end-
1. Beta by
serialkarma and lalejandra. Remaining snafus by me.2. The tergiversari are copyright of
circe_tigana.3. Queenie Greengrass is the property and creation of
serialkarma 4. Title taken from the album The Good Will Out by Embrace
5. I'm going out of town for the holidays, but I hope everyone who's taking time off enjoys themselves and if you don't have any time off coming, dude, that just sucks.
ETN: Shit, I forgot to thank
fearlessdiva! Thank you, sweetie!
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Especially:
"Are you going to seduce me," he asked, "or are we trying to have a proper conversation? I just want to know where this is going so I can be properly prepared."
Gods. I adore Slytherins, I really do.
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