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“My house is…spooky,” Theo murmured as he glanced over at the black velvet curtains where they fluttered from an invisible draft. Shivering, he pulled Harry’s arm tighter around him. “I’m going to sell it and move someplace more civilized. Care to join?”
He’d said it in jest, but when Harry sleepily declared, “Sure,” Theo went still with shock and stared wide-eyed into the abyss of his bedroom wondering if he really could leave behind Nott Manor. He was Lord here now; it had been his evil father’s legacy, left to him upon the old man’s death, but the place stank of aristocratic supremacy and madness. Death stained its ancient walls.
He hated it.
The spirit of his beloved, murdered mother suddenly appeared near the window.
‘Go!’ she begged him. ‘Be free of this dark past, my son. Run while you can!’
Behind him, gentle lips kissed warmth back into Theo's body. “You could get a small flat in Soho,” Harry dreamily stated while seducing Theo’s senses once more, “and we can finally have breakfast together.”
“Alright, Potter,” he sighed, “you win.”
‘You’re right, Mum. I think…we can both let go now.’
With an approving nod, she faded away.