Chapter Text
The sun was streaming down the street as Harry let his lips curl into a small smile. The atmosphere of the Parisian cafeteria was cozy with laughter swirling around him. Passengers walked their dogs trying to hold their pets from jumping in front of cyclists. The cling of the bicycle filled the small silence between him and his partner.
“You would have to tell them eventually, you know.”
Harry looked up. The handsome wizard in front of him had changed so much compared to how he looked like at Hogwarts. He had been a stringy, weedy-looking boy whom Harry had never been interested to talk to. But the bloke sitting in front of him was totally different. He had thick dark brown hair cut into an S-shaped fringe, framing his rosy face. His hallow cheekbones and straight nose were dusted with freckles. His dark hazel eyes looked straight into Harry’s, reflecting the hot sun streaming down his face. He had a skinny moustache over his upper lip, highlighting his full pink mouth. Harry thought that the overall look suited him very well.
Theodore Nott pushed away his strands, waiting expectantly for Harry’s answer.
Harry’s small smile dropped, his stomach twisting itself in a knot at the sentence. Sighing heavily, he pushed his round glasses up his small nose. “I know, Theo. But I don’t know how.” He looked down at his bowl of chocolate milk.
A slightly tanned hand with heavy rings reached out and grabbed his hand. He had the instinctive urge to shake it off but then he remembered that he was sitting in a borough he fell in love years ago - a borough which welcomed people like him.
People like him. Wasn’t that the core of the problem? Harry had his suspicion when he had been on the run, but he had chosen to take them lightly, believing it was just a passing thought at a time of great stress and loneliness.
“There,” said Hermione, “how does he look, Harry?”
It was just not possible to discern Ron under his disguise, but only, Harry thought because he knew him so well. Ron’s hair was now long and wavy; he had thick brown beard and mustacho, no freckles, a short, broad nose, and heavy eyebrows.
“Well, he’s not my type, but he’ll do,” said Harry. “Shall we go, then?” (DH)
“Well…” Theo looked pensive for a moment, before a generous smirk graced his face. “I can just grab you and snog you silly in front of them.”
Harry snorted. “You will give Ron a heart attack.”
Theo laughed, his eyes crinkling. “For what? For the fact that you’re gay or because you’re shagging a Slytherin?”
“Both to be honest.” said Harry, shrugging.
A thumb started to caress his knuckles. “I bet I can charm them both with my excellent brain and wit like I did for you.”
“Oh yeah? Who says they won’t hex your confidence out of you?”
Theo’s eyes twinkled. “Harry. Have I taught you nothing? I am a resourceful wizard. With one artefact I can stick your feet onto the ground and use you as a shield. They wouldn’t want to damage your pretty face now, would they? They wouldn’t dare.”
Harry shook his head, a grin stretching onto his face as the knot in his stomach eased. “I didn’t know you fantasized about using me as bait.”
Theo’s face turned darkly seductive. “Oh it’s not the only thing I fantasised about you, darling.”
He blushed. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You would be bored if I was nice.” Theo grinned maliciously and Harry chuckled.
“Whatever.”
His hand was patted. “But seriously, Harry;” Theo continued, his face darkening into a solemn look. “It’s going to be alright. You just have to be sure that you’re ready to stop hiding yourself from them.” He leaned close. “Are you truly ready, Harry?”
Harry bit his lip. Ready, Harry? Theodore Nott had once whispered these sweet words to him once, a few years ago, and here they are now. Every time Theo dropped this simple line; Harry would be immediately transported back to their first kiss.
He had been an Auror assigned to a transnational case dealing with dark artefacts trafficking. He had required Nott both for his knowledge in potions and artefacts. Theo had been in dodgy businesses at that time and took great pleasure at scamming everyone – including Death Eaters. Harry thought him to be an essential element for his investigation.
At one point, both found themselves in an old Parisian hideout – undercover of course – and Harry had been stuck in a room with Devil Snares. If it hadn’t been for Theo saving him, the plant would have thrown him in an acidic boiling potion which his current partner had identified as the Moonseed Poison. It was used to suck out the magic of the second drinker at each crescent moon until they perish, only to transfer it to the first party. He had end up with an injured wrist and a broken ankle which Theo had swiftly repaired with an Episkey and tried to drag him away as the criminals were approaching them. But since he couldn’t walk, Theo had held him in his arms, told him he was going to activate Harry’s emergency portkey and had asked if he was ready.
And he had been.
Taking a deep breath, he stared deep into those intense, round eyes and answered as he did back then, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Theo smirked.
Harry’s smile slipped into a hesitating one. “I want to tell them. I don’t want to keep this thing between us anymore. I want to be like everyone else, you know this.” Then he looked down at his French breakfast. “It’s just…hard. You’re perfectly aware of my difficulty understanding matters of…emotion.” He said with a disgruntled face.
Theo let out a laugh, before taking a sip of his orange juice. “Yeah, I do. Wasn’t my dazzling soft lips that made you come out of the closet after all?”
Harry blushed. He hadn’t even noticed he had feelings for this teasing wizard until it hit him – or the knowledge was kissed into him at St Mungo's, to be more precise.
“Yeah…” he took a sip of his chocolate milk.
His partner bite quietly into his croissant, letting the soft silence settle between them. Harry’s gaze drifted to a waitress with short hair listening to a customer ordering two tables away at his right. Looking around himself, he made sure that no one was staring at them and that no reporters were in sight before leaning down and pecking one of those hollowed cheeks.
Sitting back down, he grinned confidently at Theo’s flush.
Then he sighed.
“It’s just..” he huffed, his gaze resting on a piece of baguette filled with jam. “It’s going to be weird. Especially for Ron. I dated his sister after all, and I know she still fancies me. She always did. Ron thinks I will take her back – that I just need some time – but I don’t know how to explain to him the fact that, despite feeling very happy with her for a while and liking her, I realised that I cared more about being normal than notice her properly or be attracted whatsoever.”
“Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely,” said auntie Muriel in a rather carrying whisper. “But I must say, Ginerva’s dress is far too low cut.”
Ginny glanced around grinning, winked at Harry, then quickly faced the front again. Harry’s mind wandered a long way from the marquee, back to afternoons spent alone with Ginny in lonely parts of the school grounds. They seemed so long ago; they had always seemed too good to be true, as though he had been stealing shining hours from a normal person’s life, a person without a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead…(DH)
Those shining hours has been spent with them snogging and Harry barely really remembered how it was, as if he had dissociated during those times. He never mentioned that moment with them in detail afterwards. Before dying, he thought of her, of the normalcy she gave him to escape the harsh reality of his life. As he did when he first kissed her: he has been so happy that people were talking about him for something that they would also talk about other boys – especially since the gossip covered up the Sectumsempra he cast on Malfoy – that he hadn’t even realised what it meant (HBP).
But when he was unable to cast the Patronus Charm during the Battle of Hogwarts, it was with Luna's encouragement and the thought of Ron and Hermione that he repelled those hundreds of dementors. Not Ginny (DH).
During those hours in the lake, Ginny had tried to initiate a more intimate contact, but Harry had refused knowing Ron wouldn’t like it, considering his reaction at just Ginny kissing Dean. And he had been right, knowing how angry he had been when he had found them snogging in her bedroom when Ginny dragged him while he had tried to keep his distance from her after their breakup (DH). Ron thought he had been leading her on, but it was her who dragged him there and who disregarded their agreement to remain break up.
He hadn’t thought of her after that breakup either and even if he did say he was cut up (HBP), he never spent hours being sad about it or crying God forbid – unlike Ginny who had sobbed to her brother knowing Harry hated to see girls being weepy – Cho was a great example (HBP, OoTP).
But it wasn’t like Harry was unfeeling either – when Draco Malfoy had cried in that bathroom, Harry saw him as a human being for the first time. He had seen his tears and hadn’t felt disgusted or denial at their existence – he had seen a human being. A bully, a Death-Eater a heartless git, yes…but a human, nonetheless. And there had been no feeling of embarrassment at listening Dumbledore open up about Grindelwald and crying for him. Plus, he had felt a great heartbreak when he and Ron had fought. He wasn’t that cold (HBP, DH, GoF).
“You miss him!” Hermione said impatiently. “And I know he misses you —”
“Miss him?” said Harry. “I don’t miss him...”
But this was a downright lie. Harry liked Hermione very much, but she just wasn’t the same as Ron.
There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend.
…From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments.
“Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?”
“What?” Ron bellowed furiously. “Four? You lousy, biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!”
…But Harry didn’t care, he wouldn’t have cared if Karkaroff had given him zero; Ron’s indignation on his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him. He didn’t tell Ron this, of course, but his heart felt lighter than air as he turned to leave the enclosure. And it wasn’t just Ron ... those weren’t only Gryffindors cheering in the crowd. When it had come to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of the school had been on his side as well as Cedric’s... He didn’t care about the Slytherins, he could stand whatever they threw at him now.
“What?” said Harry. “But you don’t know what the second task is —”
“Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy —”
“Find my what?”
“— and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!” (GoF)
Come to think of it, Harry had also been more worried about Ron’s reaction to him being with her than her feelings for him – as if he already, unconsciously knew that she would be there for him anyway. That she was a safe option – the best one, in fact – to believe he was a normal boy.
Then he chuckled. “I mean…Everything about her is not me who noticed but other people telling me.”
“Oh dear!” chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking around at Ginny, who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn’s great belly. “You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvellous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn’t cross her!”
…“Yeah, he is a bit,” said Harry, his eyes on Zabini. “How come you ended up in there, Ginny?”
“He saw me hex Zacharias Smith,” said Ginny. “You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him – when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?” (HBP)
Now, that he thought about it, it was mad. Wasn’t it weird how she was invited to the exclusive club because of one single hex against that annoying prat Zacharias Smith? The club was supposed to gather influential or talented people with strong connection to the Ministry. Susan Bones had Amelia Bones as a mother – head of the DMLE when Harry was fifteen and she had been at his trial. Why Susan Bones hadn’t been invited to the club? Plus, Susan, Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein had also been proficient at fighting – they had defended Harry when he had been attacked by Malfoy and his goons just before taking the train back to the Dursleys at fifteen years old. If it was anyone else…Slughorn would have taken house points. And it’s not like those families aren’t influential either with Abbott being in the Scared Twenty-Eight for example (HBP).
Then Harry mentally shrugged. Who knows the true motifs behind his former potion professor’s compliance?
Still. Harry never really once thought of Ginny as beautiful or pretty, unlike Cho, whom he vaguely remembers as being cute and pretty. He had once a wet dream about Ginny, but Harry had lots of dreams that don’t much mean anything, especially about Malfoy and Snape making his life miserable and Voldemort. A lot of torturous dream about Voldemort…
And even though he had been fixated on Ginny so much he got hit by a Bludger on the head a few times, he doesn’t remember what her techniques were either…he doesn’t remember thinking about them either…Harry thought he loved her – he really believed it (HBP).
But considering he had fantasised at least three times her being with another man... Harry had been quite obvious. First, he had told her that time with her was an experience out of somebody's life when they broke up (HBP), then he had thought that he was stealing shining hours from a normal person's life who did not have a lighting shaped scar on his forehead (DH, and he had even imagined her marrying "a tall, unpleasant stranger" (DH). None of those fantasies involved Harry with her.
Perhaps she had been an outlet from his grief of Sirius and an escape from the overall trauma of his life. After all, Harry had been fixated on lots of things when he had been sixteen: not only on Ginny, but also on proving how Draco Malfoy was a Death-Eater or on the Half-Blood Prince book. Ron had told him he looked like Hermione with how much he defended the Prince because of how much he spent more time reading the book than with him. And considering Harry had tried to defend the Prince for the Sectumsempra, it hadn't been far fetched to believe he had been obsessed. He had needed that obsession to take his mind off Sirius. A bit like with Cho too about Cedric…
“A lot of boys like her,” said Pansy, watching Malfoy out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. “Even you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!”
“I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like,” said Zabini coldly, and Pansy looked pleased. (HBP)
He hadn’t felt an ounce of anger at this remark too…
“Come on, Ginny’s not bad,” said George fairly, sitting down next to Fred. “Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us…”
“She’s been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren’t looking,” said Hermione from behind her tottering pile of Ancient Rune books. (GoF)
Theo scolded. “You and your obsession with being normal –”
Harry blushed. “– put me in places I had no business in being, I know.”
His lover shook his head with a smile, taking another bite of his croissant. “But your breakup was mutual, right?”
Harry hesitated. “Not really. I did the breakup, and she accepted.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Without a fight?”
Harry took a sip of his orange juice. “It was dangerous times. We both knew it, so there was no need to make a fuss about it.”
He shrugged. “Still. You told me she was a strong, fierce witch. Capable. Not a mademoiselle in distress. I would have expected her to disagree and tell you she could have taken everything that comes in her way for you or something.”
“But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding world,” said Ginny half laughing. “Well…I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end.” (HBP)
Harry shrugged. “I guess we were always meant to come together and then part.” (JKR*)
He frowned. “So…you were…what? Fated? But then you realised you liked to play with a wand a bit too much?”
Harry let out an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know, honestly. But I think we were never really supposed to last long, at least. She never really understood me, after all. Sometimes, she misunderstood my intention.”
“She’s a damn sight nicer than Phlegm,” said Ginny.
“And she’s more intelligent, she’s an Auror!” said Hermione from the corner.
“Fleur’s not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament,” said Harry.
“Not you as well!” said Hermione bitterly.
“I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ’Arry,’ do you?” asked Ginny scornfully.
“No,” said Harry, wishing he hadn’t spoken, “I was just saying, Phlegm – I mean Fleur –” (HBP)
Harry has never been the type to excuse someone’s behaviour because he found them appealing. Or else, he wouldn’t have opposed Tom Riddle in the slightest. He hasn’t been that shallow, even at sixteen with full of unstable, confused hormones.
Harry also remembered Ginny yelling at him for forgetting the fact that she was possessed by Tom Riddle. Looking back, while she might not have been right on the type of possession Harry had gone through – with his urge to sink his fang into Dumbledore and the immense hatred he felt when they were discussing Mr Weasley’s attack unlike Ginny’s whose mind was blank, and she barely could remember who she was petrifying – she still was right that it was stupid of him to not remember. Well…probably not stupid. Harry had learned to be less harsh on himself after the war. He had been preoccupied, in depression and terrified of what Voldemort could have done to his body after being kept in the dark the whole summer without support – especially after hearing the conversation between Mad-eye and Mrs Weasley talking about the possibility of him being possessed by Voldemort (OoTP).
Plus, Ginny had been influenced by the diary which had been a Horcrux. Harry had been possessed by a man who not only had Harry's blood - Lily Potter's protection running in his vein - but also a part of his soul harbored by Harry. Harry's special connection created a possession. For Ginny, it had been more of a manipulation after she poured her heart out into the Horcrux (OoTP).
It had probably been stupid at that time, perhaps. But now Harry knows why he forgot that detail about her – one of the most traumatising event of her life. He hadn’t been sorry, not really. He had told her exactly what he had thought: forgetfulness.
He had no intention to open up to her – unlike Hermione whom he knew he could…trust? Understand? Hermione seemed a safer option to talk about his feelings than Ginny had been.
Both he and Ginny barely talked throughout their curriculum after all – at least not something they could have emotionally bound over - unlike with Luna (PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP, HBP, DH).
“Other times, she doubted my character.”
Cho had got to her feet, but Ginny said rather fiercely, “No, Luna will take Harry, won’t you, Luna?” (DH)
Harry knew that Cho had a thing for him still at that time before the Battle of Hogwarts, but did she really believed she would have jumped him the moment they were alone, and he would have accepted just when he was terrified of what Voldemort was about to do to Hogwarts? Did she believe so little in their love at that time? She could have asked Luna before making that decision for her – out of sense of respect for her friend’s consent – but Luna had been happy anyway. Well, he had also been happy at her possessiveness, hadn’t he?
But he can complain about it today, now that he knew this sort of control tends to piss him off.
That’s what he liked about Theo. He wasn’t intruding, he was truly confident in Harry’s love – no changing for him or pretending to be strong and unreadable just to please him – he was genuinely himself. That might be why both of them hit off so well. He was so different from the rest of the opportunist Slytherins - like Harry who had been quite different from the rest of the outspoken Gryffindors. Yes, Theo had his moment of jealousy and possessiveness – like himself – but he always made sure to not display it in front of others – at least not obviously – and give him the choice of what to do with the situation.
But again, it all comes back to the fact that –
“I believe she liked a certain part of me – like I did to be honest.” He continued.
His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord. (CoS)
Funny that even at eleven years old, Ginny had thought of him as divine, like a deity, a Saviour, a Symbol and not…a human. But he guessed that the whole point of a poem was to make rhythm so...that might be why she had chosen that word. Curious was it still.
Plus, Harry now knows why he had that weird chest monster feeling when he saw Ginny kissing Dean. It wasn't because he was jealous, contrarily to what he thought at that time. No. He had been upset because Ginny represented Ron's sister. She represented someone stable, like a family - Harry's deepest desire was to have a family. So much, he had stared for days into the Mirror of Erised, watching his entire family for hours, until Dumbledore interrupted him and told him to not dwell on dreams (PS).
So his deepest desire was - still is - to belong somewhere. To a home, to someone. And when Ginny decided to be with other people to catch his attention, Harry felt the projection he pushed onto her crumble and had hated Dean for that. It wasn't really because he was attracted to her. He would have asked about her hobbies or he would have described her physical features more precisely in his head. He hadn't. And his chest monster wouldn't have existed in the first place - because Harry had been plenty jealous before - Ron being a prefect (OoTP), Cedric being liked as a champion (GoF) - and he never described his jealousy through a "chest monster".
Clearly, this chest monster hadn't meant to describe his jealousy because it had been the first and only time he felt that monster in his chest. And when he kissed Ginny, he never paid attention to how she tasted at that time. But the monster inside of him had roared - as if satisfied with his primary objective: getting back his status of a honorary member of the Weasley family. It hadn't been jealousy, it had been triumph.
And now he knew why.
Ginny represented family and Harry had always wanted one. It wasn't about her as a person. That's why he started to like her at sixteen, perhaps. The projection had been necessary - just after losing Sirius, the only family he had.
He now he wondered if he hadn't been coping with the trauma of his own life all this time...
“But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding world,” said Ginny half laughing. “Well…I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.” (HBP)
Harry had never wished to hunt down Voldemort – especially for personal achievement. Harry had no choice. He had been fated by a prophecy – a boy born at the end of July, whose parents had defied the Dark Lord thrice – it had been his responsibility, his purpose (OoTP). It had never been about him being happy by the death of man. Harry had known he was a marked man after his conversation with Dumbledore in his office (OoTP). He had always suspected it, but he hadn’t realised the extent of that – truly realised – until he watched Snape’s memories (DH). He hadn’t hunt down Voldemort either. Not really. He had a mission to accomplish – which was destroying the Horcruxes. It had never been about happiness.
Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. (OoTP)
…“But you’d have been better, much better, than Fudge or Scrimgeour!” burst out Harry.
“Would I?” asked Dumbledore heavily. “I am not so sure. I had proven, as a very young man, that power was my weakness and my temptation. It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.” (DH)
But he also now understands why Ginny never asked him about how he was supposed to fight Voldemort. She just accepted that fact and let him be. She hadn’t really probed like Ron and Hermione – to whom Harry told everything necessary. Ginny believed it was just him being a hero, a saviour, a symbol...she never liked him for anything else (HBP, DH).
But after all, Harry didn't even want to talk about Sirius because she had been in the same room as him when he was fourteen years old (GoF) - or about the Horcruxes before hastily leaving Bill and Fleur's wedding (DH). Maybe, unconsciously, he had never trusted her like he trusted Ron and Hermione. Because, even when he had told them about the Horcruxes, Harry had intended to partake on this journey alone (HBP). Harry had given option for them to opt out for six years and Ron and Hermione hadn't turned their back on him. They had abandoned their family to join him. Willingly. And Harry had let them.
He never considered such option for Ginny.
“I never really gave up on you,” she said. “Not really. I always hoped…Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more – myself.” (HBP)
And again, Harry had never really noticed her. It had always been other people talking about her: like Slughorn, Zabini, Parkinson, the twins…
And the mask had fallen quickly. She had put so much effort to be the type of person Harry liked, dating other boys to catch his attention, changing for him instead of for herself…it was bound to never work, was it? She said she had been more herself but she had dated Dean Thomas and Micheal Corner in the hopes to catch Harry's attention despite not fancying them. She had been really shy before all of that and it was also her being 'herself' and clearly Harry had never been interested into that part of her. She hadn't really been herself - not really. She had been the ideal woman for him - ideal for Harry's projection on how to belong to a traditional family, more like. (JKR**)
Harry had thought they might have months, years, that he was just catching up, really. But he had never liked her prior to their fling. Harry had liked her because she played quidditch and she wasn’t weepy. He hadn’t known what else to give for an explanation. When he broke up with her, she hid her tears so that he wouldn’t see them. She had been more cut up than Harry had been by that breakup according to Ron (DH).
Theo had laughed when he had once explained it and he mocked him on the fact that what he liked about a woman was features he could find in majority of men: Quidditch and virility.
“So basically…” he looked up from his juice, narrowing his eyes at Harry. This was the look of the inquisitorial Potion Master Harry knew well. “She wasn’t perceptive enough – or should I say – a wizard enough for you?”
Harry flushed. “We’re both guilty, but I am more in the wrong to not have realised what was going on with me.”
Theo gave him a gentle smile. “Everyone’s journey is different, Harry.” he said. “Do you remember Bulstrode?”
Harry frowned. “Err…Millicent Bulstrode? The girl who looked like a hag?” (CoS)
Theodore snorted a laugh. “Prat. With that sassiness I'm surprised no one told you how bent you sound -" he shook his head, before turning serious again. "Yes, her. She had dated random Slytherin boys at Hogwarts, but Zabini told me she came out as a lesbian a few months ago.”
“Oh.”
Theo nodded at Harry’s surprised face. “Yeah. Not everybody understand how attraction works. It’s different for everyone. And I know about your cousin, and the environment you were raised in. It was expected for you to be closeted.”
Yes, he had told Theo about some aspect of his childhood when he had been pissed as newt. He hadn’t even known he was an emotional drunk, but he was. He had talked about the Dursleys – not with sarcastic, dismissing comments he did with Ron and Hermione when they were brought up in the conversation – no. Harry had revealed the ugliest part of him unconsciously – and he would have said more if Theo hadn’t put him to sleep. Something about not wanting to know things Harry wasn’t ready to say sober. He had rolled his eyes at the nobleness but the butterflies in his stomach at that time were palpitating for being shown this sort of respect – purely for his character and not his status.
After the war, he never thought someone would look at him like a human – and not a strong Saviour or Symbol, always happy to hunt down Death Eaters. Thank God Aurors are more focused on investigation, spying and bringing out to lights secrets about Dark Wizards than actual fighting. He would have hated being a Hit wizard. He wanted a partner to like him not because of his fight against Voldemort but also because he was…well. Himself. Just Harry.
Besides, the Dursleys had made sure he knew how worthless he was if he had no utility. Some part of him always believed he could only be a hero - no matter how he tried to be normal.
Despite his reserve at showing his true self, he needed someone to see him as a human more than ever.
“Harry, suffering pain like this proves that you are still a man! This pain is part of being human –”
“THEN – I – DON’T – WANT – TO – BE – HUMAN!” Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. (OoTP)
Though, after waking up and drinking a Sobering potion, he had refused to open up and Theo hadn’t pressed. Especially when Harry had been so on edge, unable to understand why he couldn’t stop thinking about him for no reason. Usually, Harry had a reason: his one-time obsession with Draco Malfoy had stem from his suspicion of him being a Death-Eater (HBP). The Deathly Hallows had been a mystery he had needed to understand (DH), the Half-blood Prince had been a companion he had needed and had defended despite Snape creating the Sectumsempra curse (HBP), his obliviousness at seeing diary Tom Riddle for who he was, trusting him because he had been so familiar (CoS)…But Theo was constantly in the back of his mind, his dazzling eyes and quiet confidence filling Harry’s thoughts when he wasn’t occupied.
Harry hadn’t been receptive to acknowledge what was in front of him, not with the ideas he grew up in the Dursleys’ household.
Aunt Petunia always insisted that Dudley was a very gifted boy whose teachers didn’t understand him, while Uncle Vernon maintained that “he didn’t want some swotty little nancy boy for a son anyway.” (GoF)
He hadn’t even known if Uncle Vernon had tried to throw a jab at him. Because he still doesn’t understand the correlation his uncle made between a stereotypical boy with glasses, unkempt hair, lack of social-skill and bookish being…gay. Come to think of it…doesn’t that description fit his younger self?
Dudley hadn’t been better either.
"What d'you mean, I'm not brave in bed?" said Harry, completely nonplussed. "What - am I supposed to be frightened of pillows or something?"
"I heard you last night," said Dudley breathlessly. "Talking in your sleep. Moaning."
"What d'you mean?" Harry said again, but there was a cold, plunging sensation in his stomach. He had revisited the graveyard last night in his dreams.
Dudley gave a harsh bark of laughter then adopted a high-pitched, whimpering voice. “’Don’t kill Cedric! Don’t kill Cedric!’ Who’s Cedric – your boyfriend?”
“I – you’re lying –” said Harry automatically. But his mouth had gone dry. He knew Dudley wasn’t lying – how else would he know about Cedric?
"'Dad! Help me, Dad! He's going to kill me, Dad! Boo-hoo!'"
"Shut up," said Harry quietly. "Shut up, Dudley, I'm warning you!"
"'Come and help me, Dad! Mum, come and help me! He's killed Cedric! Dad help me! He's going to - Don't you point that thing at me!"
Dudley backed into the alley wall. Harry was pointing the wand directly at Dudley's heart. Harry could feel fourteen years' hatred of Dudley pounding in his veins - what wouldn't he give to strike now, to jinx Dudley so thoroughly he'd have to crawl home like an insect, struck dumb, sprouting feelers -
"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry snarled. "D'you understand me?" (OoTP)
He should have told him to shut his mouth and move on. He should have been dismissive of that comment. But he hadn’t. Harry had been perturbed at the knowledge that Dudley would know about Cedric. About Dudley thinking both were boyfriends. Why? Dudley had answered this question before Harry had asked, he had told Harry he heard him and Harry knew it had been because of his nightmare. Why would he ask afterwards, after getting the answer to a question he hadn't asked, how Dudley knew about Cedric? And Harry's response had been on the defensive. He hadn't laughed it off, or frowned in confusion - no. He had refused. He had told Dudley was lying, as if Dudley had accused him of being gay.
What could his cousin have done, anyway? He knew Dudley sniffed vulnerability like a dog sniffing the trails left by its prey. Dudley always knew where to hit and how to hurt. He had been a great factor for the hardening of Harry's heart. Maybe his cousin had seen this part of Harry before himself...They had spent more than ten years in the same household and in the same school after all...
He shook his head, dispelling the thought. “I never paid attention to girls – not in the same way I would meticulously analyse a boy and their clothes and give my opinion.”
“Their clothes?” grinned Theo. “I knew you were a fashionista at heart.”
Especially Tom Riddle…
There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle’s face. Merope had got her dying wish: He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale…
…The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an old-fashioned lamp, stood a boy Harry recognised at once: tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome – the teenage Voldemort.
…Harry recognised Voldemort at once. He was the most handsome face, and he looked the most relaxed of all boys.
…followed by a tall young man Harry had no difficulty whatsoever in recognising as Voldemort. He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever.
…Voldemort had entered the room. His features were not those Harry had seen emerge from the great stone cauldron almost two years ago: They were not as snakelike, the eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle. It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that Harry knew they would become. He was wearing a long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders. (HBP)
Now that one was too much useless detail for an enemy Harry despised. And too much recalling of how handsome Tom Riddle looked before. Clearly, the difference had been really obvious for him to describe it in detail.
Despite hating Draco Malfoy, Harry had also noticed –
…A teenage boy with pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His light grey eyes narrowed.
…To his relief, Malfoy seemed to decide that he had imagined the noise; he pulled on his robes like the others, locked his trunk, and as the train slowed to a jerky crawl, fastened a thick new traveling cloak around his neck. (HBP)
But he hadn’t even saw the low-cut of Ginny’s dress at Bill and Fleur’s wedding until it was pointed out by Aunt Muriel (HBP, see above). Oh well. Harry never claimed to be clever where his heart was concerned.
Though he loved the fancy quill Hermione had sent him once and yes; if Theo calls him Niffler Harry it wasn’t out of the blue: Harry loves gold – he loved the golden cauldron he saw when he had been in Diagon Alley with Hagrid for the first time and he still wears the golden watch Mrs Weasley gifted him for his seventeenth birthday (PS, DH).
Now, he always hangs out with golden trinkets. His partner had immediately taken notice of that fact, of course.
But he wouldn’t have been able to pull off those fancy robes he now wears so well if it wasn’t for him.
“Thanks to you, I know how to pull that off.” Harry grinned back.
“Someone had to do something about it. Because seriously…” he looked at Harry with pity. “You were barely passable.”
Harry pursed his lips, trying to hold off his laughter at the blunt honesty. “Appreciated.”
Theo smirked. “But you did find boys attractive at school, no?”
Harry blushed. God, notice boys – that’s all he did. A lot. But it was the first time he was having this sort of conversation, and it was both exhilarating and shameful to not try to feel normal by copying what others did and instead embrace the freakiness inside of him.
Because he did notice. A lot.
…Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.
…However, Bill was – there was no other word for it – cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill’s clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognised his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide. (GoF)
Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.
…Then there was the fact that Cedric looked the part of a champion so much than he did. Exceptionally handsome, with his straight nose, dark hair, and grey eyes.
…He had been starting to quite like Cedric – prepared to overlook the fact that he had once beaten him at Quidditch, and was handsome, and popular, and nearly everyone’s favourite champion. Now he suddenly realised that Cedric was in fact a useless pretty boy who didn’t have enough brains to fill an eggcup.
Cedric stared at him. Harry saw some of the panic he’d been feeling since Saturday night flickering in Cedric’s grey eyes. (GoF)
He dared to admit, however, that Sirius Black had also been charming – though it was weird to think such way considering their age difference and the fact that he had been his godfather. But the truth was that…
Sirius Black was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James’ nor Harry’s could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed.
…Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.
…His face wasn’t sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter.
…Besides him was Sirius, carelessly handsome, his slightly arrogant face so much younger and happier than Harry had ever seen…
…Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life. He hopped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather’s wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient…
Like Sirius, she retained vestiges of great good looks, but something – perhaps Azkaban – had taken…(OoTP)
…dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slightly and rather less handsome than Sirius had been. (DH)
And, on some occasion, his younger self may have found a particular creature fascinating.
The pain in Harry’s head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When he looked up the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.
“Are you alright?” said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.
“Yes – thank you – what was that?”
The centaur didn’t answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires.
…Harry stared at the back of Firenze’s head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight. (PS)
…white-blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes, the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse. (OoTP)
Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination. (HBP)
And Zabini did look good – though he hadn’t seen him since he was eleven (PS) until he was sixteen and he instantly recognised him at the Slug’s club.
He recognised a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes. (HBP)
Funny that he had immediately recognised Zabini despite never talking to him nor paying attention to him prior to meeting him at sixteen. Somewhat, his look had been stuck in Harry’s memory compared to how Cho and Ginny.
And Theo…Harry hadn’t addressed to him once at Hogwarts, but –
He saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott.
Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron’s and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face, and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail. (OoTP)
Right. He can also admit he had carefully observed Malfoy over the years but again. He had always been happy when the git would get hurt. He never liked him. That, he knew of. However, his features had been quite striking.
In the back of the shop, a boy with pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. (PS)
...It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.
The man who followed could only be Draco’s father.
...He had the same pale, pointed face and identical, cold, grey eyes. (CoS)
Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face. (PoA)
A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair.
He also remembered that Malfoy’s eyes weren’t just grey – they were glittering and gleaming maliciously.
Compared to how he usually thought Cho looked like, these descriptions seemed heavily loaded.
Harry couldn’t help noticing, nervous as he was, that she was extremely pretty. (PoA)
She was waiting for him a little to the side of the oak front doors, looking very pretty with her hair tied back in a long ponytail. (OoTP).
Or even Ginny, for that matter. He never described her face in detail. No cheeks, no eyes, no eyebrows...he never looked, really. It had always been others who did. Though he did notice, indirectly, that she had been small.
He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her. (HBP)
…One hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair. (DH).
None of those said anything about how he felt - it was just pure observation.
Come to think of it, Harry never really dived deeper onto what kind of smell she had. Does he even remember what it was about? Sure, he had associated the smell of Amortentia to her, but Amortentia was a potion which showed what the person was attracted to. Not to who. He had smelled wet grass of Quidditch and the Burrow which could have easily been any of the Weasleys, really. This potion was supposedly showing what he liked, and it was then his job to associate it with the environment or, as he had once done, to someone. Though, he hadn’t smelled anything which purely belonged to her (HBP).
And her eyes…Harry hadn’t noticed her eyes until the resemblance hit him when he looked at Mrs Weasley – to whom he had conversed a lot of times. Same shade and brown colour (DH). But he doesn’t really remember the type of shade. Or type of brown. Harry had almond-shaped eyes for instant but hers…and the brown colour…he knows they are fiery when she’s angry but other than that…Malfoy had cold grey eyes who would narrow when he got angry, and Harry had no difficulty about noticing them throughout the years. Harry’s were bright green for example. But hers…
Harry doesn’t seem to remember – or to have noticed, really.
And Cho? What colour was her eyes again?
“I think you did.” Muttered Theo, staring pointedly at the red on Harry’s face which was traveling down his neck.
Harry took a deep breath. He had been too preoccupied with not dying to notice the signs. But he hadn’t had the confidence he now shoulders. The prospect that he was attracted to anyone other than girls would have made him feel ashamed and he would have probably hidden those feelings, thinking they didn’t mean anything, that everyone had those sort of thoughts.
This brings him back to square one, however.
“How am I going to tell them?” he asked quietly, biting his bottom lip. “We’ve been friends for decades – I don’t –” he swallowed nervously. “I don’t want them to look at me differently.”
Theo placed an arm onto the table, delicately leaning forward with his forearm before reaching out and cupping Harry’s cheek. Harry shifted to press onto the strong but thin hand, hoping no one was witnessing this precious, vulnerable moment between them.
“We are not much different than them.” He murmured softly. “You’re just a bloke fancying another one. That’s it.” He caressed just under Harry’s eyelids, careful to not displace his glasses. “It won’t change the fact that you’re going to be sworn in as Head Auror in a month when the formalities would be completed. It won’t change the fact that you are the funniest and sneakiest git I’ve ever met. Or – dare I say – the most powerful wizard of our generation. You should be proud of yourself, love. And…if all hell breaks loose…I can still knock some sense into them. Literally.”
Harry bit his bottom lip to try to contain the explosion of sweetness enveloping him. He was frozen with indecision for a moment, both wanting to laugh and kiss him, damn anyone watching him.
Theo smirked smoothly, retreating his hand. “My, have I rendered the cold, strong and great Harry Potter into a speechless blushing mess?”
The overwhelming sensation broke through him with a half-hearted laughter. “Bastard.”
“Not exactly.” He answered casually, draping an arm behind his chair – looking way to smug. Harry wanted to kiss that smile off his face. Or hit. He wasn't sure. “I was conceived in wedlock at Nott Manor in the big bedroom on the second floor, actually.”
Harry snickered before groaning in disgust. “I did not need that much detail, thanks.”
Theo then scowled. “Come to think of it, the idea that a pretty woman like my mother could have ever touched a minging butters like my father is disgusting.”
Harry chuckled. “She seemed like an excellent witch.”
Theo’s eyes turned melancholic, and Harry’s heart twisted inside his chest. “If only she had been alive…She had truly been my only family.”
Harry hadn’t known anything about Theodore Nott except for that one piece of information he had noticed in Care of Magical Creature when he had been fifteen: Theodore Nott could see Thestrals. Like him and Neville (OoTP). Harry had never cared about him, so he hadn't wondered why.
But when he and Theo started working together for a case – especially on the part where they were trying to figure out which artefact has been used as a means for transportation – the conversation had come to creatures and Harry had asked. He hadn’t expected Theo’s answer to be painful, but it had been. Theo had observed Harry for a moment before admitting quietly that he had watched his father kill his mother when he had been seven years old.
Later, when both became more at ease with each other’s presence, Harry had asked what had happened. Theo admitted to him with a full glass of mead in his blood, that she had caught his father cheating on her with his nanny. The argument had spiralled down to hexes and curses and under the influence of emotions, someone struck her, and she topple down over the long staircases.
Harry had never realised it at the time, but Theo had hated his father afterwards. That was why when Harry had tattled his father to the Quibbler, Theo hadn't look at him menacingly, hadn't even threatened him, hadn't try to attack him and hadn't broke his nose, unlike Malfoy (OoTP, HBP). He had been nonchalant about the ordeal.
If anything more was needed to complete Harry’s happiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions. He saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked around at Harry as he browsed the shelves for the book he needed on Partial Vanishment, and Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters. (OoTP)
Harry smiled gently and reached out to grasp his hand, squeezing in reassurance. “Those who love us never really leave us. Honouring their memory is the best thing we can do.”
Theo’s eyes became suspiciously misty before he cleared his throat. “You’re right, Potter. Like always.” Then he gave him a calm smile. “Though, I’ll throw a party and invite your friends when you will be officially sworn as Head Auror. Your hard work deserve recognition, after all.”
Harry grinned. It had been indeed hard work, but he had managed it, despite the remarks of his jealous colleagues who thought he was getting sworn in as Head Auror just because he was the Saviour and not because he had been consistently the most efficient member the department had ever seen of his generation. He had been on a streak once, solving two cases per week but his schedule and work-life balance had been hectic. He almost had a burnout.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Theo continued. “I’m sure your little friends enjoy your presence for who you are. They wouldn’t have stick so long by your annoying arse otherwise.” He smirked. “And you know why I appreciate you, darling.”
Harry rolled his eyes. Yes he did. He hadn’t understood how Theo could be…well…attracted both carnally and romantically to him for expressing his willingness at striking Dark Wizards or Witches if they deserve it and cluing pieces together of his investigation through a long passionate monologue - but he was. He had tried to conceal it at first but when he had noticed – before Harry himself – that Harry was also attracted to him, he hadn't pretended to hide it from him.
He knew his partner loved him for something he had been able to work on, to produce, something Harry himself was proud of. He had once muttered against his skin that what he liked about Harry was his ‘unhinged, psychopathic thoughts’ (Harry had just whispered he wanted to throttle someone eyeing his lover a bit too much at the Ministry ball) and his ‘horribly judgemental, gossipy personality' but also his 'great cheekiness’. It made his chest flutter at not just knowing but being confident in the veracity of those affirmation.
Though, Theodore and he had much more in common than he had initially thought. Both had dark and difficult childhood. Theo’s father had never shown him affection and had always expected him to act like a proper pureblood and follow traditional values. The irony, considering what he was getting up to behind his wife’s back. There had been an instance where, as a mean to teach him a lesson about disobedience, Dagfinn Teignous Nott – his father – had beaten up Theo once and cursed him with a tongue-sticking charm. He had spent the whole evening and night trying to undo the spell without using magic – because he had been underage and had no wand – so he had concocted a potion his mother had taught him once to free himself. The next day, his father had acted as if nothing wrong happened. These sort of method of discipline hadn't been frequent but occasionally, when Theo had been particularly difficult, his father knew how to be creative, according to Theo. His father hadn't been able to understand the petulant, quiet boy he had been and had tried to magically force him out of his shell.
It reminded Harry of the Dursleys. They too, acted as if their behaviour with him had been normal and that he was the freak one for acting out. Harry himself had thought it to be normal, at first. Because it had been the only way he knew a family worked - but he had still known it could be weird for others. It was just how it had always been. Living with the Weasleys and later on - with Theo - had changed his perspective.
Theo was a calm and quiet bloke who valued silence. He had economy of speech and movement, speaking only when it was necessary in social situation. Speak little but speak well. That’s what he sometimes says.
Both like to spent the afternoon Sunday chilling on a balcony, watching the landscape – Harry with a book about The use of Defensive Spells with Martial Arts and him with a potion manual – enjoying each other’s presence placidly. He was also extremely clever – the boy version of Hermione, really. Though, their approach was different. Theo always reformulates the theories in the books and explains them to Harry in his words which make things easier to understand and remember. Hermione tended to be quick and efficient – her brain immediately catching up long, tedious formality of words without much difficulty. Hermione and Theo had both took Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, subjects loved by Theo who was ever so curious about the complexity of magic. And he had been excellent at potions – this fact was known by Harry since he saw him and Malfoy at Slughorn’s class at sixteen (HBP).
Harry always told him he had a great potential to be an Unspeakable. But his lover always favoured clandestinity.
“That’s settled, then.” He drawled lazily before reaching for Harry’s hand once more. “We’ll tell them when you’re ready.”
Harry hoped that everything would be fine.