Archive of Our Own

Theo had fallen into a routined life, and that was fine. Preferable, really. He would Floo to work at the Ministry for Magic, often walking home to his flat on St. James Square, and occasionally making time for pub nights and card games with the Snakes.

While never a Death Eater, never branded by that nightmare of a mark on his arm, he still suffered under a reign of terror from Theodore Nott Sr. That was enough of an upbringing to understand the intimate inner-workings of evil. Lumped in with the sins of the father, the Wizengamot ruled they were unable to prove he didn’t join rank and file in Voldemort’s forces. They required Theo serve a probation and, determined to take a conciliatory approach, he agreed.

Once their probations were complete, and NEWTs taken, Draco and Theo entered the same Ministry internship at the Department of Mysteries. It was there Theo came into the orbit of Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger. Generous with their time and knowledge, the four formed an unlikely camaraderie.

Vowing never to set foot in his familial manor again, Theo took pride in the comforts of his Muggle flat. He filled the space with books, and technology he felt determined to master. He studied literature and sciences, and devoured films.

Eventually, his heart unburdened itself.

Occasionally he yearned for more. He would look into the lives of others and wonder if there were parts that were missing. He mainly chalked it up to their atypical upbringing. They were all a bit stunted, weren’t they? Sometimes visibly playing at adulthood. Theo didn’t have the best role models for understanding what was expected of him. He only knew what he didn’t want: a betrothal to a Pureblood witch by the age of 23, and a life spent wasting away his galleons in a loveless marriage.

He figured the rest would come in time. A structured routine felt safe, and it helped him wipe his mind in preparation for his challenging days at the DoM.

There were, of course, anomalies. A passionate affair in Italy for instance. That was a variation that Theo didn’t see coming, but after a month of falling into a different kind of routine with Blaise, he realised they worked best as friends.

He left that tryst with an understanding that he absolutely preferred the company of wizards. The problem being, his daily schedule didn’t leave much time for dating. His friends offered to set him up occasionally, but Draco and Blaise made bachelorhood look favourable, and while he sometimes missed someone’s touch, or mouth, or cock, he’d settled comfortably into a quiet life.

If he were being honest with himself, which his mind healer preferred he attempted to be, there was one wizard he thought of more than others. A crush, if one insisted on being pedantic about it. Thrown together at the occasional pub night, Theo would catch himself lingering on said wizard’s hands, or the tight fit of his wand holster, or the way his glasses fell ever so subtly down the bridge of his nose.

Harry Potter was a compelling course of study. He had to admit there was something simple in the sound of his name. He’d heard it repeated in hushed whispers since he was a child.

So yes, Theo would admit he sometimes watched Potter, but he never expected those attentions to be returned. Years passed, and Theo found it was easier to listen in awe to Potter’s stories over a pint, or to pay close attention to his exploits in The Daily Prophet. He gave up anything else in favour of a life that was known. Safe.

He’d leave his experimentation to his work, and in the meantime, there was nothing harmful about a little crush.

***

Theo exits the lifts onto Floor Nine and proceeds to his intended room. Stuffed with a late lunch, and a bit jittery from a third cup of tea, Theo weaves in and out of the witches and wizards crowding the DoM antechamber. Bodies swarm here and there, but even in the low dim light of the department's flickering candles, Theo can’t shake the idea that he is being watched.

“Pardon me,” he offers, narrowly escaping the wall as someone knocks into his shoulder.

The slight touch sends a jolt through his body, and he looks up to find a pair of green eyes staring back at him.

The moment proves to be quite significant, shifting his idea of gravity, because Theo awakes to three sets of eyes peering down at him.

“You alright, Nott?” Draco asks, a visible look of concern across his face.

Theo actually isn’t sure what he is. One moment, he was positive he and Harry Potter were engaging in somewhat lengthy and heated eye contact, and the next, the ground shook beneath him. The earth had, for all intents and purposes, tilted on its axis.

“Well that was odd,” Hermione offers. “Are you alright, Theodore?”

Theo may in fact be injured, but he can’t help but grin up at Potter from the floor.

Draco offers his hand, lifting him back to an upright position.

“My office,” Hermione insists, holding the door until the four of them are packed inside. Draco and Hermione stay close, and Theo narrows his eyes, wondering how long they are going to pretend they aren’t a couple.

Potter must share the same thought because he meets Theo’s gaze again with a boyish grin. Theo wills his heart to quiet, but is prepared to blame his flush on the intensity of the circumstances.

“You collapsed,” Draco states, directing him into the lumpy wingback chair in Granger’s office.

“Caught that,” Theo sighs, feeling slightly more grounded than before. “Did you feel it too?”

“We did,” Hermione says, falling into her own chair, “But nothing like you. How do you feel now?”

How does he feel?

“Off,” he declares, circling around his temples to coax back the headache threatening to take over.

“Could be a one-off,” Draco supplies, but his words are interrupted by the appearance of the wispy blue lynx of the Minister for Magic.

“Unspeakables, there appears to be a disturbance in the Department of Mysteries. Unspeakables Granger and Malfoy, please report to my office for further instruction. Ah, Harry, glad you’re there, my boy. Please see the incoming memo for your assignment.”

Moments later, two papers fly into Granger’s office, one landing directly onto her desk, the other plucked from mid-air by Potter.

“I’ll never be used to him knowing where we are,” Draco sighs. “One day when you’re Minister Granger, you’ll have to tell us how he does it.”

“Looks like I’m to stay down here,” Potter cuts in. “Kings and Robards want me running point on an investigation. They want every room cleared.” His eyes meet Theo’s again, and heat rises in his belly at the direct attention. “Whatever happened, they’re using this as an excuse to audit everything.”

“I suppose I should feel reassured by that,” Theo sighs, refusing to make eye contact with Draco.

“Feel free to use my office, Harry,” Hermione offers, before kissing them both on the cheek, and pushing Draco through the door.

Potter produces a notepad, riffling through the pages for a moment. It’s organised chaos, Theo would bet his life on it. Probably indistinguishable to anyone else, Harry seems to know exactly where and what he’s referencing.

Harry shifts, gathering his belongings. “Can you guide me through the Department, Theo?”

Potter is so bold in his casual shift that Theo barely registers his first name drifting from his mouth. He doesn't wait for Theo’s stunned response before sending his own Patronus.

“That’s settled. The Auror team will make the rooms essential personnel only – for the time being. We’ll also interview the other Unspeakables to see just how many are affected.”

“You consider me essential?” Theo laughs.

The smirk on his face is subtle, but inviting. It would be utterly distracting if Potter wasn’t also shucking his outer jacket to reveal the smooth lines of his torso under a grey henley.

Theo's eyes run up and down his lean frame. Loose sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. Thick facial hair that would look gruff on anyone else makes him look a touch nearer to dauntless than his easy-going manner would imply.

Potter takes a moment to remove his glasses, teasing the long strands of his overgrown hair before scooping them up and fastening a tie around them. The shorter strands escape their restraint, falling onto his neck as he schools clumps back behind his ears, and replaces his glasses. Theo can’t deny his mind is now singly focused on how his fingers may feel running through said hair.

He’s not sure how he’s going to survive touring Potter around the rooms, but he stands slowly, ensuring he has all of his wits before holding the office door open.

“Shall we?”

Hall of Prophecy

“You’ve been here before, I take it?”

It would seem Theo’s not unskilled at reading Harry Potter, as he watches Potter’s body visibly stiffen, his face turning upward into a disgusted scowl.

Theo stops in front of the room’s newly implemented security storage system. The organisation of the room took nearly seven years. He helped, as a low-ranking Unspeakable.

“Once. I made it a point not to return.” Potter shakes his head, and the shuffle uncovers the faint hint of the lightning-shaped scar across his forehead. It’s weathered with age, along with the rest of his rugged face.

“How does the room feel to you?” Potter asks, listening intently.

“Normal, unfortunately,” Theo responds. “I never liked this room much.”

“That makes two of us.”

Potter reaches up, fingers nearly on the cusp of closing in on the first illuminated orb when the alarm sounds.

“Harry James Potter, you do not have Keeper authorization. Please refrain from hands-on contact with the prophecies. Harry James Pot-”

“A moment,” Theo says, whispering a passcode spell to deactivate it.

Potter barely flinches, visibly unbothered, as his wand stays safely in the confines of its holster. A fact which is oddly bolstering for Theo. There is an implied trust that Theo isn’t exactly positive he’s earned.

“Mione talks about you a lot,” Potter supplies. “She says you’re one of the best. You’re on her list for the next Head Unspeakable appointment.”

“Mmm,” Theo nods. “She’s quite persistent. I’ve told her that I have absolutely no interest in taking on any Head roles at present.”

Brandishing a lumos from the tip of his wand, and encouraging Potter to do the same, they begin to walk the narrow aisles one by one.

“You seemed to fall into your Head role quite nicely.” The narrow walkway causes them to bump shoulders every now and again, and Theo is going to go mad at the subtle contact.

“Robards didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“I’m sure you make an excellent protege, Potter.” It’s pitiful flattery, but it’s really all he can manage at the moment.

“You should really call me Harry,” he remarks dryly, and Theo wishes it wasn’t so bloody dark so he could form an accurate memory of the look on Pot—Harry’s—face when he offers it.

Every now and then he catches the faint whiff of his cologne. It's understated, a spicy citrus that hangs on your tongue like the last sip of Earl Grey. Rather than let it cloud his mind too effectively, he takes to rambling about Quidditch scores.

Here they have common ground, and though Harry is a Chudley fan while Theo supports Falmouth, they’re friendly in their rivalry.

As the day continues, the persistent darkness of the room starts to have an adverse affect on them. Harry begins to take sharp turns, and Theo picks up his pace to keep up. Theo understands, he would like to be through with this room as well. He loses Harry around a corner, and before he can anticipate it, he doubles back, and the two wizards nearly collide. Theo’s shoulder knocks into a shelf hard, and the peaceful orbs jostle in place.

He watches in panic as they plummet off the shelf.

“Oh, shit.”

Harry’s hand finds Theo’s robe, pulling him back in the same moment that Theo whispers an Arresto Momentum. The spell lands, and the prophecies return back to their intended shelf. The wizards, however, converge with each other, and then the floor.

Merlin’s saggy tit. This is the second time today Theo has found himself on the floor.

Dazed, and a mix of limbs, Theo pushes up on his arms. His body eclipses Harry’s as he holds his weight in his locked elbows. He may have envisioned this position before—with drastically different circumstances, of course.

Breathes mingle for a moment and time slows down. He feels reluctant to move, to blink even.

Harry’s eyes float down to his lips and Theo stills. Anxious, and near panicked as reality sets in, Theo drags himself to standing.

Clearly still out of breath, Harry’s hand accidently wanders too close to an orb.

“Harry James Potter, you do not have-”

Theo is much quicker to silence it.

“Bloody hell,” Harry sighs, dropping his shoulders and head in exasperation.

Theo is relieved when they step out of the final aisle and close the door on the Hall of Prophecy. He watches Harry make a finite checkmark on his scroll.

“Nothing out of sorts,” he says, visibly relieved to have that room behind them.

Nothing out of sorts barring the row of prophecies they knocked over and nearly destroyed. He supposes Harry Potter is used to that kind of trouble.

“One room accounted for.” Theo agrees.

Theo scans the large ante chamber of the DoM, looking for that same feeling he encountered earlier. It’s still there, needling at the back of his brain. Something just isn’t right.

“I think we covered enough for today, wouldn’t you say?”

There’s a pause, an awkwardness that Theo forces himself to sit with. He enjoyed spending his day with Harry Potter, maybe too much.

It’s more than nothing, but it isn’t quite something, and so he lets it lie.

He feels his heart rate elevate as they exit the Atrium, passing Floo after Floo until they reach the one that deposits them into Whitehall.

Theo intends to walk home. His flat is only a quarter of an hour away by foot, and he is counting on the fresh air steadying his nerves. But for some reason he lingers, feeling a pull to Harry even when he isn’t sure where that pull may lead. Instead of walking back into Magical London, or summoning a broom, Harry walks directly over to a vintage motorbike parked on the far corner of the street. Effortlessly, he transfigures a small square of fabric into a well-worn leather jacket.

Harry smooths his hair back before securing his helmet and mounting the bike.

Bloody fucking hell, it’s the hottest thing Theo has ever seen.

“See you tomorrow, Nott.”

He’s not certain it will happen, but Harry looks back and Theo can no longer deny it. What originated as a simple crush is now something new entirely.

Theo turns to walk away, ignoring the feeling in his gut that tells him he’s possibly walking in the wrong direction.

Thought Room

The two spend the next three days interviewing the entirety of the Unspeakable staff. No rooms are outwardly projecting any issues, but they want firsthand accounts on the record. While no one is quite as affected as him, there are a few Unspeakables who note an anomaly.

Theo still can't put his finger on exactly what that is but he finds he wakes up eager to get to office, giddy even.

He can’t ignore the inherent feeling that his temporary co-worker may have something to do with it. Honestly, he chides himself, and he knows this wizard has the power to knock his whole world off its axis.

On day four they arrive at the Thought Room and Theo braces for what they may uncover inside. If there is a disturbance in the department, he would really love it if it didn’t involve having to touch any sentient brains.

“Each room is odder than the last,” Harry remarks, easy in their casual ribbing. Theo doesn’t mind. He’s aware parts of the Department of Mysteries are patently ridiculous.

“I tried to tell you,” Theo murmurs, keeping his voice at the lowest possible register.

He tries to keep a healthy gap between them. He really can’t take another room of their bodies colliding.

“You work here, mate,” Harry smiles, patting Theo’s shoulder as they step deeper into the room.

Theo’s heart beats wildly at the affection in Harry’s voice. So much for keeping a distance.

There are two Unspeakables on staff, and Theo and Harry move along the perimeter silently. It’s a peculiar sight even for him. They’ve made significant progress in recent years in separating the brains for specific fields of study. He spies one of the witches responsible for these new modifications.

“Lovegood,” he motions her away from the tank of brains she’s monitoring.

“Hello, Theodore,” she smiles. “Harry Potter, I didn’t know you were here today.”

“Luna, we interviewed you two days ago.”

“Oh, I’m well aware, but I honestly assumed you and Hermione Granger would have figured out the cause by now.”

“Your confidence is very reassuring, Lu.” Harry pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Theo is actually taking point on this.”

Theo can’t look at him, because there's a tone of pride in that statement that makes him unable to breathe.

“Generally, I think you know that we keep the brains in stasis for different studies,” Theo attempts to formulate words. “Some help us analyze and break down the formulation of new spellwork, some act as the templates for the framework of magical fields of study.”

Harry points to the brain directly to their right. “Luna, what does this one do?”

“Oh,” she says eagerly, “this brain can detect when your thoughts and words are conflicting, and it corrects that.”

“It knows when I’m lying? How?” Harry is incredulous.

“Don’t forget the part where it forces you to be truthful,” Theo adds.

“We can test it if you’d like,” she offers. “Say something you would normally lie about.”

“I don’t make it a habit to lie.”

Luna keeps a serene smile for the entirety of the exchange.

“We all lie occasionally, Harry.” She walks over to a nearby desk and produces the most recent copy of Witch Weekly. Theo may have that same edition in his desk.

“Here,” she points to a passage under the photo.

Theo gets momentarily stuck on the image of Harry’s handsome face looking up and pointing a wand directly at the photographer before mouthing an Expelliarmus.

“It says here you enjoy being an Auror? Is that true?”

A slimy purple tentacle suctions against the glass, jarring both Harry and Theo. Luna is unphased as she rocks back and forth on her feet, waiting for a reply.

“I’m bloody exhausted. I haven’t taken a break in nearly ten years. I can’t tell you when my last holiday was. I can’t even hold onto a relationship and Merlin’s beard, I miss sex.”

Harry’s shoulders visibly relax, as if admitting that out loud releases a hidden weight from his shoulders. His cheeks flush when he processes the scope of his full confession.

“Fascinating,” Luna quips.

Theo agrees.

Harry wheels around on him. “Did you know these brains could do this?”

Theo feels compelled to respond, and it’s nearly identical to when Blaise slipped Veritaserum into his champagne at a party.

“Not at all,” he confesses. “I did enjoy you looking so agitated though.”

Harry’s head whips to his, and Luna lets out a soft giggle.

“I never get to test these on civilians. Harry, after we left Hogwarts, I propositioned you for a date. Did you decline because you were actually busy?”

Harry’s brow furrows with discomfort. “I’m always busy, Lu,” he sighs. His face twists in a stifled cough before he speaks again. “I’d also just realised I fancied blokes, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Theo is awed for a moment. He thought perhaps, certainly hoped, but Harry Potter was a famously discreet wizard. And even if Theo heard whispers about former relationships, he was never quite sure.

Desire twists in his gut as he considers the distinct possibility that this crush could mean something more.

When he looks up Harry’s eyes are already on him. Theo is mesmerised by the subtle blush crawling up his neck.

“You should really try being honest. I prefer witches myself,” Luna quips. “I would have understood.”

“Luna, can we please leave this tank?” Theo begs, before he’s forced to answer any intrusive questions, like how emphatically he fancies his new co-worker.

“Oh.” She motions to the next down the line. “This one forces you to act on impulse. It’s really quite enjoyable to observe.”

"'No," Theo blurts at the same moment Harry says, 'That's okay, Luna."

Harry takes a step back and Theo mirrors him. They can’t possibly go tank by tank. One, because it would take an absurd amount of time, and two, it’s clear they’re both visibly terrified of what that would entail.

Theo catches Harry’s gaze again, and he’s certain they’re in perfect alignment.

“Since we last spoke have you noticed anything strange, Luna? Anything worth reporting?”

She observes them both with a heavy gaze, cocking her head slightly before responding with a gentle hum.

“I really feel like it’s not my place to say.”

Harry implores her. “Luna, if you know something, you really need to tell us.”

“Nothing of consequence.” She turns her back to tap on the nearest tank. “Besides, I feel like you’re very close to working it out.”

Theo exits the room in need of a pint—fuck that, a whiskey. He may in fact imbibe both after a bottle of reserve Syrah.

He tortures himself with the same sequence he’s endured all week. He knows it by heart, has memorised all of the steps, the little faces Harry makes as they say their goodbyes.

Atrium, Floo, Whitehall, jacket, motorbike…

“See you tomorrow, Nott.”

Theo loves the flush of Harry’s cheeks, the wind whipping through his long, wavy hair.

He sighs, pondering laying down in the middle of the street before apparating directly into Draco’s wine cellar.

Space Room

On day five they’re tasked with studying celestial maps. It’s Hermione's recommendation, and while Harry whinges quite often about the point of it all, Theo reluctantly agrees.

They won’t be able to fully understand the depths of the room if they don’t first know its layout.

Theo enjoys Astronomy and Physics, and while he’s scoured books and spent weekends tuned into the telly absorbing Brian Cox programs on the BBC, he isn’t going to challenge Hermione. If he’s going to present her any disparaging feedback about her room, he better damn well be sure that it is, in fact, originating there.

“This should keep you busy for most of the day.” Granger’s gone before either can offer a dissenting opinion.

Theo tries to stay strong, but Harry’s pouting face proves to be more persuasive than Granger’s direct order.

There is a freeing quality to the Space Room that is addictive. They rise up together, hands sometimes bumping as they get their bearings. The room is vast, approximating their known understanding of the universe. Theo is aware the room has walls but they’re removed from their perception.

He spins to face Harry before drifting closer, basking in the warmth of his open smile. Theo's intrusive thoughts nudge toward a silent hope that they will never find the cause of the department’s odd behaviour.

Venus appears first but its dense, scorching atmosphere proves untenable. They begin to orbit near a gas giant when Harry makes a face, turning pallid, as recognition washes over him.

Theo has observed him long enough to know something isn't right. He’s about to remark on it when he hears it too.

“Does space…moan?” Harry questions.

Theo shakes his head slowly when a series of gasps pulls his attention from Jupiter.

He takes a quick look around, noting that all planets do appear to be in their proper empirical alignment.

“That bloody snake,” Potter whispers, and Theo can’t help but laugh.

“Any reason we need to stay?” Potter shields his eyes.

“Do you trust Hermione to give us the full report on her own department?”

“Implicitly.”

They descend quickly, shutting the door quietly behind them before sprinting down the hall. Jittery fingers collide as they hit the button for the lifts at the same time.

Flushed and out of breath, Theo feels a little like a teenager again. Like this all could have happened at Hogwarts had things been different. Had the series of events that started before they were born not made it impossible for them to come together.

Harry makes an emphatic check on his notepad.

The air in the lift changes, becoming charged, as the walls seem to push in on them.

“Does that mean…?”

Theo shakes his head.

Harry smiles, and Theo feels it too. They’re both borrowing the high from their friends. The flush of seductive hormones hitting the bloodstream. The danger of taking someone’s hand and pulling them into a dark room. The lust crashing and compounding as you realise they feel the same.

He’s happy for his friends. Honesty, his brain reminds him. He’s actually incredibly jealous.

“I’ll be discreet in my reports.”

“I think they would appreciate that.”

Atrium, Floo, Whitehall, jacket, motorbike.

The engine revs, and Theo takes his all too familiar last look before walking to Draco’s townhouse, and stationing himself discreetly in his library to wait.

Death Chamber

Each of the rooms presents a challenge, something each Unspeakable is trained to resist. To be with magic that most of the wizarding population does not have access to, and then be asked to keep its secrets, not use it for personal gain, and somehow not be tempted by it.

The Death Chamber proves to be the hardest room to clear.

When Theo arrives for their tenth day, Harry is already there, staring into the Veil. His outer robes are shucked and folded haphazardly on the floor.

“Made yourself comfortable, I see.”

Theo walks over and examines Harry’s notes, something he shares willingly now. There are scribbles in the margins from when he’s looked over them earlier in the week.

He approaches Harry slowly, handing him a tea cup and saucer. Harry now prefers his over the canteen’s. He blows on it out of habit, which Theo privately adores.

“More comfortable now,” Harry grins. “Thanks for this.”

“You’ll get lunch,” he replies, excited by the prospect of seeing what Harry will choose today. Their routine now includes taking turns bringing back take-away. Each has the other’s preferences catalogued, but sometimes surprises sneak in. Theo will never forget the day Harry brought peanut butter ice cream in as dessert. Theo adored it.

Harry smiles, and Theo thinks he can’t believe he gets to see his favorite person every single day.

Harry’s body wanders a little closer to the large archway, and Theo feels inclined to follow like a shadow.

He can hear them today, the voices that started their first time in the room.

“Some people can hear them clearer than others,” Theo assures him.

“No, I remember,” he whispers, eyes piercing the wisps between the stones.

Hours pass by like minutes, and Theo is having trouble quantifying their progress. The Death Chamber feels like a liminal space on the outskirts of time.

Eventually, both wizards get tired, no longer pretending it’s comfortable to relax against the cold stone. Harry suggests they sit back to back, letting their weight support the other.

“Something Ron and I used to do on the run, yeah,” he says, with an easy smile. Like this fact somehow outweighs what a heavy memory that must be. He knows now it wasn’t easy, they’ve each shared stories, filling up the dark space with their past. Every now and again, a story involves someone who died, and the Veil piques in activity.

“Is that normal?” Harry asked on day seven. By now they’re almost willing it to happen.

They sit on the threshold of life and death and take comfort in the silence.

They feel supported by each other’s touch.

They know they’re not alone.

On day eleven their tongues feel heavy with stories of their mothers, and Theo senses a string pull tighter between them.

“What was she like?” Harry asks, shifting slightly until they can each see a part of their face in the periphery.

“Beautiful,” Theo sighs, “and tortured. I’m sure you can see the family resemblance. She didn’t have many people in her life, and then of course she was married to a lunatic.”

His father was not a good man, annihilating any joy his mother attempted to keep in their house.

“Do you think our mothers knew each other?” Harry asks, his head turned fully until Theo can feel the heat from his cheek.

“Your mother was kind,” Theo swallows, welcoming the subtle hints of grief that come up in his throat whenever his own mother is mentioned. “Mine would have been lucky to know her.”

Harry’s fingers brush Theo’s and he stills, not daring to hope for too much. In time, their fingers interlock, and their heads fall back to support the other, chests rising and falling in synchronous beats.

“What do you think they would say if they saw us here together?”

“My mother would probably remark on how dishevelled the pair of us look,” Theo says, discreetly wiping a tear.

“Mine would ask you for dinner, I think.”

The grief whispers to them how good it feels, even for just a moment, to pretend they can hear their voices. Wishing they could come back through the Veil. Just once.

Nothing comes out of the Veil, and they never get close enough to pass through it. Each making tiny adjustments on the other to ensure it, no matter how alluring it sometimes feels.

Nothing ever malfunctions, and the Death Chamber operates like its Keepers shared it would.

They leave the room with their fingers intertwined, more of them connected than when they entered.

“Dinner then?” Harry’s face is hopeful, and Theo feels it mirrored in his heart.

The routine shifts, and this time their enclosed fingers carry them through the Floo, down Diagon Alley, and side by side to a table at the Beater’s Arm Pub.

Love Room

On day fifteen the Unspeakables give them a firm warning about touching or ingesting the Amortentia. Harry nods, smiling that ‘I’m Harry Potter’ grin, and they comply, of course.

Their shoulders rub, and Theo pushes the errant strands of hair from Harry’s eyes before he can’t take it anymore.

He thinks about the vintage leather jacket that now hangs on the back of his desk chair, the night they watched a film, and walked home after midnight. The pub with their friends, how the lions have made space for Theo. He thinks about what he wants to happen next.

They haven’t ingested a potion, haven't let the seductive scents floating through the air tempt them.

The blue flamed candles cast dim shadows across the black marble floors, and back onto the lenses of Harry’s glasses.

He never realised how desperately he needed someone to look at him like that, until Harry does. There’s no longer a substitute for this feeling.

He only wants this.

“Do you?” Harry murmurs.

Honesty. “Yes, very much.”

Harry’s lips find Theo’s in the darkness. His mouth is soft, pliable, and his beard scratches gently against Theo’s cheeks before he pulls away.

“I can be casual,” Theo sighs breathlessly into the crux of Harry’s neck. He’ll fit into his life any way he can.

“Theo–-”

“No, it’s okay,” he moves his hand up, cradling Harry’s neck. “This is what I want.”

Pink wisps from the love potion cascade around their faces as their lips find and retreat from each other. Theo sighs, content to stay here for as long as they can.

They spend ten additional days testing every variation of Amortentia. The room’s famed fountain is broken down and reconstructed.

Nothing appears to be amiss in the Love Room, but Theo walks out changed.

As they exit the Floo, rain falls from the sky and collects into tiny puddles on the cobblestone. He can now recognise that smell. The wind picks up and he lets the petrichor fill his senses.

Droplets of rain collect on the second helmet resting atop the bike’s seat, now extended to fit two. Theo usually finds it painfully difficult to seize what he wants, but he barely blinks as he accepts it from Harry’s outstretched hand, and slips onto the back of a motorbike.

Time Room

It’s day thirty, and Harry is uncharacteristically silent as he follows Theo to the Time Room. They’ve interviewed the entire staff and presented their preliminary audit findings to Minister Shacklebolt. Theo still can’t account for what’s plaguing the department, but he takes a deep breath as he opens the room he knows all too well.

He could lecture the ins and outs of this room. He could regale his wizard with trials and failures and frustrations. He wants to; he will.

There’s an incessant ticking that Theo can usually ignore. He supposes it has been a month since he’s worked in here, and then again, he’s never been in the Time Room with someone he loves before. He didn’t realise the intense cadence would only alert him to the frenetic beating of his own heart.

Occasionally, Harry picks up a Time-Turner and flips it around in the palm of his hand. He smooths over the metal and smiles with a fond kind of recognition. Theo imagines what stories are still hidden behind his green eyes.

He can feel Harry behind his back, hand running across his torso as Theo picks up the prototype he’s been working on.

He hasn’t started wizard trials yet, but he has a couple of moments with Harry he wouldn’t mind revisiting.

Harry pulls him flush against his body, placing hot kisses on his neck that cause Theo to shiver. Theo has only been beloved to one other person, and that memory is so fleeting he can barely recollect it.

He doesn’t know what to make of how he feels molded between Harry’s hands. He feels wanted; precious, even.

“I think I know,” Harry whispers. Theo turns slightly to find a silly grin on Harry’s. “There’s nothing wrong in this room either? Is there?”

He wonders briefly if he imagined it all? He thinks not, because he knows Hermione and Draco felt something too.

He takes a breath in and his brain floods with bergamot, leather, and something else. The wind, Theo thinks wistfully, right before it rains. That’s Harry.

He doesn’t need the Time-Turner. He would do nearly anything to stay in this moment right now.

Harry’s touch is so tender it's ruinous.

Fumbling hands rip away jumpers and trousers. Theo sighs as Harry kisses down his neck.

There’s a puzzle-perfect way their bodies fit together. Chins rest on shoulder creases, fingers skim down vertebrae until they are slotted as one. Their mouths taste every inch of skin until they’re forced to start the exploration anew.

Harry whispers Theo’s name like a plea as Theo’s fingers dig into the wood of his desk. His other hand finds purchase on Harry’s waist. He dares to hope he can imprint something sacred onto his body, something unwavering.

Theo trembles in Harry’s arms, marking him with silent, reverent kisses when their lips collide.

This couldn’t happen here, and yet it needed to.

He gasps feeling the length of Harry against him, inside him.

Two bodies come together in a reaction, transforming in the process.

They have so many quiet, intimate moments that he doesn’t need to do much shuffling in his brain to call them forward.

He could fill a room with them.

They help each other dress as Harry places a painfully soft kiss on Theo’s forehead, hair cascading into his eyes in the process.

Theo retrieves Harry’s glasses from the adjacent desk, sliding them gently onto Harry’s face.

There’s a knock, and Theo checks them both for presentability before unlocking the door.

Hermione peeks her head inside. “Oh, thank Merlin. We need you out here,” she insists, holding the large black door open so they can exit.

Harry goes first, as Theo looks on wistfully.

“You’re right,” he whispers to himself. “There is nothing wrong in here.”

The main antechamber is empty, save for their dear friends. Theo is about to ask what prompted this, when Harry nudges his vision just enough to make it out.

Something Entirely New

He feels awash in calm as he follows his heart through the open door.

He’s stunned, not only by what he sees but by the fractured pieces inside himself willing themselves whole again.

The persistent ache, the off feeling he’s been carrying around vanishes as if it were never there at all.

“Remarkable,” he whispers, fingers finding Harry’s as they spin together, taking in sights of the new room.

“What do we make of this?” Draco asks aloud.

“We are not making anything out of it,” Hermione tuts at him. “We have our hands full in Space.”

“Of course,” Draco agrees. “We have so much work to do.”

Theo winks at Draco, hands full, his arse. He knows exactly what kind of work Draco would like to do, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“Are these,” Harry asks breathlessly, “threads?”

This time, there’s no mistaking the subtle shift below them. The ground shakes, bringing them closer. Eyes locked on one another, their own golden thread appears between them, linking them as one.

“Oh my gods,” Hermione exclaims.

Soulmates, Theo thinks, and his heart may actually burst if he can’t express his spinning thoughts.

He’s terrified to say it, but he pushes through. Be honest.

“Soul entanglement,” Theo offers. “It’s quite like quantum mechanics.”

Harry looks mystified.

“Two beings become linked in such a way that they share the same fate, no matter how far apart they are. They can be separated by vast distances–”

“Or collide in the basement of the Ministry of Magic?” Harry smiles. “Are you saying our souls are entangled?”

“I think it’s a fair assumption,” Theo murmurs, locating their golden thread again and watching in fascination as the rope shimmers between them.

“Why do we think the door opened now?” Draco wonders, reaching up to pull gently at a string before watching it rebound unobstructed.

Luna levels a look in their direction. “It was obviously waiting; it needed the right person here doing the research.”

His dear Luna. He applauds whatever strength she possessed to keep this to herself. He doesn’t pretend to understand her, just like he doesn’t pretend to know everything about this room.

Theo furrows his brow. “You couldn’t possibly mean me.”

“We absolutely do,” Hermione says earnestly.

“But you two - you and Draco felt it that first day too. Didn’t you?”

“Not quite like you, it seems,” Harry laughs, kissing Theo’s neck and pulling him tighter.

“We felt something, alright,” Draco smirks, and Hermione hits his arm.

“I think Draco is trying to say that they were just incredibly attracted to each other,” Luna smiles.

“It’s you, Theo. You and Potter are what made this room come alive,” Draco says firmly.

“I’m really glad the room finally decided,” Luna says, giving Theo a tight hug before urging everyone else to exit.

Alone, and surrounded by golden threads, Theo decides to be brave. Harry is his soulmate, after all.

“Does this scare you?” He holds his breath, awaiting a response. His heart tightens, body willing itself closer as Harry’s eyes find his.

“Not even a little,” Harry laughs, latching onto Theo’s jumper and pulling him close.

“We never defined anything.”

“I didn’t think we needed to, but if you want to hear me say it,” Harry’s lips are firm against his. “I didn’t need a golden thread to tell me this, Theo.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

“A while,” Harry laughs, holding tighter to Theo’s shoulders.

“Not as long as me, I bet.”

“I think this tells us otherwise.” Harry holds up the golden thread until it coils around them.

Theo thinks about what would make the most sense, what he really wants.

He steps into Harry, crowding every bit of his space. “I’m going to need you to take a sabbatical from the DMLE.”

“Is that right?” Harry asks, cheeks flushed, glasses visibly falling down his nose.

He loves Harry like this.

“Mmmhmm,” Theo hums. “Proper research should begin on the first souls to entangle. Meaning us,” he clarifies. He can’t help but interrupt their kiss, smiling against Harry’s lips.

“I think Gawain Robards owes me that. You’re being awfully demanding in your new Head role. Anything else Unspeakable Nott?”

“There is this one thing,” Theo breathes, air nearly catching in his throat. “I love you, Harry Potter.”

Harry Potter. He’s quite certain his soul knew from the very first day.

“Theodore Nott, I am so in love with you.”

Their souls are entangled; transformed across thought, death, space, love and time.

Harry guides him outside, and onto the back of a motorbike. There is a distinct intimacy as Theo clings to Harry’s waist. The engine revs and he’s certain nothing will be the same. There is no routine, and that’s dangerous for Theo, but if he’s being honest, it’s absolutely thrilling.