College was cancelled today because the electives don't start until next week apparently. I have real classes tomorrow and Friday though. I really should have used today to update Black Complication, but obviously I haven't. I'm such a time waster.

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"The Red Strokes"

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, et all are property of JK Rowling, and Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros and all those other nifty people that make it so we can read and watch the Potterverse whenever we feel like it. I make no money from this, just so you know. The title "the red strokes" belongs to a song of the same name by Garth Brooks.

Summary: [TN/HP] After rescuing Theo Nott from Voldemort, Harry has no choice but to let him stay at Grimmauld Place until school starts. Theodore is more than happy to put his life in Harry's hands, and his body in Harry's bed. Harry wants him and Theo wants Harry to love him, so Harry pretends. And Theo pretends that Harry isn't pretending.

Warnings: Slash. TN/HP. AU year 6 and 7. Language. Mild Torture.

Rating: R/NC-17 SLASH!!

A/N: This is the fault of tilly-tally-tease at FFNet. They wanted a Theo/Harry story, and suddenly so did I. Originally, I was going to set this in a future AU of the Butterfly universe, but I changed my mind. Still AU though.


Words: 6,837

Chapter 1

The Red Strokes

Harry had still been at the Dursleys when it had happened. He had been mowing the grass, working silently and diligently with his shirt off and the hand-operated lawnmower in front of him. Petunia Dursley watched him out of the living room window, the curtain barely pulled back, just enough for her to see him but so that he couldn't see her.

When she was later asked what had happened, she had shrugged, raged about 'freaks' and exclaimed, "he just collapsed, screaming."

The truth of the matter was much more complicated than that. Harry hadn't just collapsed. While it was true he had been screaming – horribly and loudly and each syllable was full of an agony that couldn't possibly be described by words of any language – what happened to Harry was much more than a simple fit.

It was a little known fact that the scar on Harry's forehead, the one shaped like a lightening bolt, was actually a curse scar. The Dark Lord Voldemort had left it upon the boy's head when he was a babe of fifteen-months. But it was more than that. Only a handful of people knew the truth, and even Harry wasn't one of them. Harry was what is known as a Horcrux. He existed, beyond death, surviving the curse, in lieu of a magical object that would usually be needed to house the fragment of soul that was now embedded in Harry's scar. The object would have been called a Horcrux, the object that housed the soul.

In this instance, it was Harry who was a Horcrux.

Though he didn't know it.

The consequence of this unexpected malfunction in magic was that, on occasions where Voldemort was particularly happy or angry, Harry could feel the Dark Lord's emotions. In times like these, in times where Voldemort wanted Harry to experience something horrendous, Harry was able to see exactly what was going on wherever the Dark Lord was. These visions were known to a select few, all of who knew how to deal with Harry when he was in the midst of one. Petunia Dursley did not know how to deal with her nephew.

At first, she had thrown a glass over him. "Shut up! Shut up at once before the neighbours hear!" She yelled. Harry only writhed harder, his back arching and his fingers scrabbling at the dirt of the lawn. "Stop IT!" She hollered, throwing the empty glass at his head. The glass shattered two centimetres away from Harry's face. It never actually touched him. His magic had reacted instinctively, protecting the body from harm and projecting the broken glass back at Petunia.

She screamed this time, her arms rising to cover her face. "Vernon!" She cried.

A large man ran from the house towards her. His stomach and jowls wobbled with his every movement and his face was a horrible puce colour that made him look at if he had forgotten to keep breathing.

"W-What is this?" He whimpered. "Stop this at once, freak!" He demanded. Harry didn't comply. "Dudley, help me bring the freak inside. Quick."

Another male came from the house. He looked about the same age as Harry was, but he was almost the size of his father. He grabbed Harry's legs without a word, a horrible sneer on his face. Vernon grabbed the boy's arms. Together, they half-carried and half-dragged him into the house. He was unceremoniously dumped at the base of the stairs, neither Muggle wanted to attempt to shove him into the cupboard where Harry usually slept. The boy was still crying out and flailing, and no doubt they would have to break an arm or something to make Harry fit in the cupboard.

The Wizards were coming for him soon. There wouldn't be enough time to heal any broken bones, so Petunia thought it safer not to risk angering anyone.

Dudley went back to lock the front door. The moment the lock clicked into place, Harry stopped moving completely. He stopped writhing and screaming, and for a moment Petunia thought he had stopped breathing. But then he took a deep, rattling breath, and his eyes snapped open.

Wide, terrified green eyes stared up at her. Dazed and glassy, Harry looked like someone who had just witnessed or suffered some awfully traumatizing experience, with his hair mussed up and his cheeks stained with tears, his chest heaving with the effort of each breath and his throat raw from screaming. Each breath made a wheezing sound as it passed his lips.

"Dumbledore. I need to speak to Dumbledore," he finally managed to say after a handful of aborted attempts.

Petunia had moved to the fireplace. From some secret hiding place, she pulled out a pouch filled with floo power. "For emergencies," she said.

But Vernon ripped it out of her hands. "No, no freak stuff in my house! Contact that other freak some other way!" He stormed from the living room, taking the pouch with him. The flushing of the toilet was heard easily downstairs, and Harry hung his head in desperation. Hedwig was with the Weasleys at The Burrow until next week. Harry was meant to go to them next week, but by then it would be too late.

He needed to go now.

Harry thought back to what Voldemort had shown him. The boy, writhing and crying out, but refusing to repent for whatever mistake he made. The lack of apologies only made Voldemort madder, and the strength of the curses increased until Harry found himself writhing on the floor with the other Wizard, crying out and begging for Voldemort to stop, even though Voldemort couldn't hear him. Oh Lord Voldemort knew Harry was there, he had invited Harry into his mind after all. But just because Harry could see and hear and feel everything Voldemort did, didn't mean their connection was a two-way street. The only time Voldemort could be harmed by Harry's mind was if he were possessing it.

The Wizard being tortured was a Slytherin. Harry recognized him from Hogwarts. He knew the boy was in their year, but Harry had never really had any dealings with the boy. He had never been a part of Malfoy's gang, and he had never purposely antagonized Harry. The only time they had really fought was last year, and that was purely accidental. To be honest, before that moment Harry had never really realized that Theodore Nott existed.

They had been brewing a Potion for Professor Slughorn.

Snape had finally been made Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, though only Headmaster Dumbledore knew why. He had claimed it was merely a change of scenery for the good professor, and while Snape looked extraordinarily smug, everyone else was utterly horrified (bar the Slytherins).

Harry had been paired with Ron (who wasn't actually meant to be in that class, but was forced to by Professor McGonagall who was convinced Ron wouldn't utilize his free period in any other way). Theodore was paired with Malfoy. And Draco was being his typical snobbish self. Whenever Theo tried to add an ingredient into the potion, Malfoy would shove him out of the way and add the ingredient himself. At one point, Malfoy shoved so hard that Theodore fell onto Harry's cauldron and knocked the potion all down the brunette.

Theo's eyes had gone wide, his mouth hung open as he watched Harry's clothes melt off of his frame. The botched potion ate threw the fabric, until Harry was almost naked. Ron, fortunately, whipped off his own robe and draped it around Harry's shoulders.

"Watch it," Harry snarled, holding the robe closed around himself.

"I'm sorry." Theodore whispered, lowering his eyes. There was a blush on his cheeks and Harry frowned at the picture the Slytherin made. He honestly looked apologetic, and there was something else there along with embarrassment that made Harry's face flush too.

"Professor Slughorn," Harry called. "I need to go to the Infirmary."

He got halfway out of the door before whatever was in the potion caused him to faint. Before Ron could reach him, Theo was there, carefully lifting the other boy into his arms, and carrying him bridal style down the corridor the entire way to the Hospital Wing. According to Hermione, who had two free classes after Potions and who had stayed with him in the Infirmary, Theo had refused to go to class as well until Harry woke up.

"It was Draco, sir," Theo had told Professor Snape when he appeared. Dumbledore and McGonagall, as Headmaster and Head of Gryffindor respectively, were with him. "He pushed me and I fell. It was accidental. Will Harry be alright?" He didn't even seem to notice that he referred to Harry by his first name.

"Is that so?" Snape drawled.

McGonagall frowned, her eyes narrowing at the Slytherin. "And you just happened to be pushed onto Harry's cauldron? His in particular."

Hermione sighed. It was her nature to try and be as fair as possible to everyone. And while she didn't like Slytherins, she had to admit that this particular one had never cause her or her friends any grief and he honestly did seem worried about Harry. "He's telling the truth, sir, ma'am. They were at tables right beside each other, so it was completely coincidental that he landed on Harry's workstation."

McGonagall only hummed lightly. Snape narrowed his eyes at Hermione, before moving his head to glance at Theodore. The Slytherin was staring openly at Harry who was still unconscious in one of the beds.

"He will be fine," the Medi-Witch said shortly. "No thanks to any of you, hovering around, making noise. It's very hard to recover in such a hostile, loud environment; I'll have you know. Now, everybody out."

"I'm not leaving." Theodore said, even as everyone else moved towards the exit. She had let him stay, in the end. When Harry woke a day later, Theodore was gone but there was a box of Honeydukes chocolates beside his bed. Harry didn't eat them, just in case they were from Romilda Vane again, but he kept them in his trunk, hidden inside one of Dudley's overlarge shirts, regardless. Harry hadn't understood why, over the next three weeks, the Slytherins were particularly spiteful to one of their own. Nott took the matter lightly, never once retaliating, and he slowly drifted back out of Harry's life and thoughts, until it was like that day in Potions had never happened. Theodore had just stopped being again, and Harry forgot all about him.

Until now.

The vision he had had was horrible. There was a very large chance that Voldemort had simply killed Theo once the vision finished. But it was also possible, improbably maybe, but possible, that Theodore was still alive. If that were the case, Harry owed it to him to save him. No one should have to suffer like that, and after what Harry had seen and heard, he knew why Theo was suffering.

He wasn't an idiot. His grades may not ever match up to Hermione's or even Malfoy's but he wasn't stupid. He could put together what Voldemort was suggesting easily enough and when you add in Theodore's reluctance to beg for forgiveness, the way he fought as Voldemort forced the Dark Mark onto his arm, the way he kept whispering, "I'm sorry Harry" in between Crucio's, it wasn't a stretch to say that Theodore's suffering was somehow his fault.

Harry had to help him.

There was no choice about it.

There was nowhere he wanted to be more than where he could help Theodore. Nothing he wanted more than to save the other boy. If his uncle wouldn't let him contact the Headmaster, then Harry was just going to have to find another way to save the day.

He grabbed the phone just as Vernon was coming back down the stairs. "Oi, boy, what do you think you're-?" Vernon started.

"Hello, Mrs. Figg? Hey, it's Harry. Yes, that Harry. Yes. I know. I was wondering, ok, ok, that's great. Ok, tell him to Hurry. Yes, thank you. No, no I'm not in danger. Well, it's someone else, so make sure, yes, hurry, yes, yes. Thank you. Ok. Bye."

Harry put the phone down slowly, a small smile spreading across his face. Help was coming. His hand flew to his forehead suddenly, as a sharp pain rocketed through his skull. Voldemort was enjoying himself again. Which meant Theo was either just dead, or they were torturing him again. As sickening as the thought was to admit, Harry hoped it was the later.

Screaming resonated inside of his head, and Harry clutched both hands over his ears to try and drown out the noise. He couldn't though. No matter what he did, he could still hear the screaming, desperate and terrified, broken up by ragged sobs and pleas for it all to end.

"Join me. Repent. And all the pain will stop, Theodore," Voldemort hissed softly. He probably was aiming for soothing, but as Harry watched him, he couldn't help but shudder. The man was horrifying to look upon. His skin pale and stretched tightly over a baldhead and bony limbs. He had no nose, just a flat, slitted area, like a snake's and his eyes were slitted and red. His lipless mouth curled upwards as Theo wheezed and coughed, pushing his way into a sitting position.

"I don't want to join you." Theo rasped. His face was pale except for the dark purple circles around his eyes and the livid yellow bruise on his jaw. There was blood dripping from his nose and his mouth, but he ignored that in favour of cradling his chest with one arm. The other arm hung limply by his side, its fingers curled into a fist.

"Because then he won't love you anymore?" Voldemort sneered, eyes narrowing. A laugh suddenly escaped him, and Harry and Theodore both flinched back. "Foolish boy. He doesn't love you now, what have you to lose? You will never have him, you are not worthy of him, the very idea that you think he will ever feel anything other than distain for you is… amusing." He moved forward slowly, bending down until he was crouched in front of Theo, their eyes level. "He is elite, powerful. Of course, he is also an impertinent child, but at some point, should he ever survive to grow older, he would have been my equal. The idea that you could be worthy of him is droll, because you realize it implies you believe yourself to be equal to me?"

Voldemort's hand was on Theodore's face, the fingers hiding and pressing down on the bruise. Theo jerked his face away. "He'll beat you. And I'm not your equal, I'm better than you." Voldemort's head tilted to the side in curiosity, his mouth turning down, and if he had had eyebrows, he would have raised one of them. "I don't mind if he doesn't notice me, or care about me. I'm not afraid to not be noticed. But you, you're so afraid of being passed by, of not being known that you kill innocent people and children for notoriety. I'm human like that. You aren't."

The hand was back on Theo's face, but this time it came as a punch. The boy's head jerked to the side, and he fell back as Voldemort straddled his waist. The hand was now around his throat, squeezing tightly, and the Dark Lord no longer looked faintly amused. He was enraged now, and as Harry watched Theo gasp and struggle futilely he knew Dumbledore would never arrive in time to save the Slytherin.

The moment he was thrown from the vision, Harry had barely a second to stare back at the terrified Dursleys before he felt as if he were being sucked into a vacuum. Then he was gone. When he opened his eyes next, he was in front of Voldemort and Theo. They were both were he had left them in the vision, one astride the other, choking the life from him. Harry gasped sharply, taking a step back and pulling his wand from the holster on his arm. He brandished it, but no one seemed to have noticed him. Voldemort looked up, eyes travelling around his Death Eaters, a smirk on his parody of a mouth. He looked straight at Harry as well, but then he skimmed right passed the boy, as if Harry wasn't there. It was like he was invisible.

And maybe he was? He had subconsciously apparated to Theo's side, to save him. Maybe his magic had turned him invisible as well? Or at least, invisible to those that would harm him, because Theo looked over, and wide brown eyes widened again as they landed on him. His lips began to move, frantically shaping the word 'Harry' over and over, and the hands that had been tugging at the hands around his throat reached out. Harry came towards them, taking one of the hands in his own and squeezing lightly. At the small comfort, Theo went limp. He relaxed himself entirely, and startled by the unexpected behaviour Voldemort let go.

The moment those long-fingered hands were off of Nott's throat, Harry lunged at Voldemort. The two of them landed in a pile of thrashing arms and legs, and the Death Eaters watched, mystified, as their Lord wrestled with air. Theo crawled, on his hands and knees, out of the way, and the Death Eaters paid him no mind. All of their eyes were fixed on their Lord. With his back against the exit door, Theodore held out a hand to Harry again.

"Please help me," he whispered, but Harry heard him.

The Dark Lord spun in circles, his wand out stretched, searching for his invisible foe. But Harry was no longer there. He had snuck passed the circle of black-cloaked figures, somehow, and was holding Theodore against him as they made their way down the corridor beyond the dungeon.

"You came for me." Theo breathed, his head tilted sideways to rest against Harry's.

Harry didn't respond. But the moment they were outside, out from under the oppressiveness of the building behind them, their feet on grass instead of fancy wood flooring, Harry pulled Theodore tight against him. Chest to chest, they stood, Theo's arms snaking up to encircle Harry's shoulders as his face pressed against Harry's neck. Harry ignored the tears that fell on his skin.

"We need to go somewhere safe." Harry whispered, closing his eyes. Please let us be safe, he thought. That horrible, familiar feeling of having the air sucked out of you suddenly settled around him, and he hugged Theodore tighter even as the Slytherin's sobs stopped. When Harry opened his eyes again, he was in the living room of Number 4, Privet Drive.

Seated on the couch were Headmaster Dumbledore and Alastor Moody. Loitering in the corner of the room was Professor Snape, who turned to glare at Harry the moment he spoke.

"Uh, hello?"

"Hello, my boy," Albus greeted jovially. "It seems there was no need for assistance after all. But," he frowned as he trailed off, eyes on the Slytherin. "Whatever shall we do with you?"

Theodore pulled away from the Boy-Who-Lived. Their bodies untangled, but neither moved further away from one another than they had to. The other boy was slightly taller than Harry, with paler skin and brown eyes. He was thin and a little lanky looking, much like Ron had been before he had built up his muscles with Quidditch. Theodore's front teeth were crooked, but when he smiled at Harry, he had to admit it was a very nice smile regardless.

"I would like to stay with Harry, please." He looked around the Muggle home with a frown, but one of confusion, not distaste. "Where are the Muggles who live here?"

"My uncle is making them all hide upstairs until we leave." Harry paused. "When are we leaving? Are we still going to The Burrow?"

"No, no my boy. The Weasleys wouldn't be able to take care of the both of you. It simply wouldn't be fair to ask." Dumbledore sighed, "and anyway," he added, "Percy finally came home."

"Oh that's good."

"You'll be going to the Grim Old Place, Potter." Alastor butted in. Theodore flinched as the ex-Auror turned his head to stare at him. The false eye swivelled madly, and Theo turned his head away to avoid the unnerving stare.

"Oh that's bad," Harry sighed. He didn't relish the idea of living in Sirius' house without Sirius. But it had been a year already. One whole year to grieve and move on with his life. It hadn't been enough – a lifetime wouldn't be enough – but that was apparently all the time Harry would be given. He was going back to Sirius' home, the home that had nearly driven Sirius insane, the building that had acted like another Azkaban, trapping his godfather inside, caging him and ultimately destroying him. And now Harry was expected to step foot inside that dreadful place willingly?

It was safer than here, he knew that. And safer than The Burrow as well. But he would always be in danger, no matter where he went, so safety wasn't really a big issue for him. Theodore Nott, on the other hand, needed to be kept safe. That was really the selling point for Harry.

"When do we leave?" He asked unexpectedly. Even Snape jumped at the sound of Harry's voice, before turning narrowed eyes in his direction, but he didn't speak.

"As soon as Mr. Nott memorizes this note." Albus held out a slip of parchment to the Slytherin, who took it hesitantly. He read over it twice, and handed it back. Once the parchment was nothing more than ashes in the Dursleys unused fireplace, Dumbledore held out an old shoelace. Each Wizard took hold of it, a full hand or just the brush of a fingertip, and they disappeared together, as if they had never been there to begin with.

My secret is Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London, the note had read.


The first night at Grimmauld Place had been a little awkward. That was an understatement. It was actually a lot awkward.

Harry had guessed that Voldemort had been teasing Theodore about him. Which meant that Theo had feelings for him, which was something Hermione had been pondering the year before, after the Potions incident. But Harry had always brushed her thoughts aside. He didn't like boys, well, anymore than he seemed to like girls, so it was a moot point. It wasn't like Theo could have a relationship with Harry if Harry didn't want to, was it? So whatever the other boy might have felt had always been a little irrelevant. Harry had never had time to contemplate the lives of others, he had always been so busy fighting to live or learning or fleeing. This was really the first extended period of time he had spent with anyone outside of the Order or his close circle of friends. And even within his friends, the only one that had ever acted similarly was Ginny.

She had gotten over her crush years ago. And she had never tried to sleep naked in the same bed as him either.

Theo had insisted, that first night, on repaying Harry for rescuing him. He had no money to give, no possessions except the half-destroyed clothes he was wearing, and all he could really offer that was worthy anything was his body.

"Really, you are attractive, honest. It's just, I don't want… that is to say," Harry had stuttered and stumbled over his words. His eyes were glued to Theodore's hand that was slowly tugging down the bed sheets. He was naked beneath them, but so far only his torso was exposed. The blanket rested just above his crotch and Theo gave it another soft tug. A trail of dark hair guided Harry's eyes downward with every millimetre more it was exposed. Harry licked his lips, and flushed, cheeks red with embarrassment and desire. "I don't want to force you… I'm not looking for… this is a bit like prostitution, don't you think?"

"I want to repay you, Harry. I need to thank you. The idea of being in anyone's debt rankles me, and anyway, it's not like this will be much of a hardship for me."

"Oh, so what Voldemort said? It really was about me?"

Theo didn't answer. He threw off the sheet completely, and spread his legs in invitation. Harry gave an 'eap' of shock, his cheeks burning as his blood ran south and his own cock began to harden. And then he ran from the room. He had taken to sleeping in an unused room for the past week, threatening Kreacher with bodily harm if the House Elf didn't bring food directly into the room for him, and pretty much avoiding the occupants of the house – which was limited to, beside him, Theodore.

By the end of the week, Harry was starting to feel a fraction of what Sirius must have felt, and it was driving him mad. He had snuck into the attic a few days ago, dragging a duvet and pillow behind him, and set up a bed on the floor beside Buckbeak's pallet.

"Did they not release you then? Well I hope someone is remembering to feed you." He had said to the Hippogriff. The creature had turned its head, narrowed its yellow eyes, before giving a loud snort that Harry took for, 'yes I'm being fed, no thanks to you'. "I wish we could get out of here." The snort Buckbeat let out this time was definitely one of agreement, but of course Harry couldn't leave, and he couldn't let a Hippogriff go flying over Muggle London either.

That day Harry was lying back on his makeshift bed, his fingers carding lightly over the feathers of Buckbeak's neck. His eyes were closed as he talked, a tinge of red spreading over his cheeks.

"Have you met Theo yet?" He asked softly. "I don't know what to think about him. He's attractive, and obviously I'm attracted to him, but I don't know him enough to know if I like him. He cares about me, but its not really fair if this is all one-sided, is it? He wants to have sex, but, uh, would I be taking advantage of him, do you think?"

Buckbeat let out a screech and surged to his feet. Anyone else would have panicked, tried to scramble away and probably would have gotten hurt in the process, but Harry just sat and stared. Buckbeak nudged at Harry's shoulder, his beak catching the neck of Harry's robes and he tugged the boy to his feet. A head butt at the base of Harry's spine had the Wizard shuffling forward, towards the door. Another screech followed a second head butt before Harry got the hint.

"Ok, ok, I'll go speak to him." Harry gave the creature a low bow, which was easily returned, before practically running out of the attic and down the stairs.

He found Theodore in the kitchen, sitting at a small table that the Order had set up there to make the place more comfortable. "Hey." Theo said softly, not meeting Harry's eyes. The first rejection had hurt him terribly, and while he had known that Harry didn't like him, he had hoped that Harry would at least be attracted to him, a little at least. He had never expected to be tossed aside and rebuffed like that.

"Hey you." Harry sank into a vacant chair. "How are you?"

"Why don't you like me?" Theodore suddenly asked. He leant forward in his seat, practically leaning over the table as he eyed Harry.

"I don't really know you. But I would like to. I'm sure we could be good friends, Nott."

"It's a little bit obvious that I want to be more than your friend, Harry." He slid his hand across the table, palm up and fingers spread non-threateningly.

Harry took the hand. "You really like me then? It isn't just about having sex?"

"Like you? Harry," Theo breathed, standing from the chair and coming around the table to lean against Harry's back. "I love you." Harry jerked forward in the chair as if he had been electrocuted. Theo's arms were around his chest and shoulders, holding him in place, refusing to let him go. "I love you so much, Harry. I watched you, all of last year, and I couldn't help but fall for you. And it was ok, at the time, that you didn't know and that you didn't care, but now… you saved me! That has to mean something."

He pulled Harry out of the chair and turned him around. Harry ended up falling back onto the table, and Theo wedged himself in between the brunette's thighs, so that they were pressed together as tightly as possible.

"It's my fault he was hurting you. Of course I saved you."

"It was HIS fault he was hurting me. He is responsible for his own actions, Harry, and you know that. Nothing he does can be blamed on you." Theo's hands traced Harry's cheeks lightly. Each time Harry tried to look away, Theo would turn his head back again, forcing their eyes to meet. "I love you."

"I don't love you." It was a harsh thing to say, but it was the truth. And Theo wasn't listening to anything else that Harry was saying anyway.

Theo's eyes slid closed, and Harry tensed up as lips began fluttering against the side of his neck. "I know." He breathed out slowly. His breath was warm on Harry's neck, and the brunette trembled as desire shot through him. "But you can pretend. Just for a while."

He pulled away then. His t-shirt was lifted over his head and then discarded onto the floor. His hands fumbled with his belt, and he kept his eyes on Harry as he undressed. Clothes he had borrowed from Harry pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them, completely naked but unashamed. Theo's hands were on Harry's chest now, rubbing soothing circles on to him through the fabric. Fingers snapped at the buttons, opening them, before pushing the robes down off of Harry's shoulders. Harry didn't protest, but he didn't move to help either.

"Please, Harry. Please?" Theo whispered, his face pressed against Harry's stomach as he knelt to pull off the boy's shoes and socks.

Harry's fly was unzipped, and Harry slid from the table onto his feet gracefully as he shimmied out of his trousers. Theo continued to kneel before him. The bruise on his face was gone, but the dark circles were still around his eyes. They made his face seem so much paler and Harry couldn't resist cupping that face between his hands and letting his thumbs brush the tears away.

He was wearing only his boxer shorts when he spoke next. "This isn't right, Theodore."

"I don't care. I need it." Theo begged softly, shuffling forward on his knees to press his face against Harry's crotch. "I need him to be wrong."

Harry couldn't blame him for that. Voldemort had a way with words that allowed them to burrow into your head and turn every thought to poison. You had to prove the words wrong before you were ever allowed any peace. Theo probably hadn't been sleeping properly for the last week. Knowing he would never have Harry, and being told by Voldemort that he would never have Harry were two horridly different concepts. While they both hurt, only one had the power to utterly destroy you. Harry could empathise. Voldemort had fucked with his head on occasion as well, but all of those times, Harry was being taunted about people who were dead or dying. There had been no one left to comfort him and prove Voldemort wrong.

He didn't care for Theodore like that. But it was what Theo needed, so with a sigh, Harry gave in. And it wasn't like it would be much of a hardship to pretend to love Theodore.

His cock was already throbbing, and images of Theo wide-eyed and writhing were flashing in his mind's eye. His hands were at the elastic of his boxers, tugging them down and freeing his erection. The moment his organ met the air, Theo surged forward, swallowing to the root and Harry gave a cry of surprise and pleasure. He thrust his hips forward without warning, and Theo pulled away with a gagging noise. When the taller boy moved forward again, he kept his hands on Harry's hips this time, pinning him to the edge of the table.

Theo's mouth was hot, and wet, and Harry could do nothing to contain the moans that were escaping him. One of the hands on his hips disappeared, and Harry looked down to see the fingers moving in and out of Theo's mouth, brushing alongside Harry's cock, glistening with saliva.

"What are you-?" He started to ask but trailed off as the hand moved lower and Theo leant forward, spreading his legs. His fingers disappeared behind him, but he gasped around Harry's penis, panting heavily on the organ as he pushed two fingers into himself.

Harry threw his head back with a moan. The sight before him, one of complete submission, as well as the feel of Theodore gasping around his length, was amazing. His hands moved forward, fisting into Theo's hair, and he unwillingly pulled the boy away from him.

"If you don't stop," Harry hissed, breathless, "I'm going to come."

Without a word, Theodore removed his fingers and stood up. He licked his lips slowly, before leaning forward. For the first time, their lips met and when Harry didn't push him away, the other Wizard wrapped his arms around Harry, holding him close as his tongue prodded against unyielding lips. "Kiss me back," he whispered against Harry's mouth.

Harry did as he was told.

Their mouths met again, and this time the kiss was frantic. Both boys battled to be the one who emerged the victor, but after a while, Theo went limp allowing Harry to plunder his mouth, allowed the hands to ravage his body, and he jest leant against Harry's chest and enjoyed it.

When the kiss was over, Theo moved closer to the table. He turned away from Harry and leant over the table. His legs were spread, baring himself to Harry's hungry gaze, and he looked over his shoulder with hooded eyes. "I want you," he breathed, crooking his finger in Harry's direction.

Harry moved towards him, pressed himself entirely along Theodore's back, and his cock nudged at the boy's entrance. "Are you prepared?"

Harry had never done anything like this before, and he was trusting Theo to know when he would be ready for penetration. Just because he didn't love the other boy didn't mean he wanted to hurt him either.

"I want to feel you afterward. To remember." Theo said softly, turning his face towards the kitchen table and away from Harry's searching gaze. "I want this," the boy said again, his voice hard, and there was nothing Harry felt the need to do but obey.

His finger brushed against Theo's pucker and the boy gasped, arching back off of the table. When he pushed one finger inside, he was met with no resistance, so he added another, and then a third. He drew them all back, convinced that Theo was somewhat prepared to accept him.

"I don't want you to stop. Just go in one go, ok?" Theo asked. His fingers were clenched around the edges of the table, and the knuckles were white from the grip. It was enough for Harry to know that what Theo wanted would hurt him. But if Harry couldn't love him, then he would at least give Theo what he wanted. For now.

He lined himself up, one hand holding the base of his penis and the other gripping Theo's right thigh, holding it up a little bit. Harry surged forward, forcing himself into the tight hole that was being offered to him. Theo let out a shout, his back arched and his fingernails bit into the wood of the table, but he never asked Harry to stop or slow down, so Harry kept pushing, until he was at last buried to the hilt within the other boy's arse.

When Harry didn't immediately start to move, Theo thrust his hips back. Taking the hint, Harry pulled away with a disappointed groan. Before he could slip completely from the other boy, he jerked his hips forward again, filling Theo in one thrust. Theo cried out, arching off the table with every thrust that followed, and when Harry came in contact with his prostate the boy actually screamed.

Whispered pleas for 'more' and 'harder' and 'faster' filled the kitchen and Harry carried out each command with pleasure. His thrusts were sporadic, with absolutely no rhythm but Theo didn't care. All he cared about was the fact that Harry was there, with him, inside of him, and it felt better than he had ever imagined it would. One hand entwined with Harry's, stretched out in front of them, fingers gripped tightly by the other as they rocked together.

Theo moaned, a low, keening sound, as Harry's other hand moved underneath him to encircle his neglected cock. Harry stroked him slowly. Each movement of Harry's hand was out of time with Harry's thrusts, hard and precise, up, down, up, down again, and coupled with Harry's unpredictably jerking hips it drove Theo into a frenzy. With a cry and an arch of his back, he came into Harry's hand.

"Harry, Harry, please," he panted, begging softly as Harry's length continued to impale him. Those fingers were at his mouth now, sticky and white and teasing his lips until they parted. Theo allowed Harry's fingers to slip into his mouth, and his tongue roved over them, tasting his own essence as well as the underlying taste of Harry's skin. It wasn't all that disgusting to clean up his own semen, Theo decided, as he continued to suck on Harry's clean fingers.

Harry continued to thrust behind him, on top of him, and into him. With every thrust, Theo gave a gasp around the digits in his mouth. His prostate was being nudged over and over, and it sent tingles of pleasure up and down Theo's spine, but he was physically too exhausted to come again. Harry pressed his face against Theodore's neck; his breath came out in hot pants that each branded Theo's skin with a piece of Harry. A soft kiss landed on the junction between neck and shoulder, before Harry orgasmed with a low groan. As he came, he bit down lightly where he had just kissed, his teeth marking the skin of Theo's neck, but not drawing blood. His hips spasmed, tremors wracked his body, as he rode out his orgasm with his teeth in Theo's neck, his fingers entwined with Theo's fingers or around his cock, and his own cock shoved up Theo's arse.

When he had calmed enough to move, Harry lifted his head up and eyed the bite mark with a frown. "It'll bruise," he said softly.

"Let it," Theodore said. His head lolled forward, resting on the tabletop, as he stretched his other arm forward and let it lie beside the one that Harry held. Harry didn't disengage their fingers. Instead, Harry squeezed that hand tighter before allowing his second hand to move up and grab onto Theo's free hand. They lay together, holding hands in the afterglow.

The sun rose outside. Strokes of red and oranges burned the night away. As dawn came, the light filtered in through the windows in the kitchen, falling over the two boys still intertwined on the table.

Theo was panting softly, his eyes closed but a small smile was fixed on his lips. He felt peaceful, more relaxed than he could ever remember being. Above him, Harry was still spread over his back. His cock remained pressed, soft now, against Theodore's arse, slick from saliva and cum. Harry's breath came in short bursts, in deeply and out lazily, and Theo's smile widened as Harry made no move to leave him.

A soft kiss pressed against his shoulder, Harry's mouth remaining open and wet against his skin even after the kiss was finished. Theo rolled his shoulders, pressing back onto Harry's face, and a second kiss followed the hint.

"I love you," Theo told him hopefully.

"I love you too," Harry lied.

The Slytherin's smile changed: becoming sadder, a little bit bitter. But he kept his eyes closed and he continued to enjoy the soft kisses that Harry pressed to his neck, back and shoulders.

And he tried to pretend that Harry wasn't just pretending.


The End

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Thanks for reading. I apologize if this isn't a pairing you like, but if you read this anyway then I thank you sincerely and implore you to leave a review. If you read this far, and didn't like the pairing, and tell me you didn't like the pairing – then why did you read it? I don't want to hear about it. However, you can review me, complaining that this wasn't an update for Butterfly, those sorts of complaints I expect and accept! :P

Hope to see you all again this weekend. I will update something else then.

Oh, oh, oh, who else likes District 9 fiction with a Christopher/Wikus pairing? There so aren't enough of them on FFNet… people, provide.