Chapter Text
“But how can you be so sure?” Harry asked for what felt like the third time already. Theo couldn’t fault him. If the situations were reversed, he wouldn’t be any more accepting of his answer.
“Because I know my father,” Theo muttered, as he traced the usual healing runes over his fingers. It had only been a couple of weeks, but his mobility was slowly getting better. “Whatever he cast was no ordinary spell, not to mention he did so silently. The only detail I have no doubts about is its nature.”
Harry grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest and lent back against the wall. Still, his eyes never strayed from Theo’s careful strokes.
“What kind of father casts Dark Magic on his own son?”
“Do you really want the answer to that?” Theo asked, cocking an eyebrow. In response, Harry groaned and rubbed his neck.
“I just —” he sighed, “I wish there was some way we could deal with this? Maybe Madame Pomfrey could help? She’s a great healer.”
That, Theo had no doubts about. He held no doubt that if anyone at Hogwarts would be able to help him, she would be high up in the list. Still, that didn’t mean he was willing to get her involved.
“I don’t doubt that,” Theo started but soon found he didn’t really have the words. He finished the last rune and sat there in silence, observing as his work dried against his skin. Across from him, Harry didn’t break the silence either. “What would I even tell her? ‘Good afternoon, Madam. My father cast a silent, possibly-dark spell on two of my fingers and regular healing spells seem to have no effect on them. Could you please help me?’”
Harry blinked at him and shrugged.
“Well, that’d be a fairly good start.”
Theo wished he had a better response than what he was about to say. He dragged the fingers of his free hand against the cold floor of the tower, watching the swirls he left behind from the dust.
“I’m not ready for her to know that, Harry,” he confessed, letting his head drop. He felt the heat of embarrassment rush to his face and, not for the first time, wished he was a stronger person. Perhaps one that would have no issue asking for help. One who would’ve asked for help ages ago. Maybe then Whilbie wouldn’t have had to go through that pain. “I realise it’s ridiculous and that the problem might get easily solved by her if only she knew but I… I can’t bring myself to have her look at me with the knowledge of what happened…”
He felt Harry’s hands gently covering his, taking particular care to not smudge the lines that had not dried yet.
“She'd know it wasn’t your fault,” he said in a soft voice. “You know that, right?”
Theo shot him a small smile, “that part I do know. I’m just unwilling to confront the consequences of other wizards knowing.”
Harry didn’t seem particularly convinced.
“But doing nothing means that nothing will change.”
“ For now. We’re at Hogwarts, January still has a couple of days left. I just need time,” Theo said, giving into the impulse and turning his hand over, entwining his fingers with Harry’s own. The Gryffindor seemed stunned for a second, before relaxing.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But don’t think I’ll be forgetting about this any time soon, there’s no way you’re going back to your father’s this summer.”
If only it were as easy, Theo thought to himself. He did have to admit, seeing Harry act so sure about it did make him have some hope.
“Now, moving on.” Theo asked, trying not to look too disappointed as he let go of Harry to stand up. At least he managed to briefly offer it back in order to pull him back to his feet.
“We should at least try to be somewhat productive today.”
February came with strong winds and icy rains that at least seemed to match Theo’s current mood.
It seemed the only thing everyone in the castle could talk about was the bloody Hogsmeade weekend. No matter which class it was, or whatever corridor he walked through, the constant chatter was focused on what they were planning, who they were going with and even the thrice damned clothes they were wearing.
He’d thought he’d get a moment of respite during supper, but of course the fates would never be so kind.
“Well, all I’m saying is if you’re taking someone, don’t be so ridiculous as to take them to Madame Pudifoot’s,” he heard Daphne say as he walked over to join them. “I heard she went overboard with the Valentine’s Day decorations, you’re just asking to leave covered in rose petals or something along those lines.”
Nonchalantly, Blaise waved her off.
“And I’m telling you I won’t be taking anyone,” he shrugged over a bite of chicken. “I’m free to spend the day with you single losers.”
Tracey frowned at that.
“I thought you were taking that Ravenclaw? The one with the hair you kept mooning about during Christmas… What was their name?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “He shaved his head during break, I’ll pass until it’s grown back.”
Tracey made an affronted noise.
“Would it kill you to take something else other than looks into consideration?”
“When they don’t shave their head bald, maybe I will,” Blaise shot back, pointing at her with his knife. Immediately, Daphne kicked him under the table. Hoping the topic had shifted over to Blaise’s shallow tendencies, Theo walked behind Daphne and made to take a seat on the space to her left.
“Don’t point with your cutlery! At least we might be able to spend it together. Oh! Do you know if Theo finally asked Potter to —”
Finally raising his eyes from his plate, Blaise’s expression turned to panic the moment he caught sight of him standing behind Daphne.
“Theo!” He interrupted her loudly. “We didn’t think you were coming up tonight. Come, come sit. I saw some tea somewhere, would you like to get you a cup?”
“I’d appreciate that,” Theo mumbled, his spirits even lower than earlier. Something he hadn’t thought possible. “And no, Daphne. I didn’t get to ask Harry if he’d like to accompany me.”
He’d hoped that the blonde would understand from this tone that he was unwilling to talk more about the issue, but she pressed on.
“Well, there’s still time! You just need to gather up the courage again and actually do it…” her confident tone began to waver as Blaise shot her a very particular look from where he was pouring tea into a clean cup, and she ended up trailing off near the end.
“That would work if he wasn’t already going with Chang,” Theo grumbled, nodding in thanks when Blaise passed the steaming tea over to him. Across the table, Tracey nearly spit out the pumpkin juice she’d been drinking, “Feel free to forget I ever told you about that.”
“Chang?! ” she asked after the coughing fit had passed. “Why would he be going with Chang?”
“Because she invited him to,” Theo’s voice was dripping with barely concealed resentment. He felt a pang of guilt over it. Just because the Ravenclaw had essentially ruined his plans in the worst way possible didn’t mean he got to be rude to his friends. “Can we please talk about something else?”
“Sure, let’s talk about how we’re going to make that date an absolute disaster,” Tracey fumed from her seat. To Theo’s alarm, Daphne, reasonable and sensible Daphne, did nothing to diffuse the situation. Instead, she actually seemed to be considering the idea.
“We don’t even know if it’s a date,” Blaise said weakly. He raised his hands in surrender as both girls turned to glare at him.
Theo took a gulp out of his tea, relishing in the way it was close to burning and humming at the flavour. The warmth and the scent alone made him feel at peace, despite the vexing conversation going on around him.
“Everyone knows what it means to go one-on-one with someone this particular weekend,” Daphne frowned. “I can’t believe Potter accepted…”
“It’s fine,” Theo said, lowering the cup back on its saucer. “I had plenty of opportunities and yet Chang was faster than me. Let her have her chance, Harry did accept after all...”
Tracey’s eyes widened.
“But—”
“He’s entitled to enjoy his life and Freyja knows he deserves to,” he interrupted her. “I’m just glad to call him my friend.”
“But is that enough?” Daphne asked gently, enough to make Theo almost waiver.
“Well, it’s going to have to be,” he answered, taking another fortifying gulp of tea.
“Oh, stop being so pessimistic!” Blaise tried to lighten the mood. “It’s just one date, Chang might end up being as boring as a plank and Potter will move on to better, greener things in life.”
“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Theo deadpanned.
“Sod off, Nott. I’m hilarious.”
Valentine’s Day was still a week away, but the castle had already begun to shift. Pink and red decorations popped up in the Great Hall, and Madam Pince had been seen aggressively removing enchanted love notes from the library shelves. Harry wasn’t too preoccupied about it—at least, not until Theo’s mood took a noticeable dive.
Theo hadn’t been moody around Harry since the first days they’d spent together. Which was fair enough, considering Harry had basically blackmailed him into helping him and spending time with him. But now, there was something different—something Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on. Theo wasn’t just withdrawn; he was avoiding eye contact, making excuses to be elsewhere, and when they did talk, his words were clipped, like he was forcing himself to put on a happy face. Now, Theo had never been a ray of sunshine exactly, but Harry had grown accustomed to his particular brand of humour—the dry wit, the sarcastic quips, the rare but genuine laughs. And now, he realised, he missed the sound of it. It was like watching someone pull away in slow motion, and Harry hadn’t the foggiest idea why.
He’d tried to bring it up once, offhandedly asking if Theo was all right, but Theo had just muttered something about research being knackering and quickly changed the subject. Harry had known Theo had been throwing himself into research about Horcruxes, trying to understand what they were, and had told him to take it easy, to not push himself so hard, but Theo had paid him no mind. Now, Harry was starting to wonder if he should have put his foot down.
He was also beginning to feel suspicious.
Theo had managed to juggle his schoolwork, his own research, and even helping Harry with the Tournament before—was OWL year really hitting him that hard? Or was there something else he wasn’t telling him? Theo was stubborn, but he wasn’t reckless, and this—this refusal to ease up, the way he seemed to be running himself ragged—didn’t sit right with Harry. He’d seen Theo tired before, but this was different. There was an edge, like something was weighing on him that he wasn’t sharing.
By the time Saturday morning arrived, the castle was abuzz with excitement. Students wrapped in scarves and coats hurried through the corridors, already making their way to the main doors for the Hogsmeade trip. The air smelled faintly of sweets and enchanted roses, and laughter echoed through the halls.So, naturally, when Hermione approached him that morning, looking slightly harried with a letter clutched tightly in her hand, and asked if he had plans for the day, he answered with a slightly distracted air.
“Listen, Harry, this is important. I won’t take much of your time. I need you to meet me later in the Three Broomsticks, around midday,” she said, panting as she caught her breath . “You haven’t got plans, have you?”
“Yeah, I do,” Harry replied with a shrug.
Hermione visibly stiffened before sighing and nodding like she should have expected it. “Oh, with Theo? That’s fine, I’ll have a word with him, see if you two can spare some time. I—”
Harry blinked. “Why Theo? I’m going with Cho. She might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do”
Hermione froze. Slowly, she looked up, eyes wide. “Cho?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, frowning. “She asked me the other day, and I said sure. Actually, Theo was there when she did.”
Hermione groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Oh, Harry.”
“What?” he asked, exasperated.
She straightened, her initial plan seemingly discarded, and now just looked at him with something between sympathy and frustration. “Never you mind. Bring her along if you must. Will you come?”
“Well… all right, but why?”
“I haven’t got time to tell you now, I’ve got to answer this quickly —” Hermione waved the letter clutched in her hand and sprinted off.
Harry watched her run with a frown.
He did admit he had his reservations for the day.
He had realised, embarrassingly late, that this was a date. He and Cho had snogged before the Christmas break, and now they were going on a date. He’d been going over it in his head for days, trying to convince himself that this was brilliant, that this was what he wanted. But the more he thought about it, the more something felt… off. And yet… where were the butterflies? Why wasn’t he more excited?
He’d hoped to talk to Ron on his way to Hogsmeade, if only to ease his worries, but the other boy had an entire day of training ahead of him. The Gryffindor team was still in shambles after losing three players to lifetime bans, and to make matters worse, Ron’s confidence had taken a nosedive. These days, he spent more time before practice groaning about his inevitable failure than actually preparing, often questioning aloud why Angelina refused to let him quit.
He found it very hard to be sympathetic to Ron’s plight when he himself would have given almost anything to be playing in the forthcoming match against Hufflepuff.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed the students weaving around him as they moved toward the main doors. The chatter of excited couples and groups of friends filled the corridor, the anticipation of Hogsmeade thick in the air. He adjusted his scarf, exhaling slowly before stepping outside.
Outside, a pair of third-years giggled as pink, heart-shaped bubbles floated up from the charmed sweets they were holding. The halls smelled faintly of roses, sickly sweet, like the castle itself had been doused in perfume.
It made Harry’s head ache.
Hogsmeade weekends always had a particular energy about them, but Valentine's Day had turned that up tenfold. The grounds were bustling with students wrapped in scarves and chatter, groups already forming and setting off toward the village. Harry wasn’t paying much attention to the excitement, though—not when he caught sight of a familiar group loitering near the path ahead.
He was always quick to spot Theo and his merry band of snakes. The usual quartet of Slytherins stood just apart from the bustling crowd, not quite mingling yet impossible to ignore, their presence drawing attention without ever demanding it.
Blaise was the first to acknowledge him, eyeing him up and down before wrinkling his nose. “Merlin, Potter, did you even bother with a comb this morning?”
Harry shrugged, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Doesn’t make a difference, does it?”
Daphne and Tracey laughed among themselves while Theo, beside them, sent Harry a fond look. It was brief, subtle, but Harry caught it all the same—the kind of look that made warmth creep up the back of his neck. Then, just as quickly, it disappeared. Theo’s expression shifted, his gaze snapping past Harry toward the road ahead. His whole posture stiffened.
“I’ll see you lot later,” Theo muttered abruptly, reaching for Blaise’s arm and dragging him off before anyone could ask questions.
Tracey hesitated, watching them go with a furrowed brow. She looked like she wanted to follow, but Daphne stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Not yet,” she said lightly, though there was something unreadable in her tone. “I’ve got a few stops to make first.”
Harry frowned as the group split off, confusion tugging at him. He felt the itch to go after Theo, to ask—but then he spotted Cho waiting for him just down the path, and the moment passed.
She was waiting for him just to the side of the oak front doors, looking very pretty with her hair tied back in a long ponytail. Objectively, Harry could see why people found her attractive. Subjectively, he felt about as enthused as if he were heading into a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Umbridge. Still, he steeled himself and walked toward her, suddenly and bizarrely aware of his own limbs. When had his arms gotten so long? Did they always swing like that?
"Hi," said Cho, slightly breathless.
"Hi," said Harry, forcing a smile.
They stared at each other for a moment. Harry felt like he should say something charming or at least vaguely interesting, but all he could muster was, "Well—er—shall we go, then?"
"Oh—yes…"
They joined the queue of students being signed out by Filch. Occasionally, they caught each other's eyes and shared brief, awkward grins, but neither of them spoke. Harry could practically hear Theo's voice in his head, dry and teasing: "You do realize you're supposed to talk on a date, right? Or is this just an advanced staring contest?"
Once they were outside, the crisp breeze helped clear Harry's head. He didn't have to worry about standing still, just walking. He liked walking. Walking was fine. He glanced toward the Quidditch stadium and spotted Ron and Ginny skimming over the stands. A pang of longing hit him. He should be up there, feeling the rush of wind, the thrill of the chase—
"You really miss it, don't you?" Cho asked.
He looked at her, surprised.
"Yeah," he admitted, sighing. "I do."
"Remember the first time we played against each other?" she asked.
"Yeah," said Harry, grinning despite himself. "You kept blocking me."
"And Wood told you not to be a gentleman and knock me off my broom if you had to," Cho added, laughing. "I heard he got taken on by Pride of Portree."
"Nah, it was Puddlemere United. I saw him at the World Cup last year."
"Oh, I saw you there too, remember? We were on the same campsite. It was really good, wasn’t it?"
They chatted about the World Cup all the way down the drive, and for a moment, Harry almost forgot how awkward this was. She wasn’t hard to talk to—at least, not when the subject was Quidditch. Then a group of Slytherin girls passed by, led by Pansy Parkinson.
"Potter and Chang!" Pansy shrieked, giggling. "Urgh, Chang, I don’t think much of your taste. At least Diggory was good-looking!"
The chorus of laughter and exaggerated glances back at them left an embarrassed silence in their wake. Harry had dealt with worse, but Cho flushed and stared at her feet. Theo would have rolled his eyes and thrown back something cutting and devastatingly precise.
"So… where d’you want to go?" Harry asked as they entered Hogsmeade, trying to salvage the moment.
"Oh… I don’t mind," Cho said, shrugging. "Um… shall we just have a look in the shops or something?"
They wandered toward Dervish and Banges, where a large poster displayed the pictures of the escaped Death Eaters. Harry frowned at the ten grim faces staring back at him. The Ministry had put up a thousand-Galleon reward for information.
"Um… d’you want to get a coffee?" Cho asked tentatively.
"Yeah, all right," said Harry. "Where—?"
"Oh, there’s a really nice place just up here. Haven’t you ever been to Madam Puddifoot’s?" she said brightly.
He had not, and he immediately regretted following her inside. The tea shop was a frilly, steamy nightmare of pastel decorations and floating cherubs. Harry suppressed a grimace. It reminded him unpleasantly of Umbridge’s office. Theo would never lead him to a place like this, he knew him better.
"Cute, isn’t it?" Cho said happily.
"Er… yeah," Harry lied.
They sat at the last remaining table. Roger Davies and his girlfriend were practically inhaling each other nearby. Harry averted his gaze, feeling deeply out of place. Theo would have been cracking jokes about it by now. Theo would—
No. Not the point. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about the Slytherin?
As if he had summoned the green menace, movement at the door caught Harry’s eye. Tracey and Daphne had just walked in, glancing around before sliding into a small table near the back. Harry frowned. He hadn't taken them for the tea shop type. A few minutes later, just as Cho was settling into conversation, he caught sight of them whispering to each other and shooting glances in their direction.
Harry felt faintly suspicious as Cho ordered them coffee, after that his attention shifted. The conversation stuttered, stumbled, and then fell apart completely.
Cho had mentioned Umbridge and Harry seized on the subject with relief, they did manage to pass a few happy moments abusing her, but the subject had already been so thoroughly canvassed during D.A. meetings it did not last very long. Silence fell again.
Harry was very conscious of the slurping noises coming from the table next door and cast wildly around for something else to say.
“Er.. . listen, d’you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I’m meeting Hermione there.”
Cho raised her eyebrows.
"You’re meeting Hermione Granger? Today?" Cho asked, her tone suddenly sharp.
"Yeah. She asked me to," Harry said. "D’you want to come? She said it wouldn’t matter if you did."
"Oh… well… that was nice of her."
It did not sound like Cho thought it was nice. The air between them grew stifling. Harry had the distinct feeling that he had done something wrong, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what. He stared into his coffee cup like it held the answers to the universe.
Then Cho said, "Roger asked me out a couple of weeks ago. I turned him down."
Harry, who had been reaching for the sugar, nearly knocked it over. Was he supposed to congratulate her? Was she expecting him to say something romantic?
Instead, Harry just blinked at her.
Panicking, he noticed Cho’s hand was lying on the table beside her coffee, and Harry was feeling a mounting pressure to take hold of it. Just do it , he told himself, as a fount of mingled panic surged up inside his chest. Just reach out and grab it ... Amazing how much more difficult it was to extend his arm twelve inches and touch her hand than to snatch a speeding Snitch from midair...
But just as he moved his hand forward, Cho took hers off the table. Harry still reached for it— and in the same moment, her coffee somehow toppled over, splattering across her robes.
Cho gasped in horror, dabbing at the stain as Harry fumbled for the frilly napkins.
Whatever he had in mind when he imagined spending a day with Cho, this wasn’t it. He did wonder what made Cho think he would enjoy this, in a place where cherubs threw confetti into the coffee Harry had been about to drink. Just to make sure he never did it again.
"I came in here with Cedric last year," said Cho.
In the second or so it took for him to take in what she had said, Harry’s insides had become glacial. He could not believe she wanted to talk about Cedric now, while kissing couples surrounded them and a cherub floated over their heads.
Cho’s voice was rather high when she spoke again.
"I’ve been meaning to ask you for ages… Did Cedric — did he m-m-mention me at all before he died?"
This was the very last subject on earth Harry wanted to discuss, and least of all with Cho. Since Cedric had been too busy getting murdered by Voldemort and all that.
“Look,” he said desperately, leaning in so that nobody else could overhear, “let’s not talk about Cedric right now… Let’s talk about something else...” But this, apparently, was quite the wrong thing to say.
“I thought you’d understand! I need to talk about it! Surely you need to talk about it too! I mean, you saw it happen, didn’t you?”
Harry floundered. “I have talked about it—to Ron and Hermione, but—”
“Oh, you’ll talk to Hermione Granger!” she said shrilly, her face shining with tears. Several more kissing couples broke apart to stare. “But you won’t talk to me! P-perhaps it would be best if we just . . . just p-paid and you went and met up with Hermione G-Granger, like you obviously want to!”
Harry stared at her, utterly bewildered, as she seized a frilly napkin and dabbed at her shining face with it.
“Cho?” he said weakly, wishing Roger would seize his girlfriend and start kissing her again to stop her goggling at him and Cho.
“Go on, leave!” she said, now crying into the napkin. “I don’t know why you asked me out in the first place if you’re going to make arrangements to meet other girls right after me… How many are you meeting after Hermione?”
“It’s not like that!” said Harry, and he was so relieved at finally understanding what she was annoyed about that he laughed —which he realized a split second too late was a mistake.
Cho sprang to her feet. The whole tea room was quiet, and everybody was watching them now.
“I’ll see you around, Harry,” she said dramatically, and hiccupping slightly she dashed to the door, wrenched it open, and hurried off into the pouring rain.
“Cho!” Harry called after her, but the door had already swung shut behind her with a tuneful tinkle.
There was total silence within the tea shop. Every eye was upon Harry. He threw a Galleon down onto the table, shook pink confetti out of his eyes, and followed Cho out of the door. It was raining hard now, and she was nowhere to be seen. He simply did not understand what had happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine.
"Women!" he muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with his hands in his pockets. What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why did she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?
Whatever it was that Harry wanted from the romance department, he knew one thing for certain—Cho and her waterworks weren’t it.
Inside the tea room, Tracey leaned back, lazily stirring her tea. “Well, that was almost too easy.”
Daphne, far too refined to roll her eyes, simply took a slow sip of her blissfully confetti-free tea and sighed. “It was already a train wreck. The coffee was overkill.”
Tracey smirked. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun.”