Some Cold to Know the Sun

It takes a night to make it dawn
And it takes some old to make you young
It takes some cold to know the sun
It takes the one to have the other
-- from "Life is Wonderful" by Jason Mraz





Theo, my love

I imagine that's the last time I'll ever get to call you that, so there it is. And I've given Bea a kiss already, so I won't ask you to do that for me.

You've likely noticed this already, but I've left. And I won't be back. I am sorry for stranding you like this, but it was that or perish. Really, truly, I believe that. This is not a situation I can survive. I am not the mother I'd hoped I'd be to the child I thought I'd have, and I am not the lover I wanted to be, and I am not the woman I ought to be. I've failed miserably, I'm afraid, and you don't see it now, but it's the best thing for all of us.

I've told Bea I love her, and I have apologised to her, as well, though I'm sure she neither understands nor cares. I do love her. I just can’t tolerate her. That's the worst thing any mother can say, isn't it?

And I do love you. Or did, at least. I'm not sure who either of us became along the way. You are a brilliant father. You will do right by her, even if I can't. Tell her I'm dead if you like. Please don't let her think she's done something wrong to make me go – for her, if not for me.

Sorry for all of this mess. Don't look for me. You won't find me.

-- Tracey




And just like that, she was gone.

Just like that, the earth, on its perfect axis, came to a sudden and violent stop, and the pictures fell from the walls, and the pots slid from their shelves, and the table legs cracked, and the windows shattered, and Theodore Nott was left holding his screaming three year-old daughter in the center of it all, trying to shield her from the impact.

_______________




The knock sent Theo into a mild panic.

He dropped his quill immediately and leapt to his feet, readying himself for the storm that was about to start blowing. Beatrice was on the floor of the boxy sitting room, her coltish legs curled under her bottom, laying out an evenly-spaced trail of Chocolate Frog cards. A momentary hesitation in her movement heralded its arrival.

Theo swore under his breath. He grabbed his wand from the table and hollered, "On my way!" towards the door before his daughter's screams could swallow the sound. Just as he made it to her side, they began.

A siren-like wail came first, rising from her chest and building to a shrill note before sliding back down to start all over. In between rounds, he crouched beside her and took her chin in his hand. "It's all right, Bea-Bea," he said, trying to make his voice sound soothing rather than tense. "Someone's just come to say hello." Bea avoided his gaze, instead staring somewhere over his shoulder, as the second siren-call began.

Theo sighed and swept his daughter into his arms, balancing her against his skinny chest as he righted himself and made for the door. She clung to his neck tightly, still staring off behind him with her wide gray eyes and working herself into a frenzy. With his free hand, Theo lowered the wards. "Bea-Bea," he muttered into her ear. "Bea-Bea, look!"

Brightly-coloured sparks shot up from the tip of his wand as he reached forward to pull the door open. They caught Bea's attention for a moment, and the wailing stopped abruptly. "That's a good girl," Theo said and shot off another round as he lifted his head to see who in Merlin's name was knocking on his bloody door. Rent, mercifully, wasn't due for another two-and-a-half weeks; he wasn't expecting any deliveries, and he could have sworn his irritating neighbour had found her ugly little mutt three days ago by the gleeful barking he had heard coming from across the hall (which had sent Bea on a three-hour-long crying jag.)

Adjusting Bea's weight against his body, Theo looked up into unfamiliar blue eyes peering uncertainly at him from behind a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. "Can I help you?" he asked, pulling a strand of Bea's dark hair out of his mouth.

The stranger's eyebrows pulled together. "Mr. Nott?"

"Yes, that's me." Theo sent another shower of sparks up from his wand, purple this time, and cast a quick glance at his daughter to make sure she was still entranced by them. She was.

The man stuck out his hand in a formal gesture. "Percy Weasley. Ministry of Magic."

Theo stuck his own hand out, wand still between his fingers, and shook awkwardly. He recognized the name. If he recalled correctly, there were a whole slew of Weasleys. There had been one in his year at Hogwarts, but this wasn’t him. This one appeared a bit older, but not by much. He felt a strange sort of dread pooling in his stomach. Visits from the Ministry were never a good thing. If his damnable father had taught him anything for certain, that was it.

"Theo Nott. But you knew that. What can I do for you?"

Percy nodded faintly towards the sitting room behind them. "Er… may I?"

Theo shrugged, hoisting Bea higher against him, and said, "If you must."

Percy suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "I certainly don't mean to intrude, Mr. Nott, but I do think it best if we sit down."

The pool of dread spread itself wider. Theo stepped back from the door and pulled it open all the way. "Watch your step," he said, indicating the line of cards across the floor. "Try not to move them, if you can help it." With a twitch of his wand, more sparks, now blue, burst into the air with a quiet pop and shimmered above his head. He felt Bea crane her neck back to get a good look at them. Being careful not to trample on her set-up himself, Theo made his way to the sofa and settled himself down.

"There you go, love," he said, and he slid his daughter from his lap onto the floor, reaching down to adjust the hem of her dress. He pointed to the cards. "Go ahead. Good girl," he murmured as Bea reached for the pile and began to shake them through her palms.

To Percy, who had sat down in a beat-up chair opposite him, he said, "Crisis averted. Now what can I help you with?"

Percy cleared his throat. His posture was as stiff as his shirt. Theo, suddenly extremely conscious of his own lack of one, drew his arms close around his bare stomach.

"It's about your father."

Theo swallowed hard. His father had been in Azkaban since the end of the War nearly six years ago. What sort of shite could he possibly have gotten himself into, wandless and under twenty-four hour guard? He leveled his gaze. "My father."

"Yes. I'm… I regret to inform you that he… he passed away early this morning. In the hospital wing at Azkaban. Heart trouble, they've said."

The words rose into the air and hung between them like a spell, large and looming and invisible. On the floor at her father's feet, Beatrice hummed tunelessly to herself. In the silence, it carried. Theo opened his mouth to respond, then promptly closed it again, the words stuck somewhere at the back of his throat.

Trying to summon his voice, Theo stared at Percy's hands. They were as freckled as the rest of him, clenched into fists in his lap, one thumb scraping anxiously back and forth across his knuckles. Briefly, Theo imagined he might understand his daughter's fixation with rhythm and pattern and movement. It was centering, he thought, to have something to focus on when the world dropped out from under you.

"He's dead."

"Y-Yes. I'm afraid so." Percy shifted uncomfortably, picking at a nonexistent bit of lint on his trousers with two tense fingers.

"Today."

"This morning, yes."

"His heart?"

Bea's humming suddenly picked up into a song Theo recognized but couldn't place; something that had been playing on the wireless recently. Percy glanced quickly down at her, then met Theo's gaze again. Honestly, he looked a little intrigued. "Yes, that's what they've said. I'm terribly sorry."

"… No, you’re not," Theo said flatly, reaching down to place a hand on his daughter's neck in an attempt to quiet her. She shrugged him off and hummed louder, hunching her narrow shoulders and hunkering down towards the floor. Theo tugged the back of her dress down where it had ridden up over her bottom.

"I…"

"You're not sorry. It's all right." Theo sighed. "None of you at the Ministry ought to be. You know the truth of it? Neither am I."

Percy blanched. His knee began to bounce.

Theo leaned down and stroked absently at Bea's hair, shaking his head as she ducked away from him. "Mean old bastard." He bit down on his lip, then pinched the thin bridge of his nose. "I can't believe it," he said softly. "Thought he'd live to see me put in the ground. Bet he'd've liked to."

Percy's knee bounced faster. He coughed. "So you… you two didn't get on, then?"

"Not exactly, no. Not by the end. Haven't seen him since his trial."

"… Oh."

Theo squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "This new Ministry policy, then? Sending… what did you say you do?"

"I'm Assistant to the Minister."

"Right. Sending the Minister's Assistant to break the bad news?"

"Well, no. Usually it's done by official owl. But Minister Shacklebolt requested I come see you in person."

Theo arched his eyebrows. "All the way to Luss. Must've taken some work to track me down. Why's that?"

"Minister Shacklebolt… he told me he knew your mother. They were friends, I take it. He told me he was rather fond of her, and he wanted to make sure you were… taken care of properly."

Theo paused, his hand stretched half-way out towards his daughter's curls again. He closed his fingers into a fist and drew it back into his lap. "… My mother?"

"Yes. He… he said they were close at one point."

"At one point," Theo echoed. Strangely, recalling his mother's death fifteen years earlier wounded him more freshly than his father's death only hours ago. He felt a dull ache creeping up from his stomach. "Must have been before she married my father. I had no idea." Generally, Theo tried not to think about all of things about his mother that he didn't know.

"Yes, well. That's why I'm here. Are you… is there anything that you need?"

Theo chuckled darkly, the bitterness of the sound surprising even him. "A house elf? I'm rather tired of noodles. Or some bloody Galleons, perhaps?" He rolled his eyes and looked around at his flat with a heavy sigh. "Sleep."

"I…"

"Right. I know. You can't help me there. Well and good, then. I suppose there are things that need to be seen to?"

Percy looked almost relieved by the change in topic. "Yes. There'll be a bit of paperwork waiting for you, as you're your father's only living relative. And… there are arrangements."

Theo's mouth set into a line. "Don't suppose the Minister will be giving the eulogy?"

Percy drew his top lip under his bottom one.

"Never mind," Theo said. He looked down at Beatrice, whose humming had switched back to the tuneless monotony of earlier, as she squared off the corners of her Chocolate Frog path. "I don't suppose I can do any of that from here? My daughter…"

Percy's face grew sympathetic. "I'm afraid not. You have to have witnesses and such, and… there are people to meet with. Mostly, it's done in person."

"Of course it is."

Theo suddenly felt sick. They were discussing his father as though he were some unpopular bit of news Theo had to transcribe for the WWN. Which, he supposed, in a way he was. His father had had the lengthiest and most unpleasant trial of any surviving Death Eater following the War, and for weeks – months, really – he had been plastered all over the Prophet and the WWN. Theo had attempted to attend the proceedings, but in the end he couldn't bring himself to sit through more than two days of it. He had known what sort of a man his father was – the truth had become more and more apparent to Theo the older he got – but hearing it told again and again and again by people he didn't even know had been intolerable. He had walked out in the middle of the third day and never gone back.

At the time, he had distracted himself by attempting to rebuild his own life. His last name hadn't made it easy for him, but he had had Tracey – she had been almost six months pregnant by the time his father appeared before the Wizengamot – and he had managed to find work at a book shop in Diagon Alley. They had a little flat, and they were making a go of things, and the work he had to put into it had helped tremendously in terms of maintaining his sanity.

Circumstances had changed dramatically since then, however, and Theo wasn't entirely sure he would be able to withstand another round. His father's death was sure to be front-page news in the morning, and it was only a matter of time before an onslaught of owls and Rita Skeeter showed up at his door. And this time, he couldn't shove his wand against her throat and threaten to hex her into a pile of ashes. This time, he had Bea to think about, and not just in the abstract; not just as a Quaffle-sized bump under Tracey's robes. This time, he was a twenty-two year old man, not a seventeen year-old boy, and nobody was going to give him a centimetre of room to fuck up.

This time, he was poorer, lonelier, and more exhausted than he had ever been in his entire life.

Theo dropped his head into his hands and took a great, shuddering breath. He rubbed harshly at his scalp with his fingertips, trying to force solutions that didn't exist through his skull; trying to be an adult; trying to think.

There was no way around it. He was going to have to go to London to handle things, and he was going to have to do it quickly. The faster he could get his father's affairs sorted, the faster his father – and by default, himself – would become old news again. Then, with any luck, everybody could finally rest in peace.

Rubbing wearily at his eyes, Theo looked up to see Percy watching him closely. His features had gone a bit soft, and his eyebrows were knit together. His worry had taken on a slightly different character.

"Tomorrow all right?" Theo finally said, sighing.

"Yes, tomorrow would be fine," Percy answered. "I've been assigned to… er, be your escort, if you'd like."

"Like a guard." It was out of his mouth before it even made it all the way through his brain, it seemed. It had been years, but it was still hard to shake the persistent weight of persecution from his shoulders.

"No, like an escort. I hardly think I'm qualified to guard anything," Percy said with a note of self-deprecation, gesturing faintly at his narrow frame and neatly-knotted tie.

Despite himself, Theo cocked his thin lips into a half-smile. "Suppose not," he said. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "You and me both."

Percy huffed a dry laugh through his nose and nodded. "In any case, just tell me when you'd like to leave."

"I have to figure something out for Bea," Theo said, gazing back down at his daughter. She was now in the process of flipping the Chocolate Frog cards over, pressing down firmly at each of their four corners before moving onto the next one. "She can't come with me. Apparition makes her sick-up and scream – I think the pressure does something to her ears, really, because it just doesn't stop – and the Floo…" Theo shuddered visibly. "The Floo is out of the question. And she… she doesn't do well with change, anyhow. New places and people and…" Theo suddenly stopped. "I actually can't believe she's still out here in the room with you. She doesn't get on with strangers. Isn't that right, Bea-Bea?"

Bea, of course, didn't answer. She didn't even appear to have heard him.

Theo looked back up at Percy. "I have no idea why I'm telling you all of this. Just… give me a few minutes, would you? To think this through?" His voice had gone tight and strained.

"Is there someone who might stay with her?" Percy asked tentatively.

Theo read the implication in this – where's her mother? – and he was the one who laughed dryly this time. "You're looking at the only one who stays with her." To Bea, he said, "Right, love? Just you and me."

Again, his words went unacknowledged as Bea hummed to herself and smoothed the corners of her cards down with her thin little fingers.

"No… neighbours or anything?" Percy asked, his voice fading on the last syllable.

Theo just shook his head. He rubbed at his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine. Lovely. Exactly the topper to a fabulous day. "Give me a moment, would you?" he said suddenly, and rose to shut himself in the loo for a few moments.

_______________



Percy folded his hands primly in front of him, gripping his own fingers anxiously, and watched Theodore Nott – six-foot-three, reed-thin, tattooed Theodore Nott; apparently single father Theodore Nott; son of notorious Death Eater Malcolm Nott Theodore Nott – haphazardly pack a rucksack full of things he probably wasn't going to need and leave out things that he probably was. Percy had an absurd urge to take over, but he resisted.

He already felt enough like an intruder, standing in this obviously solitary man's sitting room while his strange – and strangely beautiful – little daughter slept on the sofa, her hair a foreboding thundercloud around her china-white face. Her skin was exactly the same shade as her father's, Percy noted. In fact, her features were almost entirely her father's; there was absolutely no denying to whom she belonged. As Theo packed, Percy studied them both, his eyes working back and forth to compose a compare and contrast chart in his head. Yes, Percy thought. All but her lips. Beatrice's were thinner, and her mouth was smaller. Theo's lips were full and bowed a bit at the top, a little like a doll's.

Flustered by his own thoughts, Percy tore his eyes away from them both and looked around the flat. It was roughly the same size as his own and just as bare. Surprisingly bare, actually, considering that a five year-old lived there. Then again, Beatrice was not an average five year-old. All of her playthings were shelved neatly in a corner, a thin layer of dust coating most of them. The only mess was a pile of dull-looking cutlery on the coffee table and the enormous stack of Chocolate Frog cards with which she had been playing yesterday. They looked well-worn. Percy surmised that they must be her favourites.

Theo's weary voice broke through his reverie. "And you're sure you're all right with this, then?"

"Wha… oh, yes. Yes, it's absolutely fine. As I've said, the Ministry…"

Theo cut him off. "But what about you? Piss on the Ministry, honestly."

Percy looked up, a bit taken aback.

"Really. Piss on them. They don't give a fuck about me and my daughter for the five years that bastard's alive, and now that he's dead they send you here to… to what? To be a nursemaid so that they can wash their hands of him as quickly as possible? Pardon me, but you don't look the type." Theo sighed heavily.

"I… I've actually had quite a lot of experience with children," Percy said lamely. He supposed it was the truth – he did have four younger siblings – though he had never felt particularly paternal towards any of them, except for maybe Ginny, and only because she was the baby and the only girl.

Theo's face was curious; half distressed, half trying not to laugh. "You haven't any experience with Bea," he said.

"That's true. But you've left me a fairly extensive list. I'm rather good at following instructions. How do you think I ended up being the Minister's assistant?" Percy returned Theo's expression.

"Fair point. Though I don't expect half the arse-kissing I'm sure you've had to do. Just…" Theo bit his lip. "Just keep her alive until I get back, yeah? She's the only one I've got left."

Percy watched as Theo knelt beside the sofa and brushed his skeletal-looking fingers through his daughter's hair gently, afraid to disturb her. The kiss he dropped on her forehead barely touched it. He murmured something into her ear that Percy couldn't hear, then stood. "All right, then. I'll be back as soon as possible." Theo waved his wand, and his rucksack lifted into the air and floated towards the door. Theo followed it. His hand on the knob, he looked back over his shoulder with a pained expression. "Er… thank you."

"Of course."

With another glance back – eyes tight, mouth set, forehead creased – Theo shut the door carefully behind him, and Percy and Beatrice were alone.

Unwilling to disturb the unusual little girl, Percy sat himself down at Theo's cluttered dining table, deducing that Theo must use it as a sort of desk. It was covered in memos, notes, and a haphazard-looking calendar, all written in Theo's surprisingly neat hand, as well as random splotches of ink, crumbs, and smudgy-looking fingerprints that had to belong to Beatrice. It was in sharp contrast to the rest of the house, which was perfectly tidy, and Percy came to the quick conclusion that this was likely where Theo spent most of his time. He didn’t inhabit the rest of the flat long enough to really cause a mess.

The sloppy workspace was almost physically painful for Percy to look at; he wondered how anyone could possibly concentrate. Not sure of what else to do, Percy set to work neatening it up.

He was halfway through sorting a chaotic pile of paperwork, some of it dated five months back, when Beatrice began to scream. Percy had been so absorbed that he hadn't even noticed that she was awake, and now he was too late to head-off the storm the way Theo's instructions had advised: a glass of milk, a strange little bean-filled bag for her to squeeze, and some wand-sparks if those didn't work.

Within seconds, she was blowing full-tilt. She thrashed about with balled-up fists and knocked the glass of milk that Percy had hastily poured all over the sitting room, threw the bean-bag violently against the wall, and was rocking back and forth with such vigour that there was no way she could even notice the sparks – pink – that Percy had produced for her. His wand dangling uselessly from his hand, Percy removed his milk-spattered glasses and wiped them on his shirt, staring at the little girl with helpless eyes.

It was clear to him that there was something that she wanted. He could read it in her expression, which was angry, pleading and indignant, but he had no idea what it could possibly be. Sympathy surged through his belly. Percy knew what it felt like to want and to not be able to express it; he had been mired in that for almost his entire life. In fact, he had been reminded of that gnawing want just a few hours earlier, gazing at this frustrated little thing's lovely – terribly skinny, wearied, and a bit unusual, yes, but definitely lovely – father. So yes. He understood it. He got it, and he wished desperately that he was able to decode her.

After a few moments of staring dumbly as Beatrice howled and rocked, Percy's eyes were caught by the stack of cutlery on the coffee table. Dulled with the same fingerprints as the dining table, it was clear that this was well-used. Percy wasn't entirely sure of its purpose – nor was he sure he wanted to put a knife, even a blunt one, into the hands of a thoroughly enraged child – but he decided anything, at this point, was worth a try. Scooping it up from the table, he sank down onto the floor and began laying it out in front of him: forks to the left, knives in the center, and spoons to the right. Methodically, he sorted, averting his eyes (the girl seemed intimidated by eye contact, which Percy could also understand; eye contact was such an intimate thing, really, and it gave him the crawlies when someone looked too hard) and concentrating as intently as he could. The more he focused, it seemed, the quieter Beatrice got.

Chancing a glance up, Percy realized that it wasn't just his concentration that was lessening the noise. Bea was actually quieting down. She had been reduced to random sniffling now, and she was gazing at him through her dark, tear-spiked lashes as he worked. Afraid to change technique and throw her off again, Percy carefully re-shuffled the cutlery after all of the pieces had been sorted and started over. He went slowly and methodically, using the same pace he had watched Bea use with her Chocolate Frog cards, and with each piece he laid out, she crept a little closer.

Percy finished sorting the set for a second time, and the room was silent. He breathed shallowly, tentatively, waiting to see what she might do next. To his surprise, she settled herself on her knees across from him and reached across the divide between them. The cutlery clinked in her hands as she scooped it up, and she began to imitate him, sorting it neatly into three piles in the exact order he had done.

Percy watched her curiously as she stacked the forks one on top of the other, so they all laid as one, and did the same with the spoons. She attempted the trick with the knives as well, but soon discovered it wasn't as simple. Rather than becoming irritated by it, however, she laid them out in a neat pattern – a four by four square – in the center and proceeded to change her layout to make the other piles match. When she reached the end, she sat quietly and looked expectantly up at Percy. Her eyes were dry, and her face was calm.

"Well done, Beatrice," he said softly, pointing to the piles. "Is it my turn now?"

She didn't answer, just continued to stare at him with those unfathomable eyes the exact same shade as her father's. Deferentially, Percy reached out and took a knife from the center square, testing the waters. When she didn't react, he collected the rest.

Speaking in a gentle narrative, he made a new pattern in front of him. "B…. E…. A," he said, placing the utensils in letter-shapes. "That spells Bea. Your name. Can you spell? Come sit next to me," he said, patting the floor beside him, "so they don’t look upside-down."

To his shock, Beatrice complied, scooting across the floor on her knees. Percy pointed at each of the letters in turn after she had settled. "B… E… A. Bea. That's you."

Beatrice didn't speak, but she reached out for the remaining pieces and copied the pattern. When she had done it successfully, Percy muttered, "Clever girl. You spelled Bea."

When it was Bea's turn, she carefully laid out the cutlery in front of her, stopping every few pieces to gaze intently into Percy's face. Percy sat silently and watched, admiring her attention to detail as she constructed a dulled-silver model of his own pair of spectacles on the floor in front of them. When she had finished, Percy smiled the sort of smile that stretched his entire face in a way that felt both terrifying and liberating, and though Bea didn't return it, she stared, alert and intelligent, into his eyes with an unblinking intensity that matched the feeling exactly.

"Brilliant," he said, unable to rein in his grin. "You're a brilliant little thing, aren't you?"

_______________



Theo sighed heavily and dropped his rucksack to the thinly-carpeted corridor. With one hand, he loosened his noose-like tie. With the other, he lowered the wards and turned the knob, mentally bracing himself for what he would find.

What was waiting for him surprised him so thoroughly that he had to rub his tired eyes to make sure that he hadn't fallen into a dream. The sitting room was spotless. Not spotless in its usual sense of dust-coated disuse, but spotless in the sense that it was fairly sparkling. Theo had actually forgotten that the cloudy centre of the coffee table was glass. The way the low light of the lamp was hitting it, throwing a hazy sort of glint, reminded him.

Not only had the sitting room been polished to a fair lustre, but beyond it, Theo could see that his kitchen shined in a way it hadn't even when he had moved in, and – this was the topper – the dining table/office/rubbish heap was neat and organized, its surface gleaming. Hunched over in Theo's usual chair sat Percy Weasley, scribbling furiously at a piece of official-looking parchment. Bea was nowhere to be found.

Theo's first reaction was a low-level panic. "Bea?" he called, his head swivelling in every direction as he nearly tripped over the rucksack he'd heaved through the door. "Beatrice?"

Percy looked up. "Oh! Hello. I wasn't sure when you'd be back."

"About now. Where's Bea?"

"Asleep."

"Where?"

"Her bed," Percy answered, looking puzzled.

"… Her bed?"

"Well, yes. I know you said she usually likes the sofa, but I didn't want to disturb her, so I put her to bed."

"You… put her to bed? And she stayed there?" Theo looked alarmed. "You didn't put a sleeping charm on her, did you? They don't affect her quite right; her mother used to try that all the time, and it made her heartbeat irregular. The Healers weren't sure why. Nothing ever happened, but I don't like to…"

Percy interrupted. "No, no sleeping charms. Just a glass of milk and a card game, and she flipped off like a switch about three hours ago."

"You aren't serious. She won't ever stay in her own bed. It's either the sofa or mine, and with her being a girl, and five, I prefer the sofa. It's just… you know. More proper."

Percy shrugged. "I haven't heard her get up."

Theo tugged at his tie until it slid off into his hands. He made to drop it, but thought better of it, recalling the current state of his flat. Instead, he draped it neatly over his hand. "I'll go check on her a moment."

Percy was absolutely correct. Bea was curled on her side beneath her blue and grey coverlet, a Chocolate Frog card mashed in her little fist, breathing softly and evenly into the darkness. Theo gently removed the card and smoothed it out as best he could on her chest of drawers, then tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He smiled, amazed, and bent to kiss her. She smelled clean and cool and didn't stir at the touch of his lips. Shaking his head, Theo absent-mindedly fingered the buttons of his shirt and made his way back to the kitchen.

"Out. Just like you said," he said quietly.

Percy was standing over the table, gathering his work into a case, and looked up at the sound of Theo's voice. "Excellent," he said. "I'm glad you've arrived home safely. Nothing really to report here; everything went well. I'll be on my way so you can get some sleep. Not to be rude, but you look like you could use some."

Theo smiled wryly. "This is my usual state, really." This was only partially true. While Theo was indeed used to keeping strange hours, he hadn't slept at all while he was away. He had been worried for his daughter, stressed to an unusual pitch even for him over the business with his father, and dreadfully uncomfortable moving through the annals of Wizarding hierarchy. With no family or friends to speak of and even less currency, he had rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron, of all places, with its lumpy beds and chaotic goings-on. It hadn't been at all conducive to rest, and he knew that his face and body showed it.

Percy's mouth twitched up at the corners in response. "Mine, too, actually," he said. He gestured around himself as if embarrassed.

"Oh! Yes," Theo said. "I did notice, really. You certainly didn't have to do all that. This place hasn't looked this clean in… well, ever, frankly." He paused for a moment. "Thank you."

"No trouble, really. As I said, I'm not much for sleep, and I didn't mind at all. I hope I wasn't being presumptuous, I just… I prefer to stay busy."

"No, no. Not presumptuous. More like… ambitious. Are you sure you were a Gryffindor?" he quipped. "You were, yes? Being a Weasley and all?"

Percy laughed dryly and pushed his glasses onto his nose. "Oh, quite sure. Though if you ask my father…" Percy's voice trailed off, and the laugh abruptly stopped. "He always said that he agreed with Dumbledore. You know, in that they Sort too early."

Theo's eyebrows shot up. "Strange, that. My father always said the same thing. Think it was the only point he and Dumbledore ever agreed on."

Percy nodded shortly. "Fathers are complicated creatures, aren't they?"

"They are," Theo agreed, his eyes tightening. "Indeed."

"Oh," Percy said, suddenly looking flustered. "I apologize, I…"

Theo cut him off. "It's all right. You're right. It's a hard thing, though, being a father. You know, after having Bea, I'm not sure if I judged mine too harshly, or didn't judge him harshly enough. Strange, isn’t it?"

"Not entirely. As I said, it's complicated."

Silence – neither entirely comfortable nor entirely uncomfortable – hung between them for a moment. Theo watched Percy's expression flash through several different emotions before settling on the one that he wore most of the time: calm, professional, and fully gathered. "Right," Percy finally continued, taking a short step in the direction of the door. "Well, I don't mean to keep you. As I said, everything went well."

"Glad to hear it. I know Bea isn't the easiest child. I appreciate your minding her; I would never have imposed if there had been any other option." Theo winced internally. This whole situation had been a rather harsh reminder of exactly how alone in this world he and his daughter actually were.

"No trouble at all. She's lovely." Theo's face must have looked utterly incredulous, because Percy added, "Really. I enjoyed her company. And I think she enjoyed mine, as well. Or, at least, she tolerated it."

Theo nodded. "I do appreciate it," he said quietly. "She did seem to take to you rather well. Unusual for her."

Percy smiled a small smile. "I'm glad. Not many people do."

"Another thing we have in common, then," Theo replied.

Percy nodded again, and restarted his journey towards the door. His hand was on the knob when Theo was seized with a sudden, intense urge to holler after him. He was so unused to this sort of thing that it overtook him before he could stop it, and he called, "Wait!"

Percy paused, his thumb sliding slowly over the brass. He turned back, his head cocked in curiosity. Theo thought he saw a strange expression flash across his face before he managed to compose it. Something… hopeful?

"Can I make you some coffee?" Theo offered lamely. It was the first thing that sprang into his head, and he immediately regretted it. Coffee? It was nearly midnight. Not to mention that Percy Weasley looked more the tea type, and Theo couldn't stand the stuff and didn't keep it in the house. The man would surely think he was mad. Not that he ought to have cared. Who didn't think he was mad, really?

To his surprise, Percy paused to consider, finally nodding and saying, "Actually, coffee would be brilliant. If you don't mind."

Theo took his coffee black, and Percy took it almost white, but they both liked it hot enough to scorch their tongues. Theo watched Percy wrap his long, pale fingers around the mug and hold it close to his face, letting the steam curl up around him and blur his features. He looked tired, but not nearly as tired as Theo. He'd caught sight of himself in Bea's mirror and, even through the gloom, nearly gave himself a heart attack. He imagined he looked almost as pale as his father had, laid out flat and bloodless for all the world to see. Not that the world had come.

Despite his state of exhaustion, Theo felt oddly grateful for the company. He truthfully couldn't recall the last time he'd had an actual visitor (he tried hard not to think about the fact that Percy was getting paid to be here), and though it turned out that conversation, to him at least, was a rather lost art, Percy didn't seem to mind. He wasn't much of a talker, either, and the silence suited them both. Together, they sipped, and they spoke, and a bit to his own surprise, Theo found himself watching the way Percy's lips curled around certain words, and the way he traced the rim of his mug with one finger as he listened.

_______________

Theo's dreams, when they finally came, were the most vivid he'd had in a long time. He woke up in a sheen of sweat, too hard to care what they had been about, licked his hand into a sloppy mess and stroked himself into a desperate, silent orgasm that spilled across his stomach and melted his bones like a hex.

Before he closed his eyes again, he cocked an ear out of habit, even though he had charmed a bell to wake him at once if Bea got out of bed. But Bea slept on, quiet through the night for the first time in more than a year.

______________




Percy –

Never did thank you properly for looking after Bea. Coffee is hardly compensation, especially since you threw housework into the equation. If you care to, owl back and we'll have a proper dinner. My treat, of course.

– Theo

Percy promptly spilled his creamy coffee down his freshly-laundered shirt. The mug bounced out of his hands and cracked into four pieces on the shiny hardwood floor of his office, and the sound was much, much louder than it should have been.

_______________



This was absolutely not a date. Theodore Nott clearly preferred women. He had a daughter, did he not? A daughter who resembled him closely enough that a question of parentage certainly hadn't caused the split with her mother. Concrete proof of heterosexual inclination if Percy ever saw it. No. This was not a date. This was a thank-you, nothing more. This was, at the very most, an offer of friendship from one obviously lonely man to another. At the worst, it was a ploy for more free child-minding. It was certainly not a date.

So why in the name of Godric had Percy changed his shirt three times? One white shirt, after all, is quite like another, and who but a ridiculous poof like himself would fret over the number of buttons on the cuffs? Nonsense.

Nevertheless, here he was, back in Scotland, back at the front door of Theodore Nott's boxy little flat, holding a bottle of wine. Wine. He suddenly regretted his choice of beverage – wine is a very date-y sort of thing to bring – and was considering a quick charm to change it into butterbeer when Theo opened the door with Bea wrapped around him like devil's snare. Smiling wanly over his daughter's bare shoulder – Percy quickly realized that the little thing was starkers – Theo gestured him inside.

"Sorry," Theo said mildly. "She's just decided she's a bit warm. She's sensitive to temperature. Care for a walk before we eat?"

Percy shifted the bottle of wine between his hands uneasily. "Oh. Err.. sure. But shouldn't you…"

Theo laughed at the same time Bea squirmed, and he almost dropped her. Percy held out a steadying hand but pulled it back in horror, remembering the nude state of the child. Theo jostled her in his arms, still smiling. "Of course I'm going to dress her," he said. "What kind of father do you take me for?"

Percy made a flustered sort of sound, and Theo gestured towards the kitchen. "You can leave it on the counter if you'd like. Red, is it?"

Percy nodded, and Theo said, "Excellent. Unnecessary, but excellent. We'll just be a moment." To Bea, he muttered, "Let's go get some clothes on you, yeah? We've got company. No one wants to look at your stinky arse." He huffed a laugh into her ear and she wriggled away, an oddly delighted expression on her face.

As Theo dressed Bea in her bedroom, Percy set the wine on the counter and stared at his reflection in the slightly-darkened kitchen window. He was certainly overdressed, and not just because half of his company was naked. Theo was nearly as he had been when Percy first came by unannounced. He had managed a shirt this time, but it was opened all the way down the front, revealing an odd corner of the tattoo across his ribcage, and his trousers were unbuttoned and sagging dangerously low on his hips. He was also barefoot with hair to rival Harry's: dark and unkempt, sticking up at architectural angles around his equally angular face.

It looked as though he had been interrupted mid-dress. Judging from the state of the sitting room – Chocolate Frog cards were scattered about, the sofa cushions were askew, and Bea's discarded clothing was neatly folded in the corner – he probably had been.

Uncomfortable just standing there, Percy took his wand from its place in his belt loop and was in the process of returning the Chocolate Frog cards to their place on the coffee table when Theo emerged, a freshly-dressed Bea at his side. "You don't have to do that every time you come over here," he said. "If my landlady sees that, she's going to hike my rent sky-high, thinking I can afford house help."

Percy looked up, startled. "Oh, no, I just figured I'd do something useful while I waited."

As he spoke, the cards caught Bea's eye. She watched intently as they floated carefully through the air and piled themselves up. Theo noticed Percy watching her. "She's fascinated by magic," he explained. "Did you notice it when you were here last?"

"I did," Percy confirmed as Bea reached her pale little fingers up to touch the suspended cards. He cast a charm to hold them in place as she inspected them closely.

"She's very sensitive to it," Theo said. "She can feel it sometimes before it happens. Funny, though," he continued. "I think… I think she's a Squib."

Percy's eyebrows shot up. "Do you?" Now that Theo mentioned it, he hadn't noticed any signs of magic in the girl at all. He didn't think much of it, as she was young yet and obviously quite different from other children.

Theo nodded. "She hasn't shown any magical ability. But… truly, I think it might be for the best." He bit back on his lip as he said it. Percy imagined that such a thing would have been a near blasphemy to say in front of Theo's father and probably most of Theo's Hogwarts House. "Bea has a lot of trouble with her emotions, as I'm sure you discovered. I can only imagine the sort of mayhem she could cause with uncontrollable magic."

Percy nodded thoughtfully back. Theo had a point. "She'd be a Ravenclaw, I think," Percy mused. "An unconventional sort, maybe, but definitely a Ravenclaw."

"You think so? Nah. The girl's a Slytherin just like her dad. Always finds a way to get what she wants." Theo paused, staring down at Bea. "Besides, Ravenclaw? My father would turn over in his grave," Theo muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

"He didn't appreciate brains?" Percy asked.

"Only when he was knocking them about," Theo answered. He paused for a moment, and then he shook his head as if ridding himself of an unwanted memory. "In any case. Shall we?"

Percy nodded, charming the cards back into a neat pile as Theo called for his daughter. She came quietly, reaching out her small hand and tucking it neatly into her father's palm.

_______________


Luss was a perfectly charming little village, and both Beatrice and Theo seemed peaceful on its funny little streets. Holding her father's hand, Bea walked quietly, seeming to be somewhere other than they were inside of her own mind, but not seeming at all bothered by the place. Theo walked with a rolling, easy gait, much different from the harried way in which he moved around his flat.

Percy had never spent much time in Scotland, but he quickly determined that, if one wanted to disappear for a bit, this wasn't a half-bad place to do it. The cottages were old-fashioned and picturesque, and the whole place had a quiet beauty about it that Percy could appreciate.

They walked down to the pier, and Theo settled himself on its edge, Bea in his lap. Immediately, she began to fiddle with the stones, tossing some into the loch – Loch Lomond – and storing others in the small pockets of her trousers.

After a long and comfortable silence, Percy asked, "What made you come here?"

Theo ran his hands absently through his daughter's hair, and she didn't move or flinch away. Looking intently at Theo's mouth, as he had been wont to do recently, much to his own chagrin, Percy noted the way his tongue ran around his gums, as if he were thinking about how best to put something, or deciding whether to say it at all. Finally, he spoke. "My mother's from here," he said.

"Was she a witch?" Percy inquired, immediately feeling foolish. Of course she was. She had to be; only Pureblood wizards were Sorted into Slytherin.

Theo nodded. "She was. But her parents weren't."

Taken aback, Percy said, "No?"

"No. They were Muggle, both of them. Born and raised here. So was my mum." Theo took one of Bea's stones and pitched it into the loch, where it skimmed neatly three times before sinking. "I only met my grandparents once. The day she died."

Percy's forehead knit together in concentration. He had a strange feeling, like he was hearing something he ought not to be, or, at least, privileged information. His stomach began to flutter inexplicably. He nodded in encouragement, anyway.

"This is the last place I saw her," Theo finally said, an unusual, flat tone to his voice. "We just arrived here. We were going to visit her parents. She wanted to go the pier first, to show me. It was her favourite place when she was small, I guess. So the three of us – Mum, Dad and me – came right here. She skimmed stones with me. She taught me how."

It was quiet for another long moment, and Percy repressed the urge to reach over and place his skinny, freckled hand over Theo's.

"Dad and I walked up the pier. He asked me to… to look for sea-glass. Stupid, isn't it? Sea-glass in a loch? What the fuck do you know when you're seven? I wandered away a bit. Next thing I know, my dad is hollering. She drowned."

Percy could hear the festering grief in Theo's voice, so different from its usual languid tenor. He started to reach his hand out – that urge would not bloody go away – but he paused a few centimetres from actual contact, then pulled it back with a small start. Theo didn't seem to notice. He was as far away inside of his own head as his daughter was. His next words were a whisper. "I didn't hear anything." He paused. "My mum could swim, you know."

The water lapped at the shoreline, and Percy's heart thundered, and Beatrice's stones plinked, and for a long while that was the only sound.

Theo reached out for his daughter's hand and caught it mid-throw. Surprisingly, she let him. He brought it into his lap and squeezed. "I just wanted it to be different for her, that's all. And it won't be."

Percy was too focused on Theo's anguished face, which was, in turn, focused on Bea, to pay attention to his own hand. It crept off of his lap again and came to rest squarely atop both of theirs. This time, nobody pulled away, though Percy felt Theo's fingers twitch for a second beneath his, as though he were debating what movement he ought to make next.


_______________

Theo kept his eyes squarely on Percy throughout dinner. He settled Bea with her noodles – No, they're not the only thing I can cook, he'd said; they're just all she eats, and most nights I'm just cooking for the two of us, so that's what I eat, too – and served them both shepherd's pie, and then he watched.

It was a strange feeling, almost like a compulsion. Everything about Percy was so fastidious, neat, and compartmentalized; however, he could see other things beneath the surface that he wanted to touch. It was like staring down into the dark waters of Loch Lomond: the glinting, silvery fish swam centimetres from your fingers, darting like haphazardly-cast spells, and you were never sure if you'd be able to grab one if you tried. Theo had never tried. Maybe, he thought, it's time.

There were a lot of things, Theo realized, that he had never tried: things he hadn't been allowed to try before Bea was born, either by his father or by Tracey, and then things that responsibility forbade him to try after she came along. Those he didn't mind so much. It wasn't such a terrible sacrifice to give up firewhiskey and his hot temper, all things considered. It was the other things that were beginning to gnaw at him all over again, make his stomach feel acidic and strange and fluttery.

The isolation he had imposed upon himself in recent years made him jittery and unsure, unable to read anyone except for his daughter properly. He couldn't make up his mind what sort of man Percy Weasley was, and he wasn't sure of the correct way to go about finding out. He decided that leaning across the table and grabbing him by the tie was unlikely to be it, as was a straight-up, "So, Mr. Weasley, do you fancy blokes?" The hand over his at the pier was a clue, perhaps, but it may also have been a simple gesture of empathy. Theo wasn't sure, as he hadn't been the recipient of a terrible lot of empathy in his life.

Merlin, but this was confusing.

Theo was so lost in his internal monologue that he failed to notice the goblet of wine as he reached for the salt, and he knocked it with the side of his bony wrist and sent it tottering. Percy, ever clever and aware, reached for it, but his own reach was clumsy – that was new, thought Theo; Percy had a sort of unearthly grace about his body most of the time – and he ended up tipping it even further in his haste, sending it splashing all over the newly-cleared dining table.

"Shite!" Theo swore, snapping out of his reverie, and he reached for the napkins in the center of the table. Percy did the same, and their hands collided in the center, which tipped the entire bottle of wine on its side. The remaining contents spilled out in a purplish stream and pooled onto the floor.

Bea immediately stopped fiddling with her plate of noodles to watch the spreading design with fascination, and both Theo and Percy scrambled for the napkins, apologizing to no one in particular for the mess. Theo immediately sank to the floor and began mopping. Percy righted the bottle and scrubbed at the tabletop, leaning over Theo as they worked.

Theo, intent on his task, stood to throw away the wet napkins and retrieve his wand. His shoulder caught Percy in the side of the thigh, and as Theo stood, Percy stumbled into the table. Unthinking, Theo reached out to steady him, and as Theo got to his feet, he found them awfully close, hip-to-hip, with Percy pressed against the table and Theo staring him right in the eyes, the napkin in his hand dripping onto the floor.

Percy looked startled, his lip caught between his teeth, his fingers curled around the table-edge. His shoulders pulled back a little, as if trying to create space, but his hips leaned forward, almost unconsciously. He swallowed heavily, and Theo watched his Adam's apple move as he did.

All of the sudden, Theo's heart was racing, thudthudthudthudding against his ribs like it was trying to escape. His eyes darted to Percy's other hand, holding his own sodden napkin between them. It was dripping onto his white shirt, but he didn't appear to notice, his eyes focused on Theo's face. The room was so silent that Theo could hear the drip drip drip of the wine onto the floor.

Theo drew a breath after a second – he hadn't realized he'd been holding it – and it sounded shaky and uncertain. He could feel his face colour up, and he silently swore at himself. As he breathed, his stomach slipped against Percy's, and a familiar heat started to crawl across his body.

Immediately, he pulled away. "Sorry," he muttered, and his hand curled into a fist over his napkin. Percy didn't move. "I'll just…"

But he didn't step back towards the bin; he didn't turn to get his wand; he just stood there. So did Percy. They stood, and they stared, and Theo could see that strange sort of look in Percy's eyes again, that brewing-stewing-burning thing that made an appearance sometimes, and suddenly he had absolutely no doubt as to what sort of man Percy Weasley was. The thought excited him and frightened him all at once, and he couldn't bear to look at it straight-on any longer, so he finally turned on his heel and walked the short length of the kitchen to bin the soaked napkin.

He took his time, getting his breathing under control, and by the time he turned around, Percy had already gone through the doorway into the sitting room to get his wand and finish the cleanup. He made short work of the mess as Theo helped Bea with her noodles. She wasn't quite done, to be honest, but it gave Theo something to do other than stare at Percy, and she didn't protest even a little

Percy tidied up the kitchen in silence as Theo tended to Bea, who was uncharacteristically cooperative. She handed over her silverware without a fuss, and she even allowed her father to run her hands under the water to rinse them clean. She did insist upon drying them on her trousers rather than a towel, but all told, it went rather well. Theo was almost disappointed by her lack of a tantrum, as it would have occupied him a bit longer, but he told himself that that was mad.

When he had finally gotten her settled in the sitting room with her Chocolate Frog cards, he took a deep, steadying breath and braced himself for the good nights.

Upon returning to the kitchen, he found it spotless, the way it had been when he had returned from London. Percy was just rearranging the table into symmetrical perfection when Theo came through the door. He noticed that the back of Percy's neck was an alarming shade of scarlet.

"Thank you," Theo said quietly. His voice seemed to startle Percy, who jumped a little, as if he'd roused him from deep within his own thoughts.

When Percy spoke, it was remarkably faster than his usual pace. "Oh, of course, yes, it's no trouble at all; I'm terribly sorry about the wine; that was clumsy, I…"

"Oh, no. It's fine. Nothing a Tergeo couldn't fix," Theo said, interrupting him.

They stood in an awkward bit of silence for a moment. When he realized that Percy wasn't going to be the one to break it – his entire face was going the colour of his neck now, and he seemed to be flailing about for words – Theo continued. "I've gotten Bea settled down. Er… thank you for joining us. And thank you again for minding her."

Percy nodded. "Of course. She was no trouble at all. That – dinner – was lovely, I…" He stopped mid-sentence.

Theo raised his eyebrows and waited.

"I quite enjoyed myself, is all," Percy finally continued.

It didn't appear as though that was his intended sentence, but Theo nodded anyway. "Me, too. It was nice to have some adult company. You gave me an excuse to make something other than buttered noodles, anyway."

Percy smiled a nervous-looking smile. "I really am sorry about the wine."

"Don't worry about it. Probably shouldn't have the bloody stuff laying about the flat anyway," Theo said. "You know what they say about drinking alone."

"Right," Percy said, his nervous smile still firmly in place. "Well, I suppose…"

"Yes, if you…"

"Right." Percy dusted his hands against his trousers. "Thank you again."

"I'll see you to the door," Theo said. His heart had moved several centimetres up his chest and was now threatening to explode from the base of his throat. His body felt hot. He hoped he wasn't sweating noticeably.

He walked with Percy through the sitting room, being careful to stay several steps behind and not inadvertently touch him for fear of bringing on an embarrassingly large erection. On their way, Percy stopped to say goodbye to Bea. He bent down to her level and touched her chin gently. She looked up into his face with those big eyes of hers, and she stared intently as he said "Good night, Miss Beatrice. Sweet dreams to you." She, of course, did not return the sentiment, but she watched him carefully as he stood back up.

Theo smiled to himself. For Bea, that was a very warm good-bye.

When they reached the door, Theo swallowed and leaned against the frame as Percy opened it.

They stood there for a moment. Percy said, "Well, good night…"

Theo began, "Good night, then…" at the same time, and two identically nervous laughs followed.

Percy took a step into the corridor.

Theo reached for the doorknob.

The next thing he heard was the slam of the door – oh, bugger; he must've done that – and then there was fabric, starchy-feeling and rough, under his fingers and startlingly hot skin against his cheek, and a whisper-thin mouth against his, and a cold wall against his shoulders, and this was not at all what he'd meant to do. Not at all. This was not how one said good-bye to one's dinner guests, and this was not how one behaved with one's daughter in the sitting room, and this was….

_______________

Ridiculous. This was utterly ridiculous. Ridiculous and foolish and reckless and definitely not the way you thanked someone for a lovely dinner and apologized for spilling the wine.

But, all told, it was actually rather fantastic, and Percy couldn't bring himself to stop when he knew that he ought to. Frankly, he had no idea as to how it had even gotten started, but he was shaking all over, embarrassed and pulled taut and turned up and buzzing like a static-fogged wireless, pressed flush against Theodore Nott in the dingy corridor outside his flat snogging him like a madman. Which, he supposed, was exactly what he was.

Living alone, working endless hours, and subsisting on takeaway and caffeine must have driven him completely berserk. That was the only possible explanation for this. This man was not even interested in men. He had a child, for Merlin's sake!

But if he wasn't interested, then why was he pushing his tongue into Percy's mouth and grabbing for his hair and twisting against him like that, like he was trying to hide the hard-on pushing at the front of his trousers and, simultaneously, grind it against him? Percy gulped into the kiss at the realization, catching Theo's tongue between his teeth for a second, and he could hear – feel – Theo's strange little groan echoing through his mouth when he did that. Theo's fingers tightened in Percy's hair, and he mashed their faces together harder, knocking Percy's glasses askew.

The whole thing was messily desperate and uncoordinated, the back-and-forth tongue-sucking without rhythm or grace, and it was Oliver Wood in the greenhouse all over again, totally unplanned and borderline disastrous and the most hungry, greedy thing Percy had ever, ever, ever felt. He hated this out-of-control feeling, lived to avoid it, but somehow, he sought it, too, like some dark, fascinating thing hiding behind the clean row of shirts in the closet.

Theo's heart was frantic against his, leaping against the rumpled fabric, and Theo's hands were long and spidery and strong, and his pretty doll-lips were dangerously hot, and Percy had the strangest urge to bite them until they bled wine-red into his mouth so he could swallow him.

Before he could, however, Theo wrenched their mouths apart and turned his face. Percy could feel Theo's panting breath against his ear. His finger slipped into Percy's belt-loop, thin enough to sneak in with the belt, and he said, his voice tremulous and quiet, "Bea. Shite, Percy, Bea…"

Percy nodded, not sure whether he was disappointed or relieved (but leaning towards disappointed), and he could hear his own breath shake on the exhale. "Right, yes, Bea. I'm sorry, I'm…"

"No," Theo whispered. "No, not you, I'm sorry, I…"

"I guess I'll…"

"No!"

The volume of Theo's protest was surprising. Percy looked at him. His grey eyes were wide and dark, like a scared animal, and his pale face was flushed across the cheeks. His dark hair was askew. He looked, suddenly, much younger than his already slight twenty-two years, and Percy felt too warm and oddly shy, and he had to look away. "No?" he muttered, more to the sad-looking wall than to Theo.

"No, stay. Please. Come back in?"

"But what about…."

"It's fine! No, it's… just. Stay. I… you… we'll… we'll sort it."

Percy hesitated, but Theo had already opened the door again, and Percy followed him in, his heart still stuttering wildly in his chest and his cock jumping around disobediently in his trousers.

When they got back into the sitting room, Bea was sitting placidly on the floor, as if she hadn't even noticed them disappear into the corridor. Her Chocolate Frog cards had been only half laid out in their customary pattern across the carpet, and she had traded them in for the pile of cutlery on the coffee table. She was only partially through her design, but Percy knew immediately what it was. One side of his spectacles had been recreated, and she was currently at work on the nosepiece, trying to center it correctly.

Theo stopped short and looked down at her, puzzled. Percy smiled. "My glasses," he said quietly.

Theo turned to look at him.

"She's making my glasses. With the silverware. She did that the night I stayed with her, too. I think she rather likes them."

Theo stared, his face in a kind of wonderment, going back and forth between the two of them for a moment. "I think she rather likes you," he finally said, his voice quiet and almost reverent.

"Does she? I hope so. I rather like her, too."

"I…." Theo began, and then stopped short.

Percy waited. In the quiet, his heartbeat, which still had not returned to anything close to normal, seemed terribly loud.

"…think you should stop me now if this is going to be a problem," Theo finished.

Percy's heart stopped abruptly. "If what's going to be a problem?"

"This," Theo said, gesturing between their bodies in a quick motion. "This… just… this."

"What is this?" Percy asked cautiously.

Theo glanced towards Bea, who was putting the finishing touches to the second half of Percy's glasses on the floor. She set the last piece of silverware into place and stopped to look over her work. Without looking up towards them, she shifted her body slightly and went back to her Chocolate Frog cards. Her small hands worked methodically as she began straightening them and tapping at their corners.

Theo's eyes went back and forth three times before he paused, as if making a decision. He shook his head shortly and grabbed Percy by the elbow, his grip hot and fierce. "This," he said, quiet and quick, and pulled Percy firmly down the small hallway to the bedroom.

They barely made it inside. Theo grabbed his wand clumsily from his pocket and muttered under his breath. Percy recognized the spell; he'd sealed the front door and put a mild trace on someone: Bea, Percy presumed, so he'd know if she moved from the sitting room.

It took under two seconds, and then Percy was the one against the wall this time, pushed firmly between the doorframe and an overlarge wardrobe. The short interruption had done nothing to tame Theo's erection, which Percy felt press into his thigh as their mouths met again, this time with more tentativeness and less urgency.

Having a moment to think had made them both shyer and more careful, and this kiss was awkward and strange and wonderful. Theo's lips asked a question, and Percy's responded with a question of their own, and they went back and forth and back and forth, the whats and whens and whys and hows and like this?s coming faster and faster and faster until they blurred together into one long answer: yes.

It was Theo's hands that moved first. Ironic, Percy thought, as Theo untangled Percy's belt with his clever fingers, that he should be the brave one. Or perhaps it was just a need to do it fast, because Beatrice was awake and about in the other room. Whatever the case, Percy's belt came out with a quick snap and landed on the floor at their feet.

As Theo's fingers worked the button – slow, in a strange contrast to their kiss – Percy gripped tight to his sinewy bicep, trying to steady himself. His knees felt strange and weak, like his blood sugar had plummeted, and he was having trouble believing that this was actually going to happen.

… Well, maybe it wasn't.

Theo's fingers, having taken the button apart, suddenly stopped. His mouth grew still, and though his heart still pounded and rushed and insisted so heartily that Percy could feel it, his body went tight. Against Percy's lips, he blew a hot, trembling breath. "I've no idea what the fuck I'm doing," he muttered, avoiding Percy's eyes. "Not a bloody fucking clue."

Percy paused, his fingers gripping vise-like into Theo's shirt. This was a terrible idea. Theo was right. This was awful. It was going to complicate things; it was going to end dreadfully; Percy absolutely did not deserve it in any way. There was a reason he'd shut himself away after the War – and before – and this was it. He tried to force himself to let go, but his fingers didn't want to budge.

"Right," he whispered, surprised at the fragility of his own voice. "You're right. I shouldn't…"

"No!" Theo's whisper was intense, a quieter replay of his protest in the corridor. "I just… I don't know…" His voice dropped at the end and trailed off, embarrassed.

Realization dawned on Percy then, and he took a breath that filled up his lungs and made him dizzy with relief. "Oh! No," he whispered back. "It's… it's like this." Suddenly emboldened, his hand traveled down Theo's chest – warm, flat, narrow as his own – and landed on his trousers. Deftly, he worked the button and the zip apart.

His breath caught in his throat as he felt what was underneath. It was lovely and hard through his trousers, but this…! Percy slipped one finger gently through the opening at the front of Theo's boxers and traced the hard line of his cock, and it made his mouth go dry. Theo gasped harshly, and his cock jerked under Percy's touch. He was big, and he was thick, and that's how it always is with skinny blokes, Percy thought, but he was still surprised. "Like this," he whispered again, and Theo reached up to clutch desperately at his shirt as Percy pulled the elastic and slid Theo's boxers down to take his cock out.

"It's easy," Percy said, his mouth moving against the corner of Theo's perfectly-bowed lips. Theo's breath was coming in fits and starts, and his entire body was stiff with anticipation or fear or something. This was where Percy felt at ease – giving instruction, imparting knowledge, showing what he knew, and his own body relaxed a little as he wrapped his hand around Theo's erection.

"Up," he whispered, stroking towards the head, and he stopped to run his thumb in a slow circle when he got there. Theo drew in another breath. "Then down," Percy said, letting his grip slide down to the base. "Up," he said again, "then down."

Theo smiled shakily, and Percy returned it, then took Theo's mouth with his again. They kissed, and Percy stroked him slowly, his own cock throbbing hard against Theo's thigh. After a moment, Percy broke the kiss. "Then go faster," he whispered. "Do you like it faster?" His hand sped up.

Theo's breath sped up to match. "Mmm," he muttered, and then he reached for Percy's trousers. Percy's hand became erratic as Theo yanked unceremoniously at his trousers, then his pants, bringing them down to Percy's knees.

When Theo's hand wrapped around his cock, it felt firm and sure, and Percy bit down on Theo's lovely bottom lip. Theo didn't wince, just moaned against it.

Percy let go and tried to speak, but he found he could no longer access words as Theo brought his own hand to his mouth and spat into it, then reached back down with his sloppy, wet grip.

"Got it," Theo said roughly, his hand hard and fast. "Just like I do it myself. Right? Like this?"

The question sounded facetious, a bit of a tease, and Percy found his own rhythm going erratic as he stroked Theo harder. Theo didn’t seem to mind. His hips were rocking a bit, and he was rising onto his toes and pressing forward, panting wetly into Percy's ear and groaning quietly.

Percy answered anyway. "Right. Like… like you do it yourself," he said. "Like that… just… yes," he finally said, his voice dipping and sliding all over the place, shaking as the sensations skidded through his body like a well-cast spell and disintegrating into one sibilant hissing sound on the s.

Theo smiled against his mouth, and then his lips opened up, round and wide. Percy took advantage and stuck his tongue between them. Theo sucked frantically, and his hips moved at a desperate pitch; he was silent when he came, pushing himself hard against Percy's body and clutching him with possessive fingers as he covered Percy's hand and belly and the hem of his pristine white shirt with his come.

Theo panted, and his hand stopped as he lost himself in his orgasm. Percy was right on the edge of his own and leaned forward, sliding his cock faster and faster in Theo's slackening fist, which was sweaty and slick with pre-come, and after a couple of thrusts, Theo seemed to remember his task and tightened his grip. Percy's mouth reached desperately for Theo's, and their lips met just in time for Percy to make a sharp, startled sound against them as he came, too.

It was brilliant. Unexpected and strange and a bit dirty and perhaps irresponsible, what with Beatrice just down the hall, but it was absolutely brilliant. Against him, Theo's bony body was hot and sweat-soaked, and his belly was spasming a bit here and there, and his cock was softening against Percy's wrist, and his breath was ragged, and everything was, for one blindingly fantastic second, just fine.

They stood there for a moment, shivery and spent, before Percy's mouth, in an uncharacteristic move, worked before his brain did. "Like that," he said. "Exactly like that. Fuck."

Theo smiled. "Is that what it takes for you relax a bit, then? I need to jerk you off to get past the politeness?"

"Maybe," Percy whispered. "It helps."

_______________

That night, Percy curled up on the couch, lost in his own head, as Theo readied Beatrice for bed. She played happily in the tub, running her pale little finger back and forth under the running faucet and lifting her arms obediently for a washing. She was calm and compliant in a way that she hardly ever was, and Theo was grateful. His body was wracked and exhausted, and he didn't have the energy to quell a tantrum, though he certainly felt peaceful enough.

When he had wrapped Bea in her pyjamas, he brought her back out into the sitting room to say goodnight.

Percy was waiting with a glass of milk and a pile of cards, and they walked together to Bea's bedroom, where she was tucked neatly between the sheets. She was out for the count within twenty minutes.

When they got back out into the sitting room, Theo put the coffeepot on.

"This is strange," he muttered, setting the mug down on the table in front of Percy's knees.

"What is?" Percy asked, and then backtracked. "Well. Aside from the obvious."

Theo smiled his wan little smile and said, "I suppose I was talking about the obvious. Among other things."

"What other things?" Percy asked, lifting the mug to his lips. The brew was perfect, as pale as his skin.

"Not... doing that alone."

"Putting her to bed?"

"Yes. She's usually right where you are," Theo said. "Tucked up on the sofa."

"She looked happy enough in there to me."

"She did, didn't she?"

"Yes." Percy paused. He planted his gaze firmly on the glass in the centre of the coffee table. "And you seem happy enough out here."

"It's a start, anyway," Theo said quietly.

"Indeed."

_______________



Theo sat back in the lawn chair, a glass of iced tea balanced between his knees. A heaping plate of food whose names he wasn't even sure of sat on a small table beside him, its legs charmed back together after having been broken by Bill's girls' horsing around.

Across the yard, Beatrice sat in Percy's lap, her fingers tangled in the hem of her dress. Her gaze was transfixed on a shimmering set of letters hovering in the air above her head: a pink B, a bright blue E, and a brilliant, fiery red A. Directly across from her, long legs sprawled out in front of him, George Weasley grinned, his wand straight up in the air. He waved it once, and the letters spun around and around and around. Bea grinned a strange little grin, and George laughed heartily.

"You like that, Bea-Bea?" he said merrily as the letters suddenly grew legs and began chasing each other.

Percy brushed Beatrice's wild-looking hair away from his face and caught Theo's eye, a grin of his own spread wide.

Theo smiled back; a lazy smile, almost feline and definitely content. He closed his eyes, and the sun made stars burst behind them in a blazing rainbow of colour.