Dumbledore’s Fairy Godmother

Title: Dumbledore’s Fairy Godmother

Author: ExcentyrkeMuse

Wordcount: 1.2k

Rating: PG

Prompt: for Arquenniel: Harry Potter/Theo Nott I love this pairing so much. Happy birthday to you

Warning(s): homophobia

“Detention!” Flitwick told them definitively and Harry looked out of the corner of his eye at Nott, who was decidedly not looking at him.  “I am decided at this petty rivalry!”

It wasn’t rivalry, however.  It wasn’t rivalry at all.

It had all started near the beginning of Sixth Year when Harry had noticed Nott in charms, specifically the flick of his wrist, and just how attractive it was.  The roiling of his gut was like a hundred thousand butterflies every time he caught Nott with his shirtsleeves rolled up, and he couldn’t help but stare.

Of course, Nott noticed.  When Nott noticed, Malfoy noticed, which meant more duels in the hall and charms being thrown back and forth during class.  It had been a nasty bit of charms work when Nott sent charmed birds to attack him halfway through class in November, Malfoy shouting if he was going to sprout wings and fly away himself.

Everyone understood what he meant.

Malfoy had called him a “fairy.”

Nott just got more vicious after that, going so far as to shove Harry down the stairs as they entered class in December, Harry’s foot catching in his robe as he pitched forward.  Still, that didn’t stop Harry from noticing Nott.  It just made it worse.

Hermione scoffed and told Harry to ignore it.

Ron cursed under his breath and told him to get a girlfriend—before going off to snog Lavender Brown.

Nott just stared at him during breakfast when Malfoy wasn’t there, his elbows firmly planted on the table as he held a cup of steaming tea in his long fingers, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his bright blue eyes partially hidden behind chocolate curls.  Harry pretended he didn’t notice, but he could feel Nott’s stare on him like a pleasant weight and his stomach curled in anticipation of catching his eye before one of them was forced to look away.

Now, he was looking at Nott and wondering what it would be like to spend several hours alone with him at night.  Would he roll up his sleeves?  Would Nott catch glances at him?  Would–?

“Tonight at Seven,” Flitwick told them before dismissing the two students.

Nott nodded before turning toward Harry, his bright blue eyes searing into Harry’s gaze before he turned and left the room without looking back.

Harry could do nothing but watch him go.

Flitwick cleared his throat, and Harry looked at his professor.

“Shakespeare,” Flitwick told him carefully, “wrote Romeo and Juliet about a Slytherin and Gryffindor,” he said apropos of nothing.  “Of course, he was a Muggle,” he continued as he buried his head in parchment, “and didn’t know that’s what he was writing about, but Juliet was a Gryffindor and Romeo—well.”  He cleared his throat, a light, airy sound.  “I may be old but I’m not blind.”

“No, sir,” Harry answered quickly, blushing.  “Of course not, sir.”

Flitwick looked up and smiled slightly.  “Off with you, then.  See you tonight.”

Harry was stunned still for a moment before he shook out of it, grabbed his bag, and left the room as quickly as possible.  He knew his ears were red from embarrassment, but he couldn’t help the light, giggling feeling in his stomach at the thought of seeing Nott that evening.

“All right, mate?” Ron asked, and Harry could only smile widely at him then.  “Mental,” Ron decided.

Of course, Harry and Nott caught looks at each other during dinner, each one making sure to face the opposing table (as they always did).  They never sat with their backs to the other.  It was an unspoken agreement.  Malfoy had definitely noticed.  Hermione had probably noticed, too, but she hadn’t commented.

Harry was the first to get to the Charms room and he sat in the hallway looking at the Prince’s book, his nose buried so deeply into it that he didn’t notice Nott approaching.  “Malfoy said you had gotten good at Potions,” he commented, kicking Harry’s ankles before sitting down opposite Harry in the hallway.

Looking up in surprise and closed the Potions book around his index finger.  He shrugged.  “I’ve found a passion for it.”

Nott had his head bent down, his wayward curls falling over his forehead and into his eyes.  He was quiet for a long moment before he admitted, “Never could abide Potions myself.”

They settled into a not uncomfortable silence and Harry just took in the slope of Nott’s neck.  He was surprised when Nott spoke again,

“We should stop this.”

Startled, Harry asked, “Stop what?”

Nott motioned between them.  “This.  We should call truce and just ignore each other.”

Harry’s stomach clenched uncomfortably and he quickly shoved the Prince’s book away from him.  “I’d rather you throw charms at me then ignore each other,” he admitted truthfully, tacitly admitting their coy relationship.  “I know it’s an odd way to pull each other’s pigtails, but it suits us.”

At this, Nott looked up suddenly, his eyes a bright and vivid blue.  They seared into Harry’s gaze, his face showing his surprise.  “You’re supposed to think that I hate you.  I do hate you,” he amended quickly.  “We hate each other.”

Harry bit his lip, and then agreed half-heartedly, “Okay.  We hate each other.”  He reached out for his book again, but Nott spoke first,

“My mother was a known supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” 

Harry’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, and his throat suddenly felt dry.  Of course, he had assumed that Nott probably had Death Eater ties of some kind or another, but it was one thing to know and another to have it confirmed.  “I don’t care,” he rasped out, completely honestly.  “We’re not our parents.”

Nott snorted inelegantly.  “We can’t escape our heritage, Potter.”

“No,” Harry agreed, “of course not, but we can make our own decisions.”  He paused and took a deep breath.  “You know what Malfoy calls me.”

“Dumbledore’s fairy godmother,” Nott agreed.

Harry hadn’t heard the exact nickname and he blinked, but pushed the name aside and knew that it could have been worse.  Taking a deep breath, he took the plunge, “I’m not alone, though, am I?”

Eyes sliding to the side, Nott breathed out threw his nose and nervously began to push his shirtsleeves up his arms.  Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to his slim wrists, but he forced himself to focus.  They could be called in at any minute, and this conversation was one of the most important in his young life—

“We’ll catch hell,” Nott admitted.

Smiling sightly, Harry murmured, “I’d rather catch hell with you than be without you.”

Nott’s bright blue eyes flashed upward, bright and vulnerable.  “We’d have go be discreet.  Not necessarily secret—but discreet.”

Harry’s smile broadened.  “I can do discreet,” he promised, and at this Nott smiled hesitantly.  “Is this hallway discreet?”

At this, Nott laughed.  “Do you think Flitwick’s going to call us in?”

“I’ll take my chances,” Harry teased before he leaned forward, kissing Nott lightly there in the side corridor where no one could see.

The End.