Helios’s Awakening
Postlude—
When I’m away from you, I’m happier than ever, Wish I could explain it better, Wish it wasn’t true.
—Happier than Ever, Billie Eilish
“You never told me how you did it.”
Helios looked up and saw Theodred leaning in the doorway. Helios had turned seventeen the day before and so had come to have tea with his mother, now that he was no longer a minor. He and Draco were living in a smaller Malfoy property. Lucius had given him a talk the week before about “continuing the Black line,” considering that Uncle Regulus only had a daughter and Uncle Sirius was still on the run. Helios knew that Draco had received a similar talk the year before. They hadn’t really discussed it together. There had been no need to. They were everything to each other.
“Did what?” Helios asked, his blue-grey eyes narrowing.
Chocolate curls fell into Theodred’s eyes and he pushed them away. He wasn’t as tall as Helios, but he pulled himself up to his full height.
“How you got my father to claim you as his son.”
“Are you saying that I’m not a Nott?” Helios questioned.
Theocritus had claimed him almost immediately after Andromeda had been released from the Department of Law Enforcement, signing an affidavit in early February of Helios’s fifth year at Hogwarts. There was never any question of Helios taking the Nott name. He was always a Black. He was the Black heir. Not even Theocritus dared to suggest it even when he married Andromeda that Easter in a small ceremony at the local church that Helios had been able to attend with a special dispensation.
Helios never called Theocritus “father.” That name was locked away in his heart, never to be spoken. It belonged to a man who could never claim him.
“You refused to take the name,” Theodred shot back. “You’ve always been a Black.”
“That might be true, but my parents didn’t marry until I was practically an adult.”
“I know from Theodore that you lived under another name practically until the night I met you. You were someone else entirely. You weren’t even in Slytherin. You weren’t ‘Helios Black’ until you were fifteen. What could changing your name again have possibly hurt if it was the truth?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Helios told him carefully. “My mother gave me life—”
“My father certainly didn’t sire you—” They stared at each other. “I read your deposition, you know. It’s ridiculous that my father would take Wudud to heighten his sexual experience. He certainly doesn’t now.”
“He’s older and wiser now,” Helios deadpanned.
The truth was that Theocritus Nott had fallen so deeply in love with Andromeda, his second chance at happiness, that he would do anything she asked of him, even claim a child that could never be his.
He also respected Helios enough not to expect any sort of paternal relationship. They greeted each other at large family events but had no other contact. As long as Theocritus was a decent husband to Andromeda, Helios was happy to live the charade. They had an unspoken understanding.
“Father never did drugs.”
Helios didn’t care. He only shrugged. “Are you suggesting Andromeda drugged him? You could always ask him.”
Theodred ground his teeth and stepped in through the doorway. “Helios—”
“What?” he snapped back.
“Why is everyone lying about this?”
“Why do you assume it’s a lie?”
“I just have to look at you! I just have to listen to my heart!” His eyes shone darkly.
Helios had no answer to that. He looked away briefly and shrugged. “Black blood wins out, clearly.”
This wasn’t answer enough for Theodred. He squared his shoulders and his jaw set. “I know it’s a cover up to save Andromeda’s reputation. I respect your mother. She’s made my father happy—”
“Then you really should leave it,” Helios suggested.
“Can’t you see that I love you?” Theodred asked desperately, now coming up to Helios and running a hand up his arm, but Helios backed away.
“You must know from Mother that I live with Draco.” Helios looked away again. “We’ve been together since we were fifteen.—I, I know you fancy me, and I’m sorry for it, but it’s hopeless. You shouldn’t delude yourself—”
“I’m not deluding myself.”
“Well, whatever this is,” Helios continued, glancing toward the door, “your father won’t appreciate it and it will upset Mother. I know Theocritus wants you to settle down and get married. You’re twenty-five. He thinks it’s time.”
Theocritus ground his teeth again. “Helios—”
“You’re my brother,” Helios interrupted. “We may be an unconventional family, but even if you refuse to accept your father’s claim on me, Theocritus is still my mother’s husband. It’s a crime, Theodred.” His blue-grey eyes flashed up to Theodred’s dark gaze, remembering the charges against his mother just a year and a half earlier, knowing what trouble he could be in if anyone discovered that Lucius was his father and he was intimate with his own blood-brother. “Just the marriage makes it legally incest. You know this.”
Helios saw the pain in Theodred’s eyes.
“I don’t care.”
“I do,” Helios told him gently, “and you’re my brother, no matter what your heart tells you.” The lies dripped off his tongue, but it didn’t pain him. It covered up a deeper truth that he would take to his grave. “And as your brother, you will always have my respect and my support.”
He saw someone come into the next room.
Moving away from Theodred, he approached the next room. “Mother,” Helios greeted, smiling.
Andromeda smiled, fiddling with her earring. “What are you boys doing lurking in the tea room?”
“Nothing, Dromeda,” Theodred promised as he came up behind Helios. “I was just asking Helios if he was staying for dinner or if he was leaving.” He came up to his stepmother and kissed her cheek. Because of her superior Black height, he was an inch or so shorter than her. “You will stay for dinner, won’t you, Helios?” His dark gaze goaded him.
“Yes, darling,” Andromeda pressed him. “You’ll stay for dinner, surely. I haven’t seen you in so long.”
“How can I refuse?” Helios asked, “let me just floo Draco.”
“Invite him as well,” his mother decided, “the more the merrier.”
Theodred’s face soured.
“It will be like old times,” Helios decided, remembering the World Cup. “I’ll just be a tick,” and with that he left the room.
… leave a message for excentrykemuse.