Over the weeks that followed, Theo's life shifted in a way that seemed subtle at first, but when he looked closer, it was drastic. Every so often, Neville would send him a message to see if he was free—and if Theo was feeling so inclined, he would do so likewise.

They rarely spoke of things with much depth, but Theo was relieved for the distraction of it. They would talk and laugh; sometimes they would study or play cards. Once, Neville had seemed particularly gloomy, and as soon as Theo arrived he had planted a bottle of Firewhisky on the table between them. Surprised, Theo's lips had twitched in response, and the pair of them drank to the point where Theo barely stumbled back to the Slytherin dorms in time for curfew.

Neville kept a few potted plants in the room, and sometimes he cared for them while Theo studied or read.

He had begun to live for the warmth of that coin in his pocket.

Neville was the first true friend he'd found since childhood, when the rest of his dormmates were often self-serving and he rarely knew who he could trust.

Every so often, his galleon warmed in his pocket, and with a carefully blank expression, he peeked at the message, only to find it was a warning from someone else sent to the network of coins, and not from Neville at all.

Those messages always buried an uneasy churning in Theo's gut, when there was usually nothing he could do to help. At the least, it explained why Neville always wound up at the scene of trouble—but Theo wasn't sure whether that made him feel any better about it.

He always sported new injuries each time they saw one another, and Theo frequently bit back on the desire to say anything about it. It wasn't his place, and Neville was doing what he thought was right.

One evening, a message arrived on his coin that read only Carrows on a rampage. Second floor by the courtyard.

Swallowing, Theo pocketed his coin again, making a futile effort to return to the book he'd been reading in the Slytherin common room.

But then moments later, another message warmed against his leg. On my way - NL

Grimacing, Theo stowed the coin in his pocket, ignoring it as it warmed with additional responses, until finally he shoved the book onto a nearby shelf and retreated from the common room.

It was already nearing curfew, and as he stared down the empty dungeon corridor, cursing himself all the while, he made for the second floor. Heart racing, Theo approached the indicated location with caution, but by the time he arrived he heard only distant voices.

Eyes tightening in the growing darkness, he scoured the next hallway for any signs of trouble, and was relieved to spot Neville talking to a boy from Ravenclaw who Theo recognised but didn't personally know. As he made to duck back around the corner so they wouldn't see him, Neville's attention was drawn in his direction before he could escape.

Theo plastered himself against the wall, and held his breath when he heard quiet footsteps coming towards him. He hadn't met any of Neville's other friends, or anyone else in the network of coins—it would only make things more convoluted the more involved he was.

But it was Neville's face that came around the corner, a sparkle in his eye and a curl to his lips. In a teasing tone that sent a shiver down Theo's spine, the boy said, "Don't tell me you came all the way up here to check on me."

Straightening his tie, Theo scowled at the floor. "Maybe."

With a click of his tongue and a vague gesture towards himself, Neville grinned. "I'm fine. The Carrows ran off when a group of us converged. They don't like dealing with too many of us at once."

A smile of relief spread across Theo's face and he mused, "Good news. I'm glad I don't need to drag your wrecked arse to the hospital tonight."

"Same here." Neville's smile softened and he snickered a breath.

The pair of them began back down the corridor, unhurried, when Theo froze, catching Neville's stare at the sound of approaching voices. Listening carefully for a moment, he detected the atrocious snivelling laughter of Alecto Carrow, and hissed, "Shite!"

The Carrows were close by the sounds of it, and the two of them were in the middle of an open hallway. Frowning, Neville glanced around them, before grabbing Theo gruffly around the collar and dragging him towards a tapestry hanging nearby on the wall.

Before he could so much as brace himself, Theo found himself in a small, dark alcove, barely wide enough for the pair of them. A breath chased from his lungs as his eyes slid up to find Neville's.

As the voices neared closer, Theo was careful to keep still and silent with his back to the wall, Neville statuesque with barely a sliver of space between them.

The alcove was so narrow that when he drew in a deep breath, attempting to steady the racing of his heart, his chest brushed against Neville's; colour flared in his cheeks and he was thankful for the dark. He could only just make out the features of Neville's face as his eyes adjusted to the scarce lighting from the hallway through the cracks around the thick tapestry.

With an uneasy grimace, Neville's eyes met his. They could still hear the Carrows' voices beyond, and Theo was warm beyond measure, his skin tingling with the feel of Neville pressed practically against him.

They were virtually the same height and he watched as Neville's lips pressed into a line, his throat bobbing with a swallow. Theo's own lips parted as he drew in a breath, flustered and anxious. Neville's gaze dropped, just so, to his mouth. His chest brushed against Theo's, the sides of their trainers nudging, and when Theo shifted, his hand brushed against Neville's hip with a flare of heat creeping up his neck and face.

Theo's heart was racing with such ferocity he wondered if Neville could hear it, silent as they were. He could taste the spearmint on his breath.

No longer could he hear voices in the corridor; but Theo couldn't move, fixated and trapped as he was, as Neville's eyes once more lifted to his.

Theo breathed, "Nev—"

The gap between them vanished. Neville's lips were on his, and Theo threaded his fingers into Neville's hair, his eyes sliding shut as a soft groan escaped against the other boy's mouth. Assertive fingers curled around his hip, holding him against the wall as Neville's chest pushed against him, lips pressing with more insistence.

Theo swept his tongue out, teasing the seam of Neville's lips, and as the kiss deepened he pitched forward, coiling a possessive hand around the back of his neck.

Neville drew back with a bite to Theo's bottom lip, his green eyes blinking open.

For a long moment, they only stared at one another, chests heaving and eyes wide.

Finally Theo clicked his tongue and muttered, "So…"

"Yeah." Neville glanced away, and in the dim lighting, Theo could see his cheeks were flushed, too.

"I guess," Theo breathed, cautious, "I didn't realise you were—"

Dragging a hand across the back of his neck, Neville said, "I suspected. About you."

"Well," Theo huffed, a tentative smile tugging at his lips, "good, then."

"Yeah." Neville snickered, his lips brushing against Theo's once more. "Good."

Idly taking Neville's hand into his, mind whirring and heart rate slowing, Theo watched as Neville slid the edge of the tapestry out of the way, peering out into the hallway. Returning to the alcove, he said, "I think it's clear. But we've passed curfew now, so…"

"So mind yourself," Theo finished, a grin crossing his face as they stared at one another. There was a brightness in Neville's eyes and he interlaced their fingers. Wrapping their joined hands around Neville's neck, Theo drew him closer once more, their lips finding one another's a little clumsily before settling back into another prolonged kiss, this one slower and softer.

At last Theo pulled back, resting his temple against Neville's, and breathed, "Get back safe. Send a message to my coin?"

"I will," Neville affirmed, finally extracting his hand from Theo's. His lips twitched with a smile and he ducked out of the alcove, leaving Theo alone with a lazy grin dragging across his face.

He remained alone in the alcove, replaying the occurrences of the past half an hour until the warming of his galleon brought him back to the present with Neville's message. Carefully, he made his way back to the Slytherin dorms and drifted to sleep that night with a smile on his face and a secret in his heart.

The days and weeks that followed were challenging, both mentally and emotionally, and Theo found himself longing for the relative peace that earlier days had offered.

As March crept into April, the days rolling and tumbling at an inconsistent speed, the situation at Hogwarts worsened exponentially.

Days passed where Theo didn't see Neville at all, not even in classes, but he didn't dare enter the Room of Requirement when there were bound to be others there.

Anyone who knew about his dissension was an additional complication—and while Theo longed to see Neville, he knew it was safer for him to be with the rest of them than to be stirring problems with the Carrows, who were increasingly agitated by the day.

They had only seen one another in passing since the night they'd kissed behind the tapestry, and Theo was left with dissipating memories of the way Neville's lips had felt on his; the way they'd touched one another, tentative but desirous.

Every so often, his coin warmed in his pocket, and in a roundabout way it kept Theo informed of what was going on beyond that stone archway, even though he didn't dare breach it himself. And Neville's messages were frequent enough that he knew the other boy was thinking about him as well.

Idly, Theo found himself wondering at how the Room of Requirement had evolved to accommodate them all.

He knew Neville would never ask him to retreat into the room with the rest of them; it would be all but admitting his disloyalty to his father. To the Carrows, and to Snape—to the others lurking at the exits—and the rest felt oddly irrelevant outside of the bubble that was Hogwarts.

Even though the real war was going on beyond the stone turrets.

He knew the best way he could help Neville was to keep him informed of what was going on from his perspective. Some days Neville and his friends would be in classes and at meals, but others they would vanish. Mostly it was dependent on the climate with the Death Eaters, which was terrible more often than not.

The rest was relegated to secretive meetings late at night, hushed conversations, and clandestine kisses in dark corners.

While his heart ached for the situation, and he desperately wished for things to be different, Theo couldn't shake the feeling that he had his own part to play. Neville's world wasn't his, and try though he might to deny the matter, they could never be together openly. Not while the situation remained as volatile as it was.

But everything felt on the edge of a dangerous precipice, as if nothing could remain for much longer without crumbling one way or the other.

As Theo pushed through one dark day after the next, feeling the growing despair in his soul as it threatened to swallow him whole, he could only wish to whoever was possibly listening that things would play out as he desperately desired them to.

He could feel it in his bones, that Neville's resilience, his unbreakable spirit, was beginning to wane at last. With each message Theo received, and with the darkness that crept still further into his heart, he felt himself grow increasingly desperate for some semblance of good news.

News had circled the castle around Easter that Harry Potter and his friends had nearly been captured at Malfoy Manor. They had escaped, but just barely, according to the whispers. According to Neville, his friend Luna, a Ravenclaw girl whom Theo couldn't picture, had also broken free—but even as he shared the story, his spirits weren't as lifted as Theo might have hoped.

Many younger students had been pulled from Hogwarts, and education as a whole had devolved to the point where almost no one bothered attending classes regularly. While many of the professors put on a brave face, their curriculum had been stifled to the point where most of the time, students would simply copy notes from textbooks or practice the same irrelevant spells they already knew. The Carrows' own classes—Dark Arts and Muggle Studies—were a separate sort of torture, and Theo found himself dreading those the most.

Theo longed to break free from the castle, but his father never would have allowed it. Not when he was in support of Snape and the Carrows running—and ruining—the magical education that Theo had sought and coveted for so many years.

But while he wanted to run and never look back, he knew he wouldn't leave Neville behind.

Because their meetings, isolated and infrequent though they were, kept the faint shred of hope in Theo's heart alive.

And to see Neville wavering was equivalent to the nail in the coffin.

Meet me tonight.

As the words faded from his coin, clenched tightly in his palm, Theo waited, his heart hammering in his chest and mouth dry. He sat cross-legged on his bed in the seventh year boys' dormitory, the hangings drawn and silenced. He had no desire to see any of his yearmates or housemates who still remained.

A few minutes passed without a response. Theo set his coin on the comforter in front of him, keeping one eye on the gold face as he attempted to read a book. After twenty minutes he sighed, marking his page and setting the book aside.

He longed for the easy times with Neville, alone in the Room of Requirement. Things had felt dire back then, but now Theo found himself looking back with a grimace. Now, things were so much worse.

Most of the younger students didn't do anything other than hide out in their dormitories, but punishments for any missteps were increasingly severe. The Carrows had never dared lift their wands on Theo or a few other select Slytherin seventh years, but it didn't make him feel any better about the situation.

According to Neville, the house-elves were beside themselves trying to keep every student fed, when so few dared venture to the Great Hall at mealtimes anymore.

Theo picked up his coin, attempting to keep a spike of hope from invading his chest, and pressed his lips into a thin line to see he had received no response. He lifted his wand to send another message, to desperately seek a response, for some sign that Neville was still alive. They hadn't met in person in over a week.

The mass messages to the network of coins had dwindled as well, because everyone that would have been sending them were more often together in the Room of Requirement, and could coordinate from there.

Which left Theo feeling like an outsider who didn't belong in either faction. His true loyalties as he felt them in his heart were to Neville and his friends, and not a day passed when Theo didn't wonder at what Potter and his friends were doing, and whether they might miraculously pull through.

But hope was a dangerous weapon, and Theo didn't dare drop his guard.

As each day passed and worsened further than he even could have anticipated, he debated throwing it all away and joining Neville's friends in the Room. But he knew the wrath of his father, and there was no way Theo would walk away alive from such a betrayal. The irony of the situation was that, while Neville was safe hidden away in the Room of Requirement, Theo was safe only so long as he remained outside, acting his part in the castle. Growing up with his father, Theo had learned how to keep his true feelings hidden.

Increasingly, every day, he wondered at the cost.

Whether this existence was even worth living.

Yet, Neville needed the information he could provide.

Again, the sparkle in Neville's green eyes flashed through his mind and Theo gritted his teeth, clenching his coin into his palm once more.

He blinked, surprised, as the coin warmed in that moment. With a choked breath of relief, he turned it over, eyes scanning the brief message.

Half an hour.

A tight breath chased from his lungs, and despite everything else, Theo felt a grin split his cheeks. His brief moments with Neville, while never long enough, were the only bright spots on an otherwise dark horizon.

His only hope was that April was almost at its end, and in a little under two months, they would be free. Although, given the way the school was barely functional, Theo didn't even know whether they would be sitting their NEWTs in June. At this point, he didn't even care.

If the world crumbled at the wandtip of a madman, there would be no use for educational accolades.

After fifteen minutes of fidgeting and staring at his watch, Theo leapt to his feet and left the dungeons, ignoring the small handful of people in the common room.

While they could no longer meet in the Room of Requirement, Theo and Neville had commandeered an abandoned classroom on the seventh floor, and Theo had enchanted it with as many wards as he knew. It was close enough that Neville could sneak there without being found out—although Theo didn't know what he told the rest of them.

The walk up from the dungeons was a more effective way to pass time, and when Theo arrived in the classroom, Neville was already there. The slow smile that stretched across his lips was a soothing balm to the ache in Theo's soul and with a long exhale, he took up a seat atop one of the workbenches beside Neville with a soft, "Hi."

"Hi." Neville's lips twitched before he ducked in, pressing a kiss to Theo's mouth. "It's good to see you."

"And you." Allowing his gaze to sweep across Neville's face, he frowned; he still wore as many scrapes and bruises as Theo had ever seen, and wondered whether they had run out of medical supplies. "You look terrible."

Neville offered a grimace, sweeping a hand through his hair. "Gran's on the run, Theo. They went after her because of the trouble we've been causing here."

A breath hitched in Theo's throat and he opened his mouth to speak when Neville raised a hand and went on. "She's okay—managed to get me a letter." A wry grin pulled at his mouth. "Said she's proud of me. But if they can't get at me through her… I don't know, Theo. I think I've officially become disposable."

Steeling himself, Theo nodded. "Then it isn't safe to leave the room. Are you sure the Death Eaters can't get in?"

"I'm sure."

For a long moment, Theo stared at him, feeling his heart racing in his chest at the implications laid between them. "For what it's worth, Nev, I'm proud of you, too. For standing your guard and doing what's right."

Neville's face faltered, his jaw clenching. His eyes shone a little when he muttered, "Thanks, Theo. It means a lot that you've stuck by me."

Absently interlacing their fingers, Theo brought Neville's hand to his mouth. "I'm here."

Clearing his throat, Neville went on. "We've got a route into the village; it's complicated but it works well enough for outside access and to get some food in."

Theo's brows flickered with surprise even as he nodded. "Good. I don't think there's very much to report out here. Things are worse, of course, but no news that I've seen."

"About Harry," Neville finished with a reluctant press of his lips.

Swallowing, Theo nodded, eyeing him for a long moment. "Fuck I miss you, Nev."

Despair etched itself in the frown lines on Neville's face and he blew out a breath. "I miss you, too, and I wish you could join us but I know you can't."

Theo wished he could correct him. "Something has to give, yeah?"

"Yeah," Neville echoed, though the word didn't contain an ounce of certainty. Then he added, "It's fucking got to."

Folding his legs beneath him, Theo turned atop the table to face Neville, and took the boy's face into his hands. "You're okay? Truly?" When Neville nodded, he brushed their lips for a moment before pulling back. "You're brilliant, and you're doing a good thing, and you're the bravest fucking person I know. We're going to make it through this."

A grimace flickered across Neville's face but then he chuckled. "Of course we are."

"And," Theo went on, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I can't fucking lose you."

Although his eyes were glassy, Neville released a genuine bark of laughter. "I hate to break it to you, Nott, but you're stuck with me."

His own eyes stung with the warmth of unwanted moisture but Theo nodded. "Good." To ease some of the tension, he added, "Tosser."

"I'm the tosser," Neville mocked.

Waving his hands as if it were obvious, Theo grinned. "Of the two of us—yes."

"Fine," Neville returned, rolling his eyes as he sunk his hands into Theo's hair, "prat." Then he ducked in, lips meeting Theo's, and as a shudder of emotion rolled through him, Theo gave all he could in return before their limited time came to its end.

The next time Theo saw Neville, it was in the midst of chaos, surrounded by dust and ash and death.

By the time he heard that Harry Potter was in the castle, Theo was on the move, his focus singular: to find Neville. He'd managed to evade the professors as they sought to shepherd him away with the rest of his housemates after Parkinson's outburst, but it had meant retreating from the edge of the Great Hall. He was grateful he wasn't clothed in his full Slytherin robes, to make it easier to blend into the crowds.

But then war had erupted on all sides, students and professors and ghosts clashing with hooded figures, and Theo found himself darting through the flashing of spells, firing stunners at any Death Eater he could spot without regard for any of the rest of it.

His own father was here somewhere, fighting to kill his friends, and Theo couldn't make any sense of it as he ran, fear and adrenaline racing with his lifeblood through his veins, roaring in his ears.

Time slipped from his grasp with increasing desperation as Theo sought to find the one person in the castle who truly understood him, and as the carnage and destruction built around him, he felt the last strings of his hope slipping away like sand through his grasp.

There was a shift—and he heard the voice of his father's master echoing through the castle, stopping dead in an empty, dusty corridor.

A call for Harry Potter to give himself up.

Leaning back against the wall, Theo listened to the message, feeling moisture sting his eyes from the despair of it all. Potter was their last hope, and Theo had long since given up any pretense of his own.

If he was to die here today, he wouldn't do so pretending to be something he wasn't. If this was it, he needed a chance to say goodbye.

It was that thought that spurred him into motion once more, driven by persistence and something he couldn't explain as his feet carried him further into the battle.

Theo felt stunned, the words hovering just beyond his comprehension as he found himself within a crowd of others, melancholy thick in the air. Harry Potter was dead.

As his mind spun with the implications, dread settling into the pit of his stomach, Theo looked up to see Neville step forward to oppose Voldemort. His heart froze in his chest.

"No," he cried under his breath, making to lunge forward, but an arm came up across his chest, holding him back. Theo's eyes slid to meet the glassy ones of another boy—Neville's Ravenclaw friend. Vaguely, Theo's brain registered his name as Michael Corner.

"Dont," Corner hissed, "you'll get yourself killed."

Something like recognition or understanding shone in Corner's stare, and Theo wondered what he knew. Frantically, his eyes darted back to Neville, standing firm against the Dark Lord himself, and he shook his head, gaping, a lump stuck in his throat.

"I can't—" he choked.

Corner's arm retracted but his hand curled atop Theo's shoulder with a squeeze. "I know, Nott."

Hopelessness lingered beneath the words, and as Theo looked back towards Neville, the boy's green stare caught on his. The hot sting of desperate tears pushed at Theo's eyes, even as Neville slowly, subtly shook his head.

Clapping a hand over his mouth, Theo was forced to watch on as Voldemort summoned the Sorting Hat, shoving it onto Neville's head, and a muffled sob broke against his palm.

Corner's grip remained clenched on his shoulder, whether to hold Theo back or to ground them both, he didn't know, but he was grateful for the unquestioning solidarity, terror and misery clawing at his throat as his vision blurred and his knees threatened to give out.

Theo didn't even care if his father could see him. Let the man rot, for the way he treated others.

This couldn't be it—he couldn't lose Neville. The thought clanged, caught on repeat, in the back of Theo's mind, as his world slowed and isolated to the scene playing out before him.

The Sorting Hat burst into flames, and Theo's eyes widened with dread, just before chaos erupted.

Giants and centaurs broke onto the grounds in a cacophony of sound and dust but Theo's eyes were caught on Neville as he rose, wielding a giant silver sword; Theo's mouth fell open, squinting in bewilderment as Neville sheared the head from the great snake curled on the ground.

Voldemort screamed, a wrathful cry, and Hagrid was shouting something about Harry Potter's body—Theo blinked rapidly—as hippogriffs and thestrals took to the skies, clawing at the Death Eaters that flocked to their master's side, even as he retreated back into the castle.

Startled, Theo's brain struggled to catch up until someone collided with him, and without thinking, he coiled his arms around Neville, clutching him as tight as he could manage while relief chased from his lungs.

"You're alive," Neville breathed in his ear, and Theo huffed an exhale, drawing back. "When I hadn't seen you, I thought—"

Shaking his head, Theo snipped, "I suppose I ought to have known you'd be out here trying to get yourself killed," and a hint of exasperation pulled at his mouth.

Neville's lips curled with a smile in return.

A great cry sounded, bringing Theo back to the cold reality that they were still on a battlefield. A thick breath caught in Theo's chest as Neville pulled him towards the castle, towards the uproar, and in that moment all that mattered to him was that he wasn't alone anymore.

They arrived back inside to see Harry Potter, alive and well, in a tense standoff with Voldemort, and Neville released an incredulous laugh as Theo only shook his head, finding himself almost unphased by this most recent surprise.

Folding his arms across his chest, a furrow settled into his brow as Neville slung an arm around his shoulders and the other around Corner's—frozen, the three of them watched.

In a thick, stunned silence, the gathered crowd watched as spells flew—as Voldemort's own death curse rebounded back into him, a man once more, and he crumpled to the ground.

Theo stared, his head spinning, mouth open and a breath held in his chest.

Potter stepped towards his adversary, his chest heaving, and there was something triumphant in his expression.

The room went up in a roar, and Theo felt himself pulled into Neville's arms once more, sheer disbelief giving way to relief, to exhilaration, as he released a cry and a grin spread across his face.

"Nev," he choked, tearing back, "he's fucking—"

"Dead," Neville finished, shaking his head in disbelief, eyes shimmering. "I can't even believe it."

Clutching Neville's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, Theo felt moisture prickle at his own eyes; for a brief instant they glanced at one another and he breathed, "It's over."

At last, he felt the words settle into his heart.

It had been three days since the end of the war, and the reality of it all still hadn't quite sunk in. Much of the school laid in ruins, rubble and debris strewn about, and with the casualties that had been sustained, classes had been cancelled for the memorial services. The school year would be cut short, but Theo hadn't learned very much anyways.

Hogwarts had always felt more like home than Nott Manor had, and as Theo gazed upon the wreckage from the lake, he felt his heart clench. Neville came up alongside him, taking Theo's hand into his own, and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Theo said. He could feel Neville's stare lingering on him, and glanced sidelong. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry about your father."

"I'm not," Theo whispered, the words faltering a bit. His father was one of many Death Eaters who hadn't made it through the final surge of fighting. His passing had left Theo heir to the entire estate, and he would have to address all of that upon returning home. Once the shock wore off he would have time to properly process it all—but all he felt at the moment was relief. "He would have sooner killed you than anything else."

"Yeah. Still," Neville said with a bit of a shrug.

Entwining their fingers, Theo said, "I'm glad your gran is doing alright."

A grin spread across Neville's face. "She's tough."

Theo had been surprised to hear Neville's gran had been at Hogwarts for the battle, but had left in the chaos that ensued after Voldemort's demise before Theo had a chance to meet her.

As if reading his thoughts, Neville added, "You'll have to come visit over the summer. Sounds like we won't be sitting our NEWTs until next year."

"Honestly, though," Theo drawled, "did you learn anything this year?"

Neville teased, "That would be a no."

Quietly, they observed the ruins that stretched out as far as Theo could see from their spot on the grounds. "I don't mind. Coming back to do the year right." Wrapping an arm around Neville's shoulders, he planted a kiss into his hair. "With you, properly."

Grinning, Neville mussed a hand in Theo's hair; with a scowl, Theo swatted his hand away.

After a moment, Neville's smile softened and something settled into the space between them that Theo felt implicitly. After everything they'd been through that year, he felt a connection to the man at his side, sure as the rhythmic pulsing in his chest.

Quietly, Neville said, "Sounds brilliant."

And now, the possibilities felt endless.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and for taking a chance on this little story. It's much appreciated! I hope you enjoyed it.

Alpha love to Frumpologist.