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Part Seven

"You are a reckless, stupid, irresponsible, immature idiot."

"You sure know a lot of adjectives."

Theodore doesn't seem to appreciate the compliment. He's been pacing back and forth across Harry's bedroom, but now he whirls around and stalks over to his bed and pins Harry with one hand on his shoulder. Not that he'd need to do much to pin Harry right now, Harry has to admit. It's the morning after his casting of the circle, and he still can't stand.

"Why would you do something like that?" Theodore whispers. "Do you know how much power you would have had to call on to make it at all safe?"

"I mean, yes? Because I'm lying here, and I can feel the drain." Harry shakes his head. "Theodore, it was fine. I could have drawn on more, but that kind of power would have killed me. That's why I had to spend so much time researching the state of the moon and the best place to do it and so on. The books I originally found actually suggested that I do it at twilight, because then both the sun and moon could be in the sky, but without one celestial body having an advantage, I don't think I would have survived. Did you know that magic performed at twilight is more dangerous than most people think, because—"

"I don't care."

Harry falls silent, blinking. Theodore sits beside him on the bed and then leans down. Harry thinks he's going to get a kiss, but instead, Theodore curls up next to him, clinging to Harry with arms that feel desperate.

Harry touches his back. "Hey," he says. "I'm here."

"You so nearly weren't. Why didn't you tell me that you were summoning the sun like that? I could have hurt you when I faltered in the chant of the healing charm because I didn't expect it."

"I knew that if I did, you would say that the spell was too powerful and I couldn't do it, and get upset at me."

"As opposed to how thrilled I am with you right now," Theodore snarls, and his arms tighten around Harry in a painful clasp that has Harry squirming away a little. The Healer Theodore took Harry to and then Obliviated when they were done did a good job patching him up, but a big wound like that hurts. "Harry, you have to take greater care with your own life! I think you're used to disregarding some of the risks because they wouldn't have been risks under the protection spell, but this is one that would always be that way no matter what. Promise me."

"Promise you what? I think I can promise not to cast any more magical circles that envelop Great Britain and Ireland. I won't have to."

Theodore gives a low sound that's maybe a snarl and maybe a sob, but sounds more likely to fall somewhere in the middle of them. Theodore rearranges them on the bed so that he can see Harry's face.

"Promise me that you'll do your best to survive this war."

Harry blinks. "I always meant to. Why do you think I went to the trouble of drawing runic circles on my own body?"

Theodore eyes his bandaged right side darkly. "A circle you had no trouble sacrificing."

Harry shrugs and cuddles closer to him, yawning as weariness sneaks up on him with a club. "I had to destroy it in a sacrifice like this. It was useless since I can't go back to my room at the Leaky Cauldron anymore. If I'd tried to just erase it, I would have had to destroy all the other runic circles I'm carrying, too, because they're all tuned to each other. Now it's like I snapped the string on an instrument but left the others intact, and I can replace that circle. The instrument still plays."

"I'm never going to understand your metaphors." Theodore's voice is resigned, but at least his fingers are gentle as he tugs Harry's hair out of his eyes. "Where are you going to set the new runic circle to send you to?"

"Here, of course. It's home."

Theodore takes in a breath and might not release it at all, for all Harry knows. That's sort of strange, but the next moment, Harry is asleep, so it doesn't matter anyway.

"They're appalled."

"Who is?" It's the first morning Harry has been well enough to come down to the little dining room for breakfast, two days after the ritual. Misty insisted that he take two Blood-Replenishing potions before he stood up, which is the first time Harry's seen her. She's about two feet tall, with huge green eyes, and a scowl she must have learned from Theodore.

Harry turns his mind away from Misty, and the house-elf magic he's wondering if he might be able to duplicate, to see Theodore holding up a copy of the Prophet. "The Muggleborn Registration Commission. Quote, 'I am shocked and appalled that people so dangerous to our society would run away and conceal all trace of themselves.'"

Harry shakes his head as he swallows a bit of his bowl of broth. Misty, or maybe Theodore, obviously thinks he's not ready for solid food yet. "They somehow always manage to find the stupidest person to interview. It seems to be a talent."

"They probably train the reporters in it," Theodore agrees, reading through a bit more of the paper, and then snorts. "Oh, listen to this. 'This just shows that Muggleborns are stealing magic from pureblood kind. They could never be powerful enough to hide on their own.'"

Harry is a little relieved that it doesn't sound like Voldemort's regime suspects the Muggleborns had any help in hiding. "But then why are they a threat to purebloods at all, if they're weak?"

"As if the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters make sense." Theodore turns the paper over. "And you were right about them moving the Muggleborns somewhere else," he adds, more somberly. "There's someone raging on the back page that they wasted all this time preparing more comfortable accommodations for the Muggleborns, and now they're just gone."

Harry drinks his orange juice, and beams at the table. He feels content with the world, even if he does sort of wish now that he'd told Theodore about the sun showing up in the ritual before he began it. He helped people, a lot of whom probably couldn't have helped themselves. Some of them were children. And someday, they'll be able to come out of hiding and interact with the world again.

Harry pauses. Why is he thinking that last part like it's a good thing? If he was in their place, he would never want to emerge again.

Of course, his status and his experiences with hiding aren't quite the same as those of people who are only in hiding because Voldemort is a wanker.

Voldemort…

"We should write to Longbottom and see what progress he's made on destroying the Horcruxes," Harry says, starting to shove back from the table.

"Stop."

Harry freezes. Theodore never used that voice when he was scolding Harry before, or Harry probably would have obeyed before he thought about it. He glances at Theodore, and sees him scowling down at Harry, his hands on his hips.

"I am going to write to Longbottom," Theodore says. "It's not like it's a huge amount of exertion, and your owl likes me better than he does you anyway."

"If it's not a huge amount of exertion, then there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to do it."

Harry thinks he's made a logical argument, and doesn't understand the piercing look Theodore gives him. "Stay there," Theodore orders, and then turns away from the chair. "Misty!"

The little house-elf appears again, her arms folded and her head nodding as if she's having a private conversation with Theodore. "Yes, Master Theodore?"

"Ensure that Harry doesn't move from that seat until I've written the letter and sent it off with his owl."

"Yes, Master Theodore."

Harry stares at Misty as Theodore marches away. "Why is he like this?" he asked. "Is he still that upset that I didn't tell him about the sun part of the ritual?" He's sure Misty will know what he's talking about. Theodore has said that he talked to her often during his first months here when there was no one else to talk to, and he was probably ranting at Harry a lot while he was asleep, too.

Misty's ears stand straight up on her head. "Master Harry be almost dying in that ritual. Master Theodore not want the one he loves to be dying," she says. "Did something hit Master Harry on the head during the ritual, too? Master Theodore not be saying." She walks behind Harry, apparently to get a look at the back of his skull.

Harry sits where he is, which at least obeys the order Theodore gave, staring wide-eyed at the wall. Theodore loves him?

That can't be right. Harry isn't normal. He does extremely dangerous things. His brain goes on those research-flights. He doesn't know how to make the changes that Theodore asks for before he asks for them. He doesn't know how to be a good friend, or lover, or whatever it is that Theodore really wants from him.

But maybe that's not what Theodore wants after all. Maybe he thinks that Harry can actually do something, make some change, that would be what he wants, and they can be together without—Harry doesn't know, stressing Theodore or something.

Harry should ask him directly. It's probably the best way to get an answer he'll understand. He starts to stand up.

"Master Harry be sitting." Misty flicks her fingers at him, and Harry's arse plops back in the chair hard enough to make him wince. At least Misty doesn't mention that she thinks he has a wound there and try to check it.

Harry sighs and picks up the broth spoon again. He does hope that he'll get to talk to Theodore soon, because he thinks that this is important.

Theodore comes back with a letter that was already waiting from Longbottom, saying that Granger mastered the Fiendfyre spell and they managed to sneak into Hogwarts and obtain the ring that was in the Headmaster's office and a diadem they found in a "hidden place." Theodore seems indignant that Longbottom doesn't describe the mission or the hidden place in more detail, but Harry shrugs.

"It's probably the place where he was hosting that Defense group in our fifth year, because Umbridge was useless," Harry says. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you—"

"What Defense group?"

"Longbottom and his friends were hosting a Defense group to help people pass their OWLS," Harry says patiently. "I don't know exactly where because of course they didn't know I existed to be a member of it, but—"

"They didn't ask me."

"I don't think any Slytherins were a part of it." Harry just shrugs when Theodore looks even more indignant. "I mean, Theodore, you have to admit that your Housemates hardly had the best reputation at the time."

"Right," Theodore says at last, grudgingly. "So. They have two Horcruxes, and Granger's presumably destroyed them. But what are they going to do about that cup and the snake and the one that's in Longbottom's scar? Longbottom can hardly light his face on fire."

"I don't know. I reckon they'll ask for help if they need it." Harry leans forwards. "I need to ask you something, and it's not about Longbottom, and it's important."

"All right." Theodore seems to be bracing himself as he sits down on the other side of the table from Harry.

"Misty said something about how you loved me. Is that true? Is there something I can do to make this easier for you?"

Theodore's mouth falls open. It's a good thing that he's already sitting, Harry thinks, or he would probably fall over. "Misty—told you that?" He sounds faint. "Why would she tell you something like that?"

"I asked her why you were so upset during the sun part of my ritual, and she told me."

Theodore's fingers clasp the edge of the table hard enough that Harry thinks he's going to break them for a second, and then he looks at the wall and shakes his head. "What do you mean by 'make things easier for me?'"

"I don't know how to be in love with someone," Harry says. "Or have someone be in love with me. I thought I was sparing you some worry by not telling you about the sun rune, but obviously it doesn't work that way. So. How can I make this easier? Will you tell me what you want to know? What I can do so you don't worry so much?"

Theodore continues looking at the wall for a second. Harry hopes that's because he's making a list in his head, and not because what Harry has asked is impossible.

Then he turns around, and there's an uncertain expression on his face. At least, uncertainty is part of it. Harry is proud of his new ability to tell that much. "I—you mean that? You really don't want to just vanish back under your protective magic?"

Harry grimaces. It feels like he's standing in the middle of Diagon Alley with the words he has to speak next. But Theodore didn't even get to speak them, he had them revealed by a house-elf, and that's really not fair. So Harry will do what he has to.

"There are plenty of times I want to do that," Harry says quietly. "But on the other hand, what would that gain me? I couldn't imagine any other sort of life, at one time. Now I can. Here with you and Misty and even Merlin. Around larger crowds, someday." He meets Theodore's eyes and doesn't flinch, and it's probably the hardest thing he ever did, certainly harder than casting the runic circle to hide the Muggleborns. That was just…research. This is opening up. "Getting my NEWTS. Having a business of my own. Being with you. If that's something you want."

Theodore is sitting very still, his eyes bright. Then he nods. "That's all I want."

"I mean, you should work on other ambitions, too." Harry feels a bit of anxiety swirling around the middle of his chest. Is this something he's going to have to research, too? He doesn't even know which books he'd start looking in. "I know I've read things that say you should never depend too much on just your partner, and—"

Theodore gets up and comes around the table with a bright laugh. He wraps his hands around Harry's wrists and gently strokes, his thumb running back and forth along the bones. Harry would say something else any other time about how he doesn't need to do that, what with Misty's magic holding him in place, but he's enthralled by Theodore's eyes.

He looks so happy.

"I know that," Theodore says. "But right now, it's all I want. Just like I want food when I'm hungry and something else when it's satisfied. Except that I don't know if I'm ever going to get enough of being with you." He cups Harry's cheek and turns his head gently, and then kisses his lips and his forehead. "We'll find the way forwards together, Harry. I know that everything isn't perfect yet. But you're willing to try, and that means the world to me."

Harry leans against him and accepts the gentle humming of his own heart. Maybe that means he's in love, too. Maybe it means that something other than research is making him happy. Would he know, exactly? How happy should he be before he has to question it?

More questions for later. For now, there's a sweetness that Harry hasn't felt before.

Agitated hooting wakes Harry up. He sits up in bed, hating the drag of weakness on his slow muscles, and draws his wand. "Lumos."

Merlin is revealed sitting on the foot of his bed, fluttering his wings and hooting over and over again. Once he catches Harry's eye, he flaps into the air and flies around his head, utterly silent as usual, still hooting.

"What is it?" Harry whispers, but he's already pulling back the blankets and climbing out of bed. He's glad now that Theodore judged him too weak for "exercise" tonight and went to sleep in his own room. He wouldn't want to wake him up and worry him if it's nothing.

Then again, Merlin doesn't get excited over "nothing," except Harry's imaginary offenses.

Merlin leads him straight to the front door of the cottage. Harry peers out the door and sees a soft shimmer that he hasn't seen before, but which must be the glow of the protective rune marking the cottage.

Then Harry sees the dark figures moving beyond the boundary. He stiffens, and Merlin gives another flap.

Shit.

It's true that the rune protects them from Theodore's father's direct interference, and Theodore from being branded with the Dark Mark. But enough people can probably overload and crack the rune, the same way that the Moody imposter confused the Goblet of Fire. And there's every possibility that they have the Mark themselves, which would fight against the rune's sense of integrity and weaken it if they step onto the land.

Harry wishes for a moment that they were portraits, which would make it easy to banish them the way he did the portrait in Grimmauld Place. But they're not, and he still doesn't want to kill them, so he goes for something easier. He touches the runic circle on his chest, and sees the glow welling up around his fingers.

Theodore will probably get angry at him for the drain on his magic, but on the other hand, with the runic circle gathering up ambient magic, it won't be as bad as if Harry had to cast this all himself.

"Are you the blood traitor Harry Potter?" one of the Death Eaters shouts.

Harry frowns in their direction. "Why would I be a blood traitor? I'm a half-blood. I thought that term was reserved for the purebloods who abandon your customs by acting like decent people?"

There's a moment of confusion, but it doesn't last very long. The Death Eater who shouted steps forwards, hood falling back so that the light from the house shines on his white mask. "It doesn't matter if he's Harry Potter or not. His magical signature was traced here."

Harry frowns harder. Shit. He must not have taken enough precautions to conceal the damn thing in the Forbidden Forest. Because he was focused on establishing a new ritual rather than disguising himself, they could have tracked him from the feeling of his magic.

Harry swallows back the instinctive panic that tries to start up in his chest. It doesn't matter if they tracked him here. Harry still won't let any harm come to himself, or Theodore, or Misty, or even Merlin (as much as the owl deserves it).

"It matters if he's Harry Potter," someone else argues, and then a slight figure pushes its way forwards and takes off the white mask, despite the hisses from the others. This man is short, with hair that hangs askew and a tremulous smile. "You probably don't remember me, do you, Harry?"

"I don't make a habit of remembering Death Eaters, no." A movement behind him, in the direction of the window, tells Harry that Theodore is probably there. He doesn't turn around, though, because he sees no reason to reveal his allies.

"You don't remember me from your childhood?" The man tries an absurd little wave, but then coughs and drops his hand. Harry's not sure if that's because of him, though, or the other Death Eaters staring at him in disgust. "I visited you several times then. I'm Peter Pettigrew."

"Oh, the traitor!"

Pettigrew stiffens. "That's not very nice, Harry. Your magical signature is all over the Forbidden Forest, and the Dark Lord wants you brought to him. I know that you did something powerful on the Hogwarts grounds, but if I speak up for you, I might be able to convince him to spare you."

"You probably can't, and I don't care about an endorsement from someone with the Dark Mark on his arm." Harry gathers up the magic that's been growing in the circle on his chest while Pettigrew splutters. "But I do have something to say to the Dark Lord."

"Yeah?" demands the one who called him a blood traitor. "What's that?"

"Tell him to get better protections for his servants. Yours are pitiful."

They're still leveling their wands at him when Harry's magic travels outwards and flows over the rune boundary in a breath of intent. When it clears from the air as a sort of puff of magical silvery dust, all the Death Eaters are motionless on the ground.

"You said you were against killing, but you killed them?" Theodore's voice is casual, but his hand tightens on Harry's elbow.

Harry tilts his head. "Listen to them and tell me that they're dead."

Theodore finally listens and seems to notice the impressive snores. He sighs and relaxes back against the wall, but doesn't let go of Harry's elbow. "We need to move. They're going to keep returning to the house now that we know where we are."

Harry frowns at him. "Why would we do that? It's two days from a new moon, and now I know how to construct a giant runic circle like the one that I used to hide the Muggleborns."

Theodore blinks at him. Harry blinks back. He's wondering if that's going to go on all night when Theodore sighs and says, "Explain the significance of the new moon."

"Two days from a new moon," Harry corrects. "The two days is important. When you put the number two in an Arithmantic equation paired with a six-rune circle, and inscribe it with fire and salt in the middle of a block of granite—"

"Please assume that your audience is not a genius and explain it in appropriate terms."

"It's easier to hide a house with two people in it than it is to hide a whole nation of Muggleborns, especially when the moon's about to disappear," Harry says. "And if you can help me draw the runes in salt and fire, they won't rely on celestial power the way the last circle did."

"There, see how simple that was?" Theodore tells him, and then goes outside to take the Death Eaters' wands. Harry hopes that he'll burn them. It won't make these particular Death Eaters any smarter, but it should keep them from being as dangerous for a while. And if Theodore wants to cast the Memory Charm on them so that they'll be even more non-dangerous…

Harry is all for that. He's not a particularly merciful person, just not interested in murder.

Theodore shudders as he finishes the last rune, and the parchment that Harry wrote the Arithmantic equation on catches fire. Harry grins at him from the other side of the Transfigured granite slab. The Transfiguration will make it slightly less powerful, but two people two days from the eve of the moon's disappearance make up for any weakness like that in the spell.

"You feel the power, don't you?" Harry shakes his head and lets his own wand trace an uruz rune in the air in front of him. It glows and sparkles, catching fire like the runes that Theodore drew on the stone. "It's a shame that Runes requires so much research and such dedicated knowledge. More wizards would use them instead of wands if they knew about their strength."

"I would think that you would be happy about that," Theodore mutters, as he steps to the outer ring of the circle, sketched out in salt.

Harry frowns at him as he checks the position of the moon and then joins Theodore on the other side of the granite slab, the other side of the circle. The slab is lying on the grass in front of the cottage, near the place where the Death Eaters stood last night. The circle is singing in the back of Harry's mind, murmuring soft sounds that don't quite reach the status of words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you would prefer to be the only standout. You don't want other wizards to have access to Runes because you like being the only one who really knows what they're like."

Harry stares at Theodore, his mouth open slightly in outrage. Then he shakes his head. "You really don't understand me at all if you think that."

"Then tell me what you mean."

"What I said. It's a shame that wizards don't know more about the power of Runes and that it requires a lot of research."

Theodore pauses for a second, swaying slightly in place, but Harry knows that's the power of the ritual they've raised together coursing through him. Then he laughs abruptly. "I should have realized that. You're not the sort to say what you don't mean. Sorry, Harry. I grew up dealing with my father, and, well."

Harry nods. "I think only weak people lie," he offers, since Theodore is still looking at him as if he's a wonder, and Harry wishes he would stop. "I don't really need to."

Theodore snorts and looks down at his feet. The circle is swelling slowly outwards to encompass them and the house now, and the fire in the air snaps and swirls around him as it traces the configurations of the runes Harry chose to make the circle over and over again. "Most people don't have your luxury of being protected until they're powerful enough to stand on their own and tell the truth all the time."

"I know that. But I hope I protected you well enough for you to have that."

Theodore peers at him with wide eyes, but says nothing for the rest of the ritual. Only when the circle has swarmed past the house and faded into the distance with a blast of salt and fire, keeping them secret better than any Fidelius Charm ever could, does he come over and put his hand on Harry's. Harry looks up from Transfiguring the slab of granite back.

"I hope—I hope you realize that you're a wonder to me no matter what."

Harry swallows. "I know."

"Then why do you look so uncomfortable with me saying it?"

"Why do you need to say it? Why can't we just—know it?"

"Now that we both know we know it," Theodore says softly, leaning his forehead against Harry's, "sure."

"Fucking Death Eaters."

"I thought the runic circle was supposed to protect us from them?"

Harry reaches out to touch Theodore's shoulder. He hates seeing him so tense. He thinks he probably always has since he saw Theodore searching for a means to escape the Dark Mark in the Hogwarts library. "It does. It doesn't let them see the house or launch an attack across the boundary. But they have the memory of the surroundings, and so they're back. And we didn't think to include a shield against scent." He nods to the giant snake who is slowly moving along the border of grass the circle protects, her tongue flickering out.

"Can she cross it?"

"I'm not sure," Harry murmured. "We protected against That Bastard's magic, but she's a living being as well as a Horcrux. Maybe." He glances sidelong at Theodore. "If she does, can you cast the Fiendfyre spell? I have the power to do it, but I haven't done it, and the last thing we need is for it to go out of control."

"Agreed." Theodore watches the snake as she comes to the border of the circle, hesitates, and then crosses. "Shit." He swallows. "I'm going to open a window and launch the curse from there. I don't—have time for a containment ward. And I don't want her inside the house."

"Agreed," Harry repeats back to him. The snake isn't any kind he knows well enough to identify, but she's huge, with mottled green scales that have dapples like shadows racing up and down them. She slides through the grass with the softest noise. He doesn't want to face her in close quarters.

Theodore pops open the window and sticks his wand out. But the snake is slithering closer to the house so fast that he has to keep moving his wand, and Harry can see how his hand is shaking. "Shit," he whispers again.

Harry starts to lean over and put a hand on his shoulder, but abruptly, a fluttering shape descends from the sky, and then Merlin is swooping around the snake's head, his talons extended and his shrill cries completely covering the sound she makes as she rises and lunges at him.

"What's he doing?" Theodore breathes.

"Keeping her in one place so it's easier to hit her." Harry steadies Theodore's hand. "Come on. I can help you move it in the gesture, if nothing else. Come on, give your power to it." He leans closer to Theodore's ear. "Fiendfyre."

Theodore nods, his eyes blown wide, and then speaks the incantation with the same conviction, at least as far as Harry can hear, that he used when he destroyed the diary and the locket. The fire springs into the air and assumes the shape of several writhing serpents, a hydra rearing nearly as high as the house. Theodore moves his wrist sharply, and the serpents dive down, under his control again.

Merlin flutters around the snake's head until the last moment, and then flees like a runic circle dissipating. The snake lunges one more time and runs straight into the hydra the Fiendfyre has become. It eats her alive, and Harry hears the same distant shriek that he did when the diary died. He smiles. He doesn't think that was the snake. They don't have voices, as far as he knows, unless you're a Parselmouth.

Then he leans hard on Theodore as the Fiendfyre begins to turn back towards the house. They don't need to be worried about the Death Eaters, who are shivering in terror. Harry whispers, "Finite Incantatem."

Theodore says the same thing, hand no longer trembling, and the hydra fades to a spark in the air just as it's about to bite the roof. Theodore drops straight down to the floor, his knees tucked up in front of him and his head bent between them. He's shivering, his skin all covered with cold sweat when Harry touches him.

"Rest," Harry tells him, feeling tender and proud and frightened. He wonders if this was the way Theodore felt after watching Harry cast the Muggleborn runic circle, before he steps out the door and walks towards the Death Eaters. They're chattering amongst themselves, but they fall silent as he comes nearer. They shouldn't be able to see him, but with the way they're squinting, they can probably hear his footsteps.

"Your Lord's snake is dead," Harry tells them, since he's not sure they saw that, either, past the boundaries of the circle. He ignores another clamor rises up. "I would go back to him and report if I were you."

"You'll pay for this," snarls a witch with a husky voice and long blonde hair, her eyes focused slightly to the right of where Harry's actually standing.

"It's your Lord who's already paid, again and again," Harry says, shaking his head. "Why do you follow him? He's stupid and unlucky."

"How dare you!" The witch draws her wand, but one of the other wizards reaches out and clasps her wrist. Then he speaks. He's wearing a mask, but Harry recognizes that whiny, nasally voice. It's Pettigrew again.

"Harry, come on. What stake do you have in this war? You don't remember your parents or your godfather, I know you don't. And you barely associated with anyone at school. Why do you want to defend Muggleborns? Why do you want to defend Nott? Someone of your obvious talent could be useful to the Dark Lord. Come with me, and I'll make sure that you have an honored part in his ranks."

Harry stares at him, while a few moments pass and it seems that the other Death Eaters really are going to wait for the outcome of his agreement or disagreement. Then he shakes his head and says, "Wow, you're a traitor coming and going, aren't you, Pettigrew?"

The man flinches, which is pretty typical of him, from what Harry's seen. Harry shakes his head again. "I doubt your Lord would have liked to hear you make that kind of offer to someone who just killed his snake."

"No, no, I had his full authorization! I assure you, Harry! If the attack failed—"

The blonde witch kicks Pettigrew to get him to shut up, but Harry's brain has already leaped to a few obvious conclusions, and he can't help laughing. "So, what? He wanted to kill me, but he also wanted to make me the offer? And why? Because he's afraid of me."

"How dare you!" yells someone else, which just proves that Death Eaters aren't recruited for their vocabulary skills.

"He's afraid of me," Harry says, pursuing the thought, "because why wouldn't you be afraid of someone who can cast a full circle that hides thousands of people from your regime?" He grins at Pettigrew. "And That Bastard has no idea how I did it, either."

"You should call him the Dark Lord," Pettigrew says in a weak voice. Harry thinks he singled out that part because he has no idea how to respond to the rest of it.

"Just because he might have put a Taboo on his name doesn't mean I need to be respectful." Harry stretches, and gathers up some magic from the runic circle on his chest so that he can deflect any curses they hurl at him. The circle on his left side starts to glow, too, although more weakly than Harry saw it doing when the circle on his right side was intact. He really does need to replace that one. "You should leave now, before I hurt you."

The blonde witch hurls the Killing Curse at him. Harry starts to move his wand, and then realizes he didn't need to. The boundary of the circle deflects the blast of green light back and off to the side, making several people duck.

Harry lets out a breath of relief he doesn't permit them to hear. Good. He doesn't really want to be responsible for someone dying, even indirectly.

"You will pay for this," the blonde witch says, and probably thinks she sounds intimidating, instead of just like she smokes pipes every day.

Harry smiles, raises an eyebrow, and then turns and walks back towards the cottage as they begin Apparating away. He knows that Pettigrew and the rest who had their wands destroyed are having to be Side-Along Apparated, which is pretty satisfying.

Theodore is watching him through the cottage door, and reaches out to draw him in. Harry comes, gently running his hand down Theodore's side.

"Are you all right? Do you need a Pepper-Up?"

"Your side is bleeding again, you idiot," Theodore mutters, which serves as a sort of answer to the question, Harry supposes, although he would have liked a better one. "Was it wise to taunt them like that? They'll concentrate more of their efforts on finding this cottage now. The Dark Lord might even show up here. And we can't kill him with Horcruxes still in play."

"Then we'll force him into wraith form."

Theodore stares at him. "You think we can do that? Why?"

"Because I know how the backlash of the Killing Curse on the night he attacked Longbottom must have worked, given that he was forced into wraith form and Longbottom is a Horcrux," Harry says, a little impatient. Does Theodore think he would really put them in danger without a reason, or offer to do something he couldn't do? "We can replicate the circumstances with a fairly simple runic circle, and charge it with the power of contigency."

"Simple." Theodore puts his hand over his face.

"Are you feverish? Do you want to sit down?" Harry leads him further into the house, frowning. He wants to go out and check the boundary of the circle to make sure that the snake's death didn't rupture it in any way, or that attempt with the Killing Curse, but he doesn't want to leave Theodore alone. "Do you think—"

"Simple," Theodore says, and then begins to howl with laughter.

Harry shakes his head and calls for Misty to bring a Calming Draught.

We have the second-to-last Horcrux.

Harry grins at Longbottom's letter. That's all it says, it doesn't say how they got the cup out of what was presumably a Gringotts vault, but neither does it really matter. Granger can destroy it, and then they just need to figure out a way to get the one in Longbottom out of his head.

Harry writes a letter back telling him that they killed the snake, and watches the barn owl fly off into the distance. Merlin wanted to take it, but he's a little worn from the flight that he took to bring back Longbottom's letter already. Harry isn't sure how far away that is. Longbottom probably wouldn't be stupid enough to remain in his ancestral home where anyone could track him, but maybe he has a place like it under the Fideilius.

He makes it to breakfast and sees Theodore on his feet. Harry draws his wand before he can think, but Theodore glances at him, shakes his head, and abruptly sits down again. "It's nothing dangerous. It's just that idiot Longbottom and his friends."

"What did they do now?" Harry puts his wand away and sits down himself, a little relieved. He's hungry. He would be sleepy too, since he wanted to stay up last night and perfect the ritual that will force That Bastard into wraith form if he attacks, but Theodore had persuasive lips and hands that wore him out.

"Broke into Gringotts and rode out on the back of a dragon."

Harry starts laughing, and that goes poorly with the porridge that's in his throat at the moment. Misty appears, stares at him, and then casts some sort of spell which claps him on the back. Something unidentifiable flies out of his mouth and lands in the middle of the table.

Theodore stares at it pointedly.

"Sorry," Harry mutters, and Vanishes it. "But seriously, that was their great method to get the Horcrux?"

"The paper didn't say whether they stole anything. The reporters probably don't know, and it's not like the goblins would admit it." Theodore slaps the paper down in front of Harry. "They got a great photograph somehow, though."

Harry grins at the image of a dragon winging across the sky with three people clutching desperately at its back. There's a long mane of frizzy hair that's recognizably Granger, and red hair that must be Weasley's, but the photographer—probably with magic—got the clearest image of Longbottom, sitting pale and determined in the front, his lightning bolt scar on display. And yeah, there's a flash of gold in his hand that is only really visible if you're looking specifically for that.

"Well, let's hope they don't have to bank at Gringotts any time soon," Harry says cheerfully, and faces Theodore. "Are we going to do the ritual and have it ready in case That Bastard comes? I wonder if it's for the best now that we know Longbottom has the cup. Maybe we should wait for them to destroy the last two and then whoever goes up against That Bastard can kill him outright."

"I don't want to wait and see if the Dark Lord can pierce our protections." Theodore's face is so pale when Harry glances at him again that Harry starts to stand up, but Theodore points sternly at his bowl, and Harry sits down again. "And even if they do destroy both the Horcruxes—which, I mean, there's no indication they know what to do about the one in Longbottom yet—someone would still have to track the Dark Lord down and face him. He won't come calling easily."

"Except on us."

"Right." Theodore shivers for a second, then adds softly, "And from what I know about Horcruxes, what I read about them, once they're all gone, then his hold on the world should be gone, and the wraith will fade away. He'll have nothing to anchor his soul anymore, and the only reason he must have survived his disembodiment the first time was that."

"Good points." Harry knows better than to stand up and go prepare the ritual right now, but his skin tingles with anticipation. "We'll get it ready today, then."

"If you eat your breakfast."

"Yes, Mother."

"I'll have you know that your mother wouldn't do to you what I did last night."

Harry finds himself blushing, but also rejoicing in the smile that seems to have taken over Theodore's face.

"So we're going to use runes, but not a runic circle?" Theodore is frowning down at the stone floor of his potions lab, where Harry is sketching out the shape of the ritual with salt like they did with the runic circle to protect the house. "That shape looks like a pentagram, and you've only drawn one rune."

Harry nods and stands up. "The rune is the most important part of the ritual, the part on which the whole thing turns, but circles are for protection. This is for aggression." He glances at the pentagram and smiles a little as he watches the sullen blue fire springing up at its points. The magic answering him has its own temperament, the way the magic he used in the runic circle to hide the Muggleborns was awe-inspiring. This particular kind won't obey him easily until he shows that he can master it. "And we have to replicate the circumstances of the night that That Bastard attacked Longbottom."

"If I didn't know that you hate killing people, I'd think you were saying infant sacrifice."

Harry shakes his head. "If That Bastard wanted to make a Horcrux, then that's what he would have intended. But it's not what happened. There was a sacrifice, but it was an adult. Alice Longbottom, the mother who died defending Neville."

"You are not going to make yourself the sacrifice."

There's an edge to Theodore's voice, but he's also not just assuming that that's what Harry intends, which Harry appreciates. He nods anyway. "No. I'm going to make That Bastard's current body the sacrifice."

"How?"

"The ritual will create a space that's like a laid fire, just waiting to be ignited. If That Bastard doesn't strike at us, then it won't light. But you know he will. And then the kindling will want to go on burning. It'll take his body."

"But not us?"

"No." Harry smiles and faces the pentagram. "Not you, because you're standing on that point and you integrated your blood into it, so the ritual will read you as part of the pentagram, one of its components. And not me, because…"

His will rushes forwards, and the rune in the center of the pentagram rises with a roar. Harry holds out his hands and bathes them in the fire, ignoring the part where the flames are trying to chew his flesh off.

"You promised you would try to stay safe—"

Harry twists, and his foot comes down on the small constellation inscribed in the nearest point of the pentagram. Leo, the constellation that stood guard over his own birth. It flares with its own fire, bright and silver, and the point where Theodore stands does the same.

The blue flames find themselves retreating, and reach out to the two uninvolved points of the pentagram. Harry smiles. There are traps waiting there, fires to be ignited that aren't meant for Voldemort, but it would be counterproductive to call the rebellious power's attention to them.

With a shimmer, two other runes come into being, ones that were potential only, like the ones called by the runic circles on Harry's body before he casts a spell. They rise, Sowilo and Algiz, and surround the flames, corralling them and herding them back towards the center of the pentagram. Harry stomps his foot and hurls his will again, and even the flames ringing his hands crawl off them and to the floor. They bow to him, inclining what look briefly like spiky, crowned heads.

And then the pentagram settles, still and waiting, for the moment when Voldemort or someone else sets foot in the trap.

Harry steps back, sweating, and swiping his hand across his forehead. He smiles at Theodore.

"How did you know that you were going to win?" Theodore asks, sounding subdued.

"Oh, shit," Harry says, and he can feel the smile sliding off his face. "Did I not explain that?"

"You did not." Theodore's voice has gone smooth again.

Harry sighs. "Sorry. The whole pentagram is based on potential—what's going to happen if That Bastard does certain things. So I did inscribe other runes, runes of healing and protection that would only manifest if the central rune challenged me the way I expected it to. I was confident I could win because I knew I had others on my side. Other runes. I'm sorry, Theodore. I—I just forget."

Theodore nods slowly. "I assume that you're less likely to get into life-threatening situations once we no longer have a bloody war on our hands."

"Right," Harry says, and he's so relieved for the acceptance that he strides across the still pentagram to kiss Theodore, and then drag him towards his bedroom so that they can start doing many other things more pleasurable than facing down a hungry, angry power-fire.

"There he is."

Theodore doesn't respond. Harry glances back at him and sees him shuddering, his hands rising to cover his face. Then he lowers the right hand and gropes at his left forearm, fingers sliding over it.

"It's all right," Harry says, softly. "You're safe. You're behind the pentagram, the runic circle surrounding the cottage, and the rune I found for you." He reaches out and closes his own hand on Theodore's left forearm, the place where he would have been Marked if his father had driven him to it, and Theodore starts and turns his head to focus on Harry. "It's all right, Theodore. I promise."

Theodore still looks ill, but he manages a tremulous smile. Harry smiles back and walks out the front door of the cottage.

He can already feel the pentagram in the potions lab charging itself, spreading out around him. The image made of salt was only a representation of it, the way a map is of the land. Once Harry conquered the magic that made it up, he became capable of doing anything with it, and now it's waiting around him, trembling with eagerness, like a hound on the leash.

If Voldemort decides to try and kill Harry with his favorite method of killing people. But Harry is virtually certain that he will.

Voldemort pauses when he sees Harry come to a stop on the other side of the runic circle. He looks like a pillar of salt has come to life and someone's carved a partial snake face on it. "You are not Longbottom."

"How stupid are you that you thought I was?" Harry asks in confusion. "Or do you just not listen to the reports that any of your Death Eaters give you?"

He thinks it's a reasonable question, but Voldemort's pale wand comes rippling into his hand, and he hisses something in Parseltongue Harry doesn't, of course, understand. It would probably scare lots of people. Harry isn't lots of people. He stares at Voldemort and waits for an answer to the question.

It never comes. Voldemort returns to English and says, "Those who defy me, die. And from what my followers tracking your magical signature have said, with you dies the protection that guards the Mudbloods."

"Only stupid people say that word, but thanks for the extra confirmation, I reckon."

He's done it, Harry sees in an instant, sent Voldemort so far over the edge that he's going to use his favorite curse. His wand whips through the air, and he snarls, "Avada Kedavra!"

Had Harry just wanted to resist the curse, it would have been enough to stay behind the runic circle as he did the other night when the blonde Death Eater cast it. But Harry folds his arms and bows his head, and the blue flames hiss up around him as the contingent magic goes to work.

If this, then this…

The Killing Curse streaking through the air, as it did towards Longbottom all those years ago.

If that, then that…

Someone standing in front of Voldemort without running and without moving, the way that Alice Longbottom did. That person filled with the protective impulse for someone else, as Harry focuses his mind on Theodore and how he doesn't want Theodore to suffer.

If this, then that…

The notion of a sacrifice, of a body waiting to be felled by the Killing Curse, although here it's Voldemort's temporary one and not that of an adult who expects to die.

If that, then this…

With so many of Voldemort's Horcruxes destroyed, his hold on life is far more fragile than it was when he confronted the Longbottoms. And the Killing Curse seeks a victim; it doesn't care who that victim is. It doesn't need to be deflected or resisted, the seemingly impossible thing that happened with Voldemort, if the likelihood in the moment is that it will strike someone who is a construct in any case, only barely alive, rather than someone who is shielded by protective runes and might be expected to be safer from any spell.

If this, then this and that and that.

The Killing Curse turns in midair, curving like a line of sunlight refracted by a mirror, and slams into Voldemort.

There's a long shriek, a horrendous tearing noise that Harry hopes isn't reality fracturing the way it sounds like, and then a dense silence. Harry opens his eyes.

Voldemort's construct-body lies motionless on the ground, the light fled from its eyes.

And something else, Harry tracks the helpless flight of the wraith through the darkness, smiling as he notices how tattered it is. They'll have to do some seeking rituals like the one he performed with the diary to be sure, but he's pretty sure that the wraith is so weak it won't be able to possess people, and will fade from the world with the destruction of the last two Horcruxes.

There are sharp pops as the Death Eaters who followed Voldemort—who Harry honestly paid no attention to—Apparate away. Harry can hear cut-off gasps, and he wonders whether others who weren't here, but have Dark Marks, will feel that their Lord has died again.

He turns around, and Theodore slams into him from behind, arms wrapping around him. Harry laughs and gathers him in. He's a little startled at the enthusiasm, but, well, it makes sense, given that Theodore really didn't believe this could work.

But he followed Harry anyway, took the risk. That humbles Harry to the point that he's amazed at Theodore's loyalty.

He starts to ask if Theodore saw the wraith leave and if Harry was right about it being tattered, but Theodore kisses him hard enough to scramble Harry's thoughts and focus them entirely on the bedroom, for once. Then Theodore pulls back and whispers, "What would you say about having a different kind of sex tonight?"

Harry's breath quickens. Sex is brilliant, he can't deny that, although he thinks it's brilliant partially because it's with Theodore and not just sex. "What did you have in mind?"

"And it's really not going to hurt you?"

Theodore rolls his eyes from where he's stroking his fingers in and out of his own arse. Harry can't take his eyes away, but he also can't stop thinking about how it's someone's arse, and things aren't really supposed to go up it.

"Says the man who thought bursting his right side open and exposing his ribs to the air was a fine action." Theodore touches something then that makes him gasp and roll onto his back. "Besides, in a little while I'm going to do this to you, and then you'll be able to see how it feels for yourself."

"Bursting my right side open was necessary," Harry complains. He can't take his eyes away from Theodore, though, and he's rapidly losing track of the conversation. Theodore withdraws his hand at last and spreads his legs again, and Harry swallows. "I—if you're sure." He wants to, with a longing that spreads through him like the fire from the pentagram, but he doesn't want to hurt Theodore, either.

"Yes. Come on, Harry."

Theodore's eyes are burning at him, and Harry can't resist, after all. He gets on the bed and kneels between Theodore's spread legs, taking the vial of lubricant from Theodore to spread it over himself. Now Theodore is the one who's watching Harry's hands move, his eyes wide and dark.

Harry puts the lubricant vial aside, and slowly slides into Theodore. His own eyes are probably fluttering and closing the way Theodore's were a minute ago, he thinks vaguely. The squeeze is like nothing he ever imagined, and so is the heat. He ends up fully seated, but with his forehead leaning on Theodore's forehead, his breath rushing in and out of his lungs.

Theodore touches him on the hipbone. Harry looks up, and feels two things: seen by the way Theodore's eyes focus on him as if he's the center of the world.

And all right with being seen.

"Move," Theodore says.

It's a hasty, clumsy thing, this first time of a new kind of sex than using hands or mouths or thighs, Harry shifting in and out and Theodore groaning and sometimes telling him to stop or shift the direction, and sweat slipping between them until Harry feels like one of them is going to slide right off the bed. But it's also the most thrilling pleasure Harry's ever felt, like lightning connecting them, and when he finally comes, he can see the same radiance reflected in Theodore's face.

And maybe it's just the relaxation that stems from having come himself, but it really doesn't hurt that much when he pulls out and Theodore flips him over and gets him ready, with minimal help from Harry himself. Harry just wants to lie around and grin at the ceiling. Theodore is the one who prepares him, then, and that's all right. Harry smiles up at him, and Theodore's breath catches.

"What?" Harry asks.

"I can't believe you're mine." Theodore's hands are shaking a little as he slides his fingers into Harry's arse.

Harry laughs. "I love you, too."

"Do you—do you mean that?"

"Do I go around saying things I don't mean?" Harry stretches and lets his legs fall open so that Theodore can reach his entrance more easily. "I thought you were always scolding me for keeping things to myself, instead. Although I still maintain that you would have had hysterics if I told you about the sun thing."

Theodore mutters something that Harry doesn't need to listen to, and then enters his body. Harry arches his back and purrs encouragement. Honestly, this is pretty great, too, having someone inside him who thrusts into him and withdraws, and sometimes nudges what must be the thing Theodore touched and sends flashes of heat through him. It's so good Harry is half-hard again by the time Theodore comes.

After that, Theodore curls up around him, holding him as if he were the precious one. Harry holds him back, and falls asleep thinking that those tales he read where the conquering hero has great sex are more realistic than he thought.

Harry of course sends a letter to Longbottom about destroying Voldemort's body. What he didn't expect was for Longbottom to ask to come in person instead of sending a letter. Harry discusses it with Theodore.

Theodore smiles at him. He's done that a lot more often ever since the evening when they confronted Voldemort. Harry thinks that it's not so much the fact that Voldemort died—he might still be able to come back, even if Harry doesn't think so—as that Theodore saw him flee. What happened once can happen again.

"Of course. Give him the Apparition coordinates I gave you for the first time you came here. I don't really fear treachery from Longbottom."

And Theodore gets up and walks away, stretching and saying something about Arithmancy under his breath. Harry watches him with his heart swelling in wonder. He thinks he knows why Theodore caught his breath last night at the sight of Harry's smile.

Meeting Longbottom is only mildly uncomfortable. He promised to come by himself without Weasley and Granger, and he keeps his word. Harry blinks a little to see that he seems to have grown taller, and that his face is paler. But the thing that stands out the most to Harry is the pale nature of his scar when he gets closer.

"You destroyed the last two Horcruxes, didn't you?"

Longbottom stares at him, then snorts. "You're a bloody genius, so I shouldn't be surprised that you know that. But how?"

"Your scar doesn't look red the way it usually does. And since that was the visible symbol of your connection with That Bastard…"

Longbottom laughs aloud, shaking his hair back from the scar. "That's a good way to refer to him. But yeah, we managed." Longbottom abruptly pales and looks off to the side. "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

"It's all right," Harry says softly. "I can just imagine. Did you just want to meet to discuss the destruction of the Horcruxes?"

"No." Longbottom's eyes fasten on him. "I have something to give you. I can't believe Professor Dumbledore never thought of it, but on the other hand, I think the spell he cast on you must have muted the memories of all the objects associated with you in his mind, too."

"He cast on me?"

Longbottom grimaces. "You didn't know, huh? Sorry about that. He mentioned to me during one lesson that he had cast a protective charm on someone who might have been in danger because of the prophecy. But he had the uneasy feeling that the charm had gone wrong, somehow. He couldn't remember any more about it than that, and of course I forgot about the conversation." Longbottom pauses. "Until your magic broke."

"With my seventeenth birthday," Harry mutters. He shakes his head. Well, he supposes he can't really blame Dumbledore. He at least cared once, enough to give Harry an existence he loved at the time. And he was as affected by the magic as anyone else.

"What was it you wanted to give me?" he adds, because he can't imagine that that conversation he must have missed between Dumbledore and Longbottom contained anything all that vital to him.

Longbottom reaches into his robe pocket and appears to bring out his own hand, severed bloodlessly at the wrist. Harry blinks and stares, and then Longbottom shakes the thing out and his hand appears. He's holding a shimmering silvery piece of twisting air, made into cloth and starlight and delicate water, it seems.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak that used to belong to the Potter family," Longbottom says. "I never really got the story out of the Headmaster how he came by it. But he did mention the connection to the Potters, and that it was supposed to go to—someone." He gives Harry a quick smile and hands the Cloak over. Harry can feel the magic radiating from it the minute it touches his hands.

He turns it over, and watches his own hands disappear for a minute before he glances up at Longbottom again. Longbottom's face is full of a sympathy that's almost painful.

"I know it must be hard to suddenly emerge from under magic that guarded you like that," Longbottom says softly. "It won't be the same, but now you can disappear whenever you want."

Something in Harry that has been shrieking in discomfort ever since the loss of the protective magic suddenly shuts up. He sighs and drapes the Cloak over one shoulder, not caring if it makes him look a little odd to Longbottom. "Thank you. You don't know how much."

Longbottom smiles at him. "Maybe I do. There were plenty of times I wished I could disappear and make people stop staring at me." He shakes his head. "One thing you ought to know is that many of the Death Eaters are starting to surrender or flee Britain. The news of V-Voldemort's destruction went around them like wildfire. And I'm going to tell the Ministry that I'm not the one who did it."

Harry stares at him. "No."

"Yes," Longbottom counters. His mouth twitches a little. "And people who didn't wish Muggleborns harm have figured out some of what you did with that runic circle, although they can't break it and don't want to. I know it'll endure until you decide that it's time to let it go. But the people who know it exists have been asking me if I was the one who did it—"

"Are you interested in Runes, too?"

"Not that much. They just got used to attributing everything to me because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived." Longbottom rolls his shoulders. "But I'm telling the truth about that, too."

"But why?" Harry knows he sounds perilously close to whinging, but he doesn't care. It's not like Theodore is here to scold him for it. "Longbottom, you're used to bearing up with the fame. Can't you just—keep on?"

"Not when they're asking me for the theory behind the circle and I'm not going to lie. Not when I think some other people ought to get the fame when it's due." Longbottom stands very straight. "And not when I've already had two people from the Department of Mysteries contact me offering me an apprenticeship based on the use of Runes that they know that circle had to have displayed."

"The—Department of Mysteries?"

Longbottom nods emphatically. "I told them both who it really was, and they'll probably send you messages soon. Not owls. They communicate by—" His tongue abruptly, and visibly, sticks to the roof of his mouth, and he scowls and waves his hand up and down in front of his lips. Then he sighs as his tongue comes unstuck. "Sorry, they literally make that part unspeakable, too, apparently. Gits."

"But they wouldn't want to apprentice me because of my knowledge of Runes. They probably approached you because you're a celebrity."

Longbottom shakes his head. "No. The Department of Mysteries doesn't care about that sort of bollocks. Besides, they kind of hate me for what happened there at the end of fifth year. They'd never have reached out to me at all when they thought I did it if they weren't really impressed. They were relieved to find out it wasn't me, to tell you the truth."

Harry blinks, and blinks again. The Department of Mysteries. He never considered that, mostly because he has no idea of the entrance requirements. But to be quiet, to work in the deep silent rooms under the Ministry that are rumored to exist, to just be able to smile and shake his head with a completely legitimate excuse when people want to ask too many personal questions about himself—

It sounds like it would suit him exactly.

He's even thinking about talking with strangers in conversations where he might have to talk about himself personally. He is feeling a lot more comfortable.

"What about Hogwarts?" he asks.

"Snape's stepped down as Headmaster, of course." Longbottom abruptly swings away from Harry to stare at the horizon. Harry wonders why, but Longbottom doesn't let him wonder for long. "It was a ruse, all of it," he says tightly. "Snape only killed Dumbledore on Dumbledore's orders. He was dying anyway from that ring Horcrux. Snape was supposed to gain a position of trust in the Death Eaters. Of course, that's not necessary now."

Harry sighs. "So he won't be prosecuted or go to Azkaban."

"No."

"Pity."

Longbottom grins abruptly at him over his shoulder. "So you didn't like him even though he didn't really notice you?"

Harry shakes his head. "He always scowled at me the first five minutes or so of a class. From something Mr. Lupin said to me, he probably hated my father. But he had no reason to behave like an arsehole to me because of it." He stares at Longbottom. "And he had no reason to behave like an arsehole when he taught you Occlumency, either."

Longbottom clears his throat, but a faint blush that looks almost pleased touches his cheeks. "He didn't like that I kept blowing up my cauldron in Potions. He said that someone who was that weak in the basics of his art didn't stand a chance of defeating V-Voldemort."

"Then he is an arsehole, no matter what side he's on," Harry decides. He's kind of glad to know that. At least he won't have to deal with apologies or something from Snape.

"But he was right, wasn't he?"

Harry frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't end up defeating him. You did."

"You had to bear all that fame for years," Harry says firmly. "Your lot destroyed four of the Horcruxes. We destroyed three and Voldemort's body. We can either say that you come out ahead on the suffering scale, or we can say we're even."

Longbottom smiles brightly. "I'd like it if we could be friends, Harry." He holds out his hand.

Harry clasps it and shakes it firmly. "See you at Hogwarts next year? Or maybe even this next term?"

"They don't know when they're going to open yet, since it'll take a lot of chasing to round up the Death Eaters still, and probably to convince the Muggleborn kids to come back. But yeah, see you there."

"You can do this."

Harry frowns and doesn't answer. He wouldn't be in Diagon Alley at all if not for Theodore's urging, and the Invisibility Cloak in his pocket. Theodore has promised that he can duck out of sight any time he gets overwhelmed.

It's still skin-tightening to Apparate to the edge of the Alley and walk down the center, even with Theodore's hand pressed against the middle of his back. Luckily, few people look at them, and the few who do seem to be focusing on Theodore, who they probably think is a Death Eater, instead of Harry.

Theodore's father apparently killed himself a few days ago. Theodore hasn't said much about it, but they've shared a bedroom for the last week, and Harry can hold him when he needs to curl up tightly.

"They ought to be looking at you," Theodore says in a disgruntled tone, but at least under his breath. "With all your discoveries in Runes, and that apprenticeship you're going to take up—"

"You know we can't even talk about that without our tongues sticking to the roofs of our mouths," Harry reminds him. That's just fine with him.

Theodore looks about to comment, but then someone darts towards Harry. Harry charges the runic circle on his chest without thinking about it, but Ollivander grabs hold of his hand and pumps it up and down before he can cast anything.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!" Ollivander's voice is low and hoarse, but still loud enough to attract some stares. "Didn't I tell you that you'd be a great wizard? Didn't I?"

"It's still mostly Runes, not my wand," Harry points out. He pulls his hand away from Ollivander and takes a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. People are talking about him, he's sure, even though it's in whispers and probably because Ollivander barely ever comes out of his shop or singles someone out personally.

"But the greatness honors you and your wand." Ollivander steps back with a firm nod of his head. "I already have the wand that I'm sure your eldest daughter will carry. It's also meant for a great spellcaster."

Harry stares blankly at him. "I won't have children. I can't imagine leaving Theodore." Theodore's hand presses hard in the middle of his back.

"And do you think I'm that simple?" Ollivander scoffs. "If someone manages to come up with a way to create the children of two men through runic circles, Mr. Potter, I'm sure I'm looking at him. Besides, as great as the wand you carry now is, you may find you have even a greater one in a little while. One that would be happy to help you accomplish anything you desire." He nods firmly and strides away.

Harry blinks after him, decides that last part doesn't make sense and he's not going to think about it, then looks at Theodore. "Would you want children?"

Theodore hesitates, then speaks in his smooth voice. "I wouldn't be opposed."

Harry smiles and steps closer to his side, using Theodore shamelessly to ward off some of the eyes. Honestly, don't they have anything better to look at?

People are still weird. But with Theodore at his side, and maybe even more people in the future, then Harry thinks he can bear living in this world.

He belongs here after all.

The End.