There’s things in there that scratch about
Theo’s had his animagus form for about a month now - a black cat of all things, how cliche - and has been practicing his control over his new shape by using it to wander around the school, sniffing out hidden rooms and passages.
He’s also been savouring his newfound ability to walk around Hogwarts without being glared at or hexed for being the son of a death eater, but thats by the by.
Today he’s been exploring the upper levels, pacing around the sixth floor with no goal in mind, simply basking in beams of sunlight and enjoying pets from some of the nicer students - and taking pleasure in hissing and clawing at some of the less nice ones he remembers having sent curses and slurs his way in the past.
He’s currently lounging on a wide, stone, window sill that affords him with a clear view of the forbidden forest and lots of sunlight, eyes closed peacefully, when he feels an incredibly gentle hand run down his back.
Let it be known that Theodore Nott has not experienced many soft touches in his life and he’s never going to turn them away in his animagus form - the guilt he might have felt as a human, vanishing into his cat hindbrain.
Rolling back into the sensation, Theo stretches his paws out in front of himself, letting out a purr of satisfaction when a second hand joins the first to scratch hesitantly behind his right ear. Nuzzling into the touch, Theo blinks his hazel eyes open to be met with piercing, sun-shining-on-freshly-cut-grass green.
The intensity of the colour puts the forbidden forest outside to shame.
The Boy Saviour is knelt before his window sill with a small smile on his face, which quickly disappears, along with his wonderful hands, when he realises that Theo’s eyes are open.
“Sorry,” the boy whispers gently, looking honestly remorseful. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbles, bringing his hands down to fiddle with his fingers in his lap.
If this guy thinks he’s going to wake Theo up from a nap with the best ear rubs of his - admittedly short - animagus life, only to take them away, he’s got another thing coming.
Rolling over so that his fluffy belly is on display, he blinks slowly at the other and lets out a plaintive meow, before purring again, curling his head towards Harry in a motion to continue.
Come on…
Slowly, a hand raises and Theo does his very best to keep still as the hesitant boy runs a hand through his belly fur with an expression of wonder. “You’re… actually letting me pet you,” he whispers in awe, making Theo tilt his head in confusion at the remark. It’s almost as if Potter understand’s his unspoken question as he continues to speak quietly. “Most cats seem to hate me. They always hiss at me and never let me near them, so… thanks, I guess,” he shrugs, giving Theo one final scratch behind the ear.
As he pulls away, Theo catches sight of something red on the back of his hand, but before he can get a better look at it, he’s distracted by a soft groan as the other boy stands up slowly, knees cracking in a way that is concerning for someone so young.
“Bye, Sweetheart,” he mumbles with an endearing wave, heading towards the seventh floor, oblivious to the pair of Hazel eyes that track him as he walks away.
Hmmm…Who would have thought Harry Potter, attention seeker extraordinaire, would have the most gentle hands… Theo thinks to himself. I’ll have to investigate this further, do some sleuthing - plus I need to get more of those ear scratches, stat.
•••
It becomes a bit of an obsession for Theo, he’ll freely admit it, watching Harry Potter from afar during classes and in the great hall.
He learns quite a few things over the next two weeks about the other boy that he never noticed before;
• He doesn’t enjoy all the attention he gets. Theo actually feels bad for the boy after watching him struggle and stumble through interactions with other students who ask him invasive questions about his life and seem to think he’s going to be the one to get rid of Umbridge somehow.
• He doesn’t have many close friends and is pretty reclusive - it just seems like he’s friends with everyone, because people are always talking about him - his main friends being Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, but there seems to be some tension with both of them right now.
• For the hero of the wizarding world, he gets in trouble a lot - like, a lot. The amount of detentions the boy’s had in the past two weeks is… concerning.
• Which brings Theo to his next observation: his anger issues. Described by the student populace as ‘kind, patient and strong’, Theo can definitely say there’s nothing patient about Potter. In fact, any impulse control he has can be directly linked to Granger’s influence on him…
Which brings Theo to the one thing he hasn’t been able to figure out: what was the strange, red marking on the back of his hand the other day.
Any time he manages to get close enough to the other to try and take a peak, there’s nothing there, just pale, slightly wrinkled skin - and the fraying edges of some kind of illusion charm.
Interesting…What could the Boy Who Lived possibly have to hide?
Well, there’s only one way to find out…
Which is how Theo finds himself once again relaxing on the same window sill as last time, hoping the boy will remember him and stop by.
It takes 3 days of this behaviour, before he manages to catch sight of his prey, walking quickly down the corridor on his own, head down and brow furrowed, seemingly lost in thought.
Well, here goes nothing.
Theo lets out the loudest meow he can, watching as the boy jumps in surprise, flinching away from the sudden noise - interesting.
Green eyes flicker over to him and widen in surprise, his quick gate slowing slightly, as he draws nearer, like a moth to flame.
Rolling onto his side, Theo twists his body around in delight, trying to seem as friendly and docile as possible, letting out a quieter chirp of welcome.
Harry stops a couple of steps away from the window sill and seems to hesitate in moving any closer, looking up and down the hall with a narrow-eyed weariness that Theo recognises in himself - he’s scanning for threats.
Now, he’s seen that cats aren’t exactly Potter’s biggest fan this past fortnight, but surely he’s not so wary as to think this is some kind of elaborate trap or prank…?
Turning to his front, Theo takes his time stretching out his front limbs, arching his back, before hopping down from his perch and strolling towards the other, purring all the while.
The boy freezes when he makes contact with his leg, but not one to be deterred, Theo continues to gently rub himself against the other, winding between his legs before plopping down on the stone floor, once again showing his belly off.
Come on Potter…
A small huff of air comes from the boy, before he’s slowly lowering his bag down to the floor and easing himself down beside Theo, legs crossing with a wince of pain. The boy’s hands hover in midair and he genuinely seems like he’s too… scared? To pet him.
Worried the other boy will talk himself out of it, Theo stands and quickly hops into his lap, turning in place a couple times, before settling into the comfortable V of his legs, purring like a steam engine.
Ha! Take that Potter, just try to escape me now!
A few more seconds elapse as Theo patiently waits for Potter to get over whatever misgivings he has, then finally he experiences the bliss he’s been chasing for the past two weeks.
So, so gentle are Harry’s hands as he strokes feather-light fingers over the crown of his head and between his brows, neatly avoiding the sensitive whiskers protruding there. A second hand comes to curl securely around the curve of his back - not stroking, just holding - as if afraid he will change his mind and jump from his lap.
Leaning into the touch, Theo continues to purr, lapping up the soft affection radiating from Harry. The longer Theo stays fairly still, the more confident Harry gets, his fingers scratching behind his ears and under his chin, his other hand coming to pet down his flank in long, leisurely strokes, occasionally wrapping round his tail lightly, letting go as soon as it so much as twitches - Theo cursing his traitorous tail that he cannot yet fully control.
And, with every quiet minute that passes in languorous relaxation, Theo watches as the illusion on the back of Harry’s hand slowly comes undone to reveal a deep, fresh, red wound - a wound that Theodore is intimately familiar with, having his own scars courtesy of his father, just more well hidden.
I must not tell lies.
Rage floods through Theo’s body as the missing pieces all finally click together in his mind. The weeks of constant detention. Potter’s insistence that Voldemort is back. Umbridge’s personal vendetta against the boy. The boy’s simmering anger, always hovering, repressed, just below the surface…
I’m going to kill her. Theo vows as he stretches up, pushing from his paws to be half standing in Harry’s lap, gently nosing at the hand that has pulled away at his movement - instantly giving Theodore the space to leave should he wish to, not trying to restrain or keep him in place, despite how rarely Potter seems to get any kind of affection.
Oh, Theodore’s really going to kill her.
Black nose sniffing lightly at the wound on the back of Harry’s hand, he looks the other boy in the eye with a sad meow, seeing the despondency in his normally aflame viridian eyes, a sad smile gracing his face.
“I’m alright, Sweetheart,” he whispers, using that same, tender nickname again. “It’s just a scratch.”
No, it’s not. Theodore knows that too much exposure to blood quills can be deadly, the message imbedded in one’s skin becoming reality with too much repetition - he would know, he’s suffered his own ailments for years now.
Lapping meekly at the wound, ready to pull away as soon as Harry shows any signs of pain, Theodore tries his best to soothe the other, rearing back when a teardrop falls to land on the arm attached to the hand he’s caring for.
Looking up, he quickly stands, pressing onto his back paws to stretch up the other’s chest, meowing in the boy’s face in concern, eyes tracking the tears beginning to stream down his cheeks.
Oh shit, I didn’t mean to…
Frantically licking at the salty water, trying to catch the droplets before they fall from the boy’s chin, a choked out laugh surprises him, as does the arm curling around his stretched out back in a loose facsimile of a hug.
“Thank you,” Harry breathes out, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, Theo purring in response, wishing that he could do more to comfort the sad boy.
The more he sees of Harry Potter, the less he seems to make any sense. His roiling anger is contrasted so strongly by this deep, true kindness that can’t be hidden behind his brave Gryffindor persona - a persona Theo has come to see as a shield, both protecting Harry and keeping others at a distance.
Meowing in his face, Theo keeps up his purring, nudging Harry’s cheek with his nose in his own imitation of a kiss. Opening his jaw to continue his chirping and mewling, trying his best to comfort, he jumps at the sudden yell of, “HARRY!” From down the corridor, hackles rising automatically as he turns with a hiss towards the echoing voice.
“Where have you been?! Everyone’s waiting for you!” Hermione screeches as she storms down the hallway towards them.
Grumbling in annoyance at his lazy afternoon being ruined by Granger, Theo rumbles warningly at the witch when she draws closer, not liking the way she’s glaring at Harry. Her eyes dart towards him, before raising to Harry in question.
“Sorry, ‘Mione,” Harry murmurs, stroking a hand across Theo’s back trying to calm him down. “I lost track of time.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” she snaps, intrigue entering her shrewd brown eyes. “I thought cats didn’t like you…”
Not liking the curious way she’s eyeing him, he hisses at her harshly, baring his fangs in warning, pleased when she recoils in surprise. Grumbling again, he turns back to butt his head against Harry’s chest, trying to show him that he’s not mad at him.
Another gentle kiss is pressed to his head and he closes his eyes in pleasure - he could get used to this - before chirping in surprise when he’s lightly picked up and placed onto the floor, turning in indignation to see Harry standing up with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve got to go.”
Well, I learned what I wanted to, I suppose…
Meowing in farewell and twining through his legs a few more times, Theo steps back and watches as Harry jogs towards Hermione, the two heading towards the seventh floor - the same place Harry disappeared to last time…
Hmmm… Granger said he was late for something… I wonder what it could be?