![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theodore_nott posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
slipping_away1 March 1997. Slytherin Dungeons.
Theo is amused, and might even daresay he's in a good mood right now. Draco is in the middle of an epic meltdown, and it is so easy to gain everyone's friendship. A few smiles, a reminder or two of childhood memories, party favors, and suddenly he is one of the 'good' Slytherins, whatever that was supposed to mean.
He already has a list of things he'd like to do for Susan's party, and he peruses the list as he walks back toward the dungeons.
The common room is quiet now that Malfoy and Zabini have wandered off to be stupid gits elsewhere, so Miles chooses one of the chairs in the corner to read. Passing his NEWTs seems like an impossible task. There are rumours, of course, about the Death Eaters, about You-Know-Who, neither of which particularly concern Miles, but Miles is a Bletchley, a pureblood wizard, and there are expectations that come with both of those positions. He's not heard from his father yet, but his aunt's owls leave little doubt as to what she expects from him.
Theo wanders into the common room and searches over at the desks for a spare quill and some parchment, seating himself and scrawling his list, slowly and thoughtfully.
Miles has every intention of studying until Theo strolls into the room, self-important and oblivious, and the cheeky pillock doesn't even have the grace to go somewhere else. Annoyed by the interruption, Miles closes his book, draws his wand, and sets Theo's parchment on fire before he walks out of the common room.
Theo stumbles away from the desk in surprise as the paper bursts into flames. He looks around as he swishes his wand, cancelling out the flames. He sees the back of Miles' head and glowers. "Hey! What was that for?"
Miles ignores Theo, his strides long and his steps purposeful as he continues toward the seventh year dorms.
"Hey!" Theo shoots off a quick hex to hit the back of Miles' head.
Miles stumbles but catches himself, his book falling to the floor as he slaps a hand against the wall. He retrieves his book and then straightens, jaw clenched from the quick burst of anger that tightens his chest. He turns, only partially, to level a cold look at Theo. "I don't have time for you." The words are clipped, short, delivered with as much venom as Miles can infuse in the short phrase, and then he walks away.
"And yet," Theo fumes, taking long steps to catch up to Miles, "you had enough time to all but set me on fire. You're so bloody confusing!"
"Hardly." Miles flings Theo back with a hex. "Go away, Nott. I can't possibly make that any more clearer."
Theo can't stop the strange well of hurt he feels that goes beyond being hexed. "I didn't even know you were in the bloody common room, Miles!"
Miles steps forward, his shoulders tensing, his fingers unconsciously tightening around his book, and his eyes going narrow and sharp. "Then consider this a lesson that you should pay more attention to your surroundings."
"Let's try again." Theo takes a deep breath. "Let's call a truce, all right?"
"Why?" Miles asks, voice heavy with suspicion, eyes narrowing further because of it.
"Because I'm tired of fighting with you."
Miles' expression clears as he straightens, smoothing a hand down his robes. "Did you hex me during the Quidditch game against Ravenclaw?"
"I—" Theo shifts uncomfortably. "Yes, okay? Bloody hell."
Miles' lips tighten in an unhappy line. He curls his fingers more tightly around his book and stays where he is, even though he has a horrid urge to close the distance between them and slap Theo clean across the face. Theo's honesty, however, is unexpected progress. "Why?"
"I was—" Theo stares at his shoes. "I was so angry at you that I had to retaliate or I would explode."
Miles' book falls to the floor with a resounding thump, already forgotten as he advances on Theo, shoving him against the wall, reminded of an unnecessary loss because Miles had somehow offended this horrid little git. "I left you alone," he says, his voice as tight as the clench of his fingers in Theo's robes.
"I know," Theo says softly.
Miles digs his knuckles into Theo's chest and is mindful enough to keep from shouting. "Then what could you possibly have been angry about?"
"I don't know," Theo answers, unable to look at Miles. "Everything. Nothing. I can't explain it."
Miles digs his fingers into Theo's jaw, tilts Theo's head up so he can't avoid the dark flash of Miles' eyes. "You seemed perfectly capable of explaining things to Warrington."
"What are you talking about?" Theo asks, honestly confused. "I never explained anything to Chris."
"Didn't you?" Miles asks, the words cutting, punctuated by a shove, fingers tightening on Theo's jaw. "When you called me a stalker, you stupid pest."
"I didn't explain anything to him, Miles," Theo says defiantly. "He has no idea who I was talking about, and neither do you, for that matter."
"You lying tosser." Miles slips his hand lower, fitting his palm against Theo's neck, the tips of his fingers pressed to Theo's pulse. "Then enlighten me. Who were you referring to in your journal entry?"
Theo feels suddenly light-headed at the threat of Miles' hand against his throat, but he gives Miles an unhappy, defiant look. "I've given you enough of my secrets."
"And mine," Miles says darkly, squeezing.
"I haven't given away any of your secrets," Theo hisses. "I don't know any secrets to give."
"Liar." Miles emphasizes the word with a clench of his fingers around Theo's throat. He jerks Theo forward and shoves him against the wall again, terribly pleased by the dull thud of Theo's head striking the stone and the rugged flush of colour that stains Theo's cheeks.
"I've said nothing but the truth tonight."
"All right," Miles says, falsely conciliatory. The slim smile fades quickly, and he presses closer to Theo, tightening his fingers against the flutter of Theo's pulse. "A truce. After you make it perfectly clear to everyone that you hexed me and cost our House the Quidditch game."
Theo licks his lips, his blood beating through him, thick with a sudden longing. "And what will you do if I don't?"
Miles' smile is slim, dark, as he leans even closer, clamping his fingers harder around Theo's neck. "I've given you enough of my secrets," he echoes, breath gusting warm over Theo's mouth.
Theo shivers, and staring into Miles' dark eyes, it clicks for him, and he takes a chance. He melts against Miles, presses his throat against Miles' hand. "You don't need an excuse to want me, Miles."
Miles' heart flutters, his muscles vibrating with sudden tension, and he shoves Theo back. It doesn't put any distance between them, not nearly enough when Miles can see all too clearly the way Theo reacts — lips parting on a gasp, skin ruddy with colour and the sudden loss of air.
Theo keeps his eyes on Miles, at the insistent, intent look he gives Theo as Theo tries to inhale. Theo raises his hand to Miles' wrist, squeezes it gently, and all the while his blood is pounding like a drum deep inside him. He knows this is going to make him angry and frustrated, just like Miles left him in November, but it doesn't stop hm from licking his lips, from sliding his hand down Miles' sleeve to rest against Miles' chest.
"I don't—" Miles ruthlessly suppresses a shudder, but he can't stop the roar of blood in his ears as he watches Theo's hand travel from his wrist to his chest, where it's impossible to hide how frantically his heart beats. He grabs Theo's wrist, squeezes as tightly as he squeezes Theo's throat, the grind of bone and the taut cord of muscle reminding him how lean Theo is. He bruises so easily. Miles darts a glance at Theo's neck, feels the fight of Theo's throat when he tries to swallow, but it's Miles' vision that narrows, becoming shadowy and sketchy around the corners. "All I want," he says, denting Theo's skin with the prick of his nails, "is to ruin you."
Theo can't help the smile that curves his mouth, and he raises his other hand, curls it in the spiky edges of hair at the nape of Miles' neck. "Why don't you just kiss me instead?"
Miles' grip slackens, fingers gone nerveless. "Why?" he asks, barely able to hear himself over the awful ringing in his ears, the static feel of his thoughts.
"Because we both want you to."
Miles narrows his eyes, dropping his hands to Theo's shoulders. He makes a derisive sound, low in his throat, and shoves Theo back as he closes the distance between them, mouth slanting hot over Theo's in a biting, punishing kiss, teeth cutting into the tender skin of Theo's lips.
Theo opens to Miles immediately, sinking his hands into Miles' hair and pulling him closer as they kiss, his lips parting against the invasion of Miles' tongue. It's so heady, now that he knows, now that he understands, and he kisses Miles back, letting him know with each slide of their mouths together that they don't have to fight.
Theo's robes bunch beneath the clench of Miles' fingers. He can't shove Theo any harder against the wall, but he tries as he licks into the damp heat of Theo's mouth, captures the curl of Theo's tongue with a scrape of teeth. Theo's answer is like a buzz in his head, as insistent as the pound of his pulse. He grabs Theo's wrists and jerks Theo's hands out of his hair. Miles' fingers are broad enough that he can shackle Theo's thin wrists and drop his free hand to Theo's groin, digging the heel of his palm into Theo's trousers. He leans close again, until he can feel each quick breath that Theo takes on his lips. "You don't want this, remember?" Then he lets Theo go, his vision narrowed to the single goal of reaching the seventh year dorms.
Theo leans against the wall, panting for air, and he's—disappointed. "Think before you walk away, Miles," Theo calls after him. "You won't get another chance so easily."
"Another chance?" Miles scoffs, spinning around. He advances on Theo, strides quick, hands quicker. He curls his right hand around Theo's throat this time, dropping the left to Theo's groin. Theo is hard, cock twitching against Miles' palm, and Miles squeezes, harder than he should. "Well then, Nott, tell me how you really feel."
"Right now," Theo says calmly, unfazed by Miles' violence, "I'm offering more than just an arrangement. If you say no, walk away, whatever, the offer's off the table."
Miles strokes the column of Theo's throat with his thumb, searching Theo's face for the deception as he considers Theo's words, twisting them in his head for every implication. He slides his hand away from Theo's groin, settles it low on Theo's hip, and traces small circles there as well. He rubs the ring of bruises that have already bloomed dark on Theo's skin, presses a little, enough, to know the answer. Whatever Theo's offering, it isn't the truth, so he has to ask, as he digs his thumb into the bruise high near Theo's jaw. "Is this what you want?"
"I don't know what I want," Theo confesses. He raises a hand and presses against another bruise. "This is embarrassing to talk about."
Miles releases Theo, his blood thundering in his ears. For a moment, he's tired, exhausted by NEWTs, Quidditch practice, his obligations as a Bletchley, the bloody owl he hasn't even received from his father. And there's Theo, touching a bruise, the sight of which makes something electric and dark twist in Miles' chest. Just as quickly, his expression clears, features smoothing out, but he can't be sure, not entirely, so he averts his eyes, takes note of his book on the floor. "Then what could you possibly be offering?"
Theo's face heats up—he's so incredibly vulnerable, but he was the one who started this whole thing. "Me. Whatever that might entail."
Miles' gaze flits toward Theo's neck. He briefly meets Theo's eyes and then stares at the bruises again, remembering what they'd done in that classroom, his lips tingling, something close to satisfaction rooting deep. He steps forward and meets Theo's eyes again, voice calm, the line of his shoulders relaxed as he says, "I want to hurt you."
Theo swallows and tries a smile. "That's better than wanting to ruin me, I suppose."
Miles lifts his right hand, fingers uncurling from his palm, slow and fluid, his gaze never wavering from Theo's face. "Give me your hand."
Theo stares at Miles, wondering what the hell he's doing, and he slowly raises his hand, fits it against Miles' palm.
Miles takes it, tracing the lines in Theo's palm with his thumbnail. They're fortunate no one's walked in on them yet. Miles is fortunate no one's ever caught him at this. He can't even be sure what this is, so like any puzzle, he tests it. He pushes up Theo's sleeve, grabs the meaty skin of Theo's forearm, near the bend of his elbow, and viciously twists, cutting Theo's skin with his nails as he does.
Theo winces, almost flinches, and he anticipates wanting to yank his arm away, to say 'ow' because it hurts, but it doesn't hurt too badly, and it's making Theo flush with heat for some crazy reason. Theo doesn't question his own reaction to it, just stands there and lets Miles tear at his arm because he doesn't know what to do or how to make this easier.
Miles keeps the ring of his fingers loose around Theo's wrist, so when Theo jerks away, he can let the bloke fall. Theo doesn't jerk away. His face doesn't even twist into annoyance or anger; there's only the subtle colour to Theo's cheeks, eyes gone glassy and pupils gone wide.
"All right," Miles says, mostly to himself, and jerks Theo along, picking up his book and dragging Theo toward the seventh year dorms, where he can ensure their privacy.
Theo feels a thrill of nervousness and something he might consider terror, because no sane person would go with someone who's just claimed that all they want to do is hurt them. Still, Theo is following after Miles, no questions asked. His heart is pounding with adrenaline, but he ignores it, waits to see what Miles is going to do next.
Miles pushes Theo into the room, harder than is strictly necessary, and hexes the door to keep everyone out. He stands there a moment and then casts an imperturbable charm as well. He stalks past Theo and sets his book on his bed, fingers fanned across the cover when he sets it down, taking another moment to consider the … implications of this.
"You never agreed to my terms," Miles says, tone mild, his back still turned to Theo.
"You made a statement," Theo says wryly. "You never gave me any terms, although I must admit I'd like to hear them."
Miles glances at Theo over his shoulder, stance straightening. "Are you going to make it clear — publicly — that you hexed me?"
Theo feels a chill run down his back. "I can tell Professor Snape?" he offers as a compromise.
Miles steps forward. "You're negotiating."
"It shouldn't matter if I tell everyone, so long as I tell someone who can punish me, right?"
Miles closes the distance between them, his strides steady, patient, as he backs Theo into the wall. "I can punish you well enough on my own," he says, pushing Theo those last few inches.
Theo gives a bitter laugh. "So now, it's not enough for you to want to ruin me. Now, you want me to ruin myself."
Miles raises a hand, face going tight and his mouth thinning. He drops his hands to Theo's chest, bunching Theo's robes with the curl of his fingers, so bloody close to slapping that stupid smirk off his face. "You," he says, hollow, his gaze fixed on Theo's throat. "Whatever that entails."
"I can't," Theo pleads, gripping Miles' robes. "Slytherin would ostracize me."
And in four months, Miles will be gone, of course. Only four months. He's not considered the amount of time he has left, and he's rather surprised that he hasn't received an owl from his father sooner than this. Miles leans closer, burying his face in the crook of Theo's neck, the bruised skin hot against his mouth. He doesn't bite, as tempted as he is. Theo has been a fascinating but terrible distraction, and Miles simply doesn't have the time anymore. Not if— Not when Theo can't— "Get out," he whispers, still pressed against Theo, and then a beat later, lets him go.
Theo stands there for minute, his skin prickling from the heat of Miles' body. "You hold me like that, and now you want me to leave?"
Miles turns his back to Theo, takes the three steps that will place him at his bed, letting all the harsh words he can summon grate up his throat. "Losing your hearing already, Nott? I said get out."
"What are you going to do to me if I don't, Miles? Hex me? I've already been there."
"Incarcerous." Miles watches the ropes slither around Theo's torso, binding his arms tight at his sides, and grabs Theo's hair as the last tail of the rope seals into place. "Fine," Miles says, eyes narrowed, and kicks Theo's ankle, dropping him to his arse on the cold stone floor. "Stay. I don't sodding care. I'm busy." Miles releases Theo and turns on his heels, stalking to his bed. He hefts the book and sits, settling himself comfortably, and continues to study.
Theo stays in place for a couple of minutes, long enough to wonder if Miles really has forgotten he's there, and then rises slowly to his knees, struggling with each careful move until he's kneeling by Miles' side. He rests back against the bed and presses his side against Miles' leg, because Miles shouldn't forget that he's in the middle of an argument, even if it is for NEWT Potions.
Miles scowls when Theo begins to move, but he's going to study and resolutely keeps his eyes on the page until he realizes that Theo isn't escaping. He's crawling toward Miles and then there's Theo's weight, leaning heavy against Miles' leg, and Miles can't comprehend a bloody ingredient in this Potion. Theo doesn't move, even when Miles shifts as if readjusting the way the book sits in his lap. Miles shuts it with a resounding thump and grabs Theo by the ropes. "I'm studying," he says, annoyed that Theo can't seem to comprehend that, and makes him crawl back to the wall. "If you won't get out, then you can stay there." He shoves Theo against the wall and then stalks back to his bed, sits, and reads.
"You've studied enough," Theo says, amused. "You're studying all the time. You might as well be Hermione bloody Granger. I just wanted to remind you that you have me tied up on the floor of your bedroom. Strange way of making me leave."
"I told you to get out. You chose to stay, so I'm keeping you out of the way. Now shut up or I'll gag you."
"When are you going to untie me?"
Miles snaps his book shut and jerks off his tie, stalking toward Theo for the second time. He's about to shove his tie into Theo's mouth, but instead, wraps it around Theo's head and knots it at the back of Theo's skull. "I'm not," he finally answers, eyes narrowed. "Not until I've finished studying." Then once again, he strides to his bed, picks up his book, and studies.
Theo tries to wait patiently, he really does, but it's boring, and he still doesn't know what on earth Miles is trying to accomplish, and mostly, he's bored. He starts up to his knees slowly again, crawling forward, and clambers onto the bed this time, propping his chin on Miles' shoulder so he can read what Miles is reading.
Miles expects Theo to leave any moment, even though he knows he's made that impossible, but Theo is determined to annoy him. Miles ignores the crawling, and he ignores the bed dipping from Theo's weight, but he can't possibly ignore Theo's pointy chin digging into his shoulder or the brush of the gag on the back of his neck. He snaps his book shut, mouth set in an annoyed scowl, and whirls around — right hand clenching around Theo's throat, the fingers of his left hooking into the gag and yanking it down, straddling Theo's hips as he bears Theo down to the mattress. "What the bloody hell do you want?"
"I want to continue our discussion," Theo breathes, his eyes blowing wide in sudden arousal as he feels the clench of Miles' fingers around his throat.
"What's there left to discuss?" Miles demands, furious all over again. "What meaningless thing are you going to offer me this time?"
"Meaningless?" Theo asks, his voice weak. "Meaningless?"
"What's the worth in offering something"—Miles squeezes Theo's throat, his chest tight, his vision narrowing, and shakes Theo, his words hissed and furious—"when you don't bloody mean it? What do you want from me?" He remembers, distantly, that he cast an imperturbable charm on the room. He's free to shout, free to let this ugly, angry thing lodged behind his ribs go. "What do you bloody fucking want?"
"I do," Theo chokes out, his vision blurring. "I do mean it."
"No, you don't. You don't." Miles jerks Theo up, means to say something nasty and horrid and cruel, but their mouths crash together in a wreck of lips and teeth and tongue. "Liar," Miles murmurs over and over again, and then he thrusts his tongue into Theo's mouth as if he's shoving the word there, wants Theo to choke on it, all panting and intent fury.
Theo kisses Miles' back just as hungrily, accepting Miles' rage at him, although Theo doesn't understand what he said to make him so angry. Theo's eyes are burning, and he's startled to feel wetness sting at the corner of his eyes, water dripping down his temples and dampening his hair.
Miles clutches Theo's face, palms skidding off Theo's wet cheeks, and for a moment, he thinks Theo is bleeding, but it doesn't make sense. None of this makes any bloody sense. Miles' voice, when he speaks, is raw, wrecked. His father would be ashamed, no doubt. A Bletchley is above such a reckless, desperate display. Miles isn't above this. He can't be as mired and tangled as he is, his mouth aching from each bruising press of their lips, the magical ropes digging into his chest as if he were the one bound. "What do you want?" he asks. "This?" He kisses Theo, shreds the skin with hard, punishing bites as he reaches between them, grabs Theo's groin, demands an answer out of Theo's body since he won't ever just say it. "This?" Miles swallows past the lump in his throat and fits his palm against Theo's neck. He pushes, shoving Theo back to the mattress, choking off whatever reply Theo intended to make, whatever lie he was about to form, and squeezes Theo's cock. Then Miles sees Theo's face, sees that Theo's cheeks are wet because he's been crying. Miles abruptly lets go, falling back with a choked, panicked, "Shite." Theo's hurt. Of course, he's hurt. He's bleeding, his mouth torn, chin damp with blood and tears. "Shite." Miles hastily dispels the magical ropes and knows — so bloody stupid of him, so horribly careless — that Theo's going to run to the infirmary, to Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore and tell, and Miles— Miles—
It takes Theo a moment to realize he's untied, that Miles is moving away, and he hiccups an embarrassed sob, bolts up to throw his arms around Miles, and yanks him close. "Yes," Theo sobs against Miles' shoulder. "Yes."
Theo doesn't run, and Miles can't think, can't bloody breathe. He sits there, stunned, reeling from what should be happening and isn't, his eyes burning, cheeks getting terribly hot as Theo sobs into his shoulder and soaks his robes. Theo's words are garbled. They don't make any sense and aren't loud enough to penetrate the horrid ringing in Miles' ears. It's some time before Miles realizes that Theo's saying one word and simply repeating it, and it takes additional time before Miles realizes that that one word is yes. He clutches Theo's robes, shaking as he asks, "Yes what? What are you—" Miles falters as he tries to figure out what he's broken, how hurt Theo is that Theo is this incoherent and still sobbing. "We'll go to the infirmary. It's—"
Theo shakes his head, pressing tighter to Miles. "I want it. I want you, you stupid—"
"You," Miles chokes out, his hands shaking as he takes hold of Theo's arms, squeezes with a raspy, "Yes," when he means to say liar, when he means to ask why. "You don't—" But Miles can't finish when he feels this. When he's so. Dizzy from the mad spin of his thoughts, the feverish burst of need that lights through him. Merlin. All this time, he'd been asking and asking, and— He hadn't known that was the answer, but it is, and Theo. Once again, where all of Miles' thoughts falter.
Theo whimpers and grabs onto Miles' robes, taking kiss after hard, furious kiss. "Are you happy, you stupid, stupid arse? You drive me bloody mad!"
"Shut up," Miles says before Theo's lips slant over his again. "You sodding tosser. You—" He grabs a handful of Theo's hair and mashes their mouths together, shuddering from the torn feel of Theo's lips, the taste of blood heady and sharp.
Theo whimpers again, clenching fistfuls of Miles' robes, and kisses him like he's wanted to kiss him for days now, hungry and desperate.
It shouldn't be like this. Miles shouldn't be quaking with relief, shouldn't feel like he's eased back into his own skin when Theo kisses him like it's a craving. "You, you, you," are the only words Miles can manage, all the gaps filled with Theo's mouth, the curl of his hair, the line of his body.
Theo pleads without words for more, kisses Miles harder, and for a moment, Theo wonders if he hears the door open beneath the pound of blood in his ears. He makes a shocked eep of sound when he sees Professor Snape standing in the doorway, looking exasperated.
Theo tears his mouth away from Miles and goes for his wand, his voice shaking as he says, "Obliviate?"
Professor Snape knocks it away with a, "Protego!" and then says, "Expelliarmus!" Their wands fly to his hand, and he shakes his head as he looks at them. "Boys," he says dryly, "keep in mind that there are others who need to use this room."
The horrified shock leaves Miles numb, but he's talking. Somehow, he's talking—"Yes, of course, Professor"—and he sounds more put together than he feels—"My apologies, Professor." He's quaking with panic, frantically trying to come up with a plausible excuse, but there's no possible way to explain the blood or Theo's splotchy face. It's obvious and incriminating, and even though Miles has been caught, he keeps talking, sliding off the bed to stand despite how horribly dizzy he is and how horrid the ringing in his ears becomes.
"We weren't doing anything illegal!" Theo promises but falls silent when Snape pins with him a look.
"Not illegal," Snape agrees, "but certainly annoying. Fifteen points from Slytherin for getting caught." Snape hesitates, watches Theo unobtrusively wipe the blood from his chin. "I'll expect you two in my office in twenty minutes."
Miles' legs give, and he drops back to the bed, numb and cold even as he nods with a quiet, "Yes, Professor."
Snape sighs. "You aren't in trouble, Miles. Just don't be late."
Miles stares blankly at Professor Snape. "We won't be, Professor."
Snape nods and strides from the room. One of Miles' roommates gives him a look that's vaguely apologetic, and Theo takes Miles' hand and squeezes. "Come on."
Miles is too empty and hollowed out with shock to do anything more than follow.
Theo walks them through the dungeons, stopping by a small crag of wall that provides them a little privacy. "Miles," he whispers, and pulls Miles close.
"We—" Miles' voice cracks, and he shudders, clutching Theo's robes and burying his face in the crook of Theo's neck. He's ruined. Professor Snape is understanding, but he and Theo— What they were doing— There are limits to the Professor's understanding and patience, limits to what he can reasonably allow. "We can't be late," is all Miles can manage, and he draws away. His attention is taken by Theo's mouth, and he traces Theo's bottom lip, feeling the cut in the skin. It's too late but. "We should heal this."
Theo nods and reaches for his wand but drops his hand. "Professor Snape took our wands."
Miles' expression crumples, all his composure lost, and he covers his face, slumping against the wall.
"It's all right, Miles." Theo hugs Miles closer. "It's going to be all right."
"Don't—" Miles shakes his head, clenching Theo's robes in his fists as a hard shudder chokes off the rest of his protest. He shoves Theo back and furiously scrubs his face. "Let's get this over with."
Theo has nothing else to say, so he just steps away, heading toward Snape's office. When they get there, Professor Snape is sitting at his desk with two wands and two scrolls beside him. "Sit." Theo sits and looks at Miles, who sits as well. "Is there anything that either of you would like to say?"
Miles takes a slow breath, but it doesn't dispel the fear or the disheveled state of his clothes and hair. "I don't believe there's anything we can say, Professor. My behaviour was inexcusable. I can only offer my sincerest apologies and accept—" Miles clears his throat, curling his fingers in his lap when they begin to shake. "The penalty for being so careless."
Snape stares at them, and Theo fights the urge to shrink back in his chair.
"All I saw was some … enthusiastic kissing. You've already been punished for that. Please, do us all a favor and make sure no one else is as unfortunate as I was." He gestures at the wands and scrolls. "Those are yours. Go away now. I'm busy."
Miles stares, shocked once more into stunned silence. It only lasts a moment — never waste an opportunity — before he's snatching up their wands, the scrolls, grabbing Theo, and rushing out of the room with a hasty, "Yes, of course, Professor, thank you."
"Thank you!" Theo calls back, his cheeks flushing with surprise and shock. He follows Miles blindly, taking step after step until they're somewhere quiet and private.
Miles drops into the nearest available chair and buries his face in his arms, their wands and the scrolls still clutched tightly in his hand. He's shaking with relief, with the last of his horror and shock, and he— He simply needs a moment to breathe, to clear the rush of thoughts tangled in his head.
Theo licks his lips to taste the tang of blood and feel the sting, which somehow feels more real than that moment in Snape's office. It was official — Professor Snape was his favourite, and he'd work extra hard in DADA.
Once Miles feels calmer, more composed, he straightens and cards his fingers through his hair. He has his wand now. He can clean himself up— He stares blankly at his hand and can't fathom why he has hold of Theo's wand. He turns to Theo with an even, "Here. This is clearly yours."
"Thank you." And since they're clearly alone now, Theo reaches over and presses a kiss to Miles' mouth.
"We can't—" Miles tears away, a hand fisted in Theo's robes so he doesn't dash off before Miles can finish. "No one is going to be as lenient if we're caught again."
"I know." Theo gestures at the room. "We're completely alone. It's okay."
They are. Unbelievable but true. Miles goes boneless with the realization, resting his forehead against Theo's stomach, arms looped loosely round Theo's waist. "You drive me mad," he whispers. "You make me horribly reckless."
Theo hesitantly strokes his fingers through Miles' hair, marveling at the fact that Miles is allowing the caress. "You don't exactly put my mind right either," Theo says.
"Just." Miles closes his eyes and takes a breath. "Shut up," he sighs, deflating, and holds Theo more tightly.
"You're the one who—" Theo bites his tongue hard to stop himself from tossing another accusation at Miles and chooses to keep stroking Miles' hair.
Miles waits for the insults, for the hexes, for Theo to run again, but Theo falls silent. In the gap, Miles whispers, "I know." He sighs again and soaks in this new thing between them, the last opportunity he'll have before he leaves Hogwarts and— He lets the thought die. It's obvious; there's no reason to state it, not even in the silence of his own thoughts.
Theo waits for Miles to pull away, to yell at him again, but they both remain quiet. Theo remembers that he's got Miles' tie on and pulls it off, looping it around Miles' neck.
"That's—" Miles frowns in dismay as he hastily pulls off his tie. "It was in your mout—Oh, Merlin! You still had this when we were in Snape's office?"
"Apparently," Theo says dryly.
Miles fixes Theo with a narrow look. "Don't be a wanker."
Theo averts his eyes, looking instead at Miles' hair, at his fingers stroking the strands.
Miles captures Theo's hand with a sigh. "We're a mess. It's embarrassing." He stands and gingerly touches Theo's mouth with the tips of his fingers, his pulse rushing once more. "Is this all that needs to be healed?"
Theo swallows and nods. "Yes."
Miles darts in close and takes a short, hard kiss, sucking on Theo's torn lips, pleasure and heat racing through his veins. Then he draws away, presses the tip of his wand to Theo's mouth, and spells away the damage.
Theo presses his hands to Miles' chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes. "What are we doing now?"
"Casting a grooming charm so we look respectable again."
Theo gives Miles an annoyed look. "I meant us. Are we going to go back to annoying each other or fighting? Because I'll probably cry again, and I'm furious I cried at all in the first place."
The nervous, halting movement of Theo's hands on Miles' chest become an annoyance of their own, and he grabs Theo's wrists to keep Theo moderately still. He searches Theo's face, and his voice, when he speaks, is too soft, contains too much. "I thought I'd injured you."
"You did," Theo answers, just as soft. "It just didn't happen to be physically."
Miles is once more rendered silent. He squeezes Theo's hands and can't possibly ignore the weight of that confession. "Do you want—" Miles falters, can't quite form the question, so he ends with, "This?" Before Theo can respond, he lowers his eyes to their hands, digs his nails into Theo's skin, can't believe he's going to confess this so bluntly. "Because I do." He clears his throat, feels unsteady as he continues. "As long as we're discreet, because I can't risk getting caught again."
"I—do," Theo says slowly. "I do want this, whatever this is. I know you leave school in four months, but—it'll be a good four months, right?"
Miles slowly nods. "They'll be brill," he says, voice soft.
"It'll be worth it," Theo promises, and leans forward for a soft kiss.
Theo is amused, and might even daresay he's in a good mood right now. Draco is in the middle of an epic meltdown, and it is so easy to gain everyone's friendship. A few smiles, a reminder or two of childhood memories, party favors, and suddenly he is one of the 'good' Slytherins, whatever that was supposed to mean.
He already has a list of things he'd like to do for Susan's party, and he peruses the list as he walks back toward the dungeons.
The common room is quiet now that Malfoy and Zabini have wandered off to be stupid gits elsewhere, so Miles chooses one of the chairs in the corner to read. Passing his NEWTs seems like an impossible task. There are rumours, of course, about the Death Eaters, about You-Know-Who, neither of which particularly concern Miles, but Miles is a Bletchley, a pureblood wizard, and there are expectations that come with both of those positions. He's not heard from his father yet, but his aunt's owls leave little doubt as to what she expects from him.
Theo wanders into the common room and searches over at the desks for a spare quill and some parchment, seating himself and scrawling his list, slowly and thoughtfully.
Miles has every intention of studying until Theo strolls into the room, self-important and oblivious, and the cheeky pillock doesn't even have the grace to go somewhere else. Annoyed by the interruption, Miles closes his book, draws his wand, and sets Theo's parchment on fire before he walks out of the common room.
Theo stumbles away from the desk in surprise as the paper bursts into flames. He looks around as he swishes his wand, cancelling out the flames. He sees the back of Miles' head and glowers. "Hey! What was that for?"
Miles ignores Theo, his strides long and his steps purposeful as he continues toward the seventh year dorms.
"Hey!" Theo shoots off a quick hex to hit the back of Miles' head.
Miles stumbles but catches himself, his book falling to the floor as he slaps a hand against the wall. He retrieves his book and then straightens, jaw clenched from the quick burst of anger that tightens his chest. He turns, only partially, to level a cold look at Theo. "I don't have time for you." The words are clipped, short, delivered with as much venom as Miles can infuse in the short phrase, and then he walks away.
"And yet," Theo fumes, taking long steps to catch up to Miles, "you had enough time to all but set me on fire. You're so bloody confusing!"
"Hardly." Miles flings Theo back with a hex. "Go away, Nott. I can't possibly make that any more clearer."
Theo can't stop the strange well of hurt he feels that goes beyond being hexed. "I didn't even know you were in the bloody common room, Miles!"
Miles steps forward, his shoulders tensing, his fingers unconsciously tightening around his book, and his eyes going narrow and sharp. "Then consider this a lesson that you should pay more attention to your surroundings."
"Let's try again." Theo takes a deep breath. "Let's call a truce, all right?"
"Why?" Miles asks, voice heavy with suspicion, eyes narrowing further because of it.
"Because I'm tired of fighting with you."
Miles' expression clears as he straightens, smoothing a hand down his robes. "Did you hex me during the Quidditch game against Ravenclaw?"
"I—" Theo shifts uncomfortably. "Yes, okay? Bloody hell."
Miles' lips tighten in an unhappy line. He curls his fingers more tightly around his book and stays where he is, even though he has a horrid urge to close the distance between them and slap Theo clean across the face. Theo's honesty, however, is unexpected progress. "Why?"
"I was—" Theo stares at his shoes. "I was so angry at you that I had to retaliate or I would explode."
Miles' book falls to the floor with a resounding thump, already forgotten as he advances on Theo, shoving him against the wall, reminded of an unnecessary loss because Miles had somehow offended this horrid little git. "I left you alone," he says, his voice as tight as the clench of his fingers in Theo's robes.
"I know," Theo says softly.
Miles digs his knuckles into Theo's chest and is mindful enough to keep from shouting. "Then what could you possibly have been angry about?"
"I don't know," Theo answers, unable to look at Miles. "Everything. Nothing. I can't explain it."
Miles digs his fingers into Theo's jaw, tilts Theo's head up so he can't avoid the dark flash of Miles' eyes. "You seemed perfectly capable of explaining things to Warrington."
"What are you talking about?" Theo asks, honestly confused. "I never explained anything to Chris."
"Didn't you?" Miles asks, the words cutting, punctuated by a shove, fingers tightening on Theo's jaw. "When you called me a stalker, you stupid pest."
"I didn't explain anything to him, Miles," Theo says defiantly. "He has no idea who I was talking about, and neither do you, for that matter."
"You lying tosser." Miles slips his hand lower, fitting his palm against Theo's neck, the tips of his fingers pressed to Theo's pulse. "Then enlighten me. Who were you referring to in your journal entry?"
Theo feels suddenly light-headed at the threat of Miles' hand against his throat, but he gives Miles an unhappy, defiant look. "I've given you enough of my secrets."
"And mine," Miles says darkly, squeezing.
"I haven't given away any of your secrets," Theo hisses. "I don't know any secrets to give."
"Liar." Miles emphasizes the word with a clench of his fingers around Theo's throat. He jerks Theo forward and shoves him against the wall again, terribly pleased by the dull thud of Theo's head striking the stone and the rugged flush of colour that stains Theo's cheeks.
"I've said nothing but the truth tonight."
"All right," Miles says, falsely conciliatory. The slim smile fades quickly, and he presses closer to Theo, tightening his fingers against the flutter of Theo's pulse. "A truce. After you make it perfectly clear to everyone that you hexed me and cost our House the Quidditch game."
Theo licks his lips, his blood beating through him, thick with a sudden longing. "And what will you do if I don't?"
Miles' smile is slim, dark, as he leans even closer, clamping his fingers harder around Theo's neck. "I've given you enough of my secrets," he echoes, breath gusting warm over Theo's mouth.
Theo shivers, and staring into Miles' dark eyes, it clicks for him, and he takes a chance. He melts against Miles, presses his throat against Miles' hand. "You don't need an excuse to want me, Miles."
Miles' heart flutters, his muscles vibrating with sudden tension, and he shoves Theo back. It doesn't put any distance between them, not nearly enough when Miles can see all too clearly the way Theo reacts — lips parting on a gasp, skin ruddy with colour and the sudden loss of air.
Theo keeps his eyes on Miles, at the insistent, intent look he gives Theo as Theo tries to inhale. Theo raises his hand to Miles' wrist, squeezes it gently, and all the while his blood is pounding like a drum deep inside him. He knows this is going to make him angry and frustrated, just like Miles left him in November, but it doesn't stop hm from licking his lips, from sliding his hand down Miles' sleeve to rest against Miles' chest.
"I don't—" Miles ruthlessly suppresses a shudder, but he can't stop the roar of blood in his ears as he watches Theo's hand travel from his wrist to his chest, where it's impossible to hide how frantically his heart beats. He grabs Theo's wrist, squeezes as tightly as he squeezes Theo's throat, the grind of bone and the taut cord of muscle reminding him how lean Theo is. He bruises so easily. Miles darts a glance at Theo's neck, feels the fight of Theo's throat when he tries to swallow, but it's Miles' vision that narrows, becoming shadowy and sketchy around the corners. "All I want," he says, denting Theo's skin with the prick of his nails, "is to ruin you."
Theo can't help the smile that curves his mouth, and he raises his other hand, curls it in the spiky edges of hair at the nape of Miles' neck. "Why don't you just kiss me instead?"
Miles' grip slackens, fingers gone nerveless. "Why?" he asks, barely able to hear himself over the awful ringing in his ears, the static feel of his thoughts.
"Because we both want you to."
Miles narrows his eyes, dropping his hands to Theo's shoulders. He makes a derisive sound, low in his throat, and shoves Theo back as he closes the distance between them, mouth slanting hot over Theo's in a biting, punishing kiss, teeth cutting into the tender skin of Theo's lips.
Theo opens to Miles immediately, sinking his hands into Miles' hair and pulling him closer as they kiss, his lips parting against the invasion of Miles' tongue. It's so heady, now that he knows, now that he understands, and he kisses Miles back, letting him know with each slide of their mouths together that they don't have to fight.
Theo's robes bunch beneath the clench of Miles' fingers. He can't shove Theo any harder against the wall, but he tries as he licks into the damp heat of Theo's mouth, captures the curl of Theo's tongue with a scrape of teeth. Theo's answer is like a buzz in his head, as insistent as the pound of his pulse. He grabs Theo's wrists and jerks Theo's hands out of his hair. Miles' fingers are broad enough that he can shackle Theo's thin wrists and drop his free hand to Theo's groin, digging the heel of his palm into Theo's trousers. He leans close again, until he can feel each quick breath that Theo takes on his lips. "You don't want this, remember?" Then he lets Theo go, his vision narrowed to the single goal of reaching the seventh year dorms.
Theo leans against the wall, panting for air, and he's—disappointed. "Think before you walk away, Miles," Theo calls after him. "You won't get another chance so easily."
"Another chance?" Miles scoffs, spinning around. He advances on Theo, strides quick, hands quicker. He curls his right hand around Theo's throat this time, dropping the left to Theo's groin. Theo is hard, cock twitching against Miles' palm, and Miles squeezes, harder than he should. "Well then, Nott, tell me how you really feel."
"Right now," Theo says calmly, unfazed by Miles' violence, "I'm offering more than just an arrangement. If you say no, walk away, whatever, the offer's off the table."
Miles strokes the column of Theo's throat with his thumb, searching Theo's face for the deception as he considers Theo's words, twisting them in his head for every implication. He slides his hand away from Theo's groin, settles it low on Theo's hip, and traces small circles there as well. He rubs the ring of bruises that have already bloomed dark on Theo's skin, presses a little, enough, to know the answer. Whatever Theo's offering, it isn't the truth, so he has to ask, as he digs his thumb into the bruise high near Theo's jaw. "Is this what you want?"
"I don't know what I want," Theo confesses. He raises a hand and presses against another bruise. "This is embarrassing to talk about."
Miles releases Theo, his blood thundering in his ears. For a moment, he's tired, exhausted by NEWTs, Quidditch practice, his obligations as a Bletchley, the bloody owl he hasn't even received from his father. And there's Theo, touching a bruise, the sight of which makes something electric and dark twist in Miles' chest. Just as quickly, his expression clears, features smoothing out, but he can't be sure, not entirely, so he averts his eyes, takes note of his book on the floor. "Then what could you possibly be offering?"
Theo's face heats up—he's so incredibly vulnerable, but he was the one who started this whole thing. "Me. Whatever that might entail."
Miles' gaze flits toward Theo's neck. He briefly meets Theo's eyes and then stares at the bruises again, remembering what they'd done in that classroom, his lips tingling, something close to satisfaction rooting deep. He steps forward and meets Theo's eyes again, voice calm, the line of his shoulders relaxed as he says, "I want to hurt you."
Theo swallows and tries a smile. "That's better than wanting to ruin me, I suppose."
Miles lifts his right hand, fingers uncurling from his palm, slow and fluid, his gaze never wavering from Theo's face. "Give me your hand."
Theo stares at Miles, wondering what the hell he's doing, and he slowly raises his hand, fits it against Miles' palm.
Miles takes it, tracing the lines in Theo's palm with his thumbnail. They're fortunate no one's walked in on them yet. Miles is fortunate no one's ever caught him at this. He can't even be sure what this is, so like any puzzle, he tests it. He pushes up Theo's sleeve, grabs the meaty skin of Theo's forearm, near the bend of his elbow, and viciously twists, cutting Theo's skin with his nails as he does.
Theo winces, almost flinches, and he anticipates wanting to yank his arm away, to say 'ow' because it hurts, but it doesn't hurt too badly, and it's making Theo flush with heat for some crazy reason. Theo doesn't question his own reaction to it, just stands there and lets Miles tear at his arm because he doesn't know what to do or how to make this easier.
Miles keeps the ring of his fingers loose around Theo's wrist, so when Theo jerks away, he can let the bloke fall. Theo doesn't jerk away. His face doesn't even twist into annoyance or anger; there's only the subtle colour to Theo's cheeks, eyes gone glassy and pupils gone wide.
"All right," Miles says, mostly to himself, and jerks Theo along, picking up his book and dragging Theo toward the seventh year dorms, where he can ensure their privacy.
Theo feels a thrill of nervousness and something he might consider terror, because no sane person would go with someone who's just claimed that all they want to do is hurt them. Still, Theo is following after Miles, no questions asked. His heart is pounding with adrenaline, but he ignores it, waits to see what Miles is going to do next.
Miles pushes Theo into the room, harder than is strictly necessary, and hexes the door to keep everyone out. He stands there a moment and then casts an imperturbable charm as well. He stalks past Theo and sets his book on his bed, fingers fanned across the cover when he sets it down, taking another moment to consider the … implications of this.
"You never agreed to my terms," Miles says, tone mild, his back still turned to Theo.
"You made a statement," Theo says wryly. "You never gave me any terms, although I must admit I'd like to hear them."
Miles glances at Theo over his shoulder, stance straightening. "Are you going to make it clear — publicly — that you hexed me?"
Theo feels a chill run down his back. "I can tell Professor Snape?" he offers as a compromise.
Miles steps forward. "You're negotiating."
"It shouldn't matter if I tell everyone, so long as I tell someone who can punish me, right?"
Miles closes the distance between them, his strides steady, patient, as he backs Theo into the wall. "I can punish you well enough on my own," he says, pushing Theo those last few inches.
Theo gives a bitter laugh. "So now, it's not enough for you to want to ruin me. Now, you want me to ruin myself."
Miles raises a hand, face going tight and his mouth thinning. He drops his hands to Theo's chest, bunching Theo's robes with the curl of his fingers, so bloody close to slapping that stupid smirk off his face. "You," he says, hollow, his gaze fixed on Theo's throat. "Whatever that entails."
"I can't," Theo pleads, gripping Miles' robes. "Slytherin would ostracize me."
And in four months, Miles will be gone, of course. Only four months. He's not considered the amount of time he has left, and he's rather surprised that he hasn't received an owl from his father sooner than this. Miles leans closer, burying his face in the crook of Theo's neck, the bruised skin hot against his mouth. He doesn't bite, as tempted as he is. Theo has been a fascinating but terrible distraction, and Miles simply doesn't have the time anymore. Not if— Not when Theo can't— "Get out," he whispers, still pressed against Theo, and then a beat later, lets him go.
Theo stands there for minute, his skin prickling from the heat of Miles' body. "You hold me like that, and now you want me to leave?"
Miles turns his back to Theo, takes the three steps that will place him at his bed, letting all the harsh words he can summon grate up his throat. "Losing your hearing already, Nott? I said get out."
"What are you going to do to me if I don't, Miles? Hex me? I've already been there."
"Incarcerous." Miles watches the ropes slither around Theo's torso, binding his arms tight at his sides, and grabs Theo's hair as the last tail of the rope seals into place. "Fine," Miles says, eyes narrowed, and kicks Theo's ankle, dropping him to his arse on the cold stone floor. "Stay. I don't sodding care. I'm busy." Miles releases Theo and turns on his heels, stalking to his bed. He hefts the book and sits, settling himself comfortably, and continues to study.
Theo stays in place for a couple of minutes, long enough to wonder if Miles really has forgotten he's there, and then rises slowly to his knees, struggling with each careful move until he's kneeling by Miles' side. He rests back against the bed and presses his side against Miles' leg, because Miles shouldn't forget that he's in the middle of an argument, even if it is for NEWT Potions.
Miles scowls when Theo begins to move, but he's going to study and resolutely keeps his eyes on the page until he realizes that Theo isn't escaping. He's crawling toward Miles and then there's Theo's weight, leaning heavy against Miles' leg, and Miles can't comprehend a bloody ingredient in this Potion. Theo doesn't move, even when Miles shifts as if readjusting the way the book sits in his lap. Miles shuts it with a resounding thump and grabs Theo by the ropes. "I'm studying," he says, annoyed that Theo can't seem to comprehend that, and makes him crawl back to the wall. "If you won't get out, then you can stay there." He shoves Theo against the wall and then stalks back to his bed, sits, and reads.
"You've studied enough," Theo says, amused. "You're studying all the time. You might as well be Hermione bloody Granger. I just wanted to remind you that you have me tied up on the floor of your bedroom. Strange way of making me leave."
"I told you to get out. You chose to stay, so I'm keeping you out of the way. Now shut up or I'll gag you."
"When are you going to untie me?"
Miles snaps his book shut and jerks off his tie, stalking toward Theo for the second time. He's about to shove his tie into Theo's mouth, but instead, wraps it around Theo's head and knots it at the back of Theo's skull. "I'm not," he finally answers, eyes narrowed. "Not until I've finished studying." Then once again, he strides to his bed, picks up his book, and studies.
Theo tries to wait patiently, he really does, but it's boring, and he still doesn't know what on earth Miles is trying to accomplish, and mostly, he's bored. He starts up to his knees slowly again, crawling forward, and clambers onto the bed this time, propping his chin on Miles' shoulder so he can read what Miles is reading.
Miles expects Theo to leave any moment, even though he knows he's made that impossible, but Theo is determined to annoy him. Miles ignores the crawling, and he ignores the bed dipping from Theo's weight, but he can't possibly ignore Theo's pointy chin digging into his shoulder or the brush of the gag on the back of his neck. He snaps his book shut, mouth set in an annoyed scowl, and whirls around — right hand clenching around Theo's throat, the fingers of his left hooking into the gag and yanking it down, straddling Theo's hips as he bears Theo down to the mattress. "What the bloody hell do you want?"
"I want to continue our discussion," Theo breathes, his eyes blowing wide in sudden arousal as he feels the clench of Miles' fingers around his throat.
"What's there left to discuss?" Miles demands, furious all over again. "What meaningless thing are you going to offer me this time?"
"Meaningless?" Theo asks, his voice weak. "Meaningless?"
"What's the worth in offering something"—Miles squeezes Theo's throat, his chest tight, his vision narrowing, and shakes Theo, his words hissed and furious—"when you don't bloody mean it? What do you want from me?" He remembers, distantly, that he cast an imperturbable charm on the room. He's free to shout, free to let this ugly, angry thing lodged behind his ribs go. "What do you bloody fucking want?"
"I do," Theo chokes out, his vision blurring. "I do mean it."
"No, you don't. You don't." Miles jerks Theo up, means to say something nasty and horrid and cruel, but their mouths crash together in a wreck of lips and teeth and tongue. "Liar," Miles murmurs over and over again, and then he thrusts his tongue into Theo's mouth as if he's shoving the word there, wants Theo to choke on it, all panting and intent fury.
Theo kisses Miles' back just as hungrily, accepting Miles' rage at him, although Theo doesn't understand what he said to make him so angry. Theo's eyes are burning, and he's startled to feel wetness sting at the corner of his eyes, water dripping down his temples and dampening his hair.
Miles clutches Theo's face, palms skidding off Theo's wet cheeks, and for a moment, he thinks Theo is bleeding, but it doesn't make sense. None of this makes any bloody sense. Miles' voice, when he speaks, is raw, wrecked. His father would be ashamed, no doubt. A Bletchley is above such a reckless, desperate display. Miles isn't above this. He can't be as mired and tangled as he is, his mouth aching from each bruising press of their lips, the magical ropes digging into his chest as if he were the one bound. "What do you want?" he asks. "This?" He kisses Theo, shreds the skin with hard, punishing bites as he reaches between them, grabs Theo's groin, demands an answer out of Theo's body since he won't ever just say it. "This?" Miles swallows past the lump in his throat and fits his palm against Theo's neck. He pushes, shoving Theo back to the mattress, choking off whatever reply Theo intended to make, whatever lie he was about to form, and squeezes Theo's cock. Then Miles sees Theo's face, sees that Theo's cheeks are wet because he's been crying. Miles abruptly lets go, falling back with a choked, panicked, "Shite." Theo's hurt. Of course, he's hurt. He's bleeding, his mouth torn, chin damp with blood and tears. "Shite." Miles hastily dispels the magical ropes and knows — so bloody stupid of him, so horribly careless — that Theo's going to run to the infirmary, to Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore and tell, and Miles— Miles—
It takes Theo a moment to realize he's untied, that Miles is moving away, and he hiccups an embarrassed sob, bolts up to throw his arms around Miles, and yanks him close. "Yes," Theo sobs against Miles' shoulder. "Yes."
Theo doesn't run, and Miles can't think, can't bloody breathe. He sits there, stunned, reeling from what should be happening and isn't, his eyes burning, cheeks getting terribly hot as Theo sobs into his shoulder and soaks his robes. Theo's words are garbled. They don't make any sense and aren't loud enough to penetrate the horrid ringing in Miles' ears. It's some time before Miles realizes that Theo's saying one word and simply repeating it, and it takes additional time before Miles realizes that that one word is yes. He clutches Theo's robes, shaking as he asks, "Yes what? What are you—" Miles falters as he tries to figure out what he's broken, how hurt Theo is that Theo is this incoherent and still sobbing. "We'll go to the infirmary. It's—"
Theo shakes his head, pressing tighter to Miles. "I want it. I want you, you stupid—"
"You," Miles chokes out, his hands shaking as he takes hold of Theo's arms, squeezes with a raspy, "Yes," when he means to say liar, when he means to ask why. "You don't—" But Miles can't finish when he feels this. When he's so. Dizzy from the mad spin of his thoughts, the feverish burst of need that lights through him. Merlin. All this time, he'd been asking and asking, and— He hadn't known that was the answer, but it is, and Theo. Once again, where all of Miles' thoughts falter.
Theo whimpers and grabs onto Miles' robes, taking kiss after hard, furious kiss. "Are you happy, you stupid, stupid arse? You drive me bloody mad!"
"Shut up," Miles says before Theo's lips slant over his again. "You sodding tosser. You—" He grabs a handful of Theo's hair and mashes their mouths together, shuddering from the torn feel of Theo's lips, the taste of blood heady and sharp.
Theo whimpers again, clenching fistfuls of Miles' robes, and kisses him like he's wanted to kiss him for days now, hungry and desperate.
It shouldn't be like this. Miles shouldn't be quaking with relief, shouldn't feel like he's eased back into his own skin when Theo kisses him like it's a craving. "You, you, you," are the only words Miles can manage, all the gaps filled with Theo's mouth, the curl of his hair, the line of his body.
Theo pleads without words for more, kisses Miles harder, and for a moment, Theo wonders if he hears the door open beneath the pound of blood in his ears. He makes a shocked eep of sound when he sees Professor Snape standing in the doorway, looking exasperated.
Theo tears his mouth away from Miles and goes for his wand, his voice shaking as he says, "Obliviate?"
Professor Snape knocks it away with a, "Protego!" and then says, "Expelliarmus!" Their wands fly to his hand, and he shakes his head as he looks at them. "Boys," he says dryly, "keep in mind that there are others who need to use this room."
The horrified shock leaves Miles numb, but he's talking. Somehow, he's talking—"Yes, of course, Professor"—and he sounds more put together than he feels—"My apologies, Professor." He's quaking with panic, frantically trying to come up with a plausible excuse, but there's no possible way to explain the blood or Theo's splotchy face. It's obvious and incriminating, and even though Miles has been caught, he keeps talking, sliding off the bed to stand despite how horribly dizzy he is and how horrid the ringing in his ears becomes.
"We weren't doing anything illegal!" Theo promises but falls silent when Snape pins with him a look.
"Not illegal," Snape agrees, "but certainly annoying. Fifteen points from Slytherin for getting caught." Snape hesitates, watches Theo unobtrusively wipe the blood from his chin. "I'll expect you two in my office in twenty minutes."
Miles' legs give, and he drops back to the bed, numb and cold even as he nods with a quiet, "Yes, Professor."
Snape sighs. "You aren't in trouble, Miles. Just don't be late."
Miles stares blankly at Professor Snape. "We won't be, Professor."
Snape nods and strides from the room. One of Miles' roommates gives him a look that's vaguely apologetic, and Theo takes Miles' hand and squeezes. "Come on."
Miles is too empty and hollowed out with shock to do anything more than follow.
Theo walks them through the dungeons, stopping by a small crag of wall that provides them a little privacy. "Miles," he whispers, and pulls Miles close.
"We—" Miles' voice cracks, and he shudders, clutching Theo's robes and burying his face in the crook of Theo's neck. He's ruined. Professor Snape is understanding, but he and Theo— What they were doing— There are limits to the Professor's understanding and patience, limits to what he can reasonably allow. "We can't be late," is all Miles can manage, and he draws away. His attention is taken by Theo's mouth, and he traces Theo's bottom lip, feeling the cut in the skin. It's too late but. "We should heal this."
Theo nods and reaches for his wand but drops his hand. "Professor Snape took our wands."
Miles' expression crumples, all his composure lost, and he covers his face, slumping against the wall.
"It's all right, Miles." Theo hugs Miles closer. "It's going to be all right."
"Don't—" Miles shakes his head, clenching Theo's robes in his fists as a hard shudder chokes off the rest of his protest. He shoves Theo back and furiously scrubs his face. "Let's get this over with."
Theo has nothing else to say, so he just steps away, heading toward Snape's office. When they get there, Professor Snape is sitting at his desk with two wands and two scrolls beside him. "Sit." Theo sits and looks at Miles, who sits as well. "Is there anything that either of you would like to say?"
Miles takes a slow breath, but it doesn't dispel the fear or the disheveled state of his clothes and hair. "I don't believe there's anything we can say, Professor. My behaviour was inexcusable. I can only offer my sincerest apologies and accept—" Miles clears his throat, curling his fingers in his lap when they begin to shake. "The penalty for being so careless."
Snape stares at them, and Theo fights the urge to shrink back in his chair.
"All I saw was some … enthusiastic kissing. You've already been punished for that. Please, do us all a favor and make sure no one else is as unfortunate as I was." He gestures at the wands and scrolls. "Those are yours. Go away now. I'm busy."
Miles stares, shocked once more into stunned silence. It only lasts a moment — never waste an opportunity — before he's snatching up their wands, the scrolls, grabbing Theo, and rushing out of the room with a hasty, "Yes, of course, Professor, thank you."
"Thank you!" Theo calls back, his cheeks flushing with surprise and shock. He follows Miles blindly, taking step after step until they're somewhere quiet and private.
Miles drops into the nearest available chair and buries his face in his arms, their wands and the scrolls still clutched tightly in his hand. He's shaking with relief, with the last of his horror and shock, and he— He simply needs a moment to breathe, to clear the rush of thoughts tangled in his head.
Theo licks his lips to taste the tang of blood and feel the sting, which somehow feels more real than that moment in Snape's office. It was official — Professor Snape was his favourite, and he'd work extra hard in DADA.
Once Miles feels calmer, more composed, he straightens and cards his fingers through his hair. He has his wand now. He can clean himself up— He stares blankly at his hand and can't fathom why he has hold of Theo's wand. He turns to Theo with an even, "Here. This is clearly yours."
"Thank you." And since they're clearly alone now, Theo reaches over and presses a kiss to Miles' mouth.
"We can't—" Miles tears away, a hand fisted in Theo's robes so he doesn't dash off before Miles can finish. "No one is going to be as lenient if we're caught again."
"I know." Theo gestures at the room. "We're completely alone. It's okay."
They are. Unbelievable but true. Miles goes boneless with the realization, resting his forehead against Theo's stomach, arms looped loosely round Theo's waist. "You drive me mad," he whispers. "You make me horribly reckless."
Theo hesitantly strokes his fingers through Miles' hair, marveling at the fact that Miles is allowing the caress. "You don't exactly put my mind right either," Theo says.
"Just." Miles closes his eyes and takes a breath. "Shut up," he sighs, deflating, and holds Theo more tightly.
"You're the one who—" Theo bites his tongue hard to stop himself from tossing another accusation at Miles and chooses to keep stroking Miles' hair.
Miles waits for the insults, for the hexes, for Theo to run again, but Theo falls silent. In the gap, Miles whispers, "I know." He sighs again and soaks in this new thing between them, the last opportunity he'll have before he leaves Hogwarts and— He lets the thought die. It's obvious; there's no reason to state it, not even in the silence of his own thoughts.
Theo waits for Miles to pull away, to yell at him again, but they both remain quiet. Theo remembers that he's got Miles' tie on and pulls it off, looping it around Miles' neck.
"That's—" Miles frowns in dismay as he hastily pulls off his tie. "It was in your mout—Oh, Merlin! You still had this when we were in Snape's office?"
"Apparently," Theo says dryly.
Miles fixes Theo with a narrow look. "Don't be a wanker."
Theo averts his eyes, looking instead at Miles' hair, at his fingers stroking the strands.
Miles captures Theo's hand with a sigh. "We're a mess. It's embarrassing." He stands and gingerly touches Theo's mouth with the tips of his fingers, his pulse rushing once more. "Is this all that needs to be healed?"
Theo swallows and nods. "Yes."
Miles darts in close and takes a short, hard kiss, sucking on Theo's torn lips, pleasure and heat racing through his veins. Then he draws away, presses the tip of his wand to Theo's mouth, and spells away the damage.
Theo presses his hands to Miles' chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes. "What are we doing now?"
"Casting a grooming charm so we look respectable again."
Theo gives Miles an annoyed look. "I meant us. Are we going to go back to annoying each other or fighting? Because I'll probably cry again, and I'm furious I cried at all in the first place."
The nervous, halting movement of Theo's hands on Miles' chest become an annoyance of their own, and he grabs Theo's wrists to keep Theo moderately still. He searches Theo's face, and his voice, when he speaks, is too soft, contains too much. "I thought I'd injured you."
"You did," Theo answers, just as soft. "It just didn't happen to be physically."
Miles is once more rendered silent. He squeezes Theo's hands and can't possibly ignore the weight of that confession. "Do you want—" Miles falters, can't quite form the question, so he ends with, "This?" Before Theo can respond, he lowers his eyes to their hands, digs his nails into Theo's skin, can't believe he's going to confess this so bluntly. "Because I do." He clears his throat, feels unsteady as he continues. "As long as we're discreet, because I can't risk getting caught again."
"I—do," Theo says slowly. "I do want this, whatever this is. I know you leave school in four months, but—it'll be a good four months, right?"
Miles slowly nods. "They'll be brill," he says, voice soft.
"It'll be worth it," Theo promises, and leans forward for a soft kiss.