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Heir Theodore Nott glances up from where he’s leaning against a tree on the Nott Estate as he feels his familiar approach. He sets aside his book. Ajax, his purebred Crup, trots toward him, ears pricked high, both of his tails wagging energetically, radiating self-satisfaction and accomplishment.
There’s a smear near Ajax’s mouth, a muddy red against the white of his fur, which doesn’t match his auburn markings. It’s almost like … but why would Ajax have blood on his fur? He’s directly bound to Theo, soul and magic. It should be impossible for him to be injured while under the protection of the family wards.
“Ajax, what—?”
Ajax stops before him, opens his mouth, and drops a dead rat in Theo’s lap. It’s gray, though balding, unusual in magical rats. Its neck is visibly broken and blood still sluggishly spills from where Ajax tore it open with his teeth.
“What in Merlin’s name?” Theo mutters.
Ajax is a familiar, not a hunting dog. He’s certainly not a ratter. He’s never once killed an animal and brought it to Theo before. Crups are notoriously protective of their owners, though. What, in all of Avalon, could a rat have possibly done to—? Wait. A rat.
Theo inspects the rat’s front paws. His breath hitches. “It’s missing a toe.”
He picks up the rat with shaking hands, uncaring of the sticky, cooling blood it leaves on his bare skin. He has to be certain before he presents— Theo turns its tiny, mangled body in the sunlight, casting several cleaning charms on it in the process. It’s not bleeding from its front paw. Ajax isn’t responsible for the missing toe. He casts a spell that can identify an Animagus and the rat glows. This is … by Mordred the Betrayer, this is—
Theo rips his gaze away from the dead rat to stare at Ajax. “You caught and killed Pettigrew,” he whispers, awed.
Ajax barks and rubs his blood-stained muzzle against Theo’s arm. Their familiar bond floods with love, which Theo returns equally.
The laughter that spills from Theo’s lips is unhinged. He’s been searching for the wretched traitor ever since Lord Harry Potter swore on his honor that he would bond with whoever brought him Peter Pettigrew, the wizard who betrayed his parents to their deaths. Theo has performed countless rituals, cast hundreds of spells, and researched obscure tomes. He has done everything within his power, or within the power of anyone who owes himself, personally, or the Cunning and Most Ancient House of Nott collectively, fealty.
And, in the end, he’s not even the one who found and killed the traitor. No, his beloved familiar has claimed that honor. Theo has always appreciated his familiar; now, after this, after Ajax has brought him this gift beyond measure, he will treasure the Crup.
Because Theo’s love for Harry is a feral, possessive beast inside him. And now, finally, he can speak it into existence without being instantly refused, which has happened to every other person who has attempted to court Lord Harry Potter without offering Pettigrew’s body—dead or alive—as the first courtship gift.
“I’m honored to be your wizard, Ajax,” Theo says.
Ajax barks, tongue lolling out of his mouth as Theo vigorously pets his head.
Theo is the Heir of the Cunning and Most Ancient House of Nott. He’s unaccustomed to being denied anything. If there’s something that money cannot acquire, he’s intelligent enough to find another way to make whatever has captured his interest his.
Except Harry.
Pettigrew was the only possible method, and now— Theo grins, his magic thrumming with wicked delight and triumph. Harry will be his. Harry will offer him the unrelenting devotion of a Potter’s heart as soon as Theo gifts him Pettigrew’s corpse and—
“I have to go,” Theo says, unwilling to remain apart from the pureblood wizard he loves a moment longer, now that he has the means by which to secure himself the only lord-husband he has ever desired.
Theo Disapparates, reappearing outside the elaborate gates of the grounds surrounding Potter Manor. His hands shake with excitement. Hunger and fervor burn inside of him. What will Harry’s lips taste like? What will Theo’s given name sound like when spoken in Harry’s voice? Will Harry allow them to bond today in the Ancient Ways under the Olde Magick? Will—?
A house-elf in a crimson tunic with the Potter family crest on it appears in front of the gates without a sound. “What can Lagnor be—?” The house-elf pauses, staring at the dead rat clutched in Theo’s fist, and then grabs Theo by the wrist, states implacably, “Heir Nott be coming with Lagnor,” and pops Theo into the middle of what must be Harry’s private suite.
Harry’s wild black hair hangs to his shoulders, not yet tied back for the day as is customary for a pureblood Lord. He’s wearing a pair of trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, neither of which are formal enough for receiving guests, let alone one of Theo’s status. His feet are bare. His green eyes, which all of Avalon knows he inherited from his New Blood mother who saved his life with a White Magic Ritual, pierce Theo. Yet, it’s the holly wand pointed right at Theo, that appeared in Harry’s hand as soon as Theo arrived in the room, that has Theo’s pulse racing.
To a Nott, that type of instinctive threat in self-defense is unbearably attractive.
“Heir Nott,” Harry greets, his magic coiled threateningly around him even as he inclines his head the slightest bit without once allowing his vision to be obscured.
Theo wants so viciously that it hurts.
“I believe you mean Lord-Consort Potter,” Theo corrects as he shifts his grip and swings Pettigrew’s corpse by his worm tail.
Harry, impressively, improbably, only spares the rat a moment’s glance before returning his attention to Theo. “Lagnor,” Harry bites out.
Lagnor tugs the rat from Theo’s grasp, sets it on the floor, and snaps his fingers. The dead rat shifts, turning into a pudgy, balding corpse with a face that’s infamous, seeing as it has featured on thousands of Wanted posters over the past two decades. “It’s being the traitor, Master.”
Harry’s wand vanishes back into its holster-cuff. He rises from the chaise he’s sprawled on like a predator hunting prey, closing the distance between them. His green eyes burn up at Theo as he grabs Theo by his dark brown curls, declaring, “I love you,” before dragging Theo into an avaricious kiss that’s relentless.
Theo kisses back fiercely and revels in having won his Potter’s devotion.