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Author: St Margarets Story: The Frog Prince of Slytherin Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 59 Words: 18,834
"Mr. Nott." Slughorn greeted him jovially enough although he didn't bother to look him in the eye. "Sit, my boy." Theodore sat in a chair that was so low and so soft, he felt he had to look up at Slughorn even though he was much taller. Which was probably the point, he thought cynically. "Professor Flitwick had some trouble with a group of sixth-year Ravenclaws and their – er – luggage," Slughorn said. "Do you know anything about it?" "Luna told me all their things had been taken," Theodore answered truthfully. Slughorn sighed a long, loud sigh that must have come from the bottom of the massive belly. "I don't know which would prove the more tiresome task – trying to get the whole story out of you or trying to teach you some manners. Please use 'sir' or 'Professor' when addressing me." "Sorry, sir." "Mr. Nott, a word of advice," Slughorn said in a smooth voice. "I like to think I have helped all my students along the way – even the ones who were not my favorites – even the ones who did not show great promise. I am –" he waved his pudgy hands, "after all – a teacher interested in the future of the Wizarding world." Theodore suddenly realized that Slughorn loathed him – because his father was a Death Eater. At Theodore's silence, Slughorn continued. "You can either be a leader or a follower in this life, my boy." His eyes narrowed. "You are obviously a follower – but even followers have to make choices now and again." Theodore stonily listened. "The best way," Slughorn said, "is to decide what it is you want. And I'm telling you now that you will never have money or power or peace of mind if you follow in the footsteps of your unfortunate roommates." "I agree, sir," he answered. "Wha – er – yes." Slughorn recovered quickly. "The Headmistress told me that you were not going to be a problem this year because she didn't feel that you were attending Hogwarts out of a sense of rebellion." Theodore didn't know what to reply to that. He was at school because he hadn't finished his course work – that was all. "After all, you can't rebel against someone who doesn't want you." For one ferocious moment, he thought Slughorn was talking about his father – and then Theodore realized that he was talking about the Dark Lord. Slughorn was watching him closely as if to determine if Theodore had been invited to join the Death Eaters. Theodore stared straight ahead, trying not to think about his father. After a short silence, Slughorn changed tactics. "I don't know how much money or power you're capable of amassing." His raised eyebrows suggested 'not much.' "But I can tell you that if you know the right people on the right side, then someone with your limited abilities can flourish." Limited abilities. Theodore tried to keep the scowl off of his face as shifted his attention to the floor. "If you play your cards right and stay out of trouble, perhaps you could convince the right people that you are trustworthy." Slughorn let that statement hang in the air for a moment while Theodore shifted moodily in his chair. "I think that you need to leave Hogwarts." Theodore's head snapped up. Slughorn held up his hand. "No, you're not being expelled. But you are being asked to consider leaving to assuage the worries of some nervous parents. However, Professor McGonagall does not want you to be tempted to join the wrong side." He was being asked to leave. He thought he had more time to make a decision about his future. But now…. Slughorn was still talking. "- A low-level Ministry job. Something with magical creatures? I heard just this week they're looking for a minder for the Quintapeds on the Isle of Drear." Quintapeds were thought to be Transfigured wizards from feuding wizard clans. They needed as much minding as a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Slughorn must think he was an idiot. "The weather's quite harsh north of Scotland," Theodore pointed out. "A young man's job," Slughorn conceded. "But you're a wiry lad – I'm sure you'd do nicely." "What about my classes?" he asked abruptly. "There is a correspondence course," Slughorn answered. He must have been surprised at Theodore's quick acquiescence because he didn't mention the absence of 'sir.' "Right." Theodore would do it. There was nothing keeping him here now that his bargain with Luna was over. "It's a lonely, dangerous job." Slughorn was trying not to look too pleased. "I don't mind." Slughorn ran a finger over his nose and stared off into space. "Yes." He nodded. "Yes, this might solve all of our problems." He stood up. "Mr. Nott, I'll get back to you." Theodore struggled out of the chair. "Oh, yes. One more word of advice." Slughorn lowered his voice. "Leave the Lovegood girl alone. She's another one who is a follower – she's been in several scrapes with the Potter boy. But it's not really her fault. While brilliant, I don't think she's all there." "No!" He stopped at the startled expression on Slughorn's face. "I mean, I disagree, sir. Luna knows her own mind and there's nothing wrong with her." Slughorn waved that away. "At the very least she's eccentric and you don't need that liability in your life right now. Remember, you are being watched and you have to play your cards right." He didn't have any cards, he thought bleakly. Or the ones he had, he didn't like. He didn't bother to answer as he left Slughorn's office. * He didn't go to lunch nor did he try to seek Luna out. After feeding the Thestrals he decided to return to his dormitory. The Quidditch match was about to begin and the dungeon was blissfully quiet. Like any wounded animal, he wanted to be alone and to sleep. It hurt to be asked to leave Hogwarts, but deep down he wasn't surprised. Everyone in the Wizarding world was suspicious of the son of a Death Eater. Still, it did hurt to realize that he was so underestimated by the Head of his own house. While he didn't care what his peers thought of him, it was rather chilling to think that a teacher could only see the equivalent of lighthouse keeper as a possible career path for him. Did that mean all of his options were closed before he had even stepped foot out of Hogwarts? Then there was his long-anticipated kiss from Luna. She hadn't wanted to kiss him at all, he could see that now in hindsight. The only explanation she had given was that she wished he would grow his hair and that he didn't understand…. He sighed and crawled into bed, feeling lower than the day he found out his father had been injured at the Department of Mysteries. He had been so ashamed that his father had tried to kill six of his classmates – and then he had been ashamed for caring more about his own reputation than his father's health. Now, he cared what Luna thought of him and he cared about what he was going to do in the future. He could never join his father, even if his father was on the winning side. That would make Luna unhappy and at some point in the past three days that had became important to him. No one could tell him what to want or what to care about, he reminded himself fiercely. If he wanted to spend his free time feeding depressed Thestrals in defiance of his grandfather, he would. And if he made choices based on what would make Luna happy, then he would do that, too. He still believed what he had told Luna at their first dinner together – there was no point in having intellect or ambition if you couldn't get what you wanted. Why had what he wanted always been as far away as the moon? * Theodore woke up eight hours later. He had slept through lunch and dinner. Perhaps he had been genuinely tired on top of being depressed. Whatever it was, he felt better and he was starving. When he looked in the mirror in the bathroom, he was shocked. Reflected back at him was a wizard with thick brown hair that swept over his forehead and curled at his collar in the back. The charm had worked – eight hours too late. He smirked at his unfamiliar reflection and decided he needed to eat. He visited the elves in the kitchen and ate ravenously. Then he took some raw meat out to the Thestrals. It was a beautiful, frosty night with a bright full moon in the sky. "Watch out, you crazy Mooncalves," he muttered. Returning to the castle across the wide lawn, he felt just as vulnerable as a Mooncalf and also as reckless. The worst possible things had happened: Hogwarts had rejected him and Luna had rejected him. But he was still here – alive and free and not following anyone or anything but the shadow his own body made in the moonlight. His breath made a cloud. His body made a shadow. His mother had wanted him to live. All that had to count for something. The crescent room was calling him. He had never been there on the night of a full moon. Perhaps one of those beautiful Avalon Anarchists would visit him. Then he laughed at himself. Maybe one of those good witches had already visited while he was sleeping. His hair had grown, hadn't it? It took him a long time to make his way to the Astronomy Tower corridor. He wanted to avoid people as much as possible, although he didn't know how many of his peers would recognize him now that his hair was longer. Funny how that one alteration changed everything about his appearance. He didn't look like his father anymore and for that he was glad. He touched the marron and the wall slide open, letting out a puff of cold air. He didn't bother lighting his wand because he could see that the crescent room was bathed in moonlight – and that it was already occupied. Luna was there – seated on the bench with her golden ball, looking out the window. The moonlight made a silvery rectangular patch right in front of her – lighting the rough gray flagstones and the kneeler. She was in profile to him with her loose hair shimmering pale gold and silver. By the droop of her shoulders and the tilt of her head, he could tell she was still feeling melancholy. "Theodore," she said, looking at the golden ball in her hands. "Yes." He took a few steps toward her and stopped, not sure of his welcome. "I –" She rotated the ball around and around in her hands. "I wish…." She turned and faced him. Then she went very still as her eyes opened wide in amazement. "It grew," he said. "That's the magic I was working on in the library." He moved forward and stopped at the edge of the bench. There wasn't a sound in the thick-walled room. "It took a while," he added with a slight smile. He sighed and seated himself on the bench, wondering how long it was going to take Luna to talk. "I've been hunting for Tebo," she said, as if confessing a secret. At his frown, she put her hand on his wrist in appeal. "I've been looking for something I thought was there – I hoped was there." He cleared his throat. "What did you hope was there, Luna?" "You." She dropped the ball in her robe pocket and then covered his hand where she was still gripping his wrist. "I kept getting glimpses – but all I could see was…." "What?" "All I could see was your father – in the Department of Mysteries," she blurted, looking a little frightened. "He chased us and he had this look." She shuddered. "All of the Death Eaters have this look." Theodore knew that look, too – crazed – determined – full of hate. For Luna to think he was like that…. He tried to pull his hand away, but she held fast. "I know – it wasn't fair. You aren't like him at all. I know that. And I could look past how you looked most of the time until…." His heart dropped into his shoes. "Until I kissed you." "Yes." Her hand on top of his looked so white in the moonlight. "I'm not that good, Theodore. For the past three days I've wanted to forgive your father, but I couldn't," she said. She shook her head, her hair picking up strands of light. "I don't want you to forgive him," Theodore said in a hard voice. Always he would be paying for his father's mistakes – first with his place in the Wizarding world, and now with the girl he wanted more than anything. "I was so wrong," she continued with tears standing in her eyes. "I should have known right off because of your name." "Theodore?" "Nott," she answered. "You're not your father. In my heart I knew it, but when I looked at you, I saw him." No wonder she wanted his hair to be different. He sighed and tilted his head to stare at the blackness that was the ceiling. If he blinked really hard, then he could stuff away how he was feeling – maybe forever. "Now you look like yourself." "I'm not much of an improvement on my father," he said. Luna had shown him that bitter truth at least. "My roommates…" Luna said, ignoring him, "noticed you weren't at lunch or dinner. They wondered what had happened to my boyfriend." She caressed his hand, sending sensations all through his body. "They were so happy I was unhappy," she said in a bewildered voice. "You were never like that toward me." He wanted revenge on her roommates all over again. It was all he could do not to reach for his wand and start hexing things. "Your roommates –" "They told me you were in trouble for playing that trick on them and were being expelled. I asked Professor Flitwick and he said no – so I knew you were in the school somewhere." "I didn't get in trouble," he assured her. "But Slughorn wants me to leave before I do cause trouble." He shrugged. "Take the Wizarding Correspondence Course and be the minder of the Quintapeds." "Quintapeds?" She frowned. "They're Transfigured wizards on that island in the north, aren't they?" she asked. "They don't need minding. It's a useless job and I'm just the wizard for it." "You're not useless," she whispered, caressing his hand again. "You got me back my golden ball." "I don't think I can make a career out of that." "I don't know anything about careers," Luna said. "Although I think they may be overrated." "Let's hope so," he said with a sigh. They were quiet together again, but this time he relaxed. Luna wasn't pulling away from him nor was she humming and looking off into space. She was leaning against him and stroking his hand. "Where were you today?" she asked. "Sleeping." "I missed you." At her words, a jolt of warmth pierced his stomach and then spread through his body. He was so stupid to hope. "You had all of lunch and all of dinner to yourself," he answered lightly. "I never minded sharing." They lapsed into silence again. Was this an ending or a beginning? He didn't dare look at her for the answer. It was enough to sit in the crescent room filled with moonlight. Tomorrow the silver light would be gone from this room and so would Luna, but for now he would keep her next to him for as long as he could. "Um." He cleared his throat again. "What was all that about with that Horatio bloke?" She sighed and laid her forehead on his upper arm. "It's about Tebos and Wrackspurts and Dimiguises and Thestrals – things in life we can't see but we know are there and then are slowly revealed." She looked up at him. "Like you." "Do I make your brain go all fuzzy like a Wrackspurt?" he asked, not knowing if he was teasing or serious. "Yes." His stomach did a little flip. Maybe. He let himself hope. Maybe she did like him a little. She was still staring at him with that soft, candid gaze. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He slowly moved to kiss her. There was that familiar whiff of vanilla and the warm cushiony feel of her lips and then she kissed him back ever so tentatively. She really didn't know how to kiss at all and he felt as if the slightest bit of pressure on his part would scare her off, but he didn't care. He was in heaven – she was kissing him back. His patience was rewarded when he felt her touch his shoulder. He gathered her in his arms, loving the feel of her warm weight against his chest. Then she put her hand on the back of his neck and opened her mouth. More heaven. He was as close to her as he had ever been to anyone. He could taste her and smell her and feel her in his arms. He could hear her breathy gasps in between kisses. It was enough to make his brain go all fuzzy. She wanted to be just as close. She wouldn't let him pull away as her hands roved under the collar of his shirt and up in his hair. They both must have fuzzy brains – but they were together. Together was so much better than alone. "I like this frog kissing," she said when he finally released her mouth. He laughed. "It's called French kissing." Then he tightened his hold on her waist. She probably knew that. "I don't think the French like to be called frogs." "Oh?" She said dreamily. "I thought that since you swim like a frog, you also kissed like a frog. You do both really well. And I like the way you kiss." It was funny to hear her say that so baldly – but nice, too. "If you're happy, Luna, I'm happy." "I am," she answered, putting her hand on his chest. "I am." * In the subsequent days, Luna shared her meals with him at the Ravenclaw table, she spent all of her free time with him, and she kissed him. The conditions he had laid out for retrieving her golden ball were now an integral part of their relationship. They endured stares and whispers and giggles, since theirs was not a typical Hogwarts courtship. His fellow Slytherins asked how he could go out with someone so obviously daft. Her fellow Ravenclaws asked her how she could go out with someone who was so obviously into Dark Magic that he made his hair grow overnight. Ginny wanted to know why Luna had taken to wearing a long string of gold and silver crescents in her hair. Luna wanted to know why he didn't want to wear strings of crescents in his hair. Theodore questioned none of it. He knew their time together was short, so he was content to observe her ways and to bask in her affection. Luna was a very affectionate girl – although she never bothered to hold hands or flirt or toss her hair like any other Hogwarts witch. Instead, she would stand up and wave like mad whenever she spotted him across the Great Hall or the library or wherever they happened to meet. When they were sitting together, she liked to slip her hand under his shirt and rest it in the hollow under his collar bone. In amusing yet endearing Luna logic, she wouldn't kiss him in public, since that was something she only did with him. Only with him. He made sure they had plenty of time alone together. * The time to talk of parting came the following Sunday. When breakfast was over, he walked with Luna to the Entrance Hall and stopped in front of the painting that had been deserted by its inhabitants. "What do you want to do today?" Luna asked. She was wearing her feathers again and her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed. "I want to tell you something," he answered. "Okay." She looked at the landscape and hugged herself nervously. "Slughorn got the position on the Isle of Drear for me." "So soon?" The sparkle dimmed in her eyes. He nodded and swallowed. "I shouldn't have come back this year. But…." She dropped her arms and stepped closer to him. "But you had to meet me." He laughed and hugged her carefully since those crescents could be sharp. "I reckon I did." "I'll go with you," she said promptly. He pulled back with his hands on her upper arms. "You will not." "You'll be lonely otherwise." Now he could see how Luna had entangled herself in Harry Potter's affairs. If she decided she was needed, there was no stopping her. "Luna, you have almost two years of school to finish. I just have seventh year. I can take the correspondence course with no problem," he said reasonably. Of course, reason didn't work with Luna. "Quintapeds would make a brilliant Transfiguration project," she murmured. "Luna." "Daddy could do an article about it for the paper," she continued thoughtfully. "Daddy would lose his mind if his underage daughter left school to play house with the son of a Death Eater," he retorted sharply. "And I can't say I'd blame him." "I would be dreadful at playing house," she said solemnly. "I can't cook." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, and then was side-tracked by the fact that he had hair at all. That made him laugh at first and then sigh in resignation. "No, I reckon you can't cook." "I always get distracted," she said equably. Then she brightened. "But I can make beds." Luna in a bed…. He swallowed. Bad idea. A very bad idea. "You have to stay at school." "You'll be so alone," she said, looking troubled. "Like a marron." "No." He smiled as he realized what he could tell her. "No, I won't be an outcast. It will be my kingdom." Her eyes widened. "Maybe it's not the land a prince would claim at first glance –" She rushed to put her arms around his waist. "You'll be such a frog prince." He laughed. "I'd rather be known for my frog kissing – but if you say so…." "I do." She was adorably serious. "So you can see why I can't let any Avalonian Anarchists into my kingdom." He touched the tip of her nose. Like any good anarchist, she ignored her own no-kissing-in-public rule. * The next morning, Theodore left for his new post as caretaker for the Isle of Drear. Luna met him in the Entrance Hall in front of the painting of the desolate landscape. He didn't know what to say to her, so he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "That looks like my kingdom," he remarked, pointing to the gray and black painting. "Sanctuary," Luna said. "What?" "Sanctuary for Harry if he needs it." She smiled at him, her eyes looking very blue in the morning light. "How did you know I was trying to think of a way to help Potter?" "Because of your name," she said dreamily. She had said that to him before. "Nott?" "Your first name," she answered. Then she added at the frown on his face, "Theodore. Gift of God." There were a lot of things he could do with that statement. He could pretend to strut around like Draco Malfoy. He could scoff and be embarrassed. Or he could really think about what Luna was trying to tell him in their last few minutes together. Life was a gift. He realized that now. She was telling him that his life was a gift to her – and maybe to others sometime in the future. But if he accepted that, then he would have to let go of all his excuses, he would have to take a stand, he would have to change. He tried one last-ditch effort to get out of it. "I'm a Slytherin. We're usually on our own side and we're not known for our gifts." "That's what we've been taught," she agreed calmly. Felicity is happiness. Laurel is victory. Theodore is a gift from God. "There's more between Heaven and Earth…." she continued. It was frightening to realize how important she had become to him and how he never wanted to fail her. "I know," he said impatiently. "Horatio might be convinced, but what about everyone else? How will Potter know that I'm not on the other side? And how will he know where to find me?" "I will write to him," she said absently. "But –" "Theodore, you've been hunting Tebo since you were a boy." It was no use, she was on to him. Always he had longed for those invisible things – love and acceptance and happiness – and there was no reason to stop hoping now. His answer was to trace a crescent on her cheek with his finger. "Lovegood. That's what you are to me." Her eyes filled with tears and she hugged him tightly. As he turned to leave, he noticed that the painting had changed. There was a hint of pearly green in the dawn sky and one bush in the corner had begun to sprout leaves. He wasn't sure what it was, but if his hunch was correct it was a good omen. "Luna," he asked, his heart beating faster. "What is that?" She bent to examine the only splash of green in the painting, and then smiled at him over her shoulder. "Laurel," she answered. "It's laurel." One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.
Thanks to all of you who have been sailing these small, experimental ships with me lately. I really appreciate all of your support!
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