Chapter Text
The moment he saw his father, Theo knew he was soon to be claimed. Father had not paid him a visit since the night he gave Theo, newly presented as an omega, to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord in turn offered Theo as a prize to whoever proved most helpful in capturing Harry Potter. Father had walked him back to his rooms, and Theo had seen only the elves since.
He desperately hoped he was not to be Greyback’s. Anyone else he could endure – he would endure, for Felicity’s sake – but Greyback combined all the worst traits of the others put together with the added promise of making all of Theo’s children werewolves, and then, once Theo proved incapable of bearing further children and the threat to his fertility was no longer a concern, finally biting Theo as well.
“The Dark Lord is dead,” said Father with dull eyes. He’d not yet reconciled himself to the fact that such a thing had proven possible, Theo could tell. “You are to be given to Potter as the final peace offering.”
Potter. That was a surprise, and considering the list of possible alphas Theo had known for the last months, not one he was inclined to disdain. Admittedly, he previously would have found a half-blood inferior, but as it happened, losing one’s personhood inevitably changed one’s perspective on such matters. All he cared about was that he was not to be Greyback’s, nor given to any of the Lestranges, who enjoyed the Cruciatus Curse more than Theo expected would be good for his health.
Yes, it could have been much worse.
Moreover, Potter would have immense social influence. If Theo pleased him well enough, it was possible that Potter could be enticed to share some crumb of favor with Felicity, and that would make all the difference in her prospects.
Theo would do his utmost to please Potter and secure Felicity’s future. His own freedom and happiness were forfeit the moment he presented as an omega. His cousin’s ought not to be ruined because her uncle made the poor choice of pledging his life to a dark lord.
“When am I to be given?” he asked. It was the only acceptable reply to Father’s statement.
“Tonight. The elves will prepare you.”
Father turned, and Theo saw two aurors standing behind him. One of them asked Father, “Aren’t you going to allow him the traditional request?”
Traditional, she called it. Allowing an omega to request three items from their family home had only become common practice in the last two or three centuries. Osric Nott, as in nearly every other aspect of his life, followed much older tradition, meaning that the omega was given to their alpha with nothing but the robe and slippers they wore.
However, facing blatant disapproval from the aurors, Father was not about to make his own life more difficult, even if he had to swallow his displeasure to do it. “What will you request?”
Theo had not considered this because he’d known it was not an option, and it had hardly mattered either way, as he doubted any of the Death Eaters would have permitted him to keep belongings. Potter might be permissive enough. Theo didn’t know him well enough to say.
He did know he could not ask for anything of great value, so he thought quickly and decided on a request likely to be deemed reasonable by the aurors and thus one to which Father would be forced to accede. “I ask to select three of Mother’s books.”
Father, having no other choice if the aurors’ expressions were anything to go by, said, “Granted.”
And so Theo found himself allowed outside of his own rooms for the first time since that night when he was given to the Dark Lord and promptly offered up as a prize to show the Dark Lord’s favor. He followed his father and the aurors to Mother’s rooms and the bookshelf where she had kept the books she liked best, and even still, he refused to allow himself optimism. Potter was unlikely to burn the books – Granger would never forgive him such an act – but there was no guarantee he would permit Theo to keep them, either.
He selected Mother’s favorite volume of poetry, her hand-annotated arithmancy compendium, and a history of magic in the British Isles. The female auror took them, and asked Father where Theo’s wand was, as that, too, had to be turned over to Potter. As much as Father would have liked to have snapped Theo’s wand himself, it was an honor reserved for the claiming alpha.
“You will be ready in six hours,” Father informed him. “You will take the first potion in four.”
“I will give no cause for complaint.”
Theo had nothing left but the dignity of comporting himself properly for his station in life, and he would not cede that.