Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Before the Clock Strikes 12 (Theseus Scamander)

Remember when I said I wanted to write a When the Clock Strikes 12 au for Theseus? Well, here it is. 

Although, a bit of warning here, it's now canon knowledge that Theseus is 8/9 years older than Newt but for this one to be able to work without the age difference being too much, I've kept him as being 3 years older than Newt, as I had headcanoned in When the Clock Strikes 12. Just for this one shot, imagine the Scamander brothers having a smaller age gap

Now onto the story - which is unedited (I mean, by this point, that's kind of a given for me). Be sure to leave a lot of comments - I've got a 4 hour long car journey tomorrow so it'll help me stay entertained ~ 

Also, a bit of a silly author's message at the end for anyone interested 

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The older I became, the worse my days were. And the worse my days were, the worse my episodes became and the worse the episodes became, the longer it took for me to recover. That was the life I lived.

Curled up on my side, tucked away in my bed and waiting for my heartbeat to once more fall into a steady beat, my eyes were locked onto the clock as it ticked past midnight. The more time past, the better I could breathe. I felt more alive and almost as if I wasn't ill. Almost.

Releasing a shuddering breath, I reached a shaking hand to my forehead to wipe the sweat away from my forehead. Distantly, as my ears stopped ringing, they picked up on the sound of my mother smothering her tears into her palms. She was in her usual spot, tucked away in the corner of my bedroom with my father's arms wrapped around her. As time continued to tick by, my ears lingered on the quiet murmur of 'Thank Merlin' coming from the foot of my bed. My eyes shifted then, off from the clock and towards the man who had risen from his spot to kneel before me.

Theseus, offering me a gentle smile that I tried to mirror, hid the way I knew he wanted to frown when I couldn't. Instead, he breathed out shakily as if he hadn't breathed since the clock approached midnight. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he withdrew his napkin and wiped softly at the cold sweat on my forehead. A while back – perhaps even a year ago, I would have batted at his hand because I couldn't let him show his care so obviously for me. We had been through this routine so often that I allowed it of him.

My voice, croaky from disuse, stung slightly as I asked, "Aren't you supposed to be tending to business in the Ministry?"

"How could I miss your birthday?" he asked, summoning a glass and casting an Augamenti. I searched his eyes for a moment; he really cared too much, choosing to skip out on a work priority in case I happened to miss my 19th birthday.

"This is quite the start to my birthday," I murmured, watching as my parents walked out of the room with a promise to bring in my birthday cake. I watched them leave with a sad smile; how could I tell them that I didn't have the strength to blow out 19 birthday candles.

Theseus remained, he always did, and when my eyes sought his out once more, I found his already waiting. Good Helga, what had I done to deserve this – his love?

Placing the glass of water on my bedside table, Theseus asked, "Do you want to sit up to have a drink?"

"Please."

He complied, lifting and folding the duvet back so I could sit up. Shaking arms pressed palm down against the mattress, I tried to prop myself up. It was too close to midnight still for the strength to flood through me once more. He was there in a heartbeat, an arm around my shoulder and the other propping my pillow against the headboard. Theseus did most of the manoeuvring as I struggled to sit. Finally, leaning against my pillow, I reached eagerly for the glass of water and drained it so quickly that my stomach hurt a little. Handing the glass back to Theseus, I noticed just the way he was looking at me, or rather the way he wasn't quite looking at me.