Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series.
Warnings: slash, meaning boyxboy
Wilting Lilies
It was just after school one Friday afternoon. The excited crowds of children couldn't leave fast enough in rapidly wriggling masses, their weekend plans starting with an unhealthy snack in front of the telly once they got home. But a lone child was not on his way to his house down Elk Lane. Instead, he was walking to the public library, the closest one to his school. You see, his dad, one James Potter, a man just barely reaching his thirties yet his hair, a deep chestnut brown a few years ago, was already peppered with hints of white, was a bit, or rather a lot, out of sorts lately, as in the past year. Understandable, since his wife had unfortunately fallen victim to disease shortly after Harry turned five. Try as they might, Remus and Sirius could not seem to get their dear friend out of his depression. It wasn't until Harry became involved that James finally came to. He tried to become more involved in his job as a police officer and his son's life to try and forget about the ever present ache in his heart ever since Lily left. Though Harry could tell his Daddy was doing his absolute best to make him happy, at age six, even he could tell there was a lingering sadness in his tawny eyes. And Finally, with a capital F, his godfather and pseudo-uncle were able convince James to delve into other activities besides working. After much debate, he relented and joined the town's adult football, or soccer, league along with Sirius, Remus bowing out, saying he was rather busy with his new position as a professor at the local university.
Well, back to the point. This was the reason why Harry was now opening the old wooden doors to High Elm Public Library. Peaking his head in, a curious mop of black hair looked around before stepping in. Shutting the door as quietly as he could, which wasn't much since it creaked a great deal, Harry glanced in every direction before deciding to pick out a book to read. His Uncle Remus wouldn't be here for a while since his class ended at four today. He bypassed the easy section of the children's area, stopping in front of the chapter books. His Mommy and Uncle Remus had cultivated an interest in reading in him when he was little and was immensely proud whenever he asked to check out a book, especially so if it was complex for his age. Although Sirius always accused them of turning his precious godson into a machine that would rather read than play ball, Harry would overhear him bragging to others that his little "Prongslet" could read such high-level books that even he, a grown man, had difficulty understanding. Now that was an exaggeration, but sometimes, or most of the time actually, scratch that, all of the time, Snape, another figure who Harry considered family, much to the dismay of James and Sirius whenever he called him Uncle Sev, but the softening of his usually cold coal eyes were worth it, even if the smug smile he shot the two, more impulsive of the Maruaders usually ended in another fight, would call the grey-eyed man up on his intelligence, saying that it wasn't much of an achievement because anyone, even a two year old, had a higher reading level than Sirius. This would inevitably lead to one of their infamous verbal brawls, which would only end when Harry pulled out the puppy dog eyes. After they stop, Snape would pull him aside and hand over a book after Harry promised he would discuss it with him the next time the dark-haired man came over.
The library was fairly empty except for the occasional teen at the local high school. Most adults were still at work around this time and those who weren't preferred to stay home after a long day. Spending several minutes staring at the tall wall of books, Harry picked up the Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, a novel that he heard Remus mentioning multiple times before. It was really thick and would undoubtedly take him a long while to read, but he hoped it would be worth it by the end. Hugging the book to his chest, Harry walked to the back of the library where the afternoon sun would shine down at the perfect angle to stream light into the windows. He just wanted to sink into the surprisingly comfy armchairs and crack open his book, feet off the ground with a book on his lap.
Harry stopped short when he saw another boy sitting by the window. Granted, he was at a table, but the armchairs were rather close, and Harry really didn't fancy being around other people, which was a reason why his dad was concerned about his social life but he tended to forget about it since his son was happy most of the time. Harry debated whether he should risk the discomfort and settle into the plush, dark blue chair or trek back to the front of the library where there were plenty of vacant tables. Just as he was about to take a step back, the other boy looked up from his work and stared right into his eyes. Harry froze as razor sharp blue pierced through his soul. He had dusty brown hair and a classically handsome face. Although he couldn't be more than fifteen, he had such awareness in the way others viewed him and how he presented himself that it was beyond his years. There was a cold intelligence gleaming in those equally freezing eyes, but there was also a hint of danger in them, like he knew all of your secrets and wouldn't hesitate to exploit them. Harry swallowed nervously, suspicious that the teen noticed the movement.
A fine eyebrow was raised before the other turned his attention back to his work, the sound of lead scratching against paper filling the otherwise silent air. Harry glanced warily at the diligent student before shuffling awkwardly to the seat, gingerly sitting down on the armchair situated across the table. Opening his book, he tensely stared at the pages, breath hitching softly when a pencil paused ever so slightly in its course before moving again. Harry let out a quiet sigh, concentrating on the book. The two new companions continued to complete their own business, never taking a break in between, no curious glances were shared, too immersed in their own worlds to care about their newfound intimacy.
This idea actually came to me when I thought about what it would be like for a hospital to be forced to shut down with its patients still inside, and it's been on my mind since. I'll probably change the rating later because this story will cover about an 11 year period, and I don't think older Tom will be content with having just an emotional relationship with Harry. 'Til next time! - Aldira