The Luck of Little Hangleton by Pipenerd (2006)
Written for the 2006 Dark Lord WishFest.
Prompt: "...a romantic situation where Tom/Harry make love in a forest on Midsummer's Eve, then afterwards Tom softly recites Sonnet 18 by Shakespeare to Harry. I do not mind what the rating is as long as the love between Tom and Harry is evident..."
Thanks to: Sabrina Numair, most patient of Betas, and Mr. Pipenerd, who played Kit Marlowe to my Will Shakespeare during the writing of this fic.
Pairs: Harry/Tom (Lord Voldemort), Hermione/Ron.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created and owns Harry Potter. looks in mirror Nope, not her. Rights are held by JKR, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic. Warner Brothers and goodness knows who else. If the fans had copyright, the series would be much more interesting! Not profiting, just enjoying.
Harry sat in the review stand in the village square next to Daphne. So far, he'd met the Treasurer, the Police Chief, the Village Secretary, the President of the Village Merchant Association, the Director of the Village Players and the Chairman of the local Agricultural Society. If all the business owners who had given him their cards actually bought him a pint as promised after the parade, he wouldn't be able to walk for a week.
Tom and John Coats had been gone for nearly two hours. Harry was trying hard not to worry. His mind had been linked to Tom's for so long, he'd grown used to sharing his feelings and thoughts. For at least the past hour, that reassuring presence had been completely absent. He imagined a crazy farmer with a double-barrelled shotgun ordering them off his property. He imagined a smoking crater filled with swirling clouds of poisonous gas. He imagined police at a road blockade demanding identification from an irate Dark wizard. Harry was not enjoying himself.
The stream of costumed school children, dancers, brass bands and uniformed veterans seemed to have trickled to an end. The crowd was waiting with suppressed excitement. Harry could hear men shouting in the distance. As the sounds louder, a cluster of men dressed as medieval warriors appeared at each end of the street. The gathered crowd broke into cheers as the two groups approached the square.
Marching from the east end of the street, the warriors wore red and gold surcoats with a golden lion emblazoned in the centre. They accompanied a helmeted King crowned with a wreath of green oak leaves. The warriors who marched from the west were dressed in silver and green livery. A silver knotwork serpent was their crest and their King was crowned with a wreath of evergreen holly.
"Why are they dressed like that?" Harry asked Daphne, his heart pounding as if on the brink of a revelation. He had to shout to make himself heard over all the noise.
"It's a tradition that goes back to the Middle Ages," she answered. "They're going to fight to see which will rule the next half of the year. You should talk to my son. Cassidy is reading history at University. He can tell you all about it."
As she spoke, the warriors fanned out behind the Kings, who, Harry noticed, were armed with staves. The Kings turned to the review stand and bowed, then turned to each other and bowed again. A roar came from the crowd as the two Kings faced each other and the Oak King lunged with the point of his quarterstaff. The Holly King blocked and reached over his opponent's guard, landing a blow on his shoulder. The Oak King attempted a low, sweeping attack that was easily blocked. They advanced and retreated across the square, staves clattering as they hit. The shouts of the warriors and the encouragement from the crowd were deafening.
"Is the winner predetermined?" Daphne looked at him, pointed to her ear and shook her head, laughing. Harry leaned closer and repeated the question so she could hear.
"The Holly King is supposed to win at Midsummer and the Oak King at Yule," she explained. "The fight is scripted, but sometimes the men get high-spirited. Anything can happen!"
There was a groan from the spectators as the Holly King fell. But the Oak King was clumsy in pressing his advantage and the Holly King jabbed him in the ribs with his staff. Rising quickly to his feet, the Holly King struck his struggling adversary about the shoulders. There was a ringing blow to the Oak King's helmet and he sprawled to the ground.
The crowd went wild as the Holly King helped the Oak King to his feet and embraced him like a brother. Harry joined in the wild applause as their warriors hoisted the Kings on their shoulders and carried them around the village square.
"What happens now?" he asked Daphne over the cheers.
"Now," said Daphne, joining in the enthusiastic applause, "the victor will be rewarded!" She and Harry rose with the other village notables and began to descend to the square.
There was a disturbance from the east end of the street and a murmur ran through the crowd. Suddenly, a group of men on horseback appeared, riding toward them.
"Who are these guys?" Harry asked with interest.
Daphne shook her head and frowned. "Harry, I have no idea."
A/N: Since everyone knows where "like a brother" comes from, I don't see a real need to cite the book and page.