SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.
Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again...
PRIDE VIII
"Are you moping?"
It's Ethan asking, and there's a note of disbelief in his voice as he approaches, his steps steady and curious.
Harry sniffs. He will not answer that, thank you very much. He is, after all, attempting to scheme just a little bit. It's not his fault that it's slow going.
"You are moping," Ethan announces, when he finally circles around to see where Harry has retreated up to in their living room. He notices things, like when Harry returned from his walkabout and decided that a treat might help to lift his spirits. Maury is good for Harry, because he has a way of sorting things out and in spite of all that he's suffered, still manages to be exceptionally kind where Harry is concerned.
There's a muffled whine from the settee and Harry's tufted hair is sticking up, visible from the far end of the room.
"And don't tell me that you aren't." Ethan says.
Harry is sprawled out on the settee, staring up at the blank ceiling. He's thinking about what his Oret said and wishing that Maury hadn't left already.
Ethan lightly swats him with one of the throw pillows, ignoring Harry's grumbling protest. There's a trail of floating laundry baskets accompanying him into the room. He'd paused in the middle of the chore to check on Harry after a slight tug on the muted Bond.
It'd felt like Harry was fiddling with it and after several long, agonizing minutes when they didn't open, Ethan huffed and made up his mind to take matters into his own hand.
His conversation starter seems to have grabbed Harry's attention though, because while Harry is not pouting, his green eyes are bright and vibrant. His mind is busy and that's a detail that Ethan tucks away for later thought.
Harry scowls, because there really isn't anything he can say to Ethan, because he is moping. Sort of. In his own way.
Alright—really moping.
It's just that—facing Ethan is only slightly less scarier and largely because Harry knows that if Ethan needs to hug, kiss and cuddle him until he spills his guts, then he'll do it.
Quinn is the main issue for the moment though, and there's no way Harry will seek him out on his own. Oh no. It'll be even worse because right now, the only voice that will be heard—is his.
It doesn't help that he can feel the mental link closed off—on Quinn's side. He hadn't even realized that Quinn had sealed it off when he had.
It's worse, in fact. To draw the conclusion that he's really messed up and that even Quinn with his mental link inside of Harry's head, won't talk to him is a bad feeling.
That thought alone, is eating him up inside.
Harry tentatively brushes his magic against the bonded strands he can feel inside of him. It prompts a visible shudder, because there's so much compacted emotion locked inside of it.
But then Ethan is standing in front of him and Harry looks to see what's the matter.
"Milkshake or smoothie?" Ethan asks. He has two glasses expertly balanced in one hand.
One is a tall, green-glassed specimen showing a vibrant yellow smoothie with red fruit curls garnishing the edges. A neon straw brightens up the drink.
For the milkshake, it's strawberry—not the usual Chocolate Delight that his Merrow makes—and there's plenty of sliced strawberries layered over the top, with a hint of whipped cream. There's a striped straw accompanying it as well.
The sight makes his heart twist, sadly, because it's the kind of snack that Quinn would approve. A fruit-based milkshake and a fruit-loaded smoothie. Either option is relatively good right now, but in spite of his sweet cravings, Harry can't bring himself to pick the milkshake.
Not when Quinn would have made him a smoothie and served him a skewer or two of fruit chunks to round it up to a full 'snack'.
Ethan wiggles the glasses a bit, to draw his attention. The floating laundry baskets settle onto the floor behind him. He'll set them to folding after he's sure that Harry's fine.
In fact, Harry could probably stand to help with some of it, Ethan muses to himself. He's still waiting for Harry to decide which drink he prefers.
"Smoothie," Harry answers at last, reluctantly sitting up. He accepts the treat and starts, faintly, when Ethan drops into the newly vacated space on the settee. He hopes there isn't a lecture to come because he really can't handle that right now. "What?"
"Nothing," Ethan hums, slipping an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him close.
It takes a half-second, but Harry automatically leans into him, head resting on one sturdy shoulder. He sips his smoothie and the glass is only half-full until he's throwing it away and turning straight into Ethan's open arms with a cry.
The glasses are successfully floated away to the coffee table near the center of the room, courtesy of Ethan's quick reflexes.
And Harry is wrapped up in those arms that he's come to desperately crave in times like this. Ethan holds him without comment and zero hesitating as he presses his chin atop Harry's head.
The tears threaten to come and Harry sniffles, trying to keep the third and fourth ones from falling. It's too late to help the first two.
Ethan's fingers on his chin tip his face up and the kiss that follows is sweet and accepting.
It's enough.
The inklings of fear are frozen in place. Harry takes a deep breath, opening the thread of their bond that links him to Theo. He chokes at the instant feedback of warmth that comes surging into him.
A second later, Ethan's bond is open too.
Harry quivers, clutching at those tanned arms as his magic and body reacquaint themselves with familiar sensations.
He can read relief, love and absolute acceptance in Ethan's bond. It's singing happily, glad to be open to him once more. The lack of harsh judgment is somehow, still a surprise, even after all that he knows of them.
"M'sorry," Harry hiccups. He hadn't meant to shut all of them out like that. Right now, it's painfully obvious that doing so has only hurt him.
Not them.
Not that he'd wanted to hurt them.
"Forgiven," Ethan whispers. He kisses the top of Harry's messy head.
"No…" Harry cries, miserably. Because it's just like Ethan to be so good to him. So kind when he doesn't deserve it.
"Shhh," Ethan soothes. He's rather relieved that Harry's finally letting some of the emotions out. It doesn't help to keep things locked up inside. A good cry is always beneficial in one way or another. "Quinn's gone for a run, but-"
"I need to talk to him." Harry says, steadily.
Ethan's eyes gleam. "Shall we stalk him?" he asks, lightly.
Too lightly.
Harry nods. He won't think about the glee in Ethan's voice just yet. He will need all the help he can get right now. "I-I need to."
Ethan winks. "He should come through the backdoor. I would suggest being ready for him, hm?"
Harry brightens. He knows what that means. Ethan often brings Quinn a post-workout smoothie—one of the few things he can actually make—and a fresh towel.
In fact, Harry's seen Quinn blindly accept those two items from either one of his Bonded—without actually paying attention to who is giving them to him.
At this point, he's able to match Ethan's knowing smile. This might work after all.
Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. Ahaha! And that's how you trap a Quinn. Sort of. We'll skip straight to them next chapter. I want to wrap this bit up and the Quinn snippet is going to be NICE. I almost forgot to post this, but here you go. Why am I up this late? No sane reason whatsoever. it's too windy aka, too loud for me to sleep in peace and I can't find my earplugs. Ahem.
Harry is sleeping off his s'mores. Ethan is keeping an eye on him and folding laundry. SO. MUCH. LAUNDRY. :P
THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion