000
Storming Skies
It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament. Gokudera/Harry.
000
Chapter Eleven
That which has been Lost
000
Harry's stomach growling finally prompted Hayato to stop clinging to him in time for them to go to dinner. The Italian was red faced and thoroughly embarrassed for keeping Harry to himself for the whole day and forcing him to miss lunch simply because he was too pathetic enough to deal with his own emotions. He told him that the next time it happened he should just leave him, really, they used to do it back home he got over it in his own time perfectly fine.
The expression of horror that painted itself across Harry's face took him aback for a moment.
"That's horrible," he blurted before shaking his head with a frown, "Besides, I can't leave you. We're still bound, remember? And I wouldn't anyway. That's just – who just abandons their friend in the middle of a panic attack?" he demanded with a scowl.
Hayato squeaked a little, he wanted to defend Juudaime but at the same time the fact that Tesoro was so upset that someone wasn't treating him well warmed him right down to his toes! He lunged forward and dragged the smaller boy into a tight hug. He grunted a little in surprise but, like an ill-tempered and thoroughly fed up cat, he acquiesced to the affection and grudgingly patted his arms and let the taller boy cling to him.
It wasn't that he was starting to like the affection.
Hayato was just warm. Really warm. It was actually kind of strange. Harry would have been concerned that he was running a fever, what with his cheeks being flushed so often along with the increased temperature, but Madam Pomfrey would have been all over that like Ron on an unguarded bacon sandwich. So he could only assume that it was just something natural and unique to Hayato. It didn't seem to be hurting him, thankfully.
He squirmed irritably when Hayato showed no intention of letting go, and it was only with the greatest air of reluctance that the Italian loosened his grip enough for the Gryffindor to wriggle free. Together the pair made their way into the Great Hall, Harry stewing over the fact that Hayato's friends seemed to have no problem with leaving him huddled on the floor while he freaked out and temporarily forgot how to bloody breathe, and Hayato on cloud nine that Harry cared about him practically floating along in his wake practically sparkling with euphoria. The giggles of the assorted girls who spotted them as they came in did not improve Harry's mood, and only made them giggle harder as his scowl darkened.
Hermione's face shone with relief as she spotted them, "Hayato, are you okay?" she asked, immediately moving over to make space for the two of them to sit down between her and Lavender.
He nodded, "Yes, Tesoro took good care of me," he beamed as he sat down, Harry scoffing under his breath as he followed suit and glowered moodily at his plate, appetite abandoning him in his irritation.
"Did Madam Pomfrey figure out what was wrong?" she asked as the Italian eagerly began to dish himself out some tomato, basil, and four cheese pastabake from the pan in front of him, and then enthusiastically added some to a plate and practically gushed at Harry about how amazing it was and he had to try it.
Hayato nodded, making sure Harry had at least taken a mouthful before answering her question, "Poor constitution. Apparently it's pretty common in Purebloods. Guess my hair colour wasn't the only thing I inherited from my mother," he admitted with a half-hearted grin before his face lit up, spotting stone-baked garlic bread laid out neatly within reaching distance, "Mio Dio! Tesoro, Tesoro, you have to try this! Stone baked garlic bread!" he enthused, lifting several slices and eagerly digging in, pushing one in his direction.
Was this him, yet again, subtly trying to feed his true love up? Yes.
He had clearly gone about it the wrong way this morning, it had left Harry irritated, short, and still without having eaten much. Now, at least, he was trying what Hayato was pushing towards him. He just had to offer small amounts and often, and always with enthusiasm. As if he were just sharing what he really liked with Tesoro, which he was, but he did have alternative motivations for it. He just wasn't going to tell Tesoro about them, because then he would get upset and not eat anymo– was that a bowl of Risotto alla Milanese? And a plate of Braciola? A pan of Osso Buco?!
Holy fuck! He had to find the chef later and give them his profuse thanks.
As lovely and mouth wateringly delicious as Maman's home-cooked bento was (when she was kind enough to make some), he had sorely missed Italian food. Missed the explosions of flavour and the tang of wine and good hearty red meats that the Japanese frowned on – having for many years prior to modernization believed that red meat was both improper and unhealthy. Then there was the whole Buddhism thing, add to that Japan was too mountainous, and their farm-land too sparse for extensive livestock livery such as the American cattle-herds, or even the fields of sheep that England and Scotland were famous for.
Completely forgetting Harry for a moment, he dove on the familiar and much missed foods of his home-country and helped himself to very generous portions with the enthusiasm and appetite only a teenage boy could muster. Harry's eyes widened a little in surprise as Hayato got himself several Ron sized portions of food with an expression of utter delight. Thankfully his table manners were infinitely better than the red head's and Harry didn't end up having to shield his plate, look away, or anything really but eye the collection of foods he had practically jumped on.
A pan of what looked like lamb-shanks but wasn't, smothered in rich gravy with herbs scattered across it. It smelt amazing, he would give it that, and the speed that Hayato had spooned himself three of the shanks at put Ron at his most ravenous to shame so he could only assume they tasted amazing too. A plate of what looked like beef wrapped around various herbs, nuts, and melted cheese into a kind of meat bun smothered in tomato sauce – and not the ketchup kind of sauce, but actual tomatoes that had been puréed into a sauce. And then there was the bowl of vivid, egg-yolk coloured rice. It smelt strongly of saffron.
Hayato caught his curious look from the corner of his eye and had to suppress a grin before eagerly putting a little of everything on a plate for him, "Here, try it! The yellow stuff is Risotto alla Milanese. It's rice made with saffron, chicken stock, finely sliced onions, and white wine. It's really creamy, the saffron can give it a little bit of an interesting flavour if you're not used to it," he explained enthusiastically, gesturing to the egg-yolk coloured rice as Harry hesitantly took a mouthful. It was actually really nice, surprisingly. "The meat-dumplings are Braciola. Beef rolls in tomato sauce. It's a strip of beef pounded thin and rolled in grated cheese. It's filled with raisins, parsley, pine nuts, Parmesan cheese – you know, the crumbly cheese women put on Caesar salads, and garlic, all rolled up in the slice and pinned shut before being cooked in tomato sauce. Sometimes they add chilli flakes to the sauce for better flavour. It's slow cooked with a little red wine added to the sauce to make it richer." Curious, because even though Aunt Petunia liked to brag about how she would get seafood in white-wine sauces to impress the neighbours, he hated mussels and both Dudley and Vernon agreed. That was the only thing apart from Christmas pudding he had ever seen with alcohol added to it. Cutting one of the beef rolls open and taking a mouthful was entirely not what he expected when he finally tasted it.
It was perhaps a little spicer than he was comfortable with but it wasn't bad. Wasn't bad at all.
"And this?" Harry asked once he had swallowed and managed to wipe the worst of the afterburn away from his mouth with a sip of Pumpkin Juice.
"Osso Buco, braised Veal Shanks. My Dad's chef, she got the recipe for them from her Grandmother, she would tie parsley and thyme sprigs and stick them in the pot with bay leaves, white wine, and veal stock for about an hour and a half until the meat was practically falling off the bone. She even made different kinds of mash to go with it so you could soak up the gravy. Celeriac, sweet Potato, normal potato, she even made potato dumplings once which was really good. I think her cooking was the only thing I missed when I left," he admitted with a wistful smile.
"Are all Italian dishes made with wine in them?" Harry asked curiously as he finished off the Braciola and washed away the spicy afterburn with the saffron rice. Hayato tried really hard not to grin in triumph, the portions were minuscule, but it was something.
"Hmmm, not all of them. But given how most families had their own vineyards, it's pretty unavoidable. Even my father's place had one. My sister and I once spent an entire summer sneaking out there to play, it was only when the maid found us drunk on overripe grapes in the rose garden that we got caught," he reminisced in amusement. That had been a good summer, before Bianchi learned her Poison Cooking. Back when the two of them were closer, and he had been unaware of what happened to his mother, or the fact that they were only half-siblings. He wondered which of them had been the one to push the other away when they found out. He would have dearly loved to say that it was her, but he had been trying to be more honest with himself since he became Tsuna's Guardian, and even more so now that Harry had come into his life – he needed to be aware of his faults so that he could prevent them from ruining things with his Soul Mate who was still so young, and so heartbreakingly skittish of him at times. He had been the one most likely to have pushed her away first. She had always been chasing him, bringing him home. Even when he came to Japan, she had been right on his heels once again.
"'Ow interesting," interrupted a feminine voice, "We too 'ave a vineyard back in France," Fleur said, smiling prettily at Hayato as she leaned over the table somewhat. Ron, mouth opened, dumbly moving aside so she could sit – missing his mouth with his fork and ending up with cottage pie in his hair. "My younger seester and I did ze same thing not too long ago. But, ah, forgive me, I am ze Beauxbaton's Champion for ze Tournament, Fleur Delacour. Enchantee," the young woman introduced herself, her voice pitched to a seductive purr.
Harry could see the way all the hairs on Hayato's arms went straight and the muscles in his back knot and bunch up with dislike. Huh. Oh yeah. He was gay. He wasn't attracted to women so Fleur's Veela allure wouldn't – wait, what did that say about him?
Harry paused, fork of Risotto alla Milanese halfway to his mouth and glanced down the table. Everyone within ten feet of Fleur, all the boys at least, were drooling and staring blindly at her, all the girls bristling in much the same manner as Hayato. Even Neville was pink around the cheeks and casting shy glances at the silvery haired girl as he fumbled with his knife and fork – much like Ron, getting more food on him than in him.
"That's nice. What do you want?" Hayato grit out, fingers tightening on his fork, hyper aware of the eyes that were currently zeroed in on their conversation. He had finally been able to get Harry to eat something and then this trollop shows up and threatens to undo the progress he's made in getting food down his beloved's neck.
Fleur seemed a little surprised and leaned forward again, smile turned up even harder as she laced her fingers together under her chin, elbows moving together and pressing her breasts together in a very visible fashion that had poor Neville gagging and glazing over, elbow knocking over his pumpkin juice and making no attempt to clean it up as he gaped without shame at her cleavage.
"No'zzing. Only to talk," she soothed playfully.
Hayato continued to bristle but reminded himself that this was a foreign dignitary and not only that but also Tesoro's competition in this tournament, if he lashed out at her it might get him disqualified and there would definitely be backlash onto his beloved if that happened. He had to keep a civil tongue in his mouth.
"I am currently trying to eat," he stressed unhappily, "Perhaps... another time," he hedged. He had zero intention of ever speaking to this woman again, he knew damn well what she wanted, as if she couldn't be any more transparent with the whole eyelash flutter, putting herself in the conversation. And given the way every boy around her had now turned into a drooling idiot with the exception of himself and Tesoro – who must have been protected by the Wild Magic ritual – then she was doing something magical to try and force his attention onto her. She would need a whole lot more magic power to turn his head. Beside Tesoro she was absolutely nothing special. Plastic and pale, like a freaky doll with shiny synthetic hair and unnaturally symmetrical features. Nope, she was nothing even approaching Tesoro's level.
"Oh, don't look now, the French Whore is about to practice her future career," sneered a familiar and unwelcome voice from behind them. Harry paused, food halfway up to his mouth as he tried to process what Malfoy had just snarled out. Had he really just... "What? Are you so wound up you can't hold yourself back in public? By the Spirits, if you try any harder you'll shit yourself out a second Golden Egg."
Fleur went scarlet, "Excusez moi?" she hissed in disbelief.
Malfoy scoffed dismissively, "If I wanted to see a hag try her hand at prostitution, I'd go to Knockturn Alley!"
Hayato growled, setting his fork down sharply, "That's no way to talk to a lady!" he snarled.
"If I see one I'll make a note of it," Malfoy retorted sarcastically.
And that was it.
Harry watched as all three descended into snarling insults and shouting at each other, almost immediately the Allure that had sedated all the other boys in the near-by vicinity dropped and both Neville and Ron turned bright red over their behaviour and quickly cleaned themselves up. Hermione jumping into the argument and Ron, seeing no reason not to try and get a few cheap insults in at Malfoy's expense in the hopes of looking good for Fleur, jumped in as well. Harry meanwhile sat watching the exchange and steadily made his way through the plate of food in front of him, listening as other languages got tossed backwards and forward.
He didn't know Ron knew Gaelic. Or Romanian.
He took another mouthful and frowned when he realised his fork and plate were empty. Oh. He had eaten everything. And there was no more left in the trays. He huffed for a moment and glanced up at the still arguing teenagers before looking back down.
Hayato's food was getting cold.
Harry stared at it for a moment, before looking back at the still arguing individuals. Hayato wouldn't mind if he... he seemed so eager to push it onto him earlier but at the same time, did he risk his wrath by stealing food? Uncle Vernon was at his most vicious when Harry took food away from anyone at the table. He checked his watch. They would be clearing the main course soon in favour of dessert...
He dragged Hayato's plate over and dug in. He hated wasting food.
000
Eventually, as with all altercations that included the two, Ron threw the first punch at Malfoy, and suddenly Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were bearing down on the group of four and separating them. Ron and Malfoy got thirty points deducted, Fleur was soundly admonished and her Headmistress would be giving punishment to her as she saw fit, Hermione lost ten points, and oddly enough Hayato lost Hufflepuff ten points as well.
Which didn't make sense to Harry until he remembered the Sorting Hat placed him there, even though he was staying in the Gryffindor Commons with Harry.
They had dessert and made their way back to the common room, Harry still somewhat bewildered.
"I just don't understand. What was he even doing over here anyway?" Harry asked, frowning as Hermione huffed and stomped beside him, squirming a little every time Hayato's hand brushed his hip – which it did fairly often.
"Who, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, glancing to him. Harry nodded. "No idea. Do you think he was looking for a fight?" she asked doubtfully.
Hayato growled a little in the back of his throat, "If he wants one, I'll gladly break his nose again," he bit out, this time hooking his hand in Harry's robes at his hip. If that albino maggot thought to try and insult Tesoro again, he would make him swallow those shiny white teeth of his.
Harry hummed, "He wasn't affected by Fleur's allure though. So, why would he even come over? I thought only Hayato and I were immune because of the bond."
Hermione snorted, "Oh Harry, you've never been affected by Veela allure. Not since the first time. Remember the forest at the World Cup? You didn't even blink when you walked right smack in the middle of a full-blooded Veela's range." She gave him a slow smile, "At first, I just thought your hormones hadn't kicked in, then Ron told me about Cho (Hayato's head snapped down to look at Harry so quickly the smaller of the pair turned red and avoided eyecontact... without really knowing why) and I wondered if maybe you were just Demisexual, but you barely know Cho and don't interact much with her."
"So what?" Harry mumbled, looking severely uncomfortable and now trying to squirm away from Hayato who stubbornly tugged him back and tucked him under one arm.
"So, Harry, the bond doesn't protect either of you from Fleur, or any other Veela," she pointed out in amusement, Neville listening with half an ear as Ron opened up the Portrait hole. "You're just not attracted to women enough for her to affect you."
Hayato scoffed, "Damn right I'm not," he grumped. "Confusing, over-emotional, manipulative, harpies," he growled.
Hermione shot him an offended look.
"But... what about Malfoy?" Ron demanded from up ahead.
"Well isn't it obvious? He doesn't like girls either!" Hermione exclaimed in exasperation.
"Maybe he likes you?" Neville suggested with a grin as they all sat down in front of the fireplace, "He's always trying to get your attention."
Hermione giggled, "Like those school boys who pull their crush's pigtails."
"Ick," Harry responded flatly, face screwed up in disgust as he sat down, Hayato beside him and practically trying to drag him into his lap – Harry stubbornly squirming away until Hayato just huffed, squishing him into a tight hug but stopped trying to pull him closer.
"He pulls anything of Tesoro's, I'll break his hand," the Italian growled as Harry scowled in discomfort but said nothing.
Hermione giggled before she stretched out, "Well. I'm tired, so I think I'll head to bed. Neville, don't you have something you want to tell Harry?" she asked very pointedly as she left, giving him a Look before vanishing up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.
They watched her leave before Harry turned to Neville curiously. The larger boy looking a little pale and grey around the edges as he glanced between the three of them and took a deep breath.
"Okay. Um. I should have told you this sooner but... But it was suggested that I keep it quiet otherwise... otherwise you would be upset, and blame yourself," he explained awkwardly. Guessing what they were talking about, Ron went positively grey in horror while Hayato tightened his grip on Harry, his face twisting into an unhappy grimace.
Harry nodded slowly, his scowl melting into a mildly suspicious frown, "Okaaay. And you're deciding to tell me now becaaaaause...?"
Neville squirmed, "Hermione pointed out that you wouldn't have cared as long as you knew and that by trying to spare your feelings I would just make you feel worse when you found out." There was a long pause as Harry digested this before nodding hesitantly at the brown haired Gryffindor to continue. He shifted and swallowed, "Remember when I asked you about whether or not you knew your Godmother?"
"Yeah."
"Well, she's... she's not... not dead. She's just really, really unwell. She's... She's been in St Mungos for the last thirteen years, in the Spell Damage Ward, with her husband," he explained softly, staring down at his toes sadly, "After You-Know-Who vanished, his followers went looking for information on what happened to him. Someone told them about who your Godmother was, and since she was an Auror along with her husband, they came and they... they tried to torture the information out of them with the Cruciatus Curse."
Harry made a wordless sound of pain and Hayato rubbed his arm, swallowing back his own anger because – he knew these people were Neville's parents, not just Harry's godmother and her husband.
"They survived but, their minds were broken. They've been insane ever since, unable to recognise friends, strangers, family... even their son," Neville finished quietly.
"Son?" Harry croaked, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.
He nodded miserably, "My mother, Alice, was your Godmother. Just like... Just like Lily Potter was mine."
Somehow, the Common Room seemed entirely silent, even though it was just as noisy as usual, the twins trying to sell their joke products on the otherside of the room, exploding snap amidst a group of second years, a trio of fifth years yelling at people to keep the noise down while they tried to study for their OWLs, to say nothing of the stressed looking bubble of Seventh Years who cursed anyone who got closed to one of the tables in the far, far corner. And yet somehow Harry didn't hear any of this as he stared at Neville, at his... at his Godbrother.
A godbrother he never knew, never tried to help, or protect, a godbrother he had even mocked on occasion, behind his back, with Ron. And Neville knew this, had thought he knew it as well.
"W-we're..." Harry trailed off uncertainly, wanting to hear it confirmed, to make sure, to make certain he wasn't getting this wrong.
Neville nodded, "We're actually godbr- "
"Well, that's all well and good but why didn't you tell him before now?" Ron suddenly interrupted sharply, glowering at Neville.
The brunet blinked in shock, "I – what? B-but you said not to - "
He made a slashing motion with his hand, "I told you not to tell him at that moment! What stopped you last year? Or earlier this year?" he demanded swiftly.
Harry stared at him in confused disbelief, his brain stalling for a moment, "Y-you... knew?" he asked, distantly aware of how small and hurt his voice sounded, and of how Ron flinched and refused to look at him, of how Hayato's arms held him a little closer and tighter.
"You knew?" he repeated more forcefully as the words began to sank in and his body tensed up.
He knew. He knew. He knew. He told Neville not to say. HE told Neville not to say. He knew. He knew, and he still mocked Neville behind his back. He knew and he didn't tell Harry. He knew. He knew. He knew. HE KNEW!
Harry was moving before the rest of his mind caught up with what he was doing.
He was half aware of accidentally kicking Hayato in the thigh as he sprung away from the Italian's side and launched himself across the sofa.
Ron turned, his eyes widening in horror. He had a lot of freckles. All of them the exact same shade of orange, three tones paler than his hair. Not splotches. But dots. His eyelashes were closer to blond than ginger though.
"YOU FUCKING KNEW!" the Gryffindor roared as he brought his fist up, for the first time in his life, punching someone full strength in the face.
Ron howled as he fell back, blood exploding under Harry's fist along with a very satisfying sound of snapping cartilage.
Harry didn't stop though.
Even as the rest of the Common Room stopped and looked over, Harry was driving his other fist into Ron's gut – the same kind of punch that Dudley liked to use when he knew Harry had eaten for the first time in a week. The kind that landed firmly on the stomach and pushed up.
Ron vomited, going to his knees.
"YOU KNEW YOU ASSHOLE!" Harry bellowed even as he drew his arm back to hit him again and felt one of the twins grab and drag him backwards. "YOU HAD NO RIGHT! YOU HAD NO FUCKING RIGHT TO KEEP THAT FROM ME RON! HE'S MY GODBROTHER AND YOU FUCKING KNEW! YOU KNEW HOW MUCH I WANTED A FAMILY AND YOU FUCKING KEPT IT FROM ME YOU SELFISH – FRED LET ME GO! LET ME FUCKING GO!" the smaller Gryffindor snarled, squirming and thrashing in the taller boy's grasp, aiming a kick at his former bestfriend.
"Fuck, Harry! Calm down!" the sixth year begged, struggling backwards as the boy writhed and strained against him.
Neville quickly came to his aid, "Harry, calm down! Please! It isn't just his fault! You have to stop! You don't want to start a Blood Feud!" he begged desperately, feeling the magic in the air beginning to thicken as all the windows began to rattle. Several of the other older students looking around warily in fear as the candle flames began to flicker, growing larger and wavering threateningly.
"Hayato! A little help here, mate!" Fred begged as Harry continued to snarl insults.
The Italian just smirked darkly, "He had it coming," he stated flatly.
Fred growled, "And if Harry doesn't calm down, it's going to be raining glass-shards down on everyone including you! Help! Us!" he snapped forcefully.
"If you want him to calm down, take him up to the dormitories and away from the asshole," he suggested getting to his feet. He didn't even bother trying to help them as the two pulled Harry away even further, the smaller boy eventually calming down enough to walk by himself, still visibly shaking with rage as he stalked up to the dormitory. Hayato following along behind in his wake, smirking as he heard George, the other twin, admiringly tell his younger brother that he had a nicely broken nose that would require the Hospital Wing. Served the bastard right.
Once inside the dormitory, Harry started pacing, muttering angrily under his breath as Fred eyed him warily and sighed, "Harry – I..." he trailed off, quite at a loss for what to say, looking down at Neville who just shuffled miserably. He sighed again, "Congratulations on finding your Godbrother," he said instead of the admonishment about decking his little brother that sat sourly on the tip of his tongue.
Jewel-bright green eyed looked up at him in surprise and paused in realisation before a slow, awkward, semi-delighted and terrified smile curled at the edges of his lips, tiny and uncertain.
"Thanks Fred," he muttered quietly.
The older boy nodded, casting a warning glance in Hayato's direction before leaving. As much as he would have loved to say something, he knew better. Ron could be a right berk at times. This whole Fourth Champion thing had only proven it. And then finding out that he had made Neville keep his godbrother status quiet? Straw that broke the camel's back. He couldn't blame him for doing it. Hell. If they'd known about it before him, they'd have done it instead. If either of them were to let someone get away with punching Ronnikins in the nose, it was Harry. Because he just didn't hit people for no reason. Even when Malfoy was stood there insulting everything from his parentage, upbringing, and abilities, Harry had never been the one to lash out first. It had always been either Ron, or Malfoy.
If Ronnikins had finally done something so unforgivable that it made Harry of all people snap at him, then he damn well deserved it.
In the dormitory, Harry sighed deeply, "Sorry... Neville. I'm just... Give me a second. I need to..." he trailed off shaking his head and quickly escaping into the bathroom. He got as far as the sink before there was a puff and he was nose to chest with Hayato again.
He immediately found himself enfolded into a hug, "You okay?" the Italian asked softly into his hair.
Harry squirmed briefly, wanting to go and wash his face with cold water, shock his system and get some self-control back but gave up. Hayato would not be letting him go.
"No," he admitted softly. "My bestfriend for the last four years just betrayed me in a way he knew would hurt me more than anything else. And he tried to hide it. Tried to make it someone else's fault. Why did he – why?" the small Gryffindor asked breathlessly, feeling something hard in his chest lodge itself in his throat.
He felt Hayato rub his back and start to sway, fingers tangling in his hair.
Harry wanted to push him away, he wanted to rage and shout and scream because of what Ron had done, because Neville hadn't stood up to him and told him anyway. Because anger would have been better than feeling so miserable and pathetic and stupid and betrayed.
It would have been better than feeling his breath choke in his lungs and his eyes burning as his arms grew heavy.
Hayato closed his eyes in pain as he felt the front of his shirt growing damp.
Harry was crying.
He took a deep breath and kissed the side of the Gryffindor's head, holding him tightly. He didn't make a sound, didn't shudder or twitch in his arms. And somehow that made it all the worse as he slowly rocked them, hand stroking up and down his back, brushing against the bumps of his scars at the small of his back and stalling for a moment.
He drew back and gently tilted Harry's face up, using his thumbs to rub away what moisture that remained on his cheeks under his glasses which were spotted with tears as well. "Hey, don't waste your tears on someone who doesn't deserve it, okay? You're better than that, than him. Don't break your heart for someone who never gave you theirs," he told the younger boy gently.
Harry sniffed quietly and looked up at him.
He hadn't been lying, at all, earlier, when he thought that Fleur Delacour had nothing on this young man. She could be as freakishly pale and symmetrical as she liked. But here, now, with Harry's face between his hands, he had never seen anything so beautiful before in his life.
Green eyes slid downwards, "I'm sorry I - "
Hayato caught his chin and made him look up again, "Don't you ever apologise, Tesoro, for what you think or feel. Not to me," he begged, his voice growing rough.
Harry swallowed, nodding uncertainly as Hayato leaned forward, eyes half lidded and fixed intensely on his face.
"MREOWL!"
Uri landed on her owner's back with a hissing yowl, claws digging in and shredding the back of his shirt.
Hayato howled and jerked backwards, whirling around in a circle, trying to dislodge his cat.
"Haya- Hayato hold – hold still!" Harry yelped, trying to reach out and grab the cat. However, the moment his arms outstretched towards her, she eagerly abandoned the Italian and landed in his grasp, purring like a motorboat and headbutting his chin, mewling.
Hayato winced, glowering at his cat, "Fuzzy menace," he seethed. But couldn't help but, yet again, be thankful for her interference. Again, it was too soon, much too soon, and at entirely the wrong moment to be kissing Harry.
Later.
000
And that's the end of that chapter, and any chance Ron had of regaining Harry's friendship.