Warnings: Slash, book spoilers, manga spoilers, angst, clichés, brooding, chocolate abuse, reflected-upon child abuse, trauma, crude language, mentioned character death, Ron bashing, Ginny bashing, Dumbles bashing, mild sexual situations, AU for books 5, 6, and 7 of Harry Potter, disregards all Ouran chapters after 64.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and her affiliates. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisco Hatori and her (it is her, right?) affiliates.
Features: Independent!Brooding!Isolationist!Harry, Clingy!Paternal!Sirius, and the host-bu guys being themselves
Chapter 28
The same day that the interview was published – and without unnecessary embellishments, thank Merlin – Harry began his dueling lessons with Sirius. It was something he had been looking forward to, if only because of how utterly necessary it would prove to be in his life, and it finally was starting.
Harry had always thought himself to be very good at Defense, since he'd had a proper teacher that is, and that opinion was reinforced by him being the top Defense student in his year – even above Hermione! – in the last two years of his formal magical education. He knew creative applications in his spell casting – like turning dirt beneath his opponent's feet to mud or summoning debris to take a hit for him – and had studied the theory of dueling and other Defense-based topics with enthusiasm.
This self-image was all but shattered when Sirius started teaching him how to duel.
The first thing that happened was that Harry bowed as not only he had been "taught" but as Voldemort demanded in their one duel. Not even halfway through the bow he was caught by a stupefy. Sirius didn't let him heal the bruise he that had already started forming when he regained consciousness for the effort between duels either, so Harry had go through two hours of grueling lessons with a dark bruise along the side of his face, discounting the others he gained for further efforts.
It was twelve duels before Harry managed to get a spell off against his godfather.
Another ten passed before he managed to get it anywhere near Sirius.
Half an hour after that Herculean effort, Harry found himself flat on his back after finding out that it was a bad idea to try to batter down a shield – as it just so happened, an experienced duelist could hold it up and keep their wand free. Dueling was far more difficult than he had imagined it to be.
"That's all for now, Harry," Sirius told him finally, mopping and the sweat that had only recently started beading on his forehead (Harry, on the other hand, was completely drenched). "I have a date in half an hour, and you… well, you look half-dead." With a final wink over his shoulder, Sirius exited Harry's domicile for the floo that would take him home. Harry only grumbled a vague response through the towel that had been tossed on his face and didn't bother trying to move.
Half-dead was an understatement in his opinion. He felt like someone had run him through a meat grinder and then been reformed using pieces of used spell-o tape. It really did not feel good. Harry was feeling drained, his magic stretched pretty well to the limits after spending three hours after school with the Black Magic club spelling things for various purposes. Spending another two hours using as much magic as he could get out against his godfather, who had quite well outstripped him both in power and ability, did not help such matters.
Worse still, he knew from when he'd been training for the sports festival that he had to move about some to stop the lactic acid from settling in, and the muscle relaxant potion, misnamed as it was, should not be used too often. Merlin only knew he would need it later if he continued this. And he would; he had to.
But first, he need water, a bath, some bruise balm, and to walk about a bit. He just had to get up from the ground before he did any of that, which was posing a problem as his right arm protested quite violently to the movement. Two hours of spell casting, getting hit by Sirius' spells, and trying to dodge really did not leave him in the best condition.
The thing that exacerbated the matter was that his phone – which was sitting with his bag on the other side of the room that had been cleared for the dueling practice – started pinging at him. And Harry really did not want to have to deal with it…
Regardless, he put most of his weight on his left arm, wincing as the bruise on his wrist twinged, and pushed himself first to a seated position and then up onto his feet. Thankfully, his legs hurt considerably less than his arms and he managed to walk over to his bag without problem. It was flicking open his phone before the sixth and final ring that nearly got him.
For the second time in as many weeks, Harry agreed to meet his (the word "boyfriend" still sounded all too foreign, especially considering how hesitant he was to explore the depth of his emotions for) Takashi for dinner, provided he gave Harry an hour to make sure he didn't keel over. Harry had finished taking a hot shower to relax himself – a bath would be too likely to lull him to sleep – and was halfway through applying the bruise balm when Rory apparated into the bathroom, completely uncaring that his master was half-naked.
"Master's Takashi is being here, Master Harry Potter," Rory informed him succinctly. "What is Master Harry Potter wishing for Rory to do with Master's Takashi?" Yes, Rory truly was an odd duck among elves.
"Lead him into the second floor family room in the East Wing and tell him that I'll be down in a few minutes," Harry responded, not allowing himself to be at all embarrassed by being caught sitting in his boxers. It was a house-elf after all. Instead he resumed applying the paste to a rather violent-looking bruise on his thigh, if a bit quicker, and finished dealing with his "battle wounds."
A scary thought hit him, that if this was what Sirius – a man who loved him unequivocally and who was certainly not as high on the dueling bracket as some Death Eaters – could do this to him... what could the Death Eaters themselves do to him if he remained at his current level? Harry could barely suppress a shudder at this and instead set about buttoning his shirt. No, he certainly needed these courses.
Making sure that he didn't look absolutely horrible, or any more horrible than he looked with the side of his head so visibly bruised (he could put a glamour on it later if he really wanted to) and the slight limp he sported (which could not be covered by a glamour but would be taken care of when the potion that was dealing with his twisted ankle set to work), Harry soon exited his rooms. Aside from minute twinges in his ankle, arms, and thigh, he felt perfectly fine as he walked down to the next floor to meet up with Takashi (though he was certain that they had agreed to meet at the restaurant and not his place...).
Seeing Takashi standing in front of the mantle made Harry's Tuesday just a bit better. The "family rooms" were really just rooms that Harry had had no real use for until Sirius' first visit when he suggested that Harry have rooms for entertainment other than just books. It had take some doing, but he had three such rooms with various games, televisions, and anything that Sirius (or other visitors really) would like to occupy themselves with. Harry only really went in if Sirius dragged him along or if he felt like watching the news or a movie since they were the only rooms in the house with televisions set up. The one in the East Wing was the one that Harry had set up for Sirius' personal use if only to get the man to shut up.
He approached with steps silenced on the carpet, though each rustle of cloth and shallow breath seemed to echo in his own ears. Takashi had snuck up on Harry three times a day on average over the past nine days, and he wanted a bit of payback for that, though he doubted he would manage it. Takashi was far more aware of his surroundings than Harry could dream to be.
Every pause in Harry's pace seemed deafening in his own ears, the whimpers caught in his throat from each stressed muscle and stretched bruise making him wonder if Takashi was just humoring him, not that he would mind that in this case. He was, however, a bit more concerned with the large bruise that he knew was on his upper back and he simply hadn't been able to reach to use the balm on, especially when it hurt to move his shoulders at all. That particular bruise would have to wait until Wednesday (for it was Tuesday) most likely, when he could get Sirius to deal with it for him. Until then, Harry was would be in pain any time he moved any of the muscles in his back. He never realized previously how often he actually did that precise thing, either.
As if completely oblivious to Harry's approach and thoughts, Takashi continued to look at something his hand – likely a photo from the mantle – and allowed Harry to approach as if undetected. Again, Harry doubted that he actually hadn't been noticed, he was obviously being far too loud in his care to avoid further injury, but he was directly behind Takashi, only a foot away.
"Evening, Takashi," Harry greeted. Takashi obliged the greeting by turning around to look at the first year, and Harry was surprised. Not for anything that one might normally be surprised about, but because Takashi was surprised. Had he actually snuck up on him?
Harry's attention was drawn less than a second later to movement in Takashi's hand, specifically to the moving picture that Harry knew he had not placed up on the mantle. Hell, he hadn't even known it existed! Foul play by Sirius was the main suspect. Harry could pinpoint the day that the picture was taken, too, as Harry was a thirteen-year-old drowned rat riding a Nimbus 2000 at high speeds. That was more than a year before he had finally hit five-foot, too. When he was still the smallest student at Hogwarts, even counting most of the first years.
Of course, Harry had been right about Takashi being surprised. However, as he found roughly five seconds after he had noticed the photograph, it was more than likely not for the reason he hoped.
Takashi's hand swiftly cup Harry's un-bruised cheek, gently turning his head to the side for a better look at the cheek that was bruised. Gray eyes scanned the wound, Takashi's thumb gently prodding the purpled skin that was almost definitely starting to fade already (obviously, Harry couldn't tell as it was his own face). Those same eyes flicked up to meet Harry's as he turned the smaller boy's face to face him again, and Harry realized that waiting to apply a glamour might not have been his wisest idea.
Not that it hadn't occurred to him, but... well, they were all going to be healed soon anyway – with the exception of the one on his back, maybe two; Harry wasn't entirely certain on that point – and hiding that he was learning to defend himself was stupid. It was simply something that Harry had to know how to do, and he supposed, in a way, that he had wanted to show Takashi that he did not need protection.
Though the bruises themselves were quite suspect when put out of context when he thought of it. Never mind that there were only three visible – the one on his face, another under the cuff of his shirt, and the third was just barely notable beneath his collar – it was simply not a wise thing to show that all he had to show for his defense attempt (which Takashi did not yet even know about) were a lot of bruises and a twisted ankle.
The fact that Takashi's eyes were glinting in a way that spoke great pain for whomever had done it did no assuage Harry's worries on the matter.
"Who did this to you?" Takashi's words were a slow and low rumble, taught with a feeling of anger, and of something else that Harry pegged as akin to guilt... but what did Takashi have to be guilty for? Even out of context, Takashi wasn't there and given all the possibilities for what could have happened, none of them would be things that the senior could have prevented. It truly boggled Harry's mind to think of the guilt complex that his... that Takashi had.
His own guilt complex and paranoia regarding the injury of his friends was, of course, not a subject that Harry's thoughts would breach.
Regardless, as they stood before one another in what could be considered an intimate position, Takashi's words stung Harry. He should have put the glamour on before coming down here. No matter his reasons – whether it be for the simple matter of truth or any other (such as not wanting to have his back aggravated by being pressed into the wall... although...) - it had been a stupid move to show off his "battle wounds" without giving their reason first. He and Takashi were too similar in that respect for him to not understand what might be felt when he saw them.
"I'm getting lessons in magical combat," Harry explained as best he could. "I went into it thinking myself a lot better than I was and Sirius decided to knock me down a peg or two. Most of the bruises will be gone before I go to bed tonight anyway; I was going to apply a glamour to keep them hidden until then."
Takashi's grip slackened and his eyes narrowed, and Harry knew why quite well. The idea that Sirius could do this to Harry – Sirius, who probably loved Harry as if he were his own flesh and blood rather than his godson and who didn't seem to have a dangerous bone in his body – was almost preposterous. And yet with the evidence staring him in the face... well, the Boy-Who-Lived could well imagine what anyone would make of that.
"Most?" Yes, that was the part that Harry hoped he wouldn't catch on to. There was no use lying – firstly because Harry had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to, second because it wasn't anything that really required lying anyway even if he didn't want any sort of sympathy, and third because he was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to get away with lying to Takashi's face like that – and yet he did not want to bother Takashi with his problems.
So he shrugged, barely refraining from wincing as all the muscles in his back protested to giving his shoulders the necessary lift. Funny, that he should be the less vocal member of their conversation for once. It was an interesting switch to be certain.
It was not, however, enough that he refrained. Takashi was far too perceptive for that, and it only took two seconds after Harry shrugged for a light of understanding to show in his eyes that were mere inches from Harry's own. "Your back?" He asked quietly. Another funny thing, how the one time where he wasn't thinking of being so close to Takashi as being intimate and perhaps even a bit embarrassing, and it was because of a few bruises. Perhaps busted capillaries were simply not conducive to blushing?
"I was going to ask Sirius to take care of it for me later," Harry attempted to wave off the concern. "Everyone gets a bit banged up when they're first learning to fight, no matter the method, right? It's nothing to worry about." He really didn't think it was. He had a total of twelve bruises, some large (like the one on his back) and some small (like the one on his wrist). Sirius had picked this method of teaching Harry for a reason, and the young wizard wasn't going to forget the lessons that were taught when they were so thoroughly pounded into his thick skull.
"Hm," Takashi grunted. His hand fell from Harry's face and he straightened up, using his nearly-a-foot of height advantage to look down on the first year. "Take your shirt off."
Harry's mind only barely registered the potential for perversion behind that statement, but only just. Takashi was not like that, and he'd seen Harry's without a shirt before. He wanted to help. With a small smile, Harry summoned the bruise balm from his room and took care in unbuttoning his short in a way that would cause the least amount of tension in his back while the small pot navigated the halls to reach him. It sped in and even as Takashi moved to intercept, Harry's hand snatched it from the air without much thought.
Though the strain on his bruises – the one on his back and the two on that arm – made him wince slightly, Harry was still quite glad for his Quidditch reflexes. He knew that it would have beaned him in the head otherwise, as Takashi wasn't moving fast enough to grab it as Harry had. Instead of dwelling on it, Harry set the balm on an end table and finished divesting himself of his shirt.
If it wouldn't have hurt him, Harry would have ruffled the hair in the back of his head in his usual gesture of self-comfort. As it was, he remained under Takashi's scrutiny without any sort of comforting mechanism. So he refused to meet Takashi's gaze instead.
Suddenly the dueling lessons seemed simultaneously like the dumbest and most brilliant thing that he had ever done.
The next day, Harry was sitting in the Host Club room getting some quick help on his math work from Hani, with Takashi sitting across from them reading... something. Harry hadn't really noticed what. Maybe he wouldn't need such mathematical aid if he had taken Arithmancy like Hermione suggested – another way Ron had ruined him was by convincing him to take only slacker classes – but it was too late to do anything about it now. As it was, he had to study up on the subject some for the up-and-coming exams as it was a required subject throughout most of the world.
"I really don't see the point in knowing how to input this Quadratic stuff," Harry sighed. "Oomae-sensei already taught us a program on our calculators that does it automatically; why should we even bother?" Even Arithmancers used calculators nowadays! And yet Oomae-sensei demanded that they know how to do the Quadratic formula off the top of their heads without any help from a calculator. It was hardly something that Harry considered practical, no matter what his choice in careers would be (not that he didn't already know). "I highly doubt I'll ever need to be able to find this sort of thing in some sort of life and death situation."
"Harry-chan, it's easy! Besides, if Oomae-sensei only taught you how to do things on the calculator, he wouldn't be much of a teacher," Hani reprimanded. "He's teaching you how to think instead of just parroting facts. Now all you have to do is -"
"I know, Senpai," Harry sighed. "That makes seven plus or minus the square root of 33, all over two. It's still pointless though."
Hani only shrugged and took a bite of his cake, one that Harry had brought for him from Dinky (when she had found out that Harry had a friend who liked cake a lot, she had started insisting that she make some for him sometimes; luckily, they were small cakes, and she only demanded he give one to Hani per week). "You can make a big deal over something so small," Hani shook his head. As if Harry was terribly immature or something. Though getting testy over math homework... he had to admit that that was pretty stupid of him. Besides, complaining only took time away from what he now realized was a highly packed schedule.
He had school Monday through Friday, club activities and preparation for the carnival for three hours twice a week, studying for his muggle courses took up a good deal of time, plus there were his magical subjects and now dueling. Harry had to mind the plants in the greenhouses every day but Sunday when the Herbologist came in and he was at the Hospital at that time anyway. The small corral of creatures, mostly benign with a few that could be a tad snappish, had to be checked on at least once a week. On top of that he had recently started going to the Japanese Potter-Evans base on Saturdays to work with the magical serpents they had to make collection easier.
And I keep shoving things into different time slots whenever Takashi asks if I want to do anything, he thought with a mental sigh. It had happened only a few times thus far, but unless he had something that was terribly pressing, like a meeting with a business partner or some such scheduled, he wasn't going to say no. That much was obvious. How had things gone from him having all the time in the world to having almost none, anyhow?
"Harry-kun, the latest set of picture albums have arrived," Kyouya pulled a slim hard-bound volume from a stack beside him where the merchandise was being cataloged. "You, of course, get one for free for allowing us to use your image in this one." It was "The Mori Collection", and fronted by a picture of Takashi on his snowboard, a still frame caught in midjump (1). It was a good picture.
"So you only used the pictures where I was dancing with Takashi?" He asked. That was rather strange... the club purpose for the photos had been to have the Hosts dancing with boys to get the fangirls riled up, hadn't it? Though having Haruhi dance with the other Hosts made sense to be the only ones shown for her, and having Hani dance with a boy probably wasn't particularly cute, so it made sense, sort of, but it did seem kind of... off. Of course, Harry could certainly just be imagining things... yes. That had to be it.
"No," the answer was succinct, and Harry looked at the dark second year curiously. "I also used a couple of pictures of you with Mori-senpai from the mountains, and one or two from our visit to the temples."
"Oh," Harry blinked and flipped open the book to look. There weren't a lot of pictures, per se, only about forty – Harry had expected far more given it was the Host Club – but each came with a caption of some sort. It just so happened that Harry was also in at least a third of the pictures. There were two of Takashi teaching the young wizard how to snowboard, standing so close that Harry wondered how he hadn't noticed at the time. Another picture had Takashi carrying an unconscious Harry into Kurakano's family lodge, bridal style, his face riddled with worry.
Another was of Harry leading Takashi over the dance floor, Takashi smiling a small smile that, now Harry looked at it, was a bit... more than his usual. It made Harry's breath catch as he pinpointed the exact moment that that smile had occurred; when Harry had called him Takashi for the first time – no suffixes, no playful "sensei" added to the end, simply Harry calling the older boy by his given name.
They were all very good pictures, mind, and Harry could appreciate that, but the potential for misunderstanding of those moments... Not that such misunderstandings would be inaccurate regarding emotion between the two overall (to an extent), but those moments had all been perfectly innocent to Harry's knowledge. Though he couldn't withhold a small wince at seeing the picture of Takashi coming to his rescue. It really shouldn't have happened to begin with.
Rather than allow himself to dwell on such guilt-inducing topics as the unnecessary rescues or rage-inducing things as Draco Malfoy's appearance on the mountain which had ruined the start of Harry's vacation. The fact that he had soon found out that there really was nothing to glean from the encounter that could enlighten him as to the Death Eater's intentions was still a bit of a sore point. Harry didn't want to dwell on that pink elephant either and instead tried to think of happy things.
Like the third to last picture in the book that had Takashi walking through the halls of Ouran being dragged by Hani and dragging Harry along behind him. Strange, since Harry didn't recall seeing Kyouya take any such picture. Also strange because there was really no point in having such a photo in the album to begin with.
Even though Harry did like it. A bit. Not that he was going to tell anyone.
"They're nice pictures, and you've arranged them into a good order," Harry told Kyouya as he clapped the book shut. No need to say anything about how much he actually liked the pictures themselves after all. "I'm sure they'll sell very well among Takashi's fangirls."
And the yaoi girls when they catch wind of some of those pictures, he amended mentally. After all, the sight of Takashi standing behind Harry and arranging his limbs like that looked a lot less innocent in a still frame like that. Actually, if any of Harry's fangirls (and especially the fanboys) caught wind of it, there would be a riot and the things would fly off the shelves just for the pictures of Harry without his defenses up. The fanboys would likely take such seemingly intimate photos as a sign that they had a chance.
However, fangirls and fanboys were all creepy as Hell. No way was Harry going to ever even consider dating one. Until about two weeks ago, he'd never even seriously considered dating... and yet there he was.
"I thought so too," Kyouya agreed with all the ease in the world. "The sets have been on the website, and the pre-orders already take up most of the stock. We'll probably be sold out of this set by next week if my calculations are correct." The obligatory "and they always are" was left unsaid.
Takashi plucked the volume up from where Harry had placed it on the table a flicked through it, stopping on occasion. Harry could have sworn his cheeks turned a pale shade of red when he reached about the middle, the area where the pictures of him helping Harry learn to snowboard were, but other than that he didn't react more than a nod and – at one point – a smile here and there. The album was slid back across the table to Harry who smiled a bit in response. He really hadn't expected more than one or two pictures that would include himself in the entire set, and even then he had expected them to be more of a cameo appearance, and yet he was prominently featured in more than a quarter of Takashi's set.
It was kind of cool, he supposed, but if his fans ever caught wind of this... he shuddered to think of what a bunch of witches and wizards could do with them. None of the ideas were terribly good.
Harry glanced at his watch. "It's almost time for you guys to open up; I'll go back into hiding," he stated, slipping his math text back in his bag. "See you all again in a few hours then, shall I?" Everyone bid Harry a good study time and he walked off. They had about ten minutes, true, but time tended to fly in the club room. Girls would have been entering before he even realized it at that point, and while it was common knowledge that he studied in the side room, he still tried to remain hidden during club hours.
He was surprised to find, as he turned about, that Takashi had followed him. His own comeuppance for going off in his own little world.
Or perhaps the comeuppance came when Harry found lips pressed firmly over his own and an arm wrapped around his waist. He really wasn't entirely sure. Either way, he rather liked it and reciprocated as best he could.
When they came up for air, Harry heard the sound of girls outside the room. The Host Club had opened.
"See you later, Takashi," Harry bid his... his boyfriend as he left. The response was that Takashi turned slightly and smiled a smile that Harry had seen on the older boy's face twice, and only once had it been directed at him. The charming smile made Harry's face want to spontaneously combust as the door clicked shut.
Author's Note: I'm not going to start with anything that actually has to do with this chapter. Instead, I am going to plug my new Forum – it's for Harry Potter crossovers (readers, writers, discussion, challenges, suggestions, etc). If you are interested, the link is on my profile page. Not that anyone other than me has posted anything yet, but I have hopes that it will... be more lively. Maybe.
No, Sirius has no remorse beating the shit out of Harry. Harry overestimated himself, and Sirius showed him just how small a fish he was. It had to be done; funny how it took him the better part of a week to decide on that strategy though (in my opinion). Harry won't give up though, because he wants to do this. And, of course, Takashi supports him (silently) in his quest for self-defense, though you can be sure that Takashi would rather it was in a form of combat that can't just be taken away that easily. Teehee, pictures of Mori/Harry cuteness that Harry can have... and imagine what the Mori fangirls must think, ne?
(1) Way back in chapter 20... feels like forever ago, doesn't it? And yet for them it has hardly been over a month! By the way, this particular moment happens on January 20, 2007. (Making a timeline out of Ouran is so hard...)
At the request of cluelessromantic I decided to add an omake to this chapter (I was planning to not write any more omake until I was done writing this story entirely, but... well, I suppose I might as well add this one). I know my omake are different from the normal ones in that they are actually written like they're part of the story (they're more like missing scenes/perspectives)... but normal is overrated X3
Omake #2: takes place on December 11, 2006, right after school lets out for the winter break (during chapter 19)
Takashi kneeled down, allowing his cousin to hop up on his shoulders with the minimum fuss. With both his own bag and that of his cousin slung over his shoulder, the Morinozuka heir stood by the door, waiting for the rest of his class to filter out before doing so himself, both hand on Mitsukuni's knees on the off chance that the young blond lost his balance.
"Takashi, let's go to the club room first, okay? I saw the cake delivery people came this morning, and I don't want to waste any cakes if they did leave some for me," Mitsukuni's grin was evident in his bubble voice, and Takashi nodded slightly. Enough to give confirmation without doing so verbally, but not so much that it would knock his charge from his shoulders while he changed direction. It was strange that Kyouya would forget to cancel the cake delivery today, considering how on top of things the boy usually was, but Takashi ignored that thought.
Mitsukuni wanted cakes, so cakes he would have whether Kyouya had forgotten to cancel the service or not. It was an unwritten rule of the universe that the will of the smallest senior could not be denied even by the laws of physics.
As he walked down the hall to the club room, Takashi's eyes wandered to the outdoors, where it was snowing lightly. It was too warm for it to stick, but snow was snow. If Tamaki agreed to have the club go to the mountains with the first years (as if he would give up the chance to be around his "daughter") they would be seeing a lot of it for the next week regardless.
However, a dark head of hair walking on the ground-level paths caught Takashi's eye, and he couldn't help but slow down his pace to match that of Harry. The boy was... a mystery. When he had met Potter Harry in April, he had pegged the boy as being a regular company heir, holding a mask in place whenever possible, a loner by nature though he obviously wanted to join in on the antics of his age-mates, as if he was afraid of human contact. He had seemed personable in his own right, but more that he didn't want to be around people when it was obvious he did. He had been confusing and Takashi had given up on figuring out the emerald eyed British boy only a week after meeting him.
While the gifts that Harry had given the Hosts as a "thank you" had been thoughtful – Takashi had been looking for a copy of the particular history text that Harry had given him for months – and the fact that he joined the Black Magic Club of all things was strange to say the least, but Takashi hadn't realized how wrong he was about the teen until Tamaki had demanded their way into Haruhi's home. Not only was Harry content to live in a small apartment (a very brave feat as Takashi later found out from the claustrophobia episode), but he seemed to thrive in it. And he could cook, very well as a matter of fact, which was curious given his obvious wealth.
As Takashi paid more attention, he realized just what sort of person Harry was; self-sacrificing, protective, and with a heart made of twenty-four karat gold. When Mitsukuni got a cavity, Harry didn't hesitate to use what was undoubtedly an expensive medicine to cure it, something that Takashi could never measure up to. He hadn't hesitated to help them rescue Haruhi when he thought she was in danger, and it was obvious that the teen didn't consider the Host Club his friends, no matter how much he seemed to want to. The only reason Takashi could think of for it was that he was trying to protect himself – or perhaps the Hosts – from something by maintaining distance.
Takashi wasn't exactly the best English student either – it was why he had switched to Greek upon reaching the high school section – but when Harry's twin friends, the Weasleys, had come he had caught a few words. That he hadn't even told his own friends that he was coming to Japan for one. That he hadn't contacted them since for another. Even if that was all he really caught from the confusing dialogue of the English twins, it had been enough to cement that it was more likely Harry was protecting those around him than himself. Learning that the boy's parents were dead – when, they didn't learn for another month – only helped that assumption.
Then there was the encounter with people who Harry obviously saw as a threat and he stood between the three grown men and the Hosts. After that came the revelation of magic.
And Harry was still a mystery that drew Takashi in like a fish on a hook. He was also a good friend, something Takashi was not going to deny at any point in time, even if the boy had only started allowing them in in August. He doubted Harry had even started admitting to himself that he liked the Hosts at all until that point. There was also a small stirring of... something else regarding the wizard, but Takashi wouldn't allow himself to dwell on that. Sure, Harry liked boys, but the chances of him liking Takashi... and Takashi would be the first to admit that his own attentions could be a bit stifling.
"Takashi? Why have we stopped?" Mitsukuni asked, causing Takashi to jolt a bit. Harry too had stopped, in the area just behind the school, and Takashi hadn't even been paying attention, too lost in his own thoughts. He felt Mitsukuni lean over his head to look out the window. "What's Harry-chan doing out –" he stopped suddenly as the teen whirled about on his feet and vanished.
Takashi continued on to the Third Music Room. When they reached the doors, Mitsukuni jumped off of him, using his head as the fulcrum of a flip – Takashi had become used to it so long ago that the extra pressure was barely even noted – before landing in front of the door which was – curiously enough – unlocked. Usually they had to either wait for Kyouya or Takashi would get the spare key from on top of the sign that declared the room as the Third Music Room. Curious, but not overly so.
What was curious was that Mitsukuni suddenly flung himself at Takashi and kicked him in the face.
"Admit that you like Harry-chan!" Mitsukuni demanded as Takashi blocked the next strike, completely ignoring the pain in his face.
Well, there was no point denying it, but why did it even matter? "Aa," Takashi agreed and pushed his cousin away, closing the door behind him so that no wandering eyes would see the definitely-curious sight.
"Not to me! Tell Harry-chan!" Mitsukuni scrunched his face up and flung himself forward again, leaving a very shallow scratch on Takashi's collar for the effort and gaining what would undoubtedly be a bruise on his own arm as Takashi sought to deflect him while taking and giving the least amount of damage possible. Telling Harry was not an option, so instead of replying Takashi continued to defend himself against the onslaught.
By the time they were finished, neither were terribly winded, and Takashi was ashamed to say that he had lost the fight. It was one thing to spar his cousin; it was another thing to fight him outright. Before Takashi could say otherwise, Mitsukuni had called the first year that the battle had apparently been fought over, and the diminutive Host had retrieved the mysterious cake to munch on as they waited while Takashi decided that he would sit on the window and – for lack of a better word – brood, carefully wrapping his sprained (at least he hoped it was just sprained) wrist up in a splint. There wasn't much of a point since Harry was coming, and he could fix just about anything with magic, but it did assuage the pain slightly.
Mitsukuni was not someone to fight with, especially when he was being serious about something. And he was certainly being serious during that fight.
Harry arrived and he healed them, not asking too many questions (it pretty much stopped at "What happened to you two?"). There was a momentary scare where Takashi thought he would have to deal with a broken wrist for the next couple of weeks, but when professional healing was promised should that be the case, Takashi returned his gaze to the window, though his attention was on Harry.
He knew he was being short with the boy, and he really didn't mean to be... but he was frustrated. And having Harry enter his personal space to put the bruise balm on his eye wasn't helping, even if the cool balm soothed the steady ache. Harry had healer's hands, that much was easy to tell by the way he was always able to take care of an injury without aggravating it at all, and he healed each wound with the ease of practice and care. Takashi's mood was a bit harder to heal was all.
Hardly a minute later, Takashi is impressed. He was angry with his cousin of course, for being sneaky (recalling the "House" system Harry had explained, he wondered how the first year could have ever placed Mitsukuni as a "Hufflepuff" when he was so clearly "Slytherin"), but he was impressed nonetheless. By the extraordinary shade of red that Harry had managed to turn that is. It looked like his face had been painted the color of a tomato. Honestly, it was even brighter than when Takashi's "disciple", Kasanoda, had accidentally stumbled across Haruhi changing.
Takashi tried to ignore Harry as he invaded his personal space again to obey the law of giving Mitsukuni what he wanted. And Mitsukuni wanted Harry to kiss Takashi's scratches better... the boy was gone not ten seconds later, looking as though he'd just done something stupid and was waiting for the gods to strike him down or something.
"So, Takashi, do you still think that Harry-chan doesn't like you?"
"Hn."
Okay, so that was the length of an actual scene, but whatever... lol. I still liked it. It was fun to write! :D
