I know, I know. I can't apologize enough, but these past few weeks just haven't been great. I'm easily distracted and honestly, avoiding Redemption isn't that hard at the moment given the location…but I really want to move beyond it so I can poke at Tom's birthday….ugh
Warnings: This story is shonen ai. Yaoi, slash, gay, whatever you want to dub it.
Notes: (X) is pov change and or time jump
Chapter, 37: What's next
Harry sat on the long wooden bench three rows from the front, Draco on one side. Mr. Weasley on the other. He'd wanted to sit farther back, but Tom, Sirius, and Remus were in the first row and Sirius wanted him close. They'd finally agreed, or rather Harry had conceded, to the third row.
A witch was talking now, but none of the words were registering in Harry's mind. Everyone present seemed to want to talk and of course, all of them had stories to tell. Even Tom had gone up and said that Asclepius had helped him and he appreciated it. The Gryffindor had listened to Tom's words, but again, nothing really stayed with him.
All Harry kept thinking about was when the whole thing would end. It was suffocating and for some reason the bond still wasn't working properly. If the bond would at least allow some comfort….But, where would that comfort be coming from? Tom was just as sad and uneasy, as Harry was, that much he knew. Still, when the bond wasn't working it automatically had Harry feeling anxious. No bond and a funeral of a friend was just asking for trouble.
He let out a long sigh leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Why did the entire wizarding world have to say something? Had Asclepius really helped this many people? How many of the people standing before them were really showing their gratitude? How many just wanted to be in the daily prophet?
His stomach sank more, his fist clenching. Why did everything always seem to turn out this way?
He opened his eyes when he felt something grip his forearm.
"Keep it together Potter," Draco whispered harshly.
Harry gave a slight nod. He really thought he was doing a splendid outward show of "keeping it together". Besides walking off earlier, he'd behaved himself quite well. He'd stayed with Order members, he had not left the building, tempting as that had been, or spoken with any of the reporters. He had not thrown a fit or locked himself in one of the side rooms. Well, he'd tried, but Draco had pulled him back before he'd managed a step into the closet. Overall, he thought he deserved an award.
He glanced towards the line; it seemed longer than it had moments before. It seemed the funeral would be going on for hours. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom and just not come back?
Sirius would kill me, he thought bitterly.
"This is taking too long," Harry whispered.
"Nothing we can do about it," Draco said just as quietly. "They aren't going to speed it up, not even for the great Harry Potter. Have some respect for the guy."
Harry felt his mouth breaking into a slight grin. He could see Draco was fighting his own smirk.
"I don't know I am pretty great."
Draco's hand left Harry's forearm and came up to his mouth. He'd not only lost his fight with his smile, he started coughing loudly, no doubt an attempt to hide his laugh.
Some heads turned to see what was going on. Draco managed an apology between his coughs, his face turning bright red.
"Are you okay," Ron asked.
"I'll get him some water," Harry offered. He stood up, surprised to find Draco and Ron joining him. They moved through the crowd of people, Draco's coughing fit continuing. They stepped outside the double doors, Harry closing them as gently as possible. Draco gave a few more coughs as they walked down the hall then stopped.
"Draco," Ron said.
"Potter needed an excuse to get out," Draco said and shrugged.
"So did I," Ron admitted.
The three of them made it down the hall and took seats on the large gray couch placed in entrance room. Draco sighed, his fingers drumming on the armrest, Ron leaning against him. Harry leaned into the other armrest.
"You know we can't spend the whole time out here," Draco said.
"I hardly think we'll be missed with all the essays going on," Harry said.
"I thought you liked Asclepius," Ron said turning to Harry.
"I do, but this…" Harry looked at the long hall and shook his head. "It's great everyone wants to share their stories, but his family knows how great he was. They're just using-"
"Or maybe it's helping them grieve?" Remus raised an eyebrow as he came towards them. "Good cover with the cough by the way."
The three teens stared at Remus. The werewolf gave them a small smile and sat down beside Harry.
"I didn't mean…" How did you even explain something like this? Harry did care about Asclepius; he would now forever be indebted to the mind healer. He'd helped Tom and Sirius, probably even Remus, though the werewolf hadn't said so. He had taken the risk of wanting to help Harry, he'd been an Order member and now he was gone. Just gone. No one would ever be able to replace this man, Harry understood that all too well, but sitting still and listening to the mourners go on and on about their problems and how Asclepius had helped them was tiring. He was more than just a mind healer.
"I know you didn't Harry." Remus closed his eyes and relaxed back into the couch. "It's hard for me to listen to everyone too. Asclepius helped so many people, but a lot of them were just clients. Asclepius was my friend. I've lost too many of those lately."
Harry winced his eyes falling onto the floor. Here he'd been thinking about how awful it would be to lose what family he'd managed to patch together for himself and here Remus had lost friends. Good friends. He shifted his weight from the armrest so he was leaning against Remus. The werewolf looked down, surprised and smiled wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders.
"It's never easy," Remus said gently. "You don't get used to them and the pain is always different for each loss. Some hurt more than others. You always think once you've lost someone close you can handle other losses, but that's not true. Each one wears you down." He pulled Harry closer, tears streaming down his face.
Harry had a good idea that Remus was talking about his parents, or at least his father.
"No, but you have others to help you," Harry said still looking at the floor. He missed his parents, wanted so badly to have them in his life, not because he could really remember their love, but because he knew his life would have been so much better with them instead of the Dursleys. He didn't remember them enough to grieve for them though. His parents had become Remus, Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley, at least until she'd died. He'd been so angry with her at the time of her death though he hadn't actually cried much about it. He missed her now, regretted being angry with her, when all she'd wanted was to keep him safe. Who'd known at the time that Tom wasn't some crazy magical creature out to kill them all?
"Thank goodness for that," Remus said.
The four of them sat there in silence. Harry wondered why Remus didn't go back for the service, but as the minutes turned into another hour and then another, he didn't blame him. They all jumped when they heard the double doors open and the sound of the crowd moving down the hall.
"I'll need to go help then." Remus gave Harry one more tight hug before he stood up. Sirius was already waving at him to come.
Harry tried to pick out others in the crowd that he knew. Mr. Weasley managed to break through and came towards them.
"We need to get going," he said nodding to the doors.
"Where," Ron asked getting to his feet.
"The graveyard," Mr. Weasley said.
Harry nearly puked. Somehow, he'd forgotten that funerals ended in graveyards. He must have looked as pale as he felt sick, because Draco was pulling him to his feet, both of them nearly falling right back onto the couch when Harry's legs almost buckled. He straightened himself at the last second, the Slytherin shooting him a dark glare.
"Potter—"
"I'm sorry," he snapped pushing Draco away. The Slytherin looked hurt for just a second than turned his back on Harry grabbing Ron's hand.
Sighing Harry went back to looking at the floor.
This will be over soon, he told himself. It would end, like everything else, the day would go on and then what? Would the bond clear up? He felt like it would, but…
Outside Harry pulled his cloak closer to his body. The wind had picked up doing its best to bite at his skin. The large group walked towards the graveyard, Harry keeping his eyes on Mr. Weasley's legs. They stopped some feet away from the grave Harry noted. The crowd separated leaving groups on each side, a direct path opened towards the grave. When Harry did look up, he noticed a group of people, one of them Remus, levitating Asclepius's coffin towards the hole. Following behind it was Asclepius's family and people who were probably close friends. Dumbledore was towards the end of those walking and of course Tom.
Harry let his eyes drift back down.
Someone said some more words and then it was finally time to go.
Finally! He hated feeling so desperate and for not wanting to stay, but all of this was just so…something.
"We're leaving, right," he asked Mr. Weasley once he'd caught up with him.
"Yes," he said and Harry's heart leapt. He could go home and deal with all of this in his own way, not with crowds of people, many of who were no doubt faking all of it.
He gripped Mr. Weasley's arm hoping they'd Apparate soon. He'd heard and seen enough, he was more than ready to leave. Of course, things were never that simple. Mr. Weasley made him wait with Ron, and a still annoyed Draco for the rest of their group to gather before even considering to Apparate.
By the time, they managed to return to number twelve it was past noon. Harry threw his cloak off and shoved it into the closest. He needed some time to himself, maybe a long shower to get his thoughts cleared. Nothing that had just happened seemed real and yet, it was most likely the fate of every person he cared about unless Voldemort was killed.
Scowling he started for the stairs, a hand grabbing his arm. He stopped turning, his eyes meeting Sirius'.
"I'm going to make some lunch."
"Okay?"
"So don't lock yourself in your room all day. Come back down once you've changed."
"I was going to shower first…"
"That's fine. Just come back down." He released Harry's arm.
He watched his Godfather head for the kitchen, most of the others following. Harry hadn't actually seen Tom, but in brief glimpses with Dumbledore right before they agreed to Apparate. He wasn't worried though, not really. Dumbledore was his professional keeper after all.
He started back up and went straight into his room. He shut the door and locked it than removed every item of clothing he was wearing and left them on the floor. He'd clean it up once he was more relaxed. He stepped into the bathroom, shut and locked that door and turned on the water. He waited a few seconds to let it warm up before he climbed in. The hot water seemed to be exactly what he needed. As soon as it hit his body the cold lump within started fading and gave way to a happier, lighter feeling. Of course, not everyone was lucky enough to get a warm shower some were—
"No," he hissed at himself. He was not going to think about that. He had too many things left to do, things that needed his attention, he could not slip into a state of depression. After Voldemort was gone he could be as depressed as he wanted, could mourn all he wanted, but for now he had to keep his head up and straight.
He scrubbed his body down with soap, his hair with shampoo. He turned the knob so the heat would increase. It hurt, but not in a bad. He let the water cleanse the day's physical and emotional hell from him for as long as he could tolerate it. When he finished his skin was red and sensitive, but he still felt better. He got out of the shower and went back into the bedroom finding a pair of pajamas to lounge in the rest of the day. He doubted they'd be leaving again so soon.
Not wanting to, but knowing he needed to for Sirius' sake; he left the bedroom and went straight to the kitchen. Everyone, but Sirius was sitting around the table in silence. They were staring at their hands, the floor, walls, anything that didn't require them to look at each other. Even Tom seemed to have fallen in love with the kitchen window.
Harry walked passed them and over to Sirius. No wonder his Godfather had wanted him to come back down. The two of them were the only ones keeping their sanity. They worked together, only talking when they needed to. Sirius had warmed up some chicken that they were now cutting up and using to make sandwiches. For once Sirius took the plates over himself instead of using his wand.
When they were finished, Harry stayed near the counter holding his food. He wasn't sure what he could possibly say. If he could really say anything. The Weasleys hadn't known Asclepius any better than Harry had, but the funeral seemed to be hitting them as hard as Remus.
'It reminds them of their mother's funeral,' Tom's mental intrusion offered. He was looking at Harry now.
'Oh.' Harry had wondered if that was the case, but hadn't wanted to mention it. He felt relief at the bond being opened again, even if only a little. The isolation the closed bond brought on was always hard to deal with.
'This is a first for you,' Tom said surprise tinting the words.
'I guess so. I was so angry with Mrs. Weasley it didn't bother me as much as it should have…I miss her. She was the closest thing I had to as a mother, but with the way, she was treating Sirius…and I was too young to remember my parents.'
Tom nodded his eyes falling back onto the kitchen window.
'You seem to be handling this well enough.'
'You're not.'
'…Perhaps not. Death….annoys me.'
Harry wanted Tom to elaborate, but the bond closed yet again. Sighing he rolled his eyes and started back on his sandwich.
(X)
The next few days ticked by at an incredibly slow speed. Harry could not understand it in the least. He'd almost been convinced that the thirty first of December would never come. Of course, that was impossible. Time would always move forward, no matter what anyone did.
For now, Harry was in the main room helping Remus with the last decorations for Tom's birthday and the New Year. Dumbledore had not been joking when he'd said he'd go all out. While the Christmas tree was still in place, all the decorations had been changed. The ceiling had been transfigured into a night sky, bright gold stars shining across it. Small gold lights floated around the room. Lettered banners hung from the ceiling, one said "Happy Birthday" and the other "Happy New Year!" A long table had been placed against the living room wall, a dark green tablecloth placed on it. On it was a bunch of empty plates. They told Harry they would add the desserts during the actual party.
With the last of the decorations in place, the room looked just as horribly over decorated as Slughorn's party. Harry wondered if this had been Dumbledore's intention. Snickering he left the room with Remus. They entered the kitchen where Sirius and Fleur were working together on Dumbledore's list. The two of them had to make sure everything the headmaster had requested was there before dinner.
Harry moved over to the table watching the three adults talk. Dumbledore had snatched Tom away that morning and Harry had not seen or heard from him since. He knew they were still in number twelve, but that was about it. Tom was keeping the bond closed only allowing small bits of emotion to leak through, more of a way so they could monitor each other. Harry sensed no distress from his fiancé and his side of the bond was probably screaming boredom with a hint of anticipation. He wanted to know what Dumbledore and Tom were talking about. Had they slipped out of number twelve once they'd gone to the headmaster's room? Anything was possible where those two were concerned. He knew it was none of his business, but he still couldn't help being worried.
(X)
Tom glanced at the clock. Dumbledore had managed to keep him in his room for most of the day and he was going to blast the door down if he didn't release him soon. At first, it hadn't been a big deal. His stepfather had been waiting outside Harry and his bedroom and dragged him off before he'd completely woken up. This was normal behavior for Dumbledore on his birthday, so he hadn't been surprised. This however was the first time he'd been held hostage throughout the day.
"Why exactly am I still here?"
"Do you not like spending time with your father," the headmaster asked raising an eyebrow. He was sitting at the table within the room feigning a look of surprise.
Tom scowled.
"I already know you're forcing a birthday party on me."
"Forcing?" He sounded amused making Tom's annoyance rise.
"You know I don't like celebrating. It just reminds me of the age difference between Harry and me."
"Your souls perhaps, not your physical ages. Has Harry shown any concern?"
Tom snorted at that and leaned back in the chair. Harry never showed any concern unless it resulted in breaking a law or taking their alone time away. He supposed he'd gotten quite lucky with that, but it didn't ease his mind. Perhaps he was just antsy that he was away from Harry. Sirius was with him, number twelve well protected, but something bothered him all the same.
"He's not going anywhere, right?"
"Harry? I don't think Sirius wants him going back to Hogwarts let alone allowing him outside of number twelve. The funeral was unavoidable."
Tom gave a slight nod, his anxiety not quite settled. Was he so dependent on Harry that he needed the Gryffindor by him at all times?
No…We've gone to different classes, different clubs, I spent most of yesterday with Hermione, it's just right now…
He shifted in the chair wondering if Dumbledore would chase after him if left the room. Could he make it downstairs to Harry before the headmaster caught him?
"Do you feel something," the headmaster pressed.
"I'm uneasy," Tom admitted. "Harry's just bored, but…" What was it? Somewhere amidst everything something felt off, wrong. If there were a traitor amongst them, they would have made their move at the funeral. Or, was the traitor there, but too stupid to realize how opportune the funeral had been to take Harry, or anyone for that matter?
"But?"
"I just need to make sure he's okay." He stood up, the chair screeching against the wood.
"Aderes, this isn't like you—"
"Harry's changed everything about me," he snapped turning on the headmaster. "If you don't want me going somewhere fine, call Harry up here."
Dumbledore let out a long sigh getting to his feet.
"Go."
"Thank you." He opened the door nearly stumbling out of it once he'd managed to get the lock undone. Dumbledore followed after him.
"This really isn't like you."
"No, it's not," he agreed. He didn't like that Harry made him worry. Before his fiancé had come into his life, he hadn't worried about anyone, but Dumbledore and sometimes McGonagall, both of whom could easily take care of themselves. Harry could to an extent, but it never felt like enough. Asclepius had told him that his worry for Harry could be a result of his own holding. He didn't want Harry held like he'd been and that made sense. But, number twelve was safe… "I just can't shake this feeling." He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Doesn't something feel wrong?"
Dumbledore gave him a long look before joining him on the main floor.
"Number twelve—"
"Is one of the safest places, yes, but something is wrong. I don't know what it is, but I know it is. If you can't feel it maybe you're losing your touch."
Anger flashed across his stepfather's eyes before he finally gave in.
"Yes, something does feel—"
"Then stop acting like I've gone mad." He turned his back to Dumbledore and started down the hall.
Tom stopped at the main room entrance and poked his head inside, his mouth dropping. Not only did the room look like it'd been the victim of a store explosion now, there was a table. A dessert table. A beautiful, wonderful, perfect looking dessert table. He made his way towards it trying to decide what had to come first. There were so many plates, each with expensive puddings that Dumbledore and he had tried over the years. In the middle was what had to be his birthday cake.
"This is…"
"Incredible," Dumbledore asked.
"Amazing," Tom corrected him. The cake was five tiers. The top piece looked like a small bowl, than three tiers of platers, followed by four bowls making the base. Each platter and bowl held different kinds of very expensive and hard to get puddings. Dumbledore must have spent a fortune on this cake alone. He reached a hand out, took one of the small chocolate fudge truffles and placed it into his mouth. Every sense in Tom's body was overcome with a feeling of warmth.
"Don't eat them all before your party begins," the headmaster warned him.
'This is…" His eyes fell onto a few French horn pastries filled with custard. He grabbed two and had to force himself to turn his back on the table. "Thank you." The words were hard to get out. He had never expected a birthday like this.
"You only come of age once," Dumbledore said smiling at him. "I'm glad you like it."
"Right…" He left the room trying not to turn back. Even with the intoxication of the candy, his feeling of dread concerning Harry was growing. "It's been checked for poison?"
"Yes."
"Okay…" They entered the kitchen. Tom had to stop himself from yelling. Harry was sitting in a chair next to Draco. The Slytherin was looking over Harry's shoulder; both of them far too close for comfort. A quick look told him it was a Quidditch book. He couldn't get angry, but Draco? Why wasn't it Ron? Or Hermione? Why were they so close? Why—Scowling he walked towards them and ripped the book out of Harry's hand. Harry's head jerked up, Draco moving back just in time to avoid a broken nose.
"Tom!"
"No wonder Ron questions your relationship! Is this what the two of you do when I'm gone," he demanded. Wasn't the ring proof enough that Harry was taken? The bond? He trusted Draco, knew his friend would never do anything foolish, like try to steal Harry, but sometimes the things he walked in on…
"You and Hermione flirt through classes in front of me," Harry snapped pulling the book back. Tom wasn't sure what surprised him more, Harry's words or the action. "We're just reading."
"He was using your shoulder as a pillow. I don't hang all over Hermione." He did his best to keep his tone even.
"Thanks to you I like physical contact," Harry sighed. He set the book down on the table. "Happy birthday by the way."
"Yes, what a great birthday I'm having—"
"If you think I'm cheating on you after I agreed to our engagement you're going to be eating your ring."
Tom closed his eyes. Killing Harry on his birthday was not a smart move. He'd be reminded it of every year and technically his fiancé had done nothing wrong. They were merely close. Harry had not once even considered dating Draco when he'd thought Tom was dead. There was no threat and yet it still made him uneasy. It was just so easy to see Draco and Harry together and if he'd remained stuck in the necklace, would they?
No, they were determined to ruin each other's lives until I escaped. He collapsed next to Harry, dropped the two French horns onto the table and pulled Harry onto his lap. Harry's body relaxed and he placed his head on Tom's chest.
'What's wrong? You've seen Draco and me close before.'
'I don't know.' He opened the bond more, just enough to allow for their usual conversations. 'I can't help thinking the second you're out of my sight for too long you're going to be gone.' He tightened his grip.
'I'm not going anywhere,' Harry assured him. 'Sirius and I have been practicing dueling in the basement, he was really impressed.'
'Being able to duel doesn't mentally prepare you for…'
'No, but it can stop it from happening to begin with.'
'I can't lose you.' He held him closer dropping his own head onto Harry and closing eyes. If he was next to Harry, he could keep him safe. He sensed Harry's thoughts immediately. He was trying hard not to mention that they had been together when Tom had been taken and that if Voldemort had wanted Harry at the ministry, he'd had taken both of them. Tom wouldn't have been able to do a thing. And while he knew Harry was right, it still annoyed him hearing it.
'We're both much stronger than last year. We just have to keep working towards that.'
Tom nodded dully. Strength wasn't all that was needed to kill Voldemort though. They would need to be smart, to somehow outthink the creature. He had his downfalls they could play on, but even so it didn't make anything easier.
"Where did you find the desserts," Harry asked stopping his whirling thoughts.
"Living room. My cake is sure to send us all to St. Mungo's," he said opening his eyes and snatching the French horn. He gave it to Harry as the Gryffindor sat up. "Here." Harry took it, gave it a look over and took a small bite. He seemed surprised at the taste. "I always tell you how much better properly prepared and expensive puddings are."
"This must be really expensive."
"Give galleons a piece," Sirius said.
Harry dropped the pastry back onto the table looking horrified.
"What," Tom asked.
"I'm not eating something that expensive. You can have them all."
"What does it matter if it's expensive," Tom asked making a face. "I want to share it with you. And you like it," he said not understanding Harry's suddenly panic. "Once we're married and living together there will be expensive desserts in our house all the time."
They both heard a choking sound and looked up. Sirius and Dumbledore both looked pale and Sirius was hitting his chest.
'….they realized we exchanged engagement rings a few days ago, right," Tom asked.
'We didn't exactly hide it," Harry said shrugging.
Tom's eyes narrowed slightly. Those two were hiding something from him and he didn't like it. Perhaps the others were as well. They knew well enough that Harry and he were engaged and that would eventually lead to them sharing a home. Had the fools actually thought Harry and him were going to spend their whole lives living in number twelve? While the home was large and had a wizarding history to it, Tom couldn't imagine living here his entire life. He wanted to move somewhere more private, more like The Burrow where they didn't have to deal with too many neighbors.
'You want a house like Ron's?'
'Not the house, the privacy,' Tom snapped his face turning red. 'I want a house like Draco's.'
'You would,' Harry said rolling his eyes. 'I think we're getting ahead of ourselves thinking about houses.'
'Right, murder first, than a house, than a kid.'
'You make it sound so simple.' Harry laughed and kissed him.
'The actual theory is simple enough. It's carrying out the plan that's hard.' He turned his attention back to Harry and smiled at him. 'We have to fit that vacation in there too.'
'How could I forget the vacation?'
'I don't know.'
When Harry finally started eating the pastry Tom tried to get a sense of everything once more. While nothing looked or even felt like an immediate threat, his sense of dread was still there. He could not ignore it. He needed to keep an eye on Harry. Going back to school was going to be a rather tiring ordeal. Watching Harry every second would be impossible and there was a crazed person running around transfiguring rats. Someone, perhaps the same person, had tried attacking Harry at the infirmary earlier that year. How could this "new year" possibly go well?
He'd asked Dumbledore, Sirius, even Remus about the attacks and if the Order had found anything else out about what had happened, but none of them had been willing to talk about it.
"Why don't we start the party," Dumbledore asked.
Tom looked to his stepfather. It was early, hours before dinner. Why did he want to start it now? No one seemed to have any complaints. They nodded or agreed and soon they were all walking into the living room. When Harry saw the cake, he let out a gasp, his mind in complete awe.
"This was definitely made for you."
"Yeah," Tom agreed wrapping his arm tight around Harry's waist. Feeling Harry lean against him made him feel better. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. The traitor was not at number twelve. His fear was simply getting the best of him, because they'd be returning to Hogwarts soon.
'Dumbledore really cares about you.'
'Yeah…'
Tom led Harry over to a smaller table that had butterbeers on it. He gave a bottle to Harry and took one for himself.
"Hey, you're an adult now, you can have Fire Whisky," Sirius said coming towards them.
The words for some reason had Harry back into a panic.
"I have no intentions of drinking something that would harm my ability to think," Tom said.
"It's your birthday, you don't need to think," Sirius said happily.
"Maybe later," Tom muttered wondering why Sirius seemed bent on getting him to drink. Asclepius had warned him to stay away from things like alcohol for at least another year. He worried that if Tom drank any it could send him back to Voldemort's dungeon and… He shook his head. 'Why are they acting so strange?'
'I don't know,' Harry said. They took a seat on the couch, both of them watching their own parent.
'Maybe it's just us…'
'Maybe…'
(TBC)
I apologize to the extreme for how long this took. Now that the graveyard and funeral is done with, things should go much smoother and faster. I need to shake the cobwebs out now, but I shouldn't be straight out avoiding this story now. Again, sorry. And sorry it wasn't the greatest chapter either. It was really touch and go with it. Perhaps when I can distance myself a bit more I can come back and rewrite it.