Disclaimer: I don't own anything; J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.
Warning: Yaoi, BoyXBoy. Proceed with caution.
Tom sighed looking in the mirror. School started in a few days and the army was restless. Harry had everything planned out perfectly and everyone was ready for the final battle. Except for him. He had almost told Harry he didn't want to go, but he didn't want to pass up watching Dumblefuck beg for his life or death before he died. Maybe he could get Harry to agree to both.
Tom looked at his stomach his hands rubbing the skin where his baby would have been showing by now. He felt the tears starting to build in his eyes and pushed them down. He would not cry now, it was cause for celebration that they were going to be taking down Dumbledore. Tom sighed. He didn't want to celebrate. He wanted to grieve the death of his baby, but he had been grieving the last few weeks, while everyone else had been training under Harry's orders and guidance.
Tom moved away from the mirror and stood in front of the door. He hadn't left the room at all since the incident. Last time he tried he was looking for Harry, took two steps and fell to the ground sobbing. Tom took a deep breath and moved out of the room. So far so good. He slowly made his way down the hall. His movements were sluggish and mechanical. He felt like a zombie just moving because he had to.
When he made it to the hall where everyone was meeting he walked in not even bothering with a disguise. He ignored the wands that were instantly trained on him and walked straight up to Harry before letting his head fall onto the man's shoulder and a sigh escape his lips.
"Hello Tom. Are you feeling ok?" Tom shook his head nuzzling into Harry and stepping closer. Harry chuckled wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Tom do you want to sit down? We're in the middle of group training." Tom sighed and nodded slowly. Harry carefully spun around and sat Tom in the throne stroking his cheek gently while turning back to the group.
Tom looked up and noticed the one big group was actually divided into four smaller groups. Each had the wands drawn and pointing at the other groups with someone in the center watching everything happening and ordering the others in each group. Whenever a spell was heading for the person in the center one of the outer people would either deflect the spell, step in front of it, or simply shield the group from the spell. Harry was training them so the people in the center of the groups would be the important players and to keep them safe at all costs. Including with their lives in some cases.
Tom knew why Harry was doing this, and he knew two of the players. Harry and himself. But who were the other two? Alex was too young. Maybe Hadrian? Charlie? Severus? Why not five groups then. Unless one was suppose to stay back and watch Alex. It was the most logical explanation. Probably Hadrian. He was the youngest after all. But he was supposed to go in as Harry Potter. So maybe he was in a group? Severus then. But his skills would be needed. That would leave Charlie behind. After all the man had no loyalties as of right now, and they didn't know how well his dueling skills were.
Tom settled back into his seat eyes fluttering. He was so tired lately. Harry would get worried about him, but he would assure him that nothing was wrong. He felt his eyes slip shut and his breathing deepen.
Harry looked at Tom sadly. The man was still mourning the loss of their child. Who could blame him? Harry was too. But he had started dealing with it in the only way he knew how. He threw himself into mock battles, tortured , and was getting ready to do what people would claim impossible. He knew better. What he had planned was completely possible. And Hogwarts had agreed with him about it. Fawks had been flying back and forth speaking between him and the castle. It had agreed to allow them entrance, and when they tried calling on the protections they would turn on the light and capture them for the dark. Harry only wanted one true death this battle, and he was training the death eaters for that specific reason.
Two weeks ago he had gotten a letter from Gringotts telling him they were sorry for his losses and that he would be compensated. Then a few days after that he got one saying the families responsible were angered at what had happened and had refused to pay the fines. Of course the goblins happily took their money and anything of value and transferred it over to him.
Harry had been pleased upon reading the letter, but it hadn't lasted long. He wanted revenge for his child. Not his money. And he wouldn't be him if he quit just by his own compensations. After the letter Harry started pushing the death eaters harder. Any misstep or misfire resulted in a severe punishment. He was careful not to incapacitate them. That would be counterproductive at this point.
His eyes narrowed as the groups began throwing minor spells at each other. He had made a point of making them understand not to actually attack each other after the first day when about a third of them had to be healed by medics and a few had almost lost use in their arms or legs. They really were retarded.
Harry sighed glancing back at Tom. Tom was sleeping again. Harry frowned turning back to the men. He worried about Tom. He had been so tired lately, more so than normal. Harry was use to pain. He had endured it his whole life. He knew how tired you could get from nearly dying. But it had been over three weeks. Tom shouldn't be this tired. He growled yelling at some death eaters who started breaking position and exposing one of the centers.
They did only have a couple of days left before Britain would be theirs.