SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.

Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix".

ENVY VI

Theo finds him later.

Harry wakes to the feeling of warmth draping gently around him. It's a blanket and Theo. He stirs, faintly, then holds his arms up.

Theo smiles, gently, and obliges, sweeping him up from the nursery floor and carrying him back to their room without a single complaint. He was waiting for this moment and doesn't seem surprised that it's happened.

Harry is then safely snuggled into their bed, with a sleepy George and Fred somewhere tangled up with Charlie. They're close enough and it doesn't matter where the others are. For now, it's enough and Harry sighs, gratefully cuddling closer.

Theo kisses his forehead, granting the silent request by holding him tight. "What's wrong?"

"Y-you don't mind that I look—like—?" Harry bites his lip. It sounds so shallow to say it aloud, but he can't help it. It's not like he hasn't said embarrassing things before—though usually, not purpose. And definitely not for the sake of his own personal vanity.

He knows he's looked better—much, much better—and he'd even gone to the trouble of learning some of the more fussier Submissive spells from Bahn—things for putting on fancy pieces of jewelry and making his skin all soft and glowy. Nice, odd little things that have made him feel good. Things that made his Bonded look at him as if he'd hung the stars in all the realms and now—well, now he doesn't even feel like even thinking about those moments.

The depressing thoughts are interrupted by Theo's smooth hands sliding up his sides. They're a tad warm to his still-cold self, but they feel nice. Theo is being sweet—he just pets Harry in soft, soothing motions, as if there's absolutely nothing wrong in all the realms.

"Look like-?" Theo prompts. There's warmth and gentleness in his tone.

"A mess!" Harry blurts. The phrase is said angrily, because he can't help how it upsets him. "My skin looks weird. My hair is always greasy and I've gained at least a-"

"You look perfect to me." Theo says, honestly.

Harry's lower lip wobbles. Arielle and Merlin alive, what has he done to deserve this? His hands clutch at the back of Theo's nightshirt, gratified when Theo nuzzles into him.

"I look awful," Harry counters, because he wants to hear that compliment again and he knows Theo will say it.

"Beautiful," Theo retorts.

"I-I keep changing all the time. I look like—I can't even—!"

"You look even more amazing to me now. It's not just you," Theo murmurs. He shifts to press a hand lightly over Harry's round stomach. "There's two of you now. You have to change just a little bit for that. You're sharing more than just a body—magic and all of that. It's alright, Harry. I'm just so proud of you for who you are right now—and the fact that you're carrying our first child. They'll be amazing, because they're part of you—and that includes all the parts of you as you are here. Every single shade of you, the good, the bad and the embarrassing. Give yourself a break. You're doing so well."

And somehow, hearing that makes it alright.

Harry huffs. He relaxes into Theo's magic hands. One rubbing lightly on his stomach as the other cards through his greasy hair.

Somehow, it doesn't feel terrible.

It feels alright.

Theo keeps him in bed the next morning.

After shooing out the others, they cuddle, relaxing in each other's company.

"You can tell me, if you want."

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"I won't," Theo says, softly. "I would never laugh at something that you are so serious about." He kisses the top of Harry's head.

"It's my hair," Harry finally admits. "I mean—it's just—it's not—it went all wrong! It's all over the place, I could never get it to stay flat before and now I just look as if I've—it's never been this bad and I don't know what to do!" He babbles.

Theo nuzzles into the top of his head. "It is different," he allows. "But it's not bad."

"It's flat!" Harry wails. "It's not like his!" He's never been that vain before but really-! There have to be limits to this sort of thing. And he's tried spells. He's tried more spells for his hair in the past two weeks than he has in his entire life, he's sure.

"Why don't you ask—" Theo stops, a sudden glimmer of understanding in his golden eyes. "It's not like whose?"

Harry squeaks. His mouth clicks shut. He did not mean to say that out loud. But there's a hint of determination in Theo's still golden eyes.

It takes three kisses to coax the answer from Harry's reluctant lips.

"…Wikhn's…" he mumbles into Theo's available shoulder.

Theo quivers, as if he's laughing, but by the time Harry gets a good look at him, his face is calm and composed as usual. There's even a sliver of understanding.

"Why don't you ask him to do your hair then?" Theo suggests—rather sensibly.

"I-It's embarrassing!" Harry whines. Not to mention that Wikhn's been prickly lately—between Fred's pranks and Hadrian's attempts to mediate between them. Then again—they did seem to be on better terms last night…

Theo rumbles comfortingly in answer. "He won't mind."

"I would!"

"He wouldn't." Theo repeats.

"But-!"

"Ask him."

"I can't!"

"You can't or you won't?"

"The-o!"

"Ask him, Harry."

"…he'll be mad."

"Do you deserve it?"

"What?"

"I doubt he'll be mad at you, Harry."

"He will be this time."

"Have you done something to upset him?"

Harry whined. "That's not fair!"

"Just ask him and if you can't ask politely, then ask nicely. That'll do it."

Harry's face is an alarming shade of red and he splutters incoherently for a moment. "I-I can't believe you-!"

"You've never been shy about that before."

"The-o!"

"Har-ry."

And then they're laughing and kissing and all the other things that follow that sort of moment. In the end, Harry is sprawled comfortably beneath his Alpha, gazing trustingly into that familiar face.

"…Love you," he mumbles, even as he blushes all over again.

"I know," Theo chuckles. "I love you too, my treasure."

It's a scowling Wikhn that Harry finally corners in the upstairs bath. It's the private section, almost off towards the Merrow's quarters.

The scowl on his face says that's not in the mood to be considerate, but to his credit, Wikhn doesn't escape. He simply waits, arms crossed over his chest. There's a warning look in his eyes, but he doesn't speak.

Yet.

"Help me fix my hair?" Harry blurts out, before he can word it better. He wishes it didn't sound so needy, but his bluntness works in his favor as now, Wikhn only looks marginally irritated with him.

"Your hair?" Wikhn repeats, as if he's not sure he's heard Harry correctly. His eyes are a dark pink-red and it's a dangerous sort of look in them.

Not trusting his mouth to repeat it, Harry nods—quickly. "Y-yeah."

"Did you shower already?" Wikhn uncrosses his arms and begins to roll up the sleeves on his standard-wear black long-sleeve.

"Er—no." Harry rubs the back of his neck. "I just—my hair it's really—greasy."

"And it's bothering you?" Wikhn asks, matter-of-factly

"…Yeah."

"Why?"

Harry stifles a groan. Of course Wikhn would ask why. Unlike some of his Bonded, Wikhn won't assume its because of the baby. He'll ask logical questions and he'll expect answers.

Harry bites his lip. He really doesn't want to talk about this. Really doesn't want to spell it out, but those deep pink eyes are fixed on him—still a far cry from their usual pale hue.

And he knows he's going to answer.

And that he'll say the embarrassing thing he couldn't say yesterday.

"Yourhairisnicer."

Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon.

I think there's one more piece left to ENVY and then we're onto the next sin. Merry Christmas, you guys! 3

THANKS FOR READING! ~Scion