For the second time, Harry found himself waking up in Tom's chambers, though this time was entirely unintentional. Bright banners of late morning light streamed through the windows and the air tasted like heat and sleep rumpled linen. He stretched languidly between the warm sheets until his bones crackled and his fingertips brushed the cool wood of the bed frame. Like raindrops on his tongue, memories trickled back in from the night before.
Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes before scrubbing a hand through his hair. It was then that he realized that the damp clothes he'd worn when he'd fell asleep against T—when he'd fallen asleep were gone and in their place was a large cream-toned shirt that was worn down and soft against his skin. Harry sat up to get a better look at the shirt and felt a burst of warmth against his face and ears as he realized that it must belong to Tom and that the man must have put him in it while he was passed out so that he wouldn't have to sleep in his wet clothes.
The only thing that had been left on him was his underwear. Harry clapped both hands over his cheeks as if to jar the blush right out of him and chase away his embarrassment. Tom may have already seen his most intimate places, but having actually met the man and witnessed his adorable awkwardness made Harry feel like that had all been a fever dream and if the man touched him right then he might actually implode.
Harry shook his head and forced those thoughts to the back of his mind as he stood up and started to search for his clothes.
However, after only a minute of looking, he found them sitting in a wet pile on the floor. Harry silently cursed the man but none the less sent a cleaning and drying charm at his clothes. He slid back into his trousers and boots, but he hesitated when it came to the shirt. His own shirt had served him just fine, but it was thinner and a bit tear-prone in compared to the one Tom had dressed him in. He usually got by with casting a few warming charms on his clothes, but he could tell that he wouldn't need to with this shirt.
Shaking his head, Harry tucked the front of the shirt into his trousers to keep him from catching any frigid sea gusts under the fabric. The light was nearly blinding outside when he finally stepped out onto the deck. After spending his whole life in the rainy, overcast UK, it was odd and surreal to have so many bright, cloudless days. He was squinting against the light when the sharp clang of metal hitting metal ran through the air and drew his attention to the spectacle taking place on the main deck.
The whistle of a sword cutting through the air and twirling around, the confident dance of boots across the dark planks, the grunt and exclamation of effort, and the glisten of sweat-slicked skin in the late morning light. Tom had a sword in hand while he was giving and deflecting blows and slashing at one of his guards—who was also armed. And he was completely bare from the hips up. He hadn't seemed very bulky under his clothes before, but he was tall and cut with layers of pure muscle. His fair skin tone told of a life out of the sun, but his body told of constant training and immeasurable strength.
By the gods! My heart is going to pound right out of my chest! Harry thought as he stood frozen, unable to look away from the rippling, glistening, straining—Harry swallowed heavily and dragged his eyes up to the man's face hoping for some asylum. But there was no salvation from his thoughts. Tom was grinning with each practiced slash and cut that the guard just barely dodged and blocked.
Nobody else on deck seemed to even glance at them, so he assumed this was some sort of spar or practice fight, but you wouldn't be able to tell with how viciously they were fighting. The way that Tom fought—with every fiber of his being, while also looking like he was playing around and having fun—could only be compared to the times he had dueled Voldemort, but even that felt like a poor comparison to the pure vigor of the man in front of him.
Warmth rolled through his body and his thoughts devolved into fantasies of the very activities that had landed him with child in an alternate world. He internally berated himself, but that didn't stop him from staring—what was the worst that could happen from a little watching? He was already pregnant!
Tom advanced on the guard in an intricate flurry of movements and steps, all while the zeal in his expression never faltered. Tom parried and the guard stumbled in his step, the fight was closing in. Tom had the upper hand and the spar would be over in a matter of moments. If only he hadn't looked away.
As if drawn by some unknown force, his dark gaze flicked away for only a moment but the moment they caught sight of Harry standing off to the side, watching him, they zipped right back and the man turned his head fully to look at him. As if he couldn't help it, Tom's face bloomed an earnest beam of excitement and happiness. His dark eyes sparkled with stars, his white teeth gleamed, and his nose scrunched with the enthusiasm of his smile. Circe! How can he have the body of a hardened warrior, but the face of a puppy?! How the hell is that fair?
But in the moment of his distraction, the guard tiredly settled the flat of his sword on Tom's shoulder right next to his neck and it was over. Tom snapped his head back to his opponent with a look of bewilderment, but the guard was already sheathing his sword and gazing at his king with a very unimpressed expression on his face.
"Never turn your back on your adversary in a fight, no matter how worn-down they are." The guard chastised as he caught his breath. Harry chuckled under his breath at the glare Tom gave the guard. Harry didn't really like any of the guards, but this one was preferable to Captain Grant, who seemed particularly out for Harry's blood.
"Again." Tom demanded as he lifted his sword once more, cold determination dripping from his eyes. The guard sighed loudly in exasperation, but never the less drew his sword once more.
Harry shook his head and walked around the pair to make his way to the kitchens in search of Lucas.
"Harry!" Lucas had dropped the pot he'd been holding with an ear-splitting clatter when he caught sight of the older man and he stumbled over to grasp Harry's arms and begin visually inspecting him for any signs of harm. "I saw the king carrying you away last night and it didn't look like you were conscious! He wouldn't let anyone in, so I wasn't sure what had happened." Lucas fretted with an ever-growing pout forming on his lips as he spoke. Harry ruffled the boy's hair and resisted the urge to coo.
"I'm fine, Lucas, I swear. I just . . . I have a small condition that causes me to tire easily and I used up a lot of energy last night to get us through the eye of the storm unharmed." Harry skirted carefully. Now that he thought about it, Harry reached out with his magic and felt the fidelius charm still encasing the ship, he scraped away the latent runes surrounding the cast-point and the spell began to naturally dissolve on its own. The spell had been fine for when they were on the seas and confined to the boat, but no one but Harry had been made part of the 'secret' so the moment they stepped off the ship, they wouldn't be able to ever step back on.
"That was you!?" Lucas' eyes went wide with shock. "How in the. . ."
"I told you, the magic I do is a little different. It's probably best not to question it. Just know that I practice a different kind of magic with a different set of rules, and that let's be do a lot of wonderful or potentially terrible things." He struggled to balance telling the boy enough to sate some of his curiosity, without telling him so much that he gave himself away as someone from another world or overloaded the boy with information.
"Well, as long as you're not doing anything dangerous that might harm yourself, I can accept that." Lucas spoke decisively, sounding very-adult for his age. Harry smiled and looped his arm through Lucas' as he walked him back into the kitchen.
"Trust me, the health and integrity of my body is my first priority." Harry said with a note of amusement in his voice at the secret knowledge behind his statement.
There was something magical about the sea at night. The dark waters cresting in glassy peaks under the fair moon beams, the whisper of wind through the sails, and the dazzling galaxies above painted in the deepest indigos and dioxazine purples. It was a landscape fit to inspire silent reflection. The kinds of views that one didn't wish to disturb. Unless they were a man who abided by no others' rules. . .
"I thought you'd be asleep by now." Tom joined him at the railing to look out at the view.
"Too much on my mind. I can't seem to get my thoughts to quiet down." Harry spoke the words lightly, but they rang with a heavy honesty. It was just past midnight, most of the crew were asleep below deck with only the scarce night-shift keeping the vessel on course. Harry had laid in his hammock for a few restless hours before giving up and taking a walk around the deck in hopes of tiring himself out enough to sleep. Instead, he'd ended up at the edge of the upper deck, furthest away from the night-shift and lost in his own mind.
"Well, I'd be happy to listen if you needed a set of ears." The man offered kindly, and oddly enough, Harry couldn't sense any ulterior motives or avid curiosity coming off the man. He seemed to genuinely wish to help Harry. He just couldn't fathom what on earth he'd ever done to earn this man's benignity. He didn't even know the half of his connection to Harry, and yet he'd done nothing but show Harry the warm hand of his kindness.
He supposed that the crux of his turmoil came from his uncertainty with where he stood in all of this and how he felt. He was fully planning to part ways with Tom at his next possible convenience and never see the man again. He still didn't really trust Tom and he knew that the thought of bringing the man into his wild life and potentially the life of his child were the furthest things from his mind.
However, instead of keeping his distance from the man as he knew he should and telling himself that he was the only father of his child and the man who'd helped him make that child was no more than a distant dream. Instead of pretending that Tom didn't exist until they were back on land and he could get away, he unconsciously found himself absorbing every little detail of the man. He'd catch himself watching when the other wasn't looking, or listening to the soothing cadence of his voice when his back was turned, or replaying their brief interactions over in his head to commit them to memory.
But Harry wasn't a love-sick teenager, who could lean into the widening pit opening up before him and let himself fall. He'd been scarred and broken by war, he'd been bitten by those closest to his heart, and he had been brought up in a world of blood and terror, death and insanity. He was world-weary, and maybe that made him even more attracted to the glowing warmth that seemed to radiate from the man next to him, but he refused to let himself get too close and risk getting burned.
After a long moment of silence, in which Tom had seemed to think he wouldn't receive and answer and had turned his attention back out to sea and just give him his company, Harry finally spoke.
"I have a very important responsibility that I must uphold, no matter the cost. It is the absolute single most important thing in my life, but I have no idea what I'm doing. Nobody told me how to do it, and I've never seen a proper example of it, so I've only been relying on my gut to guide me. But doing so landed me here, on a ship headed to a blasted lawless Pirate Island after being arrested for 'allegedly' stealing, with danger around every corner. I feel like I've failed before I've even started." Harry finished with a defeated sigh. He hadn't meant to give that kind of an answer, but his mouth had sort of gotten away from him.
"You don't have anyone who can help you?" Tom asked carefully, unaware of exactly what Harry was talking about, but wanting to help all the same. Harry cast his gaze to the horizon as memories nipped at the edges of his mind with sharp teeth.
"I'm an orphan, and what few friends I had made in the past chased me from my home and reduced my life to cinders." The grim words drove into the air between them like jagged stakes. "I have no one." In this world, or the next. The statement was like ink in the water, staining and occluding his heart in the vast emptiness of the night. The only one he could trust with his heart and rely on, was a mere wish below his navel, a flutter he could not feel.
"Do you know how I became king?" Tom suddenly asked, distracting Harry from the tempest of his thoughts as he turned to look at the other man in confusion.
"I heard that you deposed the previous king, but not much past that." Harry answered honestly and his face must have been one big question mark with his confusion for the little smile that curled at the corners of Tom's lips when he glanced at him.
"That's right, but few are really aware of who I was before I became king. To most, it mattered less who I was before I took the throne, and more of what I did after. The majority seem to believe I was some heir whose parents were killed by the late King in his paranoia and that I first took the throne as revenge. Some even believe I might have been a commoner who amassed enough support to storm the palace and take the throne by force. However, what few people know, is that I was actually the sixth son to the late King Gaunt and was technically in the line of succession." Tom crossed his arms and propped them on top of the railing so he could lean down be totally eye-level with Harry.
Harry blinked in bewilderment. From all the things he'd heard from the people of Nandera, their king seemed to have be a wild, ruthless character who slayed the insane king and went gallivanting through the lands seeking adventure and power all the same. Harry had also sort of assumed that Tom had just taken the throne because he wanted to and he expected nothing less from the doppelganger to the power-hungry fiend of his own world. It just felt like a given that Tom in any iteration would seek total domination no matter what gutter or slum he was birthed from.
Harry hadn't really considered that his right to the throne had been anything but by right of bloody conquest. Tom continued while Harry processed the information.
"My mother was the fourth wife and royal concubine to King Gaunt, and had been half the age of the Queen and the other two concubines. She had fallen pregnant with me almost immediately following their wedding and caught the ire of his other wives. When I was born and the High Priestess came to bless my birth, the Queen forced the Priestess to fake a vision upon seeing me and foretell of my fate to bathe the palace in blood, turn the kingdom upside down, and bring an end to the Gaunt line."
It reminded Harry of his own prophecy of destruction and he wondered absently if the 'Tom' of this world was paying for the sins of the 'Tom' from his own world.
"My mother was still recovering in her birthing bed when they came to execute her. I would have died alongside her, had her hand-maiden not fled with me the moment the vision was spoken. I was raised in secret, deep in Nandera's northern mountain range. I considered the hand-maiden my adoptive mother and took care of her from the moment I was able to swing an axe for fire wood and draw a bow for hunting. She wanted me to live a peaceful and long life away from the capital and all of its politics, but she never lied to me about my origins and my parents." There was something somber in Tom's expression as he spoke and Harry could almost imagine a smaller Tom running around the mountainside, gathering wood, snaring rabbits, and returning to a cozy little cabin with the fruits of his efforts and a luminous smile.
"Did you want to be king?" The question seemed to slip out of him before he could hold it back. Harry felt like he was prying when he had offered so little but Tom was saying so much. Still, Tom answered before he could withdraw his question.
"I loved my home, and I will likely always somewhat miss it, but the person who made it home is gone. She was long in the years and got sick one winter, no matter how much medicine she took, she never quite beat it and she was gone before spring came. I wandered a lot after that, doing freelance work here and there to keep myself fed. I had no intention of returning to the capital, originally. However, news of King Gaunt's ailing mind and body reached even the remote lands on the boarders and news of my five older brothers' fighting followed soon after.
"Gaunt refused to appoint a crowned prince and wanted the strongest and most merciless of his sons to succeed him. It was a blood bath as brother turned on brother. It eventually came down to two of my brothers and I'd had enough. The kingdom was in ruin and the people were terrified of their fates in the hands of whichever monster ascended to the throne. I went to the capital in hopes of meeting my father and perhaps reasoning with my brothers before any more blood was shed." Harry could tell that Tom was getting lost to the tale, shadows dancing in his eyes as the story rolled towards its inevitable grim conclusion.
"They didn't listen." Harry stated, knowing that there was no other answer.
"No, they didn't. My brothers thought I had come to stake a claim to the throne, and my father believed I had come to fulfil the prophecy. They tried to kill me nearly as soon as I had told them who I was. And I realize now how naive I was to ever believe they might listen to me, but I felt like I couldn't do nothing either. They started a fight, and I finished it. Under my mother's maiden name, I became King both by conquest and birthright to a kingdom I hardly knew and I was barely old enough to be considered a man. I knew nothing about running a country, none of the nobility or royal court even knew who I was, much less supported me." Tom turned to look at Harry, and the younger started to see where the other might have been going with his story, but didn't dare interrupt him when he was looking at Harry like that.
"I was completely alone, without friends or allies. I was surrounded by enemies and those who wished to use my ignorance to turn me into a puppet-king. Over the years I have become stronger, I've learned how to properly manage the kingdom and have even brought great prosperity to the lands. But I have still been alone all this time. I have advisors and allies now, and maybe even some acquaintances, but I have always kept them at a distance. I always convinced myself I was being independent, but really, I was just lonely. And then I met a dream in a dream." Harry felt like he was caught in a web of spun silk and starlight, sinking deeper into that dark abandon in his gaze.
"I met a boy who asked me for nothing and gave me everything. I met a creature who consumed all of my loneliness with each kiss and allowed me to take away his own." Harry felt breathless and bare, like he was one soft gust away from shaking apart and scattering in the wind. A warm, calloused hand held his cheek in a feather-light touch. "On those nights, I could forget all the worries of the kingdom resting on my back. All that mattered to me was why such a beautiful creature always greeted me with such sad eyes." The soft caress of his thumb brushed under Harry's eye as if to wipe away a tear and he leaned slightly into the touch.
"I don't know how we were connected or why, but I know that whatever the reason, I'm grateful. I don't know who or what you are, I don't know how you do the fantastic wondrous things that you do, but I do know one thing, Harry: you are not alone. I know you don't trust me—or even know me, really—but you are the only person I have ever considered my friend and even if you don't need it, I will always offer you my support and aide." There was nothing but sincerity in his words and Harry was overwhelmed, but also grateful.
Harry didn't know if he'd ever accept the man's help, but he also owed so damn much to him and his words made him feel a little less alone in this unfamiliar world. After a moment, Harry reached up to gently curl his fingers around Tom's wrist and lower it from where his thumb was brushing mind-numbing caresses against his cheekbone and temple before he sank into Tom like a sleepy cat seeking warmth.
"Right now, the only thing I need is to get back to Nandera, find a quiet place to live, and stay far from trouble and adventure." Harry offered him a small smile in hopes of softening any disappointment Tom might feel. The man seemed to want to get closer to Harry, but Harry had priorities that didn't involve being friends—or possibly more—to a young king who was surrounded by potential enemies and could go to war at any moment. Harry just wanted a quiet, safe place to raise his child.
Tom flipped their grips so that he was holding Harry's fingers in a gentle hold and lifted them to his lips.
"Then I will do everything in my power to make sure you find your way safely back to the kingdom." Tom kissed the top of his hand tenderly and lowered but didn't release his hand when he looked at him once more. "I regret that I can't take you there now, but my business on the Island of the Damned will be concluded very quickly and we'll be on a ship back to Nandera before you know it." Harry was hyperaware of the hand wrapped around his and he only hoped that it was too dark out for Tom to see the way his cheeks flamed.
"Thank you, that is more than I could ask for. I-I should probably go to bed, now." Harry stumbled over his words, feeling suddenly flighty in Tom's presence after everything the man had said to him. The darkness had made them both braver to speak candidly, but now it was all sinking in and Harry felt like his heart was jack-rabbiting in his chest and he needed to flee before he made a fool of himself.
"If you'd like, you can take my quarters again for the night, that way your rest won't be disturbed in the morning and you can sleep in a bit." Tom offered innocently, but now Harry's mind inevitably turned to indecent thoughts of sleeping in the bed with Tom, and he might just combust! Harry slipped his hand from the other's grip and rubbed the back of his neck to accommodate the sudden lack of heat wrapped around his slender fingers.
"I couldn't possibly take your bed for another night. Where do you even sleep when I do?" Harry asked with a tilt of his head, imagining Tom down in one of the musty hammocks with the rest of the crew seemed plain ridiculous. Tom seemed to have been caught off guard by his question and cleared his throat unnecessarily.
"I join my guards in the secondary quarters in the back of the lodging area for those nights." Tom's voice sounded slightly strained and for the first time, Harry got the distinct impression that the man was lying to him. He frowned, trying to think of where else the man could possibly sleep aside from the lodgings. And then Harry remembered his first night on the ship when he had run out onto the deck in the middle of the night from a night terror and saw Tom frozen half-way down the deck steps. There's no way. . .
"Don't tell me . . ." Harry gave the man a skeptical look as he trailed off and the other couldn't meet his eye at all, flicking from his nose to over his shoulder to just above his head. Tom fidgeted where he stood and everything about him screamed guilty. "Do you . . . do you stay awake on deck all night?" He asked tentatively, half convinced he's being ridiculous by thinking such a thing, and half convinced that the man before him was the strangest person he'd ever met—and that included the shrewd Alastor Moody and senile Albus Dumbledore. Tom's mouth peddled soundlessly for a moment before words actually formed.
"I was only-I just- . . . I wanted to make sure no one bothered you while you were sleeping?" It came out uncertain like a question and Harry stared at him with his mouth agape for several moments as his mind buffered and struggled to decipher the situation before him. Finally, Harry closed his eyes and shielded his face with his hand as his brow furrowed.
"I'm so sorry if I've over stepped and made you uncomfortable! I swear I didn't have any hidden or bad intentions." Tom fretted, shifting his weight nervously as if he expected to be shouted at any second now.
From under his hand an involuntary snort escaped Harry. He tried to clamp down on it and get himself together, but then the image of Tom nobly standing vigil outside of his own quarters while he slept completely unaware in his large luxurious bed got to him. Laughter burst out of him in uncontrollable spurts as he tried to hold back but it was all in vain and soon Harry was dropping his hand and howling with laughter. It wasn't even that hilarious, but he couldn't stop laughing and one look at Tom's utterly perplexed face had him devolving into a new level of laughter that brought tears to his eyes and had him gripping the railing to keep from falling over.
He just let loose for the first time in . . . ever? Ever, and it was like his brain was suddenly flooded with dopamine and for a moment he shed all the weight he'd been carrying on his shoulders and just laughed at the ridiculousness of his own life. Tom chuckled with him and shook his head with a fondness sparkling in the depths of his eyes that sent stars raining down to his belly.
"Come on, silly. I think the late hour is getting to you so let's get you to bed before you wake the whole ship." Tom mused as he lightly touched a hand to the small of his back and began leading him towards his quarters with a small smile permanently tugging at his lips. Harry had calmed into the occasional breathy giggle as he entered the darkened quarters. Tom remained in the doorway looking ready to send him off to bed, while he once again stood guard out on the deck to protect Harry in his sleep—as if Harry didn't always ward his sleeping area like mad.
Harry looked at the man standing just outside the door like there was an actual barrier keeping him from crossing. After a moment, he sighed and mentally rolled his eyes as he lazily waved for him to come in.
"If you're going to be watching out for me all night anyways, you might as well do it from the comfort of your own armchair." Harry said with his back to the other man as he shuffled tiredly towards the bed, toeing his boots off along the way.
"Are you sure about that? You won't be uncomfortable with me in the same room?" Tom asked hesitantly as he stepped just inside the room and closed the door with a soft click.
Harry slipped his wand from his trouser pocket and then promptly shucked his trousers off to leave them in a puddle on the floor as he climbed clumsily into the bed. Harry flicked his wand around tiredly to magically clean himself, his clothes, and his teeth, before swirling his wand in a few intricate motions before sliding it under his pillow and then turning back to Tom. The other was watching him with wide eyes from the other side of the room. Harry leaned over the side of the bed and pointed to the floor next to it, were a faint glowing line flared with his magic brushing against it.
"I put up a magical protection around this bed, as I always do. If anyone I don't trust tries to pass this line, it'll turn them into a slug." Harry lied with a serious deadpan. Honestly, it would just act as a physical barrier to keep them out and alert him if anyone tried. But the pale sheen to Tom's face and the disgusted twist to his features was certainly amusing.
Harry slipped under the covers, curled into their innate softness, and promptly dropped off into sleep without ever knowing if Tom ever worked up the courage to step away from the door and take the seat offered to him.
Harry dreamt of stars, evergreen mountains, crisp loamy air, and a handsome young boy naive of the world's cruelty. There may have also been a slug or two.