Thank you Eider Down, ex-livreira, and talesoftime for your help.
"What happened to you?" Charlie found himself asking for the hundredth time, fetching Harry from where he'd wandered halfway into the river. If Charlie locked the doors Harry would get incredibly anxious, so he'd learned to read track instead. This time, the snow had made it easy. Charlie wrapped Harry in a blanket and turned on the heater, driving them home.
"I remember a bad man," Harry said, bundled safely on the sofa with his hands and feet no longer blue. "He killed my parents, and then he tried to kill me."
Charlie made sure to keep his voice light, even as his heart was pounding. "Is the bad man coming here, Harry?"
Harry was pretending to watch the muted TV. "He's dead. I killed him."
The shudder up Charlie's spine wasn't from the cold. "Promise me you'll never say that where anyone else can hear you, alright? I'm glad you're safe, but people 'round here still talk about locking you up."
Harry blinked his doe eyes. "Do you think I'm dangerous?"
Charlie thought for a long time. Sometimes Harry tried to remember too hard and had fits, but those weren't dangerous. The first time he'd seen Harry's chair float had been a surprise, though Charlie had always known his house guest wasn't normal. "I think someone hurt you real bad, Harry, and my job is keeping you safe."
The man leaned into Charlie's shoulder, hot breath against his neck. Charlie wrapped his arm around Harry and pretended this was just a part of the job.
.oOo.
His first time visiting Billy Black felt like listening to a stone falling down a well. There was an echo, a memory that wasn't there anymore. "My godfather was called Sirius." He'd been sad, and then he'd been gone, Harry remembered as Billy mustered him. "He turned into a dog sometimes."
From the glint in Billy's eyes, Harry knew he also felt the magic in the trees. "We have a legend about our people," Billy was saying, so Harry put aside the fuzzy memories and listened while the two men fished, let the story wash over him of a place where being human was only the beginning.
"Don't let Billy's tall tales scare you." Charlie was laughing. Harry just grinned and jumped into the river, splashing water over them all.
"Next time, you're on babysitting duty," Billy grumbled, setting aside the only fish they'd caught that day.
Next time, Harry let Jacob show him all the best trees to climb, sappy pines and white sycamores. When Jacob asked for a story Harry spoke of a boy his age who defeated a basilisk with only a sword, a phoenix, and a heart full of courage. He wasn't sure where the images came from, but something about this place helped Harry know truths he'd forgotten.
He told Jacob how snakes were cruel, how walking to your death was like waking up to everything you'd never be.
Harry remembered that the world was made of wise men and young fools, and when you're in a game of chess you should aim for transcendence.
.oOo.
"I've never heard him talk so much," Charlie murmured. He and Billy were letting the mud dry off their boots on the back porch, listening to Harry with Jacob inside.
"He's special for sure, that one. I wasn't sure, after Renée, but Harry's a good choice for you."
It took a moment for Charlie to wrap his mind around Billy's words, and another to stop spluttering. "It's not like that," he hissed.
What would people think? Forks' Chief of Police, playing house with a younger man.
"Oh, shit." He hadn't put it together like that before. "Is that what people are saying? Don't lie to me, Billy Black."
His friend shrugged. "People talk, you know what it looks like. Anyway, I like him for you. Don't let gossip stop you."
Something was churning in Charlie's chest. He thought of a warm body pressed against him as the NFL was on.
He thought of how Harry made him heart shaped pancakes on Sunday mornings, and wondered why that hadn't seemed strange before.
Then he heard a crash, saw the lamp flicker, and rushed inside. Harry was barely breathing, eyes seeing things that the rest of them couldn't. He scooped up the man and took him home.
.oOo.
"How old are you?" Charlie asked, head lolling to watch Harry on the sofa beside him.
"I was seventeen when I left home," Harry said, words measured out slowly. "It was a year later that I killed him." The man scowled, looking past the curtains at the falling rain. His fists clenched and unclenched, but Harry had been having a good week, seemed to be in control. "They sent me here when they realised I was broken. Brought me to Death's door, and pushed. I walked around for a while, before I arrived. All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost. "
Charlie rested a hand over Harry's. He'd read Tolkien in high school, though he'd never much liked all the fancy words and drawn-out scenery. If he wanted trees and rivers, he could go outside. It was Renée who'd been obsessed with fantasy, she'd always wanted to be somewhere else.
"So you're what, twenty?"
"Maybe. Things are different now." Then Harry leaned in, tucking himself under Charlie's arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
No matter how he spun it, Harry was closer to Charlie's daughter's age than to his own. And yet, here they were, cuddling, holding a conversation that neither of them fully understood.
"Harry, this, all the…touching, are you coming on to me?" Charlie had to ask, had to know.
Green eyes blinked. "What if I am?" Harry murmured, and then he nestled back into their embrace.
Charlie's hands stroked over black hair as he tried not to think too much. Renée had always said that he was supposed to feel these things, and the ball of happiness in his chest was warm.
.oOo.
The next day, he took Harry to the diner. They sat across from each other, Charlie watching Harry and Harry watching things only he could see dancing in the dust. They didn't speak much, but they didn't have to. When Charlie put his hand on the table between them, Harry took it.
If they were going to be the talk of the town, they might as well do it properly.
.oOo.
It was almost a relief that Bella didn't want to come visit that summer, now that a British man had taken over her bedroom, and filled the yard with potatoes, peppers, sage. Charlie wasn't sure how he should explain what his grandmother would have called a companion, what his mother would have insisted was a flatmate. Billy's knowing smile comforted him, a reassurance that what Charlie was feeling wasn't wrong, just different.
When Charlie got there Arizona was too hot. Bella had grown into a teenager without him even noticing. He felt like a failure of a father, but the whole time he wanted nothing more than to go back home.
.oOo.
"You can sleep in my bed while I'm gone," Charlie had said. Harry hadn't slept much, but the smell of the sheets had calmed him that week.
He'd started the coffee machine every morning, cooked for them, worn shoes like he was supposed to. It was good Billy came by to collect the leftovers, because Harry didn't know what to do if not what he always did.
One night he forgot to come inside. He spent the night in the oak tree watching the stars and wishing he could recognize the ones from his old world. Sirius who was supposed to bring him home. Andromeda raising the baby. Draco falling, falling…
Instead they hung solemnly in the black sky, constellations that didn't fit right just like he didn't fit right.
Billy's red truck woke him that morning, the fog a wet blanket around Harry's shoulders. They drove to the hardware store where Billy told him to pick out paints and brushes.
Charlie came home to blue kitchen cabinets and fresh laundry. He tucked into his dinner while telling of red dirt, endless heat, and his daughter.
That night, Charlie stood beside Harry, looking at how their faces were touching in the bathroom mirror. "If you like, it could be our bed?" he murmured.
"Chief Swan, are you trying to sleep with me?" Harry grinned as the man's face turned bright red.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know." Charlie would never take advantage of him, even if Harry wondered sometimes if kissing those lips would feel familiar and safe, like the rest of the man did.
That night they lay on opposite sides of the bed, barely sleeping. They woke curled around each other, and Harry felt whole.
As usual there's more of the story already up on ao3. All 14 chapters are completely written and will be cross-posted here over the next months.
I'm posting on average 2000 words every day of December, bookmark me so you don't miss out on new stories! Thank you for reading.