WARNING: Extremely short chapter, but better than nothing.
Remember slow updates?: I kind of hate that HP fic always has to cover the holidays. I'm rarely in the mood to cover the winter holidays. But a great deal of fluff and character development happen so you can expect the holiday update and fluff around the holidays. Here is the grimmer half of our two Harry's ;D
Also, is everyone getting email updates? Because I haven't received any in a month on fanfic dot net.
Thank you, Thobeobo!
Chapter 14 - Breaking Point
When Harris came home that night he was not sober, he felt as if he had reached his breaking point.
Once upon a time, he could say he regretted nothing because of what it had brought him.
But now? Now!?
If it wasn't for the twins he could readily say marrying Ginevra Weasley was the stupidest thing he had ever done, seconded only by falling in love with Andromeda Tonks.
Why was Gin the worst decision? Because if it hadn't been for her, Harry would have never been pushed into Andromeda's arms.
He would have been able to date someone else freely.
Someone who wouldn't have begrudged him Teddy or his supporting Andromeda.
But Harris didn't have it in him to hate them, at least, not tonight. Hell, he didn't have it in him to bloody well stand up.
He hardly noticed when Bella came to kneel beside him, her hand oddly gentle as she turned his head toward her.
"Harris?"
"Does my being a half blood bother you?"
She shook her head, "I'd rather have married a Potter than a Lestrange. My husband wished me to be nothing more than a beautiful flower arranged to his taste."
Harris looked at her, "Why didn't you kill him?"
"Because," she answered, "I want to live."
"I don't," he said in a whisper. She was strong enough now to know the truth, to handle all of it. "I don't want to live anymore."
Bella cupped his face as if she were something delicate and precious.
Andromeda had never touched him like that, she had her gentle moments, but she never touched him as if he were breakable. Andromeda had always said he was the strong one, the one that could survive anything.
How strange was it that the woman he had loved hadn't understood how breakable he was, and it would be Bellatrix of all people to see the darkened ruin left behind.
"If you meant that," Bella said, "you wouldn't still be here."
"Be here?" he repeated, "Clearly, you haven't been paying attention."
"I don't need you to be strong for me, Harry Potter."
"Then you don't need me at all," he said, beyond tired. His next words were nothing he thought he would have admitted to, but then he was far from sober. "I don't want to be needed, I want to be wanted."
Not for what he could give them but for who he was. He was approaching the big five 'O' and he still hadn't figured that part out.
His younger counterpart was going to be better off if he stuck with Luna.
Merlin, he felt sick, he felt torn apart and he didn't know how to get better, he didn't even fully know how to want to get better.
Clearly, he wasn't drunk enough, maybe he should turn to something more powerful than alcohol.
Could a person snort cheering charms?
Bella leaned in close to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I want you, Harris."
Harris Magnolia Black.
A new name, a new life, but all he could think about was what he had lost. It was Yule, he did have a family.
He knew he did, he should be there for them, for himself. He should be put together by now, he should-
Bella ran her hands through his hair, and that kind touch, that simple connection…
He closed his eyes against the tears and when she pulled him forward, he clasped over himself. He found himself crying into her lap.
Weak and pathetic and too broken to give a damn.
The only thing grounding him was the gentle touch of Bella's hand through his hair, on the nape of his neck, across his back.
Some time passed and a second pair of hands were touching him, the smell of her familiar.
Between the two of them, Bella and Narcissa were able to get him into the bathroom and out of his clothes.
He honestly was too drunk to manage a shower safely on his own, and the two women bathed him as he had been doing for Bella for months.
Granted, both women were not as platonic in their touches as he had always been careful to be, but again, he was too drunk to be of any use to either of them in that way.
Still, even with his bleak mood, it felt good to be touched, to be taken care of. When they slipped into bed, he curled around Bella and Narcissa curled around his back.
He had been taking care of Bella long enough that having her so close, that being in a protective position around her felt inordinately right.
And it felt equally right to have Narcissa at his back, he trusted Narcissa to kill anything that would try to hurt them.
The three of them probably had enough magical oomph behind them to take over Europe.
Voldemort would likely be jealous.
The absurd thought followed him into the darkness of sleep where if he dreamed, he did not remember it.
When he woke to the morning light, he had zero intention of getting out of bed. Surrounded by warmth and the soft press of smooth flesh, not even the hangover of the century could distract him from the contentment that welcomed him.
Narcissa's breath was on his shoulder and Bella was beauty embodied in his arms. He had been so careful of her, and he had seen her as a patient, no matter how often he saw her nude, or she tried to tease him, that line had always been clear to him.
With her nude form pressing the length of his, and Narcissa equally unclothed draped over his back, a woman that he had made love to, the lines were suddenly unclear.
Perhaps he was still a bit inebriated, but he didn't fight the impulse to lower his lips to her neck and pressed a kiss against the soft expanse.
Bella pressed back into him, and she turned her head, brown eyes open and illuminated by the spill of sunlight. She looked up at him with wonder and possession. She cupped his check, raising her lips to his.
He probably should have stopped her, but he didn't. Her lips tasted of spiced cider, and it was him who deepened the kiss.
It was also him who pulled back, Bella deserved more than him with a hangover, but as she settled, cuddling back into the circle of his arms he felt…
Content.
It wasn't the worst Christmas Day he could recall, when Narcissa woke, thoughts of worse, or better, or compared to were chased far from his mind.
He felt good.
He felt wanted.
He felt loved.
For the present, that was more than he had thought he could have wished for, more than he could have hoped for.
AN: Thoughts, reactions, nifflers, or feedback :D