Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Challenges listed at the bottom.
Word Count: 776
Warning: Mentioned Character Death, and a Funeral.
You Make Things Bearable
Harry glared at the flowers. Rearranging one of the roses, he stepped back, shook his head, and then put it back where it was. He knew he was being nitpicky, but he was searching for things to focus on so that he didn't have to think about what was actually going on.
He could feel Tom's eyes on him from across the room, and he wanted nothing more than to go to him, to sink into his arms and feel safe and like if he fell apart, someone would be there to put him back together, but he couldn't.
Tom, as wonderful as he was, didn't do emotions, and Harry was feeling very emotional. Harry was surprised the man was even there, if he was honest with himself, and he loved Tom all the more for trying.
"Harry?"
Harry turned to look at Hermione, who hovered at his side. She was wearing a beautiful black dress, but there was a pop of colour in her headband and the scarf she wore, and it brought the hint of a tired smile to his lips.
Sirius would have liked that. He hated the colour black.
"They're asking for the flowers, and then we can go."
Harry sighed but nodded. Swallowing hard, he lifted the large display and followed her out of the door. The hearse was waiting for them, and Harry handed over the flowers to the undertaker and watched him slide them on top of the coffin.
People filed from the house to line the pavement. Some people were already crying, Harry noticed, but he hadn't been able to since the day it happened.
He'd never really been much of a crier, but he thought maybe he wanted to now, in the hopes that it would relieve even a little bit of the agony that had settled in his chest.
A large hand on the small of his back startled him, and he looked up to see Tom standing beside him, a solemn look on his face.
There wasn't a family car. Harry hadn't wanted to ride alone, and since the cemetery wasn't far from the house, he'd decided to walk with the hearse instead.
"Do you want me to walk with you?" Tom offered quietly.
Harry nodded, clutching at the offered hand. "Please."
…
"What can I do to help?" Tom asked, later, when the guests were leaving the house.
Harry had decided to host the wake himself, rather than booking a bar, because he knew that some of Sirius' friends could be rowdy when drinking, and the last thing he needed to deal with was a bar fight.
Harry was already cleaning up, walking around with a bin bag in his hand, tipping plates of half eaten food, and empty beer bottles into it as he passed the various sides they'd been left on.
Shaking his head at Tom, he said, "You've done enough today, it's fine. I can… I can do this. You don't have to stay."
"Hey," Tom murmured, cupping Harry's cheek. "I'm not only with you for the happy times, Harry. I'll be here when you're happy, but I'll also be here when you're feeling sad and low, or angry, or scared, or anything else, okay?"
Harry nodded, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes unexpectedly filled with tears.
"And i'll be here to hold you when you cry," Tom added, pulling Harry into his arms and gently forcing him to drop the bin bag.
As the tears fell, Harry cried silently into Tom's shirt. He missed Sirius so much, it was almost debilitating. He hadn't realised how much he still needed his godfather until he was gone, and it hurt.
Tom stroked a large hand up and down Harry's back for a while, before he gently led them to a chair, pulling Harry down on his lap.
"I need to finish tidying up," Harry protested, when Tom cradled him close.
"We can do it later," Tom said softly. "I'm not going anywhere, and you need to get some rest. Sleep, Harry. The mess, and me, will be here when you wake up."
Harry realised Tom's motive for sitting down. He'd always had a bit of an obsession with Harry getting enough sleep, after all. He couldn't find it in himself to fight him though, and he settled in against his chest, his cheeks still wet with tears, and he closed his eyes.
It had been a hard day—a hard week—and he knew that it wouldn't get easier for a while, but with Tom there to hold him when he needed it, Harry thought that maybe, it could be bearable.
Written For:
Valentines or Palentines: Day 8: OTP Prompt: "What can I do to help?"
Alphabetti: N: Nitpicky
365: 115. Motive
Musical Yearly: 91. Cheesy: Spice Up Your Life: When you're feeling sad and low
Insane House: 437. A Funeral
