In one word, he could summarize what lured him out of bed; in one breath, he could detail what made him softer than he had been; and in one look, you could find him unraveled beneath the blankets — catching sunlight with his mouth when he arched from the mattress — because he heard it, he heard this , and it fluttered him with fondness: Tom heard his own name, hissed lightly in Parseltongue. And it was the sweetest thing he ever heard; he thought the same came yesterday. Come tomorrow, just the same because hearing it meant the world to him.

There was a roundness to the whisper, to the shape of his own name, and it lingered for just as long before Harry said it again. Like a prayer, like a wish, like a secret meant for him: letting it ghost from his lips before he kissed him that morning. And there, he'd say it, but gentler this time around as it was muffled with soft hair and the tenderness of a forehead. Leaving nothing to the imagination, leaving nothing to complain about, as Harry held him in that moment and Tom melted like a candle. Scooting closer to his boyfriend and clutching him by the shoulder, hissing back his own affections and Harry's name in reverence. Because it suited him rather well, he was like an angel sent from somewhere. And as an angel sent from there, ministrations were important. Like kisses, like snuggles, like the wanderings of a hand, or like the murmurs of a boyfriend finding his muse while in bed.

Because many a writer and many poets have found inspiration like this — while watching someone who they love, watching them enter into their world. Whether it be one step, two steps, or three past the threshold as they fumbled and for a moment, lived the world as their loved one. So it didn't matter to Tom that there was only one word Harry could say, it didn't matter that he couldn't hear or understand what Tom was saying, because what mattered was this and Tom would carry it for all his days. What mattered was the way he said it and the way he conveyed it with a name: all the fondness within his person as he cradled his boyfriend. And in return, Tom nuzzled and squished him — his little lion.