Chapter 16

It had been far fewer hours than a good night's sleep, before a loud hammering was thundering through the small cabin.

It was still dark outside, the moon dancing through the open curtains. Fenrir's eyes shot open, ready§§ to face the oncoming threat. However looking around the cabin he realised that if there were really was a threat then they would not be knocking.

Harry could be heard groaning from the bed, burying his face deeper into the covers. His hands pulled the pillow from under his head, instead pulling it over his ears. The knocking continued.

Fenrir pulled himself from the sofa. There was only one person that it could be hammering at the door at this time at night.

"My Lord" Fenrir bowed, sleepily as he pulled open the battered door.

"Fenrir" the man growled out.

The face at the door snapped Fenrir from his sleepiness.

The cheeks of the man before him were coloured an angry, even with the cold wind of the night. His eyes were an even darker shade of crimson. His whole body was tense. Every muscle was coiled, ready to spring. A wand was gripped tightly between his fingers.

Fenrir didn't even respond to the angry man before him. He merely moved out of the doorway, clearing the path that the Dark Lord would inevitably take. Fenrir did not wish to be tortured tonight.

However the Dark Lord only took a few steps forward into the cabin, before he stopped. His eyes were pinned on Harry. Pinned on the body lying in the bed. As he growled out his words they never left the young man lying there.

"Fenrir. Why is my husband in your bed?" The words were filled with anger. They were said through clenched teeth.

Fenrir blinked, his mind trying to catch up with his mouth.

"Answer me Fenrir. Or I will take your tongue." The threat was not an idol one.

"He fell asleep my Lord." The words were rapid, almost blurring into one stream of indistinguishable syllables. "The bed seemed more appropriate for someone of his…status" Fenrir tried to dig himself out of the hole he was in. It was working as well as was expected.

"And why, Fenrir, did he find this an appropriate location to sleep?" His Lord still wasn't looking at him. Only at the lump on the bed.

"Alcohol" Fenrir muttered. "Far too much alcohol my Lord."

The Dark Lord flared his nostril in response. His eyes never left his husband. The young man seemed to have fallen back asleep. Unaware of the tension that seemed to fill the air, down to the very atoms.

"We will discuss this tomorrow Fenrir."

With that the Dark Lord strode toward the bed. Fenrir was surprised that the man didn't growl. He looked far more like a wolf lunging at his prey, then many of Fenrir's own pack members ever did.

Harry let out a mumbled groan as he was once against disturbed from his sleep. He was both hungover and drunk at the same time. He felt like death, his head being spun faster and faster around an infinite cosmos.

He wasn't sure if he should be sick, or pass out. He squeezed his eyes tighter, attempting to rid himself of the turbulent feeling in his stomach.

A set of arms were pulling Harry from the cocoon that he had managed to protect himself in. Warm blankets were being replaced by solid muscle. Harry let out a small groan in response to the movement. His limbs flailed weakly as he attempted to return to the warmth of the feather duvet.

"Stop moving Hercules"

The words froze him. That tone, the ice in the words. Even though Harry was almost full to his eyeballs with alcohol, he could still detect the dangerous warning in his husband's voice. He stayed still as he was repositioned in the man's arms.

Harry's face was soon pressed against the material of his husband's robes. He only realised he had left the safety of Fenrir's cabin, as a large gush of air whistled through the forest that surrounded them.

Harry shivered.

"Cold Tom" Harry mumbled in little more than a whisper. He was too inebriated to keep many of the filters that should have told him to shut up.

Tom sighed dramatically as he heard the words. Some of his anger seemed to leave him and with a flick of his wand he cast a warming spell over his wayward husband.

"Better?"

Harry only hummed his response.

There was only silence for a few minutes. The only sounds were those of Tom's feet as they crunched through the fallen leaves on the forest floor.

Harry finally asked the question that had been poking at the corners of his mind for the entire week.

"Are you angry at me Tom?"

Tom took a breath. Harry could feel the movement of his chest. A long second stretched out as the breath was released.

"No Harry" Tom's voice was quieter than Harry had ever heard it "I am not angry at you."

Another second.

"I am angry at your decision making and lack of thought. But I am not angry at you."

Harry couldn't see his husband's face. Instead he merely nodded into the black material of the surprisingly soft robes.

"Sorry" Harry whispered even more quietly than before. It was little more than a whisper.

"I know"

Harry felt a gentle hand in his hair, running though the black locks. The repetitive motion soothed the dizziness that had overtaken him. It was gentle.

"Missed you" Harry whispered out, barely realising that he had said it.

The hand paused. A momentary freeze. However, before Harry could even notice, the soothing motions started again; the hand gently running through his hair. It didn't take long before Harry was fast asleep, lost to a world of darkness.

Harry woke to a pounding head with no idea where he was. He let out a pained groan as his eyes opened. The light was too bright. It hurt.

A huff of laughter sounded next to him. The shaking of the bed that Harry believed himself to be on, was moving. It hurt.

Suddenly Harry's stomach lurched. A storm, threatening to pour.

Throwing the covers aside, Harry sprinted, on memory alone, toward the bathroom, slamming the door open. Just in time, he lurched over the toilet. Sick spewed from his mouth, his whole body shuddering with the impact of it. He managed to let out a small whimper, before he was once again heaving his guts up onto the white porcelain. Tears were at the corners of his eyes, as his body jerked.

Harry suddenly felt a hand on his back, gently rubbing soothing circles. He moved his head to look at the offending party. However, before he could, his body was once against ceased by the violent and urgent need to vomit. His hands griped tighter on the rim of the toilet, his fingers whiter than the porcelain.

It took several minutes of clenching muscles and shuddering limbs before the vomiting finally subsided. Harry could only let out a groan. Sinking to the floor as he panted at the exertion. He pressed his forehead into the cool tiles of the floor. He didn't feel good, even remotely, but the cool feeling made him feel better. At least a little.

"Come on Harry"

Hands pulled him to his feet and Harry let out a small moan. Soothing hand, still rubbing at his back, his husband led him back toward his bed. Harry's eyes were lidded and he stumbled as he stepped through the door. The hands held him up. He was gently set on the bed.

"Just wait here Harry. I'll be back in a minute."

Harry could say nothing to respond. He felt like death. He could only curl up in a ball in the middle of the bed and let out the groan of the wounded. He couldn't remember the last time that he had felt like this. He thought he would prefer death to what he was feeling right now.

Harry didn't know how long it had been before the door opened once again. Harry glanced up again, his husband standing tall in the door way. He then let out a whimper. The pain of the movement turning his head into a thudding drum.

A body slid into the bed next to him, hands repositioning his protesting body. Harry was soon half seated against a chest, between a set of legs, hands holding him up.

"Drink this Harry"

A vial was pressed to his lips, cold and rather strange smelling. Harry's noes crinkled, the smell churning his stomach. He shook his head.

"You can drink and feel fine in an hour. Or you can refuse and feel terrible for the entire day."

The vial hadn't moved from his lips, still resting against the bottom one. A slight tilt of the wrist, had a drop of liquid resting on it.

"So, what'll it be?"

Harry opened his mouth. A few seconds of pain was worth it. He did not want to feel like this for an entire day.

The potion was poured in and in two quick gulps the liquid was down his throat. It left a chalky aftertaste in his mouth, his tongue feeling out of place in his mouth. Harry's face screwed up in disgust.

Yet as the potion hit his stomach, a small, cool feeling seemed to uncurl, softly and gently, like a flower opening its petals. Harry let out a small sigh of satisfaction. He relaxed into the man behind him, even that small bit of comfort feeling infinitesimally better.

"Sleep Harry." Even as the words came out of his husband's mouth, Harry could feel his eyes becoming heavier. Soon they were shut, sleep following.

Harry didn't know how much longer it was, before he woke again. However as his eyes opened it was in not the same position that he had gone to sleep in.

He was lying, face to face with his husband. The man's eyes were still closed, his breathing regular and slow. He was more relaxed than Harry thought he had ever seen him. His face was so smooth; devoid of the anger that seemed to habitually live on it.

Harry couldn't draw his gaze away. The man looked so different without the weight of an evil empire on his shoulders. Without really thinking about it, Harry brought up his hand. His fingers, not touching, followed the lines of the face.

His hair was mussed, the waves more crashing than smooth. His nose was noble and fit his face near perfectly. His lips were a near perfect cupids bow. Harry could so easily see how this face enchanted even the most cold hearted of people. He really was rather handsome.

His fingers danced closer, gently touching the skin that ran along the ridiculously high cheekbone. The fingers skimmed along the nose, slightly bumpy under his fingers. Even Dark Lords, it seemed, could not have perfect skin. His fingers continued, until they rested on the pink lips and stopped. Harry could feel the soft breaths on the top of his hand.

He therefore rather quickly noticed as the breathing sped up. Harry went to move his hand. However the brown eyes flickered open, far too quickly. A hand shot out and grasped the fingers that had mere seconds ago been on the rose lips.

"Good morning"

The brown eyes were filled with amusement and a twinkle of something…more. Fingers were still grasped tightly in the larger hand, Harry's thumb resting on the wrist. A pulse was beating fast. Harry was not sure if it was his husband's or his own.

"Feeling better?"

Harry gave a small nod. He couldn't drag his eyes away.

"Much better" he managed.

It was Tom that broke the contact first; sitting from the bed with a sigh.

"I had plans for today. But it seems that they may have to be…delayed."

The words seemed as though the man were disappointed. Yet the tone sounded not even remotely so. Tom turned to Harry, still lying in the bed.

"It seems that my husband has been" Tom leaned toward Harry. His eyes clashing with the green. "missing me" he whispered.

Harry's face flushed an aggressively embarrassed red. His eyes widened and his mouth formed a small 'o' of embarrassed denial.

Yet, before he could come up with an equally cutting response, which he was sure he would have done, the man stood from the bed.

"Don't miss me too much, while I'm in the shower, husband of mine."

Harry could only gape after him. He was joking. The Dark Lord. A man feared by thousands, having killed hundreds. He was making jokes. It took Harry minutes after the water had been turned on that Harry finally snapped from his shock.

The rest of the day progressed in a manner that Harry had not become accustomed to.

Tom got out of the shower and quickly forced Harry in after him. Harry could understand that. He was sure that anyone who had drowned themselves in alcohol and then vomited most of it up, would not have smelt that great.

After the shower Harry was taken to breakfast, which was not very out of the ordinary. However when he arrived in the hall it was a rather out of the ordinary sight that met him. It seemed that the hall had been cleared out. No Death Eaters were anywhere in sight.

The rather large dining table had been removed, or transfigured, Harry wasn't sure. In its place was a much smaller table, that looked as though it may only seat the two of them. Covered in food, only two places set.

"As you missed me so much" Harry scowled as the man spoke. "I believed that you may appreciate a more intimate breakfast."

The smirk on his husbands face, made Harry want to slap the man all over again.

Harry was still not fully clear on what had happened the evening before. His thoughts were a little hazy, only having a few snapshots of images. However Harry pushed the flashes to the back of his mind. The very thought of them hurt his head. He would focus on the now, assessing the absolute fool that he had made of himself in the privacy of his own head, after he had returned to Hogwarts.

Therefore Harry simply sat at the table, his eyes focused on the food in front of him. It seemed that vomiting repeatedly gave one quite an appetite. Harry rather rapidly wolfed down a large plate of food.

The rest of the day followed in a similarly strange vein. Tom would tease him, claiming that Harry must have been desperate without him, before taking him off to do something.

The day had consisted of a morning walk though the grounds of the manor, almost silent in its entirety, followed by a picnic. A picnic, that would, if Harry had been with someone else, have been considered romantic.

The afternoon then followed with a rather relaxing time spent in the library. Tom had suggested that Harry do his homework, while he continued with some rather pressing business that could not be put off. Ministry matters, Harry was told.

Therefore as Tom sat at one table, Harry sat at another, slowly working his way through his transfiguration essay. It was not a subject that he found particularly easy. Especially with a teacher that, to put it lightly, hated him.

Harry was so engrossed in the essay, he didn't notice as his husband finished his own work and walked over to Harry's table. Harry's own head was hunched over the parchment, meaning that he didn't notice as the man's head was set over his shoulder, looking at the scrawled writing across the page.

"Having difficulty?"

Harry nearly rocketed from his seat, his head shot up and his eyes were wide in shock.

"Oh…um" Harry got his breath back from his hammering heart. He took a look toward his amused looking husband.

"A little" Harry shrugged, a nervous hand running through his messy hair. "I, um…" he cleared his throat. "I don't quite understand how disfiguration and un-transfiguration can, um, can occur when both use the same incantation."

Tom grasped the chair that sat at the other side of the table, pulling it toward Harry's own. He sat, the heat of his body trickling across to Harry's own.

"Well that's a rather complex issue…"

For the next hour Tom attempted to explain the concepts, that were far to complex for Harry's mind to cope with. Especially when Tom was sitting to close to him. The man was handsome; objectively so. With his hands so close and his body so warm all Harry could think about was…

He blushed. His mind filtered slowly through images of their evening together. The muscled form of his husband, his fingers running over him, his gentle kisses and his whispered words. Harry's face got redder.

"Harry?"

Brown eyes were on him, a smirk on the perfect lips. Harry's face only increased its blood flow. The amusement on the face only increased.

Tom leaned in closer. His eyes pinned Harry in his seat.

"Harry" Tom's voice was a whisper, husky and deep. Harry didn't think that he could get any redder.

Tom leaned even closer. A blink later and a breath closer; lips were on his. They were gentle, as hands came up, pulling his body closer. Harry's eyes fluttered shut.

However a second later and they snapped open. A memory, violent and aggressive hit him like a fist to his stomach. He seemed winded, all the air seeming to be pushed from his lungs.

A flash of Harry, legs either side of a rather terrified looking Fenrir. The wolf wide eyed as Harry's lips came and pressed against his. The taste of alcohol and the smell of autumn leaves. Harry froze.

The lips on his stopped. Pulling back. Looking at Harry's wide eyed breakdown.

"Harry?" It was the first time that the man's tone had held anything remotely resembling concern. Harry was too caught up in his own revelation. He had kissed Fenrir. He had kissed a man that wasn't his husband.

"I kissed Fenrir."

Harry was so in shock that he didn't even realise that he had said the words aloud. His head was far too full of the thought of what he had done.

Yet as a sudden wave of magic angrily rippled through the air, Harry realised exactly what he had just said.

Oh fuck.

Tom had stood from his chair, magic pouring off him in waves, his entire body stiff with anger. His eyes had turned a violent red and his fingers seemed to spark with electricity. Harry had really screwed up.

Harry stood from his chair, far more slowly, his hands up; a sign of surrender.

"Tom" Harry soothed. His voice was gentle. However he felt his efforts may be fruitless. It was like trying to talk a volcano out of exploding.

"I. Will. Kill. Him." Tom's nostrils flared as he nearly shouted behind clenched teeth.

"Tom" Harry stepped forward. Slowly and gently. He didn't want to do anything to set Tom off. One second and the man would start spewing lava everywhere. One wrong move and Tom would kill Harry, Fenrir and all of the Death Eaters in the near area.

"Tom" Harry was directly in front of the man, his husband. "Please"

Harry took a chance. He didn't want, couldn't cope with, causing the death of another person, of a friend.

Harry extended his hands forward. He took the clenched fists in his. Tom didn't stop him. But the anger was still violent and volatile. It was in the red, blazing eyes. Harry needed to be careful.

"I'm sorry" Harry felt the fists clench tighter, even as they were encased by his own. But Harry needed to explain.

"It was a mistake. My mistake." Harry kept a firm grip on the fists. If Tom left now there was no telling what he would do. One thing for certain, is that he would kill Fenrir in mere seconds. Harry could not let that happen.

Therefore Harry pulled out the only tool in his arsenal. If one action had got him into this situation, maybe the same action could get him out.

One hand remained wrapped around the fist, the other came up setting itself nervously on his husband's shoulder. Harry nervously met the red eyes that sparked with fury. But Harry needed to do this. He needed to save his friend. This entire situation was his fault.

"Tom" Harry's voice was only a whisper as he pressed himself closer. "Tom." His much smaller body made contact with Tom's. One knee slipped between Tom's legs, even as it shook with trepidation.

"I'm sorry Tom, so sorry." Harry's voice was begging; soft and submissive. His hand gently skittered across the shoulder, fingers curling around the back of the man's neck.

Harry gently tugged. A small pull at the tense muscles in the pale column of power sparking skin. The neck complied.

This time it was Harry that initiated the kiss. He pulled his husband's head down, connecting their lips together in a warm, calming kiss. It wasn't calm for long.

The hand that Harry wasn't holding quickly and insistently snaked around his back, pulling Harry closer. Nails dug into the hip of his husband. It was tight. It was claiming.

Lips pulled back, with green meeting eyes that were not so red.

"A mistake?" the voice growled demanding an answer.

"It meant nothing Tom. Nothing!"

Harry was pulled even closer. His body pressed firmly against his husband's. The lips were once again violently and demandingly taken. Teeth pulled at the lip and a tongue found its way into the mouth that claimed innocence.

Harry knew that this was the only way to stop him. The only way to make sure Fenrir was safe. He pressed himself closer.

"Tom" Harry sighed, as the lips drew back from him, the eyes still angry. His own arm had found itself around his husband's back, tightening.

Tom's hands both came up, tightening around his husband's hips, nails digging in firmly, marking the skin beneath the robes. They pulled up, lifting Harry off the ground. Harry did the only thing that he could, to keep himself steady. His legs wrapped tightly around his husband's waist.

Tom, taking a few quick steps, slammed Harry into the nearest bookcase. Harry's breath was jolted from him. His eyes snapped wider at the pain.

"A mistake" Tom was smirking, his breath hot on Harry's cheek. "Well, Hercules, it's time to earn your forgiveness."

A quick move and teeth latched onto Harry's neck. They bit down, hard, blood blooming to the surface. Harry let out a pained moan. He needed to redirect the man's attention. Tom's anger was now on him. Harry needed it not to be anger at all.

"Tom" Harry's hand was in his husband's hair, his voice was breathy. He eyes were half lidded as he looked at the man who's teeth were still at his neck. His first attempt at seduction. Harry only hoped it didn't end fatally.

"I'll make it up to you" Harry had, what he hoped was, a seductive smile on his face.

Tom's teeth unclenched, his tongue now lapping at the blood on his neck. His eyes were on Harry, watching as he did.

"Will you Hercules?" It was a dare. A challenge. A threat. "How will you do that?"

Harry kept his gaze. Something flickered within him. Something he had never felt before. Right in that moment, right there, in that very second, Harry felt powerful.

As he watched the man before him, he felt a heat trickle through him, that made him feel strong. So strong. Here, the most powerful man in the wizarding world, right here before him, had changed his mind. Harry had made him change his mind.

Harry may not have power like others. His magic was only above average. His family had dictated each move of his life. He wasn't brave and wasn't overly smart. He didn't have friends that would stand by him, no matter what. He couldn't discover new potions, or make new spells. But right now he could change the mind of the Dark Lord.

That in itself, was more powerful than any person that Harry had ever met. Harry met the gaze of his husband and with a confidence he did not know he possessed he spoke.

"Take me to bed, My Lord"