Part Seven

Tom kept a tight grip on Harry's arm even after they passed through the gate and were walking through the garden. The sunset painted the sky—the human sky—with colors that Harry found himself smiling at. He had never thought he would see them again.

Then he frowned as he realized that the evening meal would be going ahead—if the people who he had given orders to this morning remembered what they were supposed to do. Harry needed to be there. "Excuse me, my lord," he muttered, tugging at the hold Tom had on his elbow.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Harry gaped as Tom swung him around and backed him up against the garden wall. His eyes weren't the color of the hills of the underworld here, Harry thought inanely. They were simply a brilliant darkness that seemed to pulse in time to the light of the stars overhead.

"To start dinner," Harry said. "They probably haven't started it."

"You think," Tom began, and then paused. For a moment, his hands remained on Harry's arm and shoulder. Then he removed them and half-inclined his head. "Of course you do."

Harry watched him cautiously. Tom seemed to notice, and smiled without much moving his lips. "Of course you do," he repeated. "There are certain things that our adventure in the underworld didn't change at all, did it?"

Harry fought to keep from lowering his eyes or blushing. Of course Tom was holding by the way things had been before they went into the underworld. That was sensible. They could be lovers, or equals, or princes together, when they were on a quest to break a curse, but not outside it.

It had been a while since Harry had felt the death of a hope. It was as painful as it had ever been. He murmured, "Forgive me, my lord, for presuming."

Tom turned and walked away from him. Harry watched him go for a moment, then glanced up at the castle. Most of the windows in the princesses' rooms were dark, but he still thought that their father would have noted the change. They were probably in the great hall or the indoor courtyard, and they wouldn't have started to droop or lose their interest in the world outside their heads the way they always had when night fell before. People already knew the truth, and Tom would go announce it.

He would probably flirt with one of Harry's sisters. He would look at them with those intense eyes and be thinking about what their future children would look like…

See, Harry told himself as he made for the kitchens and the orders he had to issue. You were mad to ever think he would choose you. You can't give him children, and a future king needs heirs. He was always going to pick one of your sisters.

So he needed to learn that his hopes had been for nothing, and so had his lies to himself. Harry headed clear-eyed into the kitchens, where the other servants welcomed him with cries of relief, and sternly told himself not to attend the announcement for the court tomorrow when Tom would explain what had happened and who had chosen.

He woke up, bleary-eyed, in the middle of the night, and put a hand to his throat, and realized he'd forgotten to return Tom's handkerchief. He toyed with the idea of going and finding Tom and giving it back to him, but then he sighed and rolled over.

No, he would do that tomorrow, or whatever the last day was before Tom left in triumph to escort his bride home to the Slytherin kingdom.

"Prince Harry, your father is requesting your attendance."

Harry stared in baffled irritation at the captain of the guard, who was usually the best about calling him by the title he had chosen. "What? Why? You know that I've got to supervise this farrier, or he might 'accidentally' leave one of the horse unshod." The farrier was the best in the kingdom, but he had conceived an unreasonable love of Harry's mother and had been devastated when she chose King James over him. Harry hired him, paid him for his work, and kept a stern eye on him the whole time he was here.

"I understand that both King James and Prince Thomas are requesting your presence, my prince."

The captain's eyes were fixed on the wall of the stable over Harry's head. Harry sighed. It wasn't the other man's idea, and it wasn't fair to blame him for just delivering the message. "Tell them that I'll be there in ten minutes."

The captain nodded, looking grateful for the excuse, and escaped. Harry turned back towards the farrier, only to find the man staring at him with his eyes bulging. "What?" Harry snapped.

The farrier hastily turned away, which made Harry roll his eyes. "Shoe the horses in the way I showed you, or you'll pay when I get back," Harry snapped at the farrier's hunched shoulders, and hurried in the direction of the throne room.

There was a general flowing and jostling of people in that direction. Harry slowed, grateful for the excuse. Every moment that could go by before he had to lay eyes on Tom again would help.

He knew it was his own fault, knew it and ached with it. Tom had never promised anything. Harry had always known why he was there. He had even hesitated to sleep with Tom because he had thought it might bite him later, and then he had walked into the trap with his eyes wide open.

Like a fool, Harry thought bitterly as the doors of the throne room opened in front of him.

The handkerchief felt tight around his throat. Harry tugged at it as he made his way to the front of the crowd. More than one person stared at him and then stepped hastily away. Harry restrained a sigh with an effort. He had to live among these people when Tom was gone. The least they could do was make it easier for him.

Harry reached the floor in front of his father's throne and smiled a little at the sight of his sisters. They all stood in a row, their hands clasped in front of them, and for once even Iris was looking away from her mirror and even Lobelia's tongue was silenced. Their faces shone with still more of the Blaze.

How can anyone resist them? Harry thought. He did hope that Tom would choose someone other than Garnet or Jade, though. They were exchanging glances with two of the guards, as Harry had seen long since.

"Harry?"

Harry turned around quickly. Tom had stepped towards him, his smile a faint thing Harry had never seen before. "You are well?"

"Of course," Harry said slowly. Tom said that as if there was some reason to believe that Harry wouldn't be well. "We only saw each other a few hours ago."

"And yet how much has changed in that time," Tom said, and stood beside Harry, looking at his sisters and King James seated on his throne beyond them.

Harry nodded, his throat tighter than the handkerchief could account for. His father looked almost happy, happier than he had been at any rate since the queen died. He probably knew Tom's choice, Harry thought, and knew which one of his sisters Tom would carry away.

Tom smiled at nothing. Harry turned away from him and caught an exasperated glance from his father a moment before King James cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Many of you might have noticed a change in our daughters, loyal subjects," he said, and beamed softly at the back of the girls' heads. "They have been freed of the curse. Forever now, they will be as they should be in both daylight and darkness, with the wonder of their elven heritage blazing freely through them."

Enormous clapping and cheering started. For some reason, Tom's face looked frozen beside Harry. Harry frowned at him. Was he upset because the king hadn't acknowledged him as a hero? Harry was sure that was only a minute away.

"And nothing would have been done without the bravery of two young men who risked so much to bring our daughters back to life." King James beamed at them. Harry breathed more easily and barely resisted the temptation to nudge Tom with an elbow in the ribs. "Prince Thomas of the House of Slytherin, please step forwards."

It turned out that Tom's idea of "stepping forwards" meant trying to bring Harry along with him. Harry merrily locked his legs and let Tom discover for himself how impossible it was to move Harry when he'd made up his mind. Tom turned around looking as if he'd like to hiss in Parseltongue. Harry just raised an eyebrow back and waved him on.

Tom walked towards the throne looking constipated, but made a graceful enough bow when he got up to it and had to face the king. "Your Majesty is too kind," he murmured. "I came intending to marry one of your children, and the quest was necessary if I was to succeed."

"Of course, but one can still appreciate courage." King James hung a chain of silver around Tom's neck. "Here is your reward for a service well done. We trust you will know how to appreciate it."

Tom bowed, his eyes shining for a second. Harry craned his neck to look more closely at the silver necklace, but he couldn't really make it out from where he was standing. He arched an eyebrow. It had to be important if Tom reacted like that, but why?

King James then cleared his throat uncomfortably. Tom's stare was steady, and Harry had the odd impression that his father looked chastened before he turned to face Harry.

"And, of course, our son," King James said. "Who does like to assume the position of a steward most of the time, but is nonetheless a prince, and who showed considerable bravery in the quest to free his sisters." He smiled and seemed a little more at ease. "Prince Thomas told us a great deal of what transpired last night."

He had? Harry blinked. Of course, he hadn't been around to hear the conversation, so Tom could have said anything he liked. But Harry was honestly surprised that he would have told the truth. Tom wouldn't want to make himself look helpless or frightened, or less than a good candidate for the hand of one of the princesses.

"And we must say that our son is more of a prince than we thought, and a dashing and strong rescuer," said King James. He leaned forwards and waved a vague hand, and people cleared out of the way in front of the throne, everyone but Harry's sisters. "Come up and claim your rightful reward, Harry."

Wondering, Harry went towards the throne. He didn't know what his father could give him for the "rightful reward" business. A necklace like the one Tom now wore would be useless to him, and he had all the money and the prestige he needed with his father's might behind him if he had to make an unpopular decision.

King James gestured for Harry to turn and face the throne room when he got up close. Harry did so. People were staring at him with the same kind of wide eyes the farrier had used, which only made Harry all the more cautious and curious. What the hell was going on that they would look at him like that?

He lost track of his thoughts momentarily as Tom's hand snagged his. He shot him a wordless look of protest. Tom only smiled and held on tighter.

"We are pleased to announce, with the bestowing of the chain that recognizes an engagement, the betrothal of Prince Thomas of the House of Slytherin to our son Harry, Prince of the House of Potter."

Harry could feel his jaw drop, and for a second, the room seemed to reel around him. He spun to face Tom, who only smiled and reached out to cup his jaw for a second, leaning towards him.

"You look so startled, darling," Tom breathed. "After everything we went through, how could you believe that I would choose one of your sisters over you?"

"But—I can't give you heirs." Harry hated the way he sounded, gabbling about this in front of everyone, but his objections had to be voiced. Otherwise, someone would probably do it for him, and he hated the idea that someone else would use less gentle words.

"I have a sister who is married, I told you that." Tom's fingers were stroking gently along the edge of his jaw, and his eyes were ablaze with triumph, the blaze that the vision of Queen Merope had dimmed. "She has children who will be of my blood, and one of her sons is already promising. When we are married, I have no doubt that Amratha will allow us to foster him."

"B-but…" Harry closed his eyes for a second and centered himself. It didn't help that when he opened his eyes he saw the incredulous stare from the majority of his sisters—although Amaranth and Beryl were smiling at him—and he had to turn his head to make sure that he was focusing only on Tom. "Do you want someone who's so much more human than my sisters are?"

"I want the man who was at my side in the elven underworld." Tom didn't look away from him. "The man who saved my life twice, and who saved my sanity and taught me courage in the face of fire. Come, Harry. You must have known this would come."

"I truly didn't," Harry whispered. The reeling had calmed down, but he knew he could bring it back any second. Now he just felt as if he were drifting in the middle of a dream. "You have no idea of the way I've thought of myself."

"I know exactly how you have," Tom said, and now his eyes were incandescent with something else. He turned his head and stared at Harry's father. Harry noted how the king immediately turned his head away. "You thought of yourself as a servant and acted in a way that was unbefitting a prince, but you were encouraged to do that by your family.'

"He has eyes so much like my dear Lily's," King James whispered. "It was easier when they weren't looking at me."

"Well," Tom said. "Console yourself with the fact that Prince Harry will be coming with me to the Kingdom of Slytherin in the shadow of the Obsidian Hills, and you won't have to see his face again except at official functions."

Harry closed his eyes. He should object to that and insist that he did want to visit his family, but…

The fact was, he didn't. Even as he'd taken on the job of steward, he'd resented that his father leaned on him, someone just thirteen years old when his mother died, to take so much responsibility. He'd resented the way that the steward had retreated into a quick death and his father into a slower one, all because they weren't strong enough to survive the loss of his mother's glamour. And he'd resented the praise that other people heaped on his sisters for having magic and doing ordinary child-like things, while they looked straight past him for assuming an adult's role.

I wanted to be remarkable, too.

There was a soft little noise in the air next to his face, and Tom's eyes widened. Then he laughed.

"Tom?" Harry whispered. Perhaps this had been a lie, or a lingering bit of deception from the elven underworld, and Tom wouldn't marry him after all.

Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand mirror with a small flourish. Harry stared into it and didn't recognize the man who stood there, his eyes aglow with verdant fire and a touch of blood-red in his hair. It wasn't the same as the idealized figure he had seen in the underworld.

It was real.

"The last bit of the curse, is my guess," Tom said. "It could only be broken by you acknowledging what kind of place you had taken to yourself." He reached up and ran his hand down Harry's cheek again, smiling. "There would be people aplenty to court you, now, but I won you first."

Harry just had to close his eyes. He sighed, and turned towards Tom so that the fingers skated more strongly over his face, and breathed out, "Did you tell everyone else about the betrothal before you told me? Is that why they were all gaping at me this morning?"

"I may have spread around some stories of your heroism in the underworld before this announcement," Tom said shamelessly. "But Harry, anyone less oblivious would have noticed before now." At least there was fondness in his voice. "Look into the mirror again, at your neck this time."

Harry did, and gasped when he noticed that the handkerchief Tom had knotted around his scratch had disappeared. What was there was a slender silver collar instead, with an emerald serpent clasping it shut.

"The betrothal collar of the House of Slytherin," Tom said, and took the mirror away again. "It changed into that the moment I told your father of my intentions." He leaned towards Harry. "And everything will be settled as soon as you say yes."

"Admit it," Harry murmured, confident enough now to ease, "you're marrying me because you need a cook and a steward."

"I need you. Always."

Harry swallowed, held Tom's eyes and let his own blaze in return for the first time, and leaned forwards to kiss him.

Tom's fingers slid around his face and his other hand around Harry's shoulders, and perhaps the people in the crowd and Harry's sisters and his father clapped or cheered or stood in silence or gossiped among themselves. Harry didn't notice and didn't care because, for the first time in his life, they no longer mattered.

What mattered was Tom, and the future in front of them.

The End.