Work Text:
18th September 2001 – Wednesday
“What exactly do you mean, Healer?” Thomas hissed his voice almost dangerously low as he felt his insides turn to ice in more than one sense. “Explain yourself.”
The Healer, one of his most trusted ones, was staring back at him without any fear in his eyes but with some unfathomable emotion in them that Thomas really didn’t want to understand, especially not now. His gaze briefly drifted to figure lying on the bed, motionless, before he forcefully turned it back to Healer.
“Primary Consort was bitten by Ashwinder, Your Majesty, as you’re well aware. We purged the poison that wasn’t already metabolized and, thankfully, the poison itself never reached His Highness’ heart, but he’s still at risk of falling into natural coma from the magical one. We do everything we can but you need to know of the danger.” Healer asserted, not even flinching at the sudden magical pressure from His Majesty. “We will watch him over next twelve hours to ensure he comes up naturally.”
Thomas sighed forcefully trying to calm his heartbeat down and feeling unpleasantly surprised as to how nervously helpless he felt over this.
“And there’s nothing to mitigate the risks?” He asked getting his magic back under control.
“We did everything we could, Your Majesty. We can’t leave him in magical coma for more time but forcing him out of it would do more harm than good.” Healer looked back at his patient briefly. “Everything is now in his hands.”
Thomas said nothing, clenching his teeth.
The body in his arms felt strangely, hauntingly familiar, the slender body cold as ice and rigid in his grasp as he desperately felt the lithe waist, the unmoving chest, feeling the terror rise up in him, unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.
Almost as if he returned back in time, watching through the glass windows of his first home as the first bombs dropped on the city. He never forgot the helplessness of standing against relentless force, that burned the entire building right across the street, he never forgot the acidic fires and the smell of burning flesh, as they ran towards the bomb shelter and all he heard was sirens and screams and sirens again – and on his mind was one thing and one thing alone – never again.
But here he was, clutching the cold body to his chest as he brought his hand to familiar face, void of any expression, the emerald eyes closed for eternity, pink lips ashen. He felt himself freeze over, the feelings he had, even if he never understood them at a time, flooded his minds, calling his memories of the passion they shared, over talks they had, over everything and nothing – he wailed, clutching the body of the one he loved to his chest and kneeling over, feeling his entire being tremble and shutter, as he screamed and cursed and howled and the pain just never stopped.
He smelt the burning flesh and the broken dreams he never knew he had.
And the body in his arms never answered, melting into the ground through his fingers as he desperately tried to clutch it closer and closer and closer.
“Everything ends, Thomas Riddle. Even stars die out.”
“HARRY!” He screamed and startled awake, breathing desperately as he watched the unfamiliar ceiling over him. He collected himself slowly, trying to remember how his arms, his legs, his entire body should feel like and failing time after time but with each desperate breath he slowly calmed down, as the cotton sheets under him hugged his body and someone warm was leaning on him, as he sensed the breaths tickling his neck. He turned his head, trying to see who it was and after seeing the familiar features of Harry, calmly sleeping, he hastily brought his arms around his Consort, bringing him closer to his chest and finally, finally, feeling the heartbeat echoing through his body, as Harry drifted even closer to him, pressing his face into his neck as both his arms and legs wound up around him.
He felt himself finally calming down, scowling at the weakness he just showed. Thankfully, there was no witnesses but even he himself was enough to know that it existed. He huffed, pressing a kiss to his husband’s hair who breathed contently, snuggling up to him. Honestly, he never expected nightmares to come out of this situation – not when he felt nothing when Evangeline died. But with Harry even the past risk of him not waking up – thankfully averted, - brought something Thomas refused to consider for a long time indeed.
Such as his feelings towards Harry.
He knew, what he felt towards him wasn’t ordinary for him – for once he never felt like this before, and his fascination towards other concubines felt like a passing dream whenever he was with Harry. The longer he spent with him and with their children, the longer he felt as if he was turning away from everything he built. The crash and burn of his plans hurt but at the same time – he glanced at his husband sleeping on his chest, - he never felt happier. At the start of it all he honestly thought that Harry would be the same as the other Concubines – someone he had passive interest in but never more than that. Well, he chuckled lowly, as to not wake his tired husband up, that aged well.
Harem wasn’t viable anymore. He thought before of giving them lot five years to get most of concubines out of the way naturally but it wasn’t an option.
Especially not after this.
And waiting for other Concubines to do something he can destroy Harem over wasn’t viable as well. As much as he wanted to demolish Harem immediately, he needed a reason. One he could present to general public and the Council – and while he never really needed their opinion it would be easier for him to manipulate them if he had enough truth mixed with lies as to do so. He threaded his fingers through his husband’s hair, feeling himself paradoxically relaxing even more. He felt more than heard as the door to their bedroom opened and he tensed a little before seeing familiar small figure dart in. He heard little footsteps as their eldest daughter neared the bed and with all the confidence of a two-year old clenched the bed covers, trying to climb it and even managing to get her little foot up. Snickering a little he waved his magic, lifting their daughter on the bed, who blinked owlishly at him in the light of corridor streaming through.
Seeing him though, Alsephina quickly snuggled at the side of him, pressing her small hands into his Dad’s who almost immediately let go of Thomas to grab at their daughter and press all of them together. While still sleeping.
Thomas laughed, feeling the whatever tension he felt leave him.
“Is dada alright?” His daughter, his little spitfire, hissed, glancing up at him. Thomas smiled, petting her head and hugged them closer.
“Yes, he is, my dear. He is.”