Work Text:
29th August 2001 – Wednesday
Harry murmured tiredly, burrowing deeper in light sheets, wrapped all around him, trying to find the source of warmth he felt all night but finding none, which irritated him to no end. The sleep slowly lost its appeal to him as there was no grounding, all-consuming presence of his husband all around him, and Harry opened his eyes a little, looking for Thomas but seeing only rumpled sheets and empty pillow. He growled lowly, malcontent, before placing his head on Thomas’ pillow and sighing, the familiar scent of parchment and thunder and petrichor surrounding him and drawing him to sleep a little more, as the scent brought the feeling of comfort back. But still this wasn’t enough for Harry, as he rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling sleepily.
Where was Thomas?
The lazy ‘Tempus’ with his wand showed 5:33 am, which was rather early even for Thomas, who majorly woke up around 6 am and Harry really wanted his morning hugs so he rose from the bed, naked, fetching one of the robes that was thrown over the back of the chair and drawing it around himself. Immediately he was surrounded by familiar scent again but Harry just shook his head, trying to wake up a little more before he went to the private living room. Thomas wasn’t there as well but his presence was felt – there was open book and some scrolls on the table near unlit fireplace and there was a cup of tea near them, still steaming. Harry stared at them exasperatedly before he went further, exiting private quarters and not noticing the Knights at the door standing straighter at his exit and following him quietly as he went in the direction of his husband’s office. In his sleep-addled mind he didn’t find anything strange with the feeling of rugs and carpets under his feet and his cloak dragging behind him as he expertly maneuvered around the maids who tried to stop him before being stuck to the walls as Harry wasn’t even looking at them as he jumped over one of the maids before diving straight to the double doors leading to Thomas’ office.
The Knights standing guard outside just opened one of the doors for him, as he went through not even acknowledging any of this, only seeing Thomas who was sitting at his desk, irritably looking at some scroll in his hand. Head Eunuch, who glanced back, hurriedly turned his head away.
“I’ll leave it to you, Your Majesty,” He murmured before he bowed and turned to leave, bowing before Harry as well before he hurriedly exited (ran) the office, firmly closing the door behind himself. Thomas, who lifted his head, looking rather confused, smiled amusedly when he saw Harry, who looked at him rather upset.
“Did I wake you up, My Consort?” He said, drawing his chair back and motioning for Harry to come closer. Harry, after drowsily thinking what he would rather do, pouted for a bit but Thomas’ legs were looking more comfortable by the minute and so he went, sitting right on his husband’s thighs and placing his hands around his chest. He relaxed even more when he felt familiar hands close on his shoulders as Thomas hummed, rather content for a change.
“Why did you leave me?” Harry murmured, still half-asleep as the warmth surrounding him made it easier to fall back but he really wanted to know why his husband wasn’t where he should be.
“Just some urgent business, My Consort.” Thomas muttered, drawing him even closer and smiling still – even with half-closed eyes Harry still saw the smug smile he so adored but something about it felt even more arrogant than usual. But then again Harry didn’t really want to think on such things yet – not until it was more civilized hour. “Shall we return back to bed, my dear?”
Harry only hummed in return not even bothering with an answer. With his head conveniently placed on his husband’s chest he felt more than saw the warm vibrations of his husband’s laugh and his rhythmic heartbeat echoed in his ears, most effective lullaby he ever heard. Thomas drew one of his hands under his knees and within a moment they were back in their bedroom, Harry idly feeling the familiar disorienting feeling of apparation but even that couldn’t draw him back to waking world.
Thomas placed him back on the bed, before stepping away and Harry hummed, not content without his presence. Thankfully for him, Thomas laid back on the bed soon enough, drawing Harry back to lay on his chest which Harry did, finally calming down. Familiar weight of his husband surrounded him again and Harry smiled, burrowing closer and feeling skin under him which he kissed absentmindedly, feeling the familiar vibrations again, as the hand on his back slowly petted him down and up again, the weight of it felt even with material of the robe still dividing their skin.
Slowly but surely Harry felt back asleep, feeling only the warmth as the world darkened all around him and only his husband’s touch kept him tethered.
“Sleep, my dear.”
And he did.
Waking up alone, now more cognizant, was nothing new for Harry. The absence of warmth all around him was disappointing but familiar. He still was rather upset though. He slowly sat in bed, rubbing his eyes and feeling something stifling his movements as he slowly opened his eyes fully and looked at himself.
Familiar robe – Thomas’ robe, - was all around him and Harry hurriedly tried to remember when he put it on himself.
“Did I just prance all around the place in just his robe?” He moaned, hiding his face in his hands, wishing against all wishes that the bed will close all around him. Thankfully he didn’t do anything too embarrassing but damn it all, going around His Majesty’s Palace barefoot and only in robe was rather reckless. “Ugh.”
“Your Highness?” He heard his maid call from the living room and groaned again before he looked at the robe on him.
‘Well, Thomas wouldn’t miss one robe, would he?’ He thought, smiling idly. His gaze caught on the note, lying rather innocently on the other pillow and as he opened it up he blushed again, as Anna entered the bedroom with his clothes for the day. He burned the note in his hands before Anna started his morning routine and trying desperately not to remember every word in it.
‘You look rather sumptuous in my clothing, My Consort.’