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Tom stared at the clock. The seconds ticked by so slowly, he felt like time was actively mocking him. He barely managed to refrain from pulling out his wand and blowing the thing to pieces.
He wasn’t usually so on edge, but… well. Harry was due to come home today.
Tom wasn’t really sure why he was looking forward to it so much; every visit since that unwise kiss on New Years Eve had been tragically awkward at best.
He’d been too impatient, he knew. Harry hadn’t been ready for it, but he was his husband, damn it, and Tom had just wanted him.
Of course, he wanted him all the time, but it’d seemed impossible to push away the feelings that he could usually keep under control in that moment. He’d cursed himself daily since then, of course.
Things had been going so well. Perhaps a little slower than Tom would have liked, but Harry had been spending time in his company happily; eagerly even, sometimes.
Harry had even begun to seek him out without prompting during the time he was home from his travels, sometimes to go out and eat, and sometimes for Tom’s opinion, or even occasionally, just to spend time with him.
It had been good, and then Tom had ruined it.
…
“Tom?”
He looked up from the parchment on his desk to see Lucius leaning against the door frame of his office. He hadn’t even noticed the Malfoy lost enter the property, despite knowing that the wards would have alerted him.
He really was distracted.
“Should Harry not have arrived by now? His Floo connection was scheduled for three hours ago.”
Tom frowned. “He’s coming by Floo? He usually travels on those infernal Muggle planes.”
“His name was on the list for today, I checked this morning for Severus.”
Tom nodded. He knew that Severus, despite his forever grumpy demeanour, cared deeply for his husband’s safety, and was always keeping a check on his comings and goings.
“He’s not gone to the cottage?”
“He didn’t arrive at the Floo stop,” Lucius said softly. “I checked before I apparated over here when Severus said he hadn’t arrived home.”
Tom sat up straighter in his seat. “He didn’t arrive after booking his place?”
Lucius shook his head.
“And he wasn’t on any of the flights that came into London today?”
“Severus checked, and his name wasn’t on any of them.”
Tom stood up. “Let’s go to the Floo office. It’s possible that they didn’t register his arrival. They’re not the most… conscientious workers.”
…
Tom had confirmed with Severus that Harry hadn’t arrived by Muggle means, and had checked both the Floo and the Portkey offices that he hadn’t been in either that day, nor the day before.
“What about contacting his friends?” Lucius offered. “Or we could check his cottage again?”
“Go and check the cottage,” Tom said, nodding. “I’m going to go home and see if he’s arrived in the meantime.”
Tom still wasn’t really used to emotions, even so long after he’d reabsorbed—most of—his Horcruxes. The anxiety, anger, and worry was rolling around in his stomach in the most unpleasant fashion, and he just didn’t like it.
Life had been much easier without emotions.
And nothing brought about strong emotions like Harry. Be them negative or positive, he’d always reacted more strongly towards his husband—even before his change.
Instead of calling for Hattie, Tom checked the house himself, unsurprised but disappointed to find it empty.
Lucius arrived soon after, and with just a shake of his head, Tom’s worry turned up a few notches.
What if something had happened to Harry? He was alone in a foreign country, and while Tom knew which hotels he stayed in whenever he went away, he wasn’t actually able to control the world.
And now that he was the Minister, he had no real choice but to do things the legal way, which took much longer than his old methods to get what he wanted.
And Harry wasn’t technically missing, so he couldn’t just go and storm a foreign country, even through the temptation was growing stronger and—
“Master Harry has arrived,” Hattie announced quietly, breaking into Tom’s thoughts. “He’s quite unwell, sir.”
“Where?” Tom demanded, and Hattie pointed to the travel room down the hall.
Tom practically ran to the room in question, Lucius just a few steps behind him, and almost ran into Harry in the process. His husband was on his way out of the room, and Tom almost knocked him to the ground in his haste.
“Are you okay?” he asked, holding Harry steady, all thoughts of a respectful distance gone as he ran his hands down Harry’s sides.
“I’m okay,” Harry replied, throatily. “Picked up some sort of bug though, and I was feeling horrible this morning, so I missed the floo connection.”
“How did you get back?” Lucius asked, his head tilting slightly to the side in confusion. Tom knew it was because he’d demanded the travel offices contact him immediately if Harry arrived back.
“I, uh,” Harry looked away, flushing slightly.
“Harry?” Tom asked, brow furrowing.
“I Apparated. It took a few jumps.”
Apparating so far—and across borders—was illegal, and they all knew it, but did Harry honestly think that Tom would allow him to be arrested? He wrapped his arm around Harry and helped him down the hallway to the lounge.
Calling for Hattie to take Harry’s things to his bedroom, Tom set about getting Harry comfortable on the sofa.
“You don’t need to do this,” Harry murmured, though his eyelids were already drooping.
Tom knew that Apparating such a distance would have exhausted Harry on a good day, but already ill? He was surprised that he hadn’t left part of himself behind in a different country.
“Go to sleep, Harry.”
…
Hattie was in the kitchen, making soups, and had already prepared a few different teas for Harry to try. The potions cupboard had been completely restocked by Severus, who’d come by to scan Harry and make sure that it was nothing too serious, and Lucius had been tasked with taking Tom’s paperwork into the Ministry for him, and had been appointed the contact person for them; if anything happened at the office, they were to contact Lucius instead of Tom.
Tom sat in the armchair facing the sofa where Harry slept, and worried silently.
He was too pale. He’d lost weight. There were deep bags beneath his eyes, and according to the scans Tom was running every half an hour, he was still running a fever despite the potion he’d been given.
Severus had assured him that Harry didn’t need to go to the hospital, but Tom felt like perhaps Saint Mungo’s would be the best place for him anyway.
What did Tom know about caring for sick people?
Harry stirred and blinked his eyes open, groaning slightly as he shifted on the sofa.
“Did you kill the bus that hit me?” he asked, pushing himself into a slumped sitting position. Tom noticed that he pulled the blankets with him, shivering slightly.
“Can I get you anything?” Tom asked softly, leaning forwards in his seat.
“What time did Severus dose me?”
“Four hours and thirteen minutes ago,” Tom replied promptly. He saw the ghost of a smile pass over Harry’s face.
“Can I get another dose of fever reducer, and a muscle relaxant then, please? And maybe some water?”
“Of course. Do you think you can eat? Hattie has been making soup all afternoon.”
Harry hesitated slightly, and then nodded. “I’ll try. The potions will work better if I don’t take them on an entirely empty stomach.”
Tom nodded and left the room to collect the potions Harry had asked for, and informed Hattie to serve the soup, along with a few bread rolls and the water Harry had requested on a magically stable tray.
He would make sure that Harry got better, and then… Tom twisted his lips as he grabbed the two potion vials from the cupboard.
Then they had to talk.
…
By the following morning, Harry seemed much better. Not fully recovered, by any means, but his fever had gone down, and his throat didn’t seem to be as painful.
Tom was both relieved and nervous, because he’d promised himself that he’d speak to Harry about the awkwardness between them as soon as he was better.
“Do you want to eat here, or on the patio?” he asked, when Hattie told him that breakfast was ready.
Harry looked up at him and then wrinkled his nose. “Patio. Fresh air should be good for me.”
Tom nodded and helped Harry up. He carried the blankets with him as he followed Harry to the patio and then wrapped the blankets back over him, despite the younger man’s protests.
“I don’t want you to get worse again because you’re sitting out in the cold,” He said, when Harry spluttered over the blankets.
“I’m fine, you big worry wart,” Harry said, shaking his head, but he was smiling slightly so Tom would take that as a success.
They ate in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for the first time in a while, and Tom was grateful for that.
When they’d finished, Hattie appeared with fresh coffee for Tom, and tea for Harry, and popped away with their mostly empty plates.
“We should talk,” Tom said, wrapping his hand around the new coffee cup.
Harry glanced his way. “Is that really necessary?”
“I think so,” Tom replied, nodding. “Because things were… things were going well, I thought. We were getting to know each other, I… I think I was making you happy, and then… New Year's Eve.”
Harry nodded mutely.
“I won’t apologise for kissing you,” Tom said softly. “You’re my husband, and you enjoyed that kiss, Harry.”
Harry glared down at his tea, but he nodded once. “I did.”
“Why did you run?”
Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his hair. He looked downtrodden, and part of Tom wanted to tell him not to worry about it, but he needed answers, and they needed to get past this if they were ever going to be happy together.
And since that had been Tom’s goal since the beginning, he had to see this through.
A second sigh, and then Harry spoke. “I ran because I liked it, and I…” He shook his head. “You… I…”
“Take your time,” Tom murmured, seeing the frustration on Harry’s face.
“I was never supposed to like you,” Harry snapped out. “You don’t get it. You chose this marriage, but I didn’t. I agreed to it because I wanted the fighting to stop. I wanted to stop reading about people dying in the paper. I wanted to stop having to worry about my friends' lives. I wanted the end of the war, but I never wanted you. ”
Tom tried not to wince, because none of this was news to him, but he didn’t think he fully managed to stop his hurt from showing.
Harry stared at him. “But I… I found myself liking you. You’re just so… caring and considerate, and you always seemed to put me first and I liked it, but every time I realised that, I felt guilty. Because I like Tom, but it’s like I keep forgetting that you’re also Voldemort, and you killed my parents. You caused the death of my godfather. I was raised by neglectful, borderline abusive Muggles, because you had delusions of grandeur, and listened to half of a prophecy heard in a rundown bar, made by a fucking hack.”
Tom stared at him and then nodded slowly. He could see why that would be confusing for someone, and why Harry would be struggling with it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t realised all of this before proposing the idea of marriage, but living through it was somewhat different than his expectations had been.
Harry was always surprising him; that had been true since his husband was only a year old, after all.
“Can we… Do you think that we can go back to the way we were before the kiss?” he asked, because as much as he wanted more, he missed what they’d already built.
Harry shook his head. “We can’t just ignore this, Tom. I know you’re new to emotions and things, but you can’t just put them in a box.”
“So what do we do?”
“We… I don’t know. I’m as new to relationships as you are. ANd I know that I haven’t been behaving in the best way since New Year.” Harry sipped at his tea. “I guess we just… carry on and try out best to find our own way.”
Tom nodded. He hoped that now that they’d spoken about the Hippogriff in the room, they’d be able to get back somewhat to what they’d been building before the kiss.
He swallowed, and then asked, “So, how long are you planning to stay home this time?”
Harry tilted his head. “I… I think I’m done travelling for now, actually. I’m going to stick around. Go into Healer training in the Autumn, when the new year starts, and in the meantime, I need to look into lessons for politics and house management.”
“Lucius will be glad to help you with that, I’m sure,” Tom offered.
Harry grinned. “I’m sure he will. He’s already mentioned the possibility of an alliance a few times.”
Tom rolled his eyes, because of course he had. Lucius was ever an opportunist.
“I have some paperwork to do, but if you’d like to host your friends here while you finish recovering from your illness, you’re more than welcome.”
“I was thinking about going over to the cottage this afternoon, but… you might be right. I should probably relax for a couple of days before I start roaming, even if it’s only around England.”
Tom relaxed, despite not even really noticing that he’d tensed up in the first place. Harry seemed to have noticed though, if the fond expression on his face was any indication.
“Thank you,” he murmured, standing. He moved closer to Harry and cautiously ran a hand through his hair. “Let me know if you need anything.”
He felt the way Harry leant into the touch and smiled slightly.
“I will,” Harry promised. “And, I, uh. I’m sorry. For the way I reacted to the kiss. I wasn’t actively trying to punish you, I swear, but I can see why it would seem that way.”
“It’s okay,” Tom told him. “We’ll find our own way forward, correct?”
Harry nodded. “Right.”