Chapter Text
Family
Harry had to admit that Eliza had an exquisite library. Large bay windows covered the east side of the wall and beyond it was a garden full of summer life. It was nothing like Aunt Petunia’s neatly lined and trimmed space.
No, this garden was lush and mixed in with flowers. Harry smirked as he glanced at the multitude of house plants that littered the spaces in between books and on tables and in some cases in empty chairs. It was clear that Eliza was a bit of a green thumb and a throb of desperation had him wanted to fire call Neville. Share this space with someone.
It had been two days since they’d arrived and while Tom had made a big show of needing to be close to get things done everything had been slow. Even now, they were supposed to be looking up Lammas as, once again, Harry’d missed celebrating it.
Tom had scoffed that they’d all been busy but that they should have set aside extra time. It was even more important that it landed on his birthday. Harry didn’t know why that would matter but he wasn’t about to open himself up to a lecture about his own ‘cultural inadequacies’. He’d even sent Tracey a letter complaining about it.
He’d just pulled himself from the book telling him to celebrate Lammas they needed to have a feast of some kind to ask Tom how they’d manage that but he found the man asleep.
He was sitting in one of the more plush chairs in the library, a brown leather contraption that acted more like a hug than a chair. His head was tipped back, eyes closed and his mouth partially open. Harry stared, worry pinching at him as he carefully watched the man’s chest until he could detect slight movement.
Frowning he closed his book slowly. Tom was still weaker than he should be and so far hadn’t been forthcoming about why. He’d just wave Harry off but he was falling asleep now. In public.
Harry had never seen the man asleep and considering he was always complaining about having sleep problems it was beyond unusual it should be happening at half past noon. It seemed unlikely that Voldemort would allow himself the liability of being completely unaware of his surroundings by doing something as frivolous as sleeping.
Although it did warm Harry’s heart that perhaps Tom trusted him enough to relax.
Slowly sliding the book on the side table next to his own chair Harry rose as quietly as he possibly could. It took ages for him to exit the library, closing the door with the quietest snick he could muster. Harry figured all that practice quietly moving about in a house as if he didn’t exist in it could come in handy occasionally.
He slowly made his way towards the kitchen where he found Eliza standing by one of the large bay windows that seemed to be in every room of her house. She had a cup of steaming tea in her hand that she was absentmindedly stirring with a thin metal spoon.
The moment his foot touched the wood floor of the room she turned, her light eyes held a dark look of sadness for only a moment before they lightened. “Harry.” She greeted, though her smile was a little slow to come.
He blinked at her. She had been this bubble of positivity the entire time they’d been there but this was a deep sadness that she was chasing away, he could easily recognize it for he found himself mired in occasionally. Hitting him when he was alone, that well of dark cold water nearly drowning him at times.
“Are you okay?” He asked, moving closer. He glanced around the room but there was nothing out of place. A glance out the window showed him the same. A kitchen done in dark stained wood and forest green, brass handles and kitchen items neatly put away. Plants contained in propagation stations in the window over the sink.
Eliza waved a dismissive hand and moved closer. “Of course, would you like tea?”
“Thanks,” Harry murmured, watching her carefully as she turned away to pour him a cup. He’d found that she did much of the housework herself and while she did have a House Elf, she seemed to find better company in the little creature than anything else.
By the time she handed him his cup he’d taken a seat on one of the stools clustered around the kitchen island. She took a seat opposite him and propped her elbows up, hovering the edge of the tea near her mouth. They watched each other as they took careful sips of their hot tea for a few moments until Harry couldn’t help himself.
“Do you celebrate Lammas?” Eliza smiled and set her cup down.
“I bake.” Her short answer, despite being delivered with good humor, had Harry narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.
“You bake?” He repeated in a tone full of disbelief.
Eliza laughed and leaned back in her chair, the smile brighter than it had been a few minutes ago. “Yes, many in the community call it Lughnasad instead of Lammas. It is simply a seasonal turning point and as I am not an agriwix I bake as a way to observe the day. It is not as important as Winter Solstice, Beltane or Samhain.”
A tenseness he didn’t even know he had in his shoulders relaxed. He knew that Tom was intensely interested in Harry integrating himself into Wix culture. Knowing this particular sabbat wasn’t as important as some of the others had him breathing a little easier.
He could bake and be done with it. That stupid book had said they were supposed to have a feast and what was the point of that if you couldn’t invite friends?
“So I could just bake a cake or something?” Harry picked up the tea and settled more into the stool.
“Sure, we could do that now if you’d like? I have some simple recipes you can look over.” She gave a cursory glance around the kitchen before she stood and came back with a worn leather covered book. She plopped it down with a thump in front of Harry.
Harry flipped open the book and found a book with hand drawn pictures and varying ages of parchment. Running a hand over them he wondered how old this book was and almost immediately a twisting feeling in his chest had him pressing a hand to it.
He’d never have this. No heirlooms. No family recipe books. Nothing that wasn’t brand new. Nothing would be passed down to him with a solemn conversation of how important it was. He was starting over from scratch. It wasn’t fair.
A flash of the Map came to his minds eye and he breathed out a shaky breath.
He supposed he did have some things. The Map, the cloak. Furrowing his brow he traced his fingertips over the edges of the book in thought. He didn’t think he had anything else and even those things were not generational like this book.
It made Harry wonder what else Eliza had. Did Tom have anything like this? He doubted it.
“Did you find one?” Eliza asked from behind him, shifting around to lean against the counter. Harry’s shoulders tensed slightly and he tried to rearrange his face to be more friendly.
“Sure, yes.” He pointed to the recipe on the page he’d been on, not wanting her to know that he’d not even been looking at them. She glanced at it and hummed.
“Not too hard that, should be easy enough.” She pulled the book towards her, running her finger down the list.
“Is this a family book?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. He wanted to know. How did the other half live? The people that had history and family. Eliza paused, looking up at him with her brows raised slightly but a smile touched her lips.
“Of a sort,” She straightened slightly. “It’s a book that has been kept in our family for generations but not in the way you’re likely thinking. Cooking has nearly always something the House Elves do, but we have kept to the tradition of a family line of Elves. So, this book has been kept in our family for nearly two hundred years but it has been kept up to date with new or adjusted recipes from our House Elves.”
Harry’s mouth parted as he glanced at the book again. A page of neat calligraphy and neat drawings stared back. House Elves had done that? “So what happens to it if the House Elves leave?”
“Leave?” She repeated it as if it wasn’t even a possibility. “Why would they leave?”
Harry floundered. “I don’t know? I mean - it happens doesn’t it?”
Eliza tilted her head at him with narrow eyes. “No.”
“Oh,” Harry swallowed and shoved his hands under the counter to grip each other. Hermione would be devastated to know this. “Never?”
“Only if they are released by the family. Some may do that to Elves they feel do not live up to their standards but I would never. They are as much part of my family as anyone.” At the word family that yawning chasm of grief flickered over her face like a passing shadow. Harry couldn’t help the commiserating smile.
“I don’t think I would either, if I had Elves. Not if I knew they were considered family.” Harry gave her a shrug. He knew Hermione would smack him over the head for it but what she said had resonated with him. They were part of the family. The history. If a line of Elves had been serving a family for so long that they had a generational cookbook then it seemed a harsh thing to let them go. Harry knew what it felt to be without family and it seemed a lot like removing someone from a family tree. He could imagine how that might feel.
“You do, though.” Eliza sat in one of the stools, shifting the cookbook aside. She sounded a bit surprised.
“I do what?”
“Have Elves.” She gave him a soft, if unsure smile. “The Potter’s had one when I knew them, though I must admit I didn’t know them very well.”
A shot of hope had him straightening in his chair. “You knew my parents?”
She laughed and that grief that had been lingering in the creases of her eyes and the tilt of her shoulders dissipated. “Oh no, I knew only of your parents. I knew your grandparents. When to Hogwarts with them both, actually. Tom did as well.”
Tom. Harry wasn’t sure how he hadn’t made that connection that Tom had knew his family. Met them, spoke to them. He knew his grandparents names.
Harry shifted a bit closer. “What were they like? Do you have pictures?”
The sadness drifted back over her eyes but it wasn’t as deep as before. This time it was directed towards him. “I’m not sure if I have pictures but I can certainly look for them. I’m sure I do of Dorea somewhere as she was in Slytherin but your grandfather? He was as Gryffindor as they come. We simply did not spend a lot of time together.”
Harry tried to temper the disappointment that he felt but he knew he failed when she reached over to grip his shoulder in commiseration.
“I do know your family’s Elf though, his name is Barnaby. He cares for the Potter residences. Tilly keeps him company occasionally, he’s been alone for some time.”
“Barnaby?” Harry didn’t even know how to take that information in beyond a pang of worry for a House Elf that he didn’t even know. “He’s been alone? This whole time? Wait - Potter residences? With an s?”
Eliza laughed. “Yes, with an s. I’m sure that I can have Tilly ask him to visit. For now let us tackle this bread you’ve picked out, yes? It’s something we can accomplish now. If you want to know more about the Potter holdings I think speaking with Tom about it may be best.”
She winked at him before she swept up their tea things and dumped them in the sink. She tapped the rim with her wand and the same spell Mrs. Weasley used to wash the dishes had the cups up in the air with a scrubber brush going after them.
“I have all the ingredients here I think,” She muttered to herself, scooping the book off the counter and hustling Harry out of his chair and towards the pantry. “I’ll get them if you list them out.”
She handed Harry the book with a bright smile. He dutifully listed out the ingredients and soon they were organized on the counter and they were muttering over the steps of the recipe.
It was over an hour later that Tom found them. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an easy smile on his face, it stretched his cheeks until they hurt and he knew he looked a mess. They’d had an accident with the flour and even now he could still see some of the particles floating in the air. Not to mention they’d mis-measured the butter and tried to add it in later.
Eliza glanced up from where she was nearly on the counter top trying to tame a dough ball into submission, bits of unmelted butter making it more difficult than it ought to be. Harry snorted, she had one huge streak of pure white flour across her face and much of it stuck on the left side of her hair. Her apron had done very little to protect her from the mess.
“What are you doing?” Tom’s gray eyes bounced between them, landing eventually on the kitchen island where their attempt at baking sat. His expression was strangely flat and Harry could feel his smile sliding off his face.
A fist that had loosened in his chest tightened again, a knot forming in his throat as he set his rolling pin down and moved closer to Tom.
“We’re baking,” Harry glanced back at the mess as if it should have been answer enough. “For Lammas. Or, uh - lunar um…saw?”
“Lughnasad,” Eliza corrected with an amused glance his way. Despite that he could see the pinch of worry behind the smile as her eyes took in Tom.
He didn’t have his cane and he seemed relatively steady on his feet but Harry inched just that much closer at the look on his face. He almost looked like he was sleep walking for what little emotion was being displayed on his face.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked softly, searching Tom’s face. His gray eyes were slow to move from the island to Harry but as they did something seemed to surface. A flicker of emotion, one Harry had trouble naming but it twisted Tom’s face for a second.
Whatever it was it didn’t look like a nice expression. It was something though.
Tom gave a brief nod. “We have several meetings we need to prepare for.” Tom glanced again at the mess, eyes flicking quicker this time between Eliza and Harry. “How much longer?”
Eliza chuckled and gave the dough in front of her a pat. She was giving Tom a rather knowing look. One that Harry wished he understood. “We will likely need to start over, Tom. I think we can be done for today, Harry. I’ll discuss it with Tilly.” She sent Harry a wink and dusted her hands on her flour covered apron which only sent more of the flour in the air.
Harry laughed and stepped back. “I’ll help - “
“No no,” Eliza took several steps toward him even as she coughed on the flour cloud she’d made. “Go clean up and get your meeting done, it’s much more important than a messy kitchen.”
He hesitated. She only gave him a soft look though and he relented. Tom had already turned and the door was closing behind him by the time Harry had his own apron off and hanging on the hooks by the pantry.
He hustled after him as they headed back towards the Library, where Tom had set up a makeshift like office. They paused at the doorway as Tom turned to look at him critically.
Harry prided himself when all he did was slightly hold his breath and twitch his fingers as Tom raised his wand towards him. A charm later and the flour that had been decorating him and the footprints he’d left down the hallway disappeared.
“Thanks,” He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. Tom just looked at him for a second longer, a long searching look but he gestured towards the door.
Once they’d settled back into the same seats they were in before, Tom in the hugging chair and Harry in one just a bit less comfortable, Tom pulled a sheaf of parchments towards him from the side table.
“They’ve responded to our request to reschedule your interview with the Ministry, I’ve taken the liberty to schedule a tentative meeting directly after with WFS. Too much time has already passed and we need to move quickly.” Tom flipped through the parchments, gray eyes tracing the words quickly as he searched.
Harry bit his lip, hard. “Why? What do you think they are going to do if we wait any longer?” He couldn’t help the squeeze of worry that seemed to start in his sternum and make its way up to his throat. Would they deny his request? Place him without notifying him with another family? The Malfoy’s? He shivered at the thought.
Tom paused, glancing up at him. “It’s not anything they will do. It gives your Headmaster time to plan. I assure you he will be against this Guardianship and will do whatever is in his power to divert it. Even if it means placing you against your will.”
Harry couldn’t argue with that as much as he wanted to. As much as his chest tightened at the thought that the Headmaster didn’t care enough about him to want his happiness. Even so. “I’m not sure why the Headmaster would even have a say in where I go. He’s not my Guardian, never was and he’s the one that left me at the Dursley’s.”
“He’s also the Chief Warlock,” Tom pointed out and Harry swallowed. How had he’d forgotten that? “He has more influence than I do in the Ministry despite any misgivings those that sit on the Wizengamot have about his recent absences. We will need to be ahead of him and we are currently behind. I am also, as I’ve said before, not in a position to pull any power. I am not even sure they will approve of the Guardianship if I have no way to reliably provide for you financially or otherwise.”
Harry shifted in his chair at the self-hatred that twisted Tom’s face. Harry knew why they were behind and it wasn’t because they didn’t know what to do or because they didn’t have a plan. It was because Tom’s health was flagging. Right now he seemed okay but even as Harry watched the man’s steady pianist hands shook.
It was a slight movement but it made the parchment he was gripping shiver with it and Harry glanced quickly up at Tom’s face. It was pinched, lines of irritation stretching across the planes of a face that hadn’t been shaved in a day or two.
“Maybe we should take you back to Mungo’s,” Harry suggested and when Tom’s gray eyes snapped to his, a clear and immediate rebuttal forming on his lips, Harry straightened in his chair. He wasn’t going to lose this fight. “You know there is something wrong still.” He accused and Tom’s mouth shut, eyes narrowing on Harry. “You can’t help me if you aren’t healthy, yeah? You can’t be a Guardian if you’re - “ Harry paused, swallowing the lump that formed in milliseconds as worry banged around in his chest. “- you’re falling asleep in the middle of the day. They’ll say no just because of that. You can’t tell me that’s normal Tom.”
“It isn’t for you to worry about.” Tom straightened in his chair and it surprised Harry how much the man had slouched in his chair. He hadn’t even noticed but it wasn’t like him. Tom had always sat with a rigid posture as if he were about to be accosted and needed to be coiled to jump. To fight. He’d always been the picture of poised, like a leopard waiting in a tree.
A slice of anger burst across his chest and his brows lowered. “Well excuse me for caring whether or not my Guardian is alive when I need him to be. There is something wrong Tom and if you don’t go get help I’m not moving. I won’t go to any meeting and I’m not signing any paperwork.”
He crossed his arms tightly and leaned back in his chair, settling into it as if he were prepared to stay there for a decade. He tried to replicated the stubborn but calm expression he’d seen the Headmaster employ on Professor Snape. Tom’s face twitched, anger racing across his eyes so fast Harry wasn’t surprised to see a hint of red follow it.
“We do not have time.” Tom near growled, his shoulders tensing. Harry frowned.
“You know I’m right,” He wheedled this time, voice softer. “You’re weaker. Your magic is…there’s something wrong.”
Harry knew he’d hit the nerve he’d been searching for when Tom flinched. It wasn’t a body movement, it was in his eyes. A barely there twitch in combination to him averting his eyes had Harry nearly crowing in victory. Even so it wasn’t much of one for if Tom was aware that there was something wrong it meant that Harry had every right to be worried.
“Please,” Harry reached forward, hesitating as his hand hovered over Tom’s tight fist. Tom’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed more as Harry slowly, ever so slowly, laid his own hand over Tom’s.
The warmth of the other man was reassuring but the tight way he held his hand under Harry’s was not. A tingling sensation rose from the palm of Harry’s hand at every point his skin touched Tom’s until it was radiating up his arm. He was just about to move it when Tom’s shoulders lowered and he breathed out a slow breath.
His entire body relaxed then, his head bowing slightly in that way that only exhaustion can give. Then his hand shifted under Harry’s, turning over to grip his tightly. It was only for a moment before he moved away.
Warmth flowed through him and he couldn’t stop the smile from emerging on his face.
Tom rubbed his brow and despite his more relaxed posture his mouth was still a tight line. “I will not go to St. Mungo’s - “
“Tom - “ He held up a hand to halt Harry, who snapped his mouth shut with a click.
“But,” Tom continued, raising his gray eyes give Harry an annoyed look. “I will put in a request for a Mediwix to visit. I cannot promise they will be able to arrive today and that meeting cannot wait.”
Harry stared at Tom as he turned it over in his head. The man clearly didn’t want to see any Mediwix and Harry couldn’t help but think that he was trying to evade. To Slytherin him into doing what he wanted. Well, two can play at that game.
“Alright, I’ll wait while you write your request. I want to read it too - “ When Tom opened his mouth Harry just raised his voice and spoke faster. “ - and we will not go to any meeting until I see the response with a time and day. I want to be there.”
Tom glared at him for so long that Harry wondered if maybe that hadn’t been the best idea until the man huffed a laugh. “Touché,” He murmured as he turned to the table and took a fresh parchment out.
A giddy bubble floated through him and he was glad Tom wasn’t looking at him for he could feel the smile stretching across his face.
When Tom lifted the letter to hand it to him their eyes met. “It is not your job to care for me, Harry.” It was said softly, more quietly than anything else Tom had ever said to him.
Harry wondered, only for a moment, what kind of life Tom had led to believe that. Harry at least had the Weasley’s to learn from. Friends with loving families like the Granger’s. He couldn’t keep the incredulousness from his voice as he said, “Tom, that’s what family does.”
Tom’s face paled when the word family passed Harry’s lips and right in that moment Harry was determined to say it until Tom got it through his thick skull. They were family.
“That’s what we will be you realize?” Harry pressed, taking the letter from still fingers. “When we sign those papers it isn’t just - just Guardian and ward. You’ll be my family. I’ll be your family. It means you care about me and I care about you. We take care of each other not just you looking after me.”
Tom’s hand slowly returned to his lap as he stared through Harry. It was such a distant look Harry wondered if perhaps he should have laid off a bit. “No,” Tom finally whispered, voice sounding far off. “I had not realized.”
An ache built in his chest that had Harry wanting to reach for the man again. He knew what it was like to feel alone and unloved. Though, unlike Tom, Harry knew what it meant to be loved back. To be cared for and worried about and his sudden feeling of anger surprised him.
Everyone had failed Tom. Even Tom himself. The Headmaster had failed him and everyone since that never dug deep enough to convince the man that people cared about him. Harry was positive that Eliza cared about him in the short time they’d been there and he absolutely knew that Niall did.
It was as if Tom didn’t know what it even meant. As if he didn't realize that he had friends that were there because they liked Tom and not because he was powerful. To be there for him for no other reason than they cared for him. Harry wasn't sure Tom knew what it was like to not have ulterior motives and thus assumed everyone else had them. Friendships were a tool to him.
“Well,” Harry had to swallow back the lump in his throat before he could continue. “Get used to it.”
His attempt to bring the man out of his stupor fell flat. Probably because Harry himself felt like a boat that was left unmoored. Floating in an expansive ocean with no land in sight, deep water beneath him and an endless sky above.
While he knew what it was like to be cared for and loved he’d never known what it felt like to have it be unequivocally required. To have someone that was solely his. Not even Sirius had been that. He’d been unhealthy himself and often made comments about how Harry wasn’t like James and Sirius was just as much Remus’s as he was Harry’s. No one had ever just cared for him and him alone. He himself had never had someone that was only his to care for either. At least, not that he remembered. His thoughts were opening the chasm deep in his mind, a terrible grief trying to spill over so he lowered his eyes to the letter instead.
It was simple and to the point. A plain request for a St. Mungo’s healer to complete a home visit. Of course Tom would make it sound like a run of the mill health check.
Harry sighed and reached for the quill to add that there were worrying complications that needed immediate attention. Tom didn’t even react when Harry folded the paper up and tried to hand it back. He didn’t move at all. No flicker of the eye, twitch of his hand or even a sigh of breath.
His stare was off to some distant point, eyes unmoving and face blank. He didn’t even blink, just stared. “Tom,” he said softly but the man didn’t move. “I’m going to post this, I’ll be back.”
Harry eased from his chair, taking slow steps towards the door in the hopes that Tom would respond but he hadn’t shifted. His dark head still tilted slightly. Not quite enough to look like he was staring out the window but more at the plants that lined the floor below it.