When A Slaughterhouse Becomes A Home (selfcest/tomarry)

seventeen

Harry stops to converse with Potter. Ron is still by him, and watches with mild amusement and slight concern as it appears Harry is talking to himself.

"Good job back there," says Potter.

"Thanks," says Harry, dryly. "You gave me the idea."

Potter grins. "I'm aware. You got my little message, didn't you?"

"How could I not?"

"Harry," says Ron, interrupting him. "Who are you talking to? You're sounding crazy." Even so, he does not seem so keen on leaving. Harry appreciates his devotion. Harry decides that he will return it.

"I'll tell you later," promises Harry. "It's a long story."

Ron stares at him with narrowed eyes. "If you're talking to some weird ghost, remember what dad said!"

Harry and Ron speak in unison, finishing the saying: "Don't trust anything that you can't see where it holds its brains!"

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes. How he's missed this, light banter with Ron. Everything else in his life feels so life and death. "It's fine," he says. He turns back to Potter, who is watching with a sour expression.

Harry guesses he is mad that Harry has a social life outside of people who want him dead; it is a wrong direction, according to him, in the "get Harry to kill himself" playbook. Harry has a lot to say about that, about the sanctity of life and the sudden realization that despite this, despite the trials of life, he does not want to die. But that is a conversation for another time.

"Tell me," says Harry. "If you survived the first time this happened, then it's a guarantee I'll survive it the second time, right?"

"You would be right," says Potter, curiously. "But I'm afraid it's not that simple."

"What?" snaps Harry. "Why not?"

"Well, the first time around, during my timeline, this happened. But it was a decoy. But it wasn't this early on in the timeline."

Harry is still confused as to what this could indicate. "What does that mean?"

Potter rolls his neck, cracking his knuckles. "It means my presence here has changed things. It means that this might not be a decoy, that Sirius could actually be in danger, that somehow, I have messed with the timeline."

"We've got to go," says Harry, turning on his heel to run down to the Headmaster's office, where the only confirmed working Floo portal was at, when Potter grabs him by the arm and says, "No. You can't."

"Why not?" demands Harry.

"Because if you do, you could die."

Harry seems offended by the preposition. "You survived something similar! I'll be fine!"

"I had half an army by the end of it," says Potter, mirthfully. "You, evidently, do not. You have Ron. You have yourself. Do you trust that's enough to keep you safe?"

Harry attempts to tugs his arm away weakly. "It doesn't matter. I can't leave Sirius to die."

"In all likelihood, Sirius isn't even captured," deadpans Potter.

"I can't risk that! Would you have, at my age?" Harry challenges.

Potter goes quietly. "No," he says after a moment of silence. "I suppose not."

"So you see why I have to go," says Harry.

"Not exactly. Harry," he says this very seriously. "Harry, when I charged the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort was not there. Voldemort later arrived. And his followers killed Sirius Black."

Harry stares, shocked at the confession. "What? No... That won't happen."

Potter cups his cheek. "Can you say that for sure?"

Harry growls. "What do you want me to do?! Just leave him? You know I can't let that happen!"

"Bring Tom," says Potter.

"What?" says Harry. He shakes his head. "No, that's crazy talk. Tom probably made all this happen in the first place."

"He probably did. No, I have no doubt about it in my mind that he did," agrees Potter. "But it could also prove to be a key component in your victory. Think about it. A second Tom, in touch with the first one, could be a bargaining chip." He intertwines his fingers with Harry. "Please," he says at last. "Do me this one favour. Bring Tom."

And for some reason finds he cannot say no to that face, that look in his eyes. He wants Harry alive -- at least for now. And that means something, to Harry.

And Harry is overcome with one sudden knowledge: Harry wants Potter to love him. He himself loves Potter. He doesn't know when this happened, but he knows that now, it's true.

Potter pulls away and Harry wraps his arms around his neck, nuzzling his face to Potter's neck, pulling him back into the close embrace. Potter freezes. For the first time, he seems actually perturbed. "What are you doing?"

"I might not make it back," murmurs Harry.

Potter hugs him close. "Don't say that," he says, quietly.

"Why?" laughs Harry. "It's true."

"So?"

"So... there's something I need to do." And then he leans in closer and presss his lips to Potter's, featherlight at first but then more passionate as Potter pulls him closer, getting into it.

Harry pulls away, breathless. "So. Yeah. I just needed to do that."

And he lets go, walking away, toward Ron, who is gaping, his face a shade of red only Weasleys can manage. He is heading off toward battle, ready and able to risk his life for the ones he loves.

But just as he begins on his way, Potter swoops him up in his arms again and coddles him in his arms, smothering him with his body heat. "You didn't say whether you'd bring Tom," he whispers, his lips brushing Harry's ear.

"Okay," says Harry, barely breathing. "Sorry. I'll bring Tom."

Potter pulls back and kisses him on the forehead. "Good," he says, softly.

Harry stumbles out of his arms and breaks into a run once he's composed himself, like his body cannot stand to stay still.

"Did you just make out with a ghost?" asks Ron, in shock, running beside him.

"Not a ghost," says Harry, weakly. "Now shut up. We're making a detour. Next stop: Gryffindor dormitory."