Thomas Potter-Love is a Different Dimension

Love's weakness: Mercury Retrograde

Hogwarts

June 1997

TOM POV:

Tom wakes up staring at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, feet scuffling and whispered murmurs.

"...Headmaster?"

"My apologies, Poppy, the Weasleys insist-"

"MY SON!" And the most terrifying female cry Tom had ever heard echoed throughout the corridors of the night.

"...dear, dear..."

Someone must have put up a silencing charm.

Tom sat up on his bed, noticing the heavy weight of a black dog resting on his legs. Black eyes filled with something awful.

Sirius changed back into human form, and without asking, he grabs Tom into a forceful embrace.

"Harry's awake in the next bed with Remus. The kid can't sleep, he's anxious to see you. He's pretty shaken up-" Sirius's voice is stuttering. Tom hears the silent- I am shaken up too -as Sirius exhales heavily. Tightening his hold, "Madam Pomfrey made you rest separately, afraid your core was still feeding Harry and you'd dry yourself out. It's been two hours, and I know its bloody selfish of me, but Morgana's Sky, I'm just so thankful that you two are back,"

That you're alive.

Tom doesn't know what to say to that. Imagining what is currently happening under the silencing charm a few feet from him. Knowing exactly who was laying there.

Tom avoided Sirius's eye. Something , devastatingly painful and heavy was holding his insides, weighing him down like he'd swollen lead and it's thickening somehow. His face is in Sirius's collarbone and he smells-forest and home- feels the older wizard's bones constricting him, trying to keep him from floating. Sirius mutters so many prayers of thanks, in between patting his back delicately and whispering repeatedly, we're going to go through this together, we're in this together.

The numbness creeps in, Tom's mind retreats and shuts, the windows of thoughts carefully close- click, click, click . And he knows everything is still there, in his head, raging a war with his heart, but he's not ready to deal with it. Not ready to name it. To relive it. Not ready to face Harry. To hear what he's done. To see with his two eyes the consequence of his own stupidity.

"I want to sleep," He says gruffly from under Sirius's arm. Only because if he doesn't, Sirius would pester and prod and possibly force Tom to burn something.

Sirius's brows are drawn together-concern and sorrow, Harry once explains to Tom- it's a look he wears more and more each day. He gives Tom a long searching look, leaving his hand to rub Tom's back.

"Okay...I'll be right here,'

Tom doesn't protest, content on hiding under the covers. Pulling his legs up, gripping the bed sheets under him. Relieved to have an excuse to close his eyes and see nothing.

***

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, June, Three days later.

Tom POV:

It's late morning, and the Ottery's Wizardry Cemetry is under a small hill surrounded by English oak and hazelnut trees. The cemetery is covered with checkered slabs of marble, slate and granite. The cemetery is clean with the air of summer. A splatter of yellow gloriosa daisies, orange marigolds and veins of blue veronicas and white yarrows grow throughout the grounds. In between the grave markers. There are bees buzzing and birds flying overhead. It's oddly beautiful and warm. Especially with the presence of bright blue skies and the forgiving sun. One could almost forget the purpose of coming.