bluebird {h.s. - au}

.11

A/N: First off, thank you so so so so much to everyone who's been reading Bluebird! I have 50 freaking votes on this already. That means so much!! Ah, thank you, especially to @chinavase who really encouraged some of her readers to read this. Okay.

Harry was awake before me, tracing the outline of my lips with his pointer finger. His green eyes stared into mine, as if trying to memorize the way they were slightly groggy and half shut in the morning. He gave a half smile, and my heart tried not to palpitate at the adorable dimples that popped on his face.

"Good morning, beautiful," he whispered, and I snuggled closer to his chest. 

"Good morning," I responded, yawning a bit and hiding an elated smile when Harry wrapped his arms around me, pulling him closer to his chest. "You smell nice," I commented. "Like mint and sleep."

Harry was ready to say something else when a knock sounded on the door. "Don't think I don't know you two are sleeping together," came Auntie Ida's voice. "Because I came in to get Betsy halfway through the night."

I squirmed uncomfortably, wriggling out of Harry's grasp. "Sorry, Auntie Ida-" I started, but she held up a hand.

"No, no, Ella. It may be considered worse than death where you come from, but I think young love is precious." She grinned at me. "Now get going, Harry, I've got to talk to you."

Something in her tone made my stomach turn a bit. I glanced at Harry, who was looking at Aunt Ida. Their eyes locked, telling me more than words could have said.

Something was wrong.

"I've endangered you," I said slowly, realizing. "They know I'm here and they know Betsy's here, too. They're trying to find me. To get me to talk."

Auntie Ida bit her lip, placed her hands on her hips. "Now, now, Ella..."

"Don't Ella me!" I shouted. "I don't want to risk you anymore, maybe I should just leave."

Harry was silent, but Auntie Ida pushed on. "No! Ella, you can't, baby girl,"

"Yes, I can, Auntie," I seethed. "And it would be better if I did." I waited. "I'll be gone by tonight."

"No!" Harry shouted suddenly, startling both me and Auntie Ida. He stood and walked over to me, placing his strong and large hands on my shoulders. "No, you can't go," he said. Voice cracking. "Please stay, Ella." He waited, watching me. Studying my face. "I can't lose you, too."

His voice; so weak and desperate, convinced me to stay. I nodded and collapsed into his arms, shaking a bit. "I'm so scared," I confessed, clutching onto his shirt.

"I know, baby," Harry responded.

He said nothing more for a long time- throughout breakfast, throughout chores. Even throughout lunch, he said nothing. After a while, it scared me. Silence from Harry was like the calm before the storm. The dusk before midnight. It was a smooth and soft transition from sanity into an inbetween, a melted area of black and white that wasn't separated anymore. It was grey. And throughout the silence, I realized that was what I hated about it.

Silence was so loud.

It wasn't until I was doing the dishes, after lunch, that Harry came into the house and announced what he had been thinking about.

"We need to get Betsy to Milwaukee," he said softly. "And we need to take Ella."

Auntie Ida stood, shaking her head. "No. She's too weak," she proclaimed, gesturing towards me. "She can't keep up, can't cope with the elements."

I said nothing. Part of me wondered if maybe she was right. Could I handle it? 

I wasn't sure.

But Harry surprised me as he said, "No. She can. She's strong, Ida." He caught my gaze and smiled. "I trust her."

Nothing Harry could've possibly said in that moment mattered any more in the moment. The simple I trust her calmed my fears and set my jumbling thoughts to rest in my head. Everything else going on- the fact that Harry was in danger because of me, did not seem to matter anymore. Because Harry trusted me- and when Harry trusted someone, that meant he loved them, too.

I can't mess this up, I thought. I just can't.

-x-

Harry showed me the wagon he was planning on taking to Milwaukee; the one that would carry Betsy, Harry and I. Obviously, however, it was essential for Betsy to remain hidden.

Harry ripped open the bottom of the wagon, revealing a hidden compartment. "We put the fugitives in here," Harry explained. One of the many things I loved about him was how he called them 'fugitives' and not just 'slaves'. "And fill up the wagon with potatoes over top."

I envisioned it in my head. "Don't the dogs still smell the sl-" I widened my eyes and swallowed. "Fugitives?"

Harry smiled. I could he was pleased with me trying to be more open to the thought of abolitionism. "Not really. Well, at least it's never happened to me. The potatoes mask the scent for the most part."

I nodded. Harry added more, explaining more about the wagon, but I wasn't really listening. I was too busy gazing at his lips, focusing on their perfection as they rounded around the words. They were beautiful, flawless... perfect.

He was perfect.

It occured to me that Harry had stopped talking, too, and was gazing at me with a sort of dreamy look. He stepped closer, looking into my eyes ever so softly, like a butterfly landing on a flower petal. "So beautiful," he murmured, dipping his head into the crook of my neck and placing a small kiss in that crevice. I nearly fell over from the basic beauty of it, but managed to place my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his large and able hands in the small of my back.

Suddenly we were slowly moving, to a dance that no one could take away from us. We were swaying to an unknown beat; moving to an orchestral piece no one but us could hear. It was just us, against the world, but it seemed okay. To be beautifully broken, to have a fragile heart.

Suddenly Harry blurted out, "Her name was Meg."

I tried not to overreact. I stayed still, swaying with him still.

"She and I met through the Underground. She caught me trying to help a fugitive escape." He inhaled sharply. "The only reason she didn't turn me in was because we loved each other." He bit his lip. "Sort of. I loved her- adored her." His eyes grew pained, forehead wrinkled. "I was just her plaything."

After a moment of silence, he continued. "She was like you, only worse. She hated abolitionists." He gave a bitter laugh. "Looking back on it now, maybe she hated me."

"Don't say that," I soothed, running my hand through his curls. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned his forehead against mine in relief.

"I can't bear to lose you, too," he confessed, whispered the words into my face like a prayer. "I can't, Ella. Because you know what?" His eyes fixated open once more, looking into mine with determination. "I love you. You and your freckles and your dimple and even the beauty mark on your elbow that you always try to hide." He gasped for air. "I love you, Ella."

There was a stunned silence that followed. I was trying to find something to respond to that, but a simple 'I love you, too' didn't seem to suffice after the confession Harry had just made. I bit my lip, and decided to tell him the honest truth.

"I love you, Harry," I said, and then, as if it were a tale as old as time, I kissed him. Underneath the apple tree in my Aunt Ida's front yard, I kissed the first and last man that I would ever love. It was like a dream, his hands tangled in my hair and my hands romaing all over his strong and supple body. It was a fairytale.

But, little did I know, not all fairytales have happy endings.

At least that's what the person watching us thought.

A/N: Mwahaha. Anyhow! Thanks so much for reading, I'll be giving dedications to the best commenter on these chapters. :) Also, i'm thinking of writing a murder mystery soon. Would anyone read it if I did?