Chapter 7
Flames.
There’s a thing called flames that is activated in near-death or in just some external circumstances that some people have (not a whole lot of the population) and can come in seven different varieties. There were also a little bit more subtypes or those that had two, but those were rare and few in between and could depend on lineage and environment. Reborn passed over that explanation with a flippant wave, a cup of steaming espresso in hand.
These flames were sky themed – or elements. Sky, rain, cloud, mist, sun, lightning, and storm. Each had a unique ability associated with them and well, at a cafe, one of Kyoko’s favorites, Harry props his head up on the table, watching the conversation going back and forth. Sky had the ability to harmonize. (Kyoko stabs a fork into her slice of cheesecake.) Rains were tranquility, storms were destruction, and mists were conjugation. (Tsuna eyed Kyoko at the last part with a puzzled eye.) Cloud propagation, lightning hardening, and sun was activation. (Reborn looked smug at the end.) Harry is too big to fit under the booth and he doesn’t expect the store owners to allow him onto the couches, so, carefully, he sits on the hardwood floor.
Some part of Harry knows that this feeling in his chest was what one of these flames were. It was as easy as breathing, as if one part of him has instinctively known for the months since he’s been here that this strange bubbling feeling inside of him was a flame. The question that was left however was which one? It’s not that he was in a hurry to figure out the answer too, but those feelings that wove into him were tempting, wondering if he could perhaps communicate back too. It’s not that he disliked being a Grim because the grief of his old life was strange, a dissociated part of him that he couldn’t help but slowly transition from terror to a cool resignation. It has just been months since he was a human and he wondered if he was ever going to turn back and if he even wanted to.
It was a dilemma that had left him twisting and turning these past few weeks, unable to rest so taking to patrolling the streets and alleyways like he used to. Did he want to go back? From Kage to Harry again? Did he really want to change back? What would his family think? What would they do? Would they still care for him even though now he was a human instead of their family pet? It's just, Harry wasn’t really sure anymore. Yes, he wondered why. Why the people from his hazy memories bothered – if he would ever see them again and yet, Harry was happy. He was content. He enjoyed this life. He enjoyed how his life was going because he had a family, because he had Nana, Tsuna, and Kyoko who never once judged him, who expected the world from him. They just loved him, and wasn’t that what he was craving this entire life? What Harry has been asking for for years and years now? Why would he ever trade it away?
Can he even return? Changed as his? Is Harry still recognizable, deep down?
(Does it really matter if he's changed if they would expect the same of him either way?)
A hand reaches and it is from Reborn.
To him, they are strange. An unknown in his carefully crafted lie that had stalked them for weeks before ending up on their front door as if nothing was wrong. They smell of gunpowder, expresso, and the sun before the brewing storm. The pacifier around their neck is wrong, their eyes too old for his age – they are something that is trapped but whereas Harry was a human trapped in an animal, they were an adult trapped inside the body of a child. Too old and too young for too long. I know who you are, Harry thinks, pressing his nose against Reborn. There is old blood that lingers no matter how many times their clothes have been washed. It is heavy despite it being faint. You are something you are not.
They don’t hear him – no one has for so long that he wonders what his voice even sounds like nowadays – but their smile is softer and dare Harry say even kind when the Chameleon crawls down from their clothes and over to him as Reborn runs a soft hand over his fur.
Leon – Harry caught the name in passing steps carefully on his snout and there is something that brushes his mind, making him blink at surprise, eyes snapping up towards the reptile that looks at him.
“Hear me?”
Harry stills. “You…! I can! I can, I can!”
His mouth breaks into a smile, his tail wagging. “I can hear you!”
Excitement bursts along the mental link. “I did not think this would work, from one flame animal to another, but I considered it to be the best possible outcome. It has been a while since I have been able to talk to anyone else, I fear.”
“You have no idea,” Harry thought, because he wasn’t exactly speaking words, just thinking and the thoughts he wanted portrayed were then sent along the mental connection. It was like there was a pressure in his skull but it wasn’t too heavy, just slightly uncomfortable, but pain wasn’t anything new that Harry brushed it off, unable to hate his very visible excitement at finally being able to speak. Though, it was to a Chameleon, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“My name is Leon, I am Reborn’s partner,” Leon says, standing very still, but Harry gets the image that they did a tip of the hat in his direction at the introduction. “I have sun flames, and it seems that you have sky flames, that is quite rare.”
“I’m Harry, but you can call me Kage and…I have sky flames? Isn’t that what Reborn said Tsuna had?”
Leon gives a brief head bob. “Yes. Flame animals of the same type as their human partners are the only ones able to really bond with them so to speak. You can not,” and will not" is implied too, “Bond with my partner in the same way I would not be able to with yours.”
Leon’s movements are carefully deliberate, elegant in a way as they walk further along his snout to unblock his eyesight and onto the top of his head. “You, Kage, are one strange animal, bigger than the rest. I believe we will get along very well.”
Harry raises his brow, feeling Leon’s strange paws put pressure on it before he lets it go down, going back to the conversation on hand, noting that now in front of him were those friendly dog treats. It seems that, since he had come here so often, the bakery now made dog pastries which Harry was not going to complain about since they were always tasty.
“As a flame animal, do we have abilities?” Harry can’t help but inquire, taking a bite of the cupcake in front of him. It was blueberry flavored and was very sweet, if not slightly tart. It tasted delicious.
“Yes we do, Kage. I am able to transform into many inanimate objects to assist my partner, though sometimes I can even produce products that can assist, but that is rare and leaves me incapacitated for a week or more depending on the difficulty of said item. It is by chance, not by choice.” Leon lays down, long tail idly curling around his ears. “Have you figured out your ability yet?”
Harry gives a slight shake of his head, wondering hysterically what he may look like to his family and Reborn at him holding a conversation with a Chameleon on his head. He takes another bite into his cupcake, leaving a few of the blueberries that were sprinkled on top to the side of the plate for Leon to have. “I don’t know yet. Can you help me figure it out?”
“Of course, we are going to be here for a while.” The Chameleon’s tongue flicks out, grabbing one of the blueberries Harry left him before grabbing the rest.
He flicks his ear, unable to hide his wayward glance at Reborn who was on his third cup of coffee and had long since devoured his first slice of cake, picking his way through a lemon cloud cake slice. “Should I be worried?”
“Dearly. My Reborn is not the kindest of tutors,” Leon hums, weird paws massaging at his scalp, “But he means well and your boy can't outrun the mafia, no matter how much he wants too. It is in his blood and lineage.”
Fate. What a disastrous word. The food he can taste on his tongue immediately souring at such a word. He wishes he didn’t know what it felt like, to try and run away and get caught – but, it is there. That crack in his heart is still there from the hand Fate dealt him. He doesn’t want that for his family, but what could he do? What could Harry really do? Yes, Harry himself ran away, but where did that leave him? Truly, Harry was a terrible example and even a more terrible reference point of trying to outrun your fate, it was actually quite pathetic now that he thought about it.
“I only want my family to be happy.”
“Don’t we all? But, Fate is rather a hard thing to outrun Kage and the Mafia more so. Even my Reborn was not able to accomplish such a thing.”
It feels like a wand being pointed at him, the whisperings of nightmares, the caught screams in his chest. He has lost more than he has gained. Harry can still taste the blood on his throat, the petrichor of the dead stained on his tattered clothes. “I know Fate violently. I know her like every millimeter of my teeth.”
“Cruel, isn’t she?”
“Was she anything else, once?”
Leon is silent and the mental link snaps shut. Harry has the feeling they fell asleep on the top of his head.
–
Reborn is here to stay just like Leon said, now perched on top of his back. Not that Harry really minded, Reborn weighed nothing – he was actually so light it was a little bit scary.
He walks next to Tsuna who is slowly and not at all sure, trying to come to the terms that he is set to be the next mafia Don with Kyoko next to him, also having to grapple with the terms that she has flames. Mist flames. Their world was turned up all in a few minutes and Harry can’t help but worry, winding between the both of them, nudging at their cheeks with his nose to prevent them from daydreaming which was something they had been slipping into for the past ten minutes on the walk back home. He knows how they feel – slightly anyway. Being told you have a mysterious power on a random day was something he could wrap his head around, but coming to terms that you were set to be the next Vongola head, a history steeped in blood, betrayal, and murder? Harry couldn’t exactly imagine, especially when Tsuna had to consider he dragged Kyoko into it unwillingly, their flames so interwound together a bond was in place, securing her as a guardian.
They weren’t exactly having the best day. It made his heart ache, not enjoying these feelings that were passing through the bond, now more easily able to be understood as Harry tried to ease how tense they were, flames flickering tersely, taut like a string as they wound in the air and underneath Tsuna’s skin.
I’m here, here, here, lean on me, Harry whispers.
Reborn may be terrifying. The snake dressed in neutral colors hoping to pass by as non-venomous, but Harry isn’t afraid. He has played tag with dragons and bested a sphinx. He has lived to tell the tale from Voldemort and fought a Basilisk head on. His scars may be grown over with fur but their mark still remains and Harry? Harry is not going to let his family be left alone like he was last summer. He won’t abandon them for the wolves. Harry is not like his own brethren that stuck him in a house he hates, telling him it will be okay. No, Harry’s eyes narrow, brushing over Tsuna’s cheek trying to press as much love and care as he can into the touch, no would touch what is his without him being there.
Perhaps this possessiveness was his flames or maybe it was in him all along. The way he hoarded his secrets, guarded his treasures carefully, his eyes alight, looking for danger. Was this all of him? His family gave him a new world and what was Harry expected to do? Lay and sit down and wait? He was never the best at waiting, at being patient. He was still headstrong, still Harry underneath Kage. He may never show his teeth but that did not mean he wasn’t afraid to use them.
“Kage,” Tsuna murmurs softly, “Thank you.”
He takes charge, careful to lead them home. They are lost and he is the guide. Before the Sawada’s he was the dog of Namimori, the beast of the night. A lighthouse along the shores of the ocean, beaming lights and fog horns bellowing into the stillness. Although it was only midday still, the gentleness of sunset beginning to approach, Harry takes them gently by their clothes, pulling them inside their home, past the foyer in their daze to the couch, careful to nudge them amongst his pillow of blankets and pillows he already has. His snout brushes against their skin, his teeth gentle when he carefully pulls the blankets over them to keep them warm.
Harry turns to Reborn, beckoning him to follow him towards the kitchen. Help me? He may be a service dog, trained in tasks that a normal dog would take some time to accomplish doing, but even he can’t worm his way out of his service vest and have the precision to make tea.
Reborn gets the message because eventually the vest is off and he shakes himself out, walking over to the kettle and with as much care as he can, grabbing the handle and walking to the sink, setting it down and having to nudge open the lid harshly to get it open. It isn’t that he does this often, but working his muzzle as a sort of hand is difficult but, Harry has long since known his way around a kitchen, letting the kettle fill with water before carrying back to its placemat, having to awkwardly slide it in to start boiling water.
“What a smart dog you are,” Reborn comments, sitting on top of the counter, two mugs already brought out from the cabinet.
Harry heads to the fridge, turning to the right to grab the Osmanthus tea before trotting back to Reborn, setting it down beside him before sitting down, resting his head against the countertop.
“A flame animal as a service dog,” Reborn murmurs, more to himself as anything, “Quite fitting. You are of higher intelligence.”
He barely blinks but flicks his ear, carefully listening anyway to the musings. “Bonded to Tsuna too. For his flames being sealed, they must be particularly powerful to already make a premature bond before being released, but,” Reborn turns smug at this, looking off to the side, running his fingers along the countertop, “I got them to unlock.”
Sealed? Harry muses, wondering if that is why he had such a difficult time reaching out. It would make sense, but then, who would do such a thing? Though Reborn had the personality of a dumpster fire and was of…questionable methods from what Leon told him, why portray himself as something worse than what he was? Harry has spent so long hiding, hidden underneath expectations and the glares, the school turning its back on him, only cozying back up to him when he won the first task and got second place in the rankings. He has spent so long hiding he couldn’t imagine just…not being? Why hide when people fear the truth? If they didn’t want to believe him, then they could hate him. The people could turn on him, but if he didn’t stay true to himself then it was betrayal.
As long as Harry was true to his words, his actions than Harry didn’t give a flying fuck about anything else. It didn’t matter – it didn’t even make sense to bother hiding when it meant he would be found out anyway.
He gives a huff, picking his head off the countertop to look up at Reborn before glancing up at Leon curled up in the indent at the top of his hat. “Don’t be suspicious, I am only the greatest hitman in existence and that? That was lightwork.”
Ah, an ego, Harry slowly blinks, hoping his irritation shows before nudging at their leg once the water started boiling.
“But, I can’t help but wonder how the world will react.” Reborn adds the tea leaves into the tea bags, pouring the boiling water over them into the two, mismatched mugs. He says it idly, almost slowly, like he was savoring the words he brewed in his mind, watching the water turn a murky greenish-gray. “A civilian Don. How interesting. How chaotic.”
There was an evil grin spreading across Reborn’s face.
Harry felt like rolling his eyes, only settling on using his nose to nudge against their arm in annoyance.
“I can shoot you, you know. Interrupting my dreams of chaos like this.”
I’m too lovely to shoot, Harry thinks, carrying Reborn back to the living room where he set the mugs down on the low coffee table, looking ready to wake up the two – now sleeping flame users.
Harry stepped in front of him, paw blocking him in. No. Reborn eyes him, a challenge burning, but at Harry’s polite, impassive stare, eventually shrugs.
Carefully, Harry bends down and grabs the back of Reborn’s clothes, walking over to the other side of the sage couch to jump up on it, setting him down on the cushions before laying down as well. He doesn’t realize how tired he is until he is splayed out, stretching his legs and giving a wide yawn, his head coming to rest on top of Tsuna’s lap. He can do without dinner tonight – it was a long day anyway.
Reborn is still, but after a moment, he feels the tentative pressure of him resting along Harry’s belly.
Eventually, Harry falls asleep.
–
Harry naturally wakes up early.
No matter how many times he tries to sleep in, lounging in direct sunlight or shoving his body under blankets and pillows, Harry always wakes up when the sun rises. No later and no earlier. His body’s internal clock rings and he obeys, his eyes slowly blinking wondering why his pillow is less comfortable than normal before Tsuna’s sleeping face curled over his shows why. Harry can’t help but soften at the sight, wondering how he can move to prevent waking up anyone. There’s a little bit of drool running down his chin, fingers fisted into his fur softly, and it is soft.
Faint light casts into the living room, the curtains behind them closed. This room has changed since he’s been here with more photos on the wall, frames of different sizes creating a snapshot of their life. Slowly, they are running out of space and Harry wonders where Nana will put the next ones once the wall is full. His favorite is the one that is on the table underneath the television with all four of them, taken at Nana’s birthday just a few weeks ago that is right next to a strange lumpy clay structure that was made in primary school. It’s warm — Harry feels cozy as he lays there. His breathing steady, eyes wandering around the room and towards the window, watching rolling gray clouds push forward.
He carefully inches his head up, noticing that Kyoko was slumped over, her body leaning over the leg of the sofa. Usually, Kyoko went home — Nana must have called her parents to let them know she was staying the night, though with how often she was here (something in him rolled nervously at that) she was like Tsuna’s sister. Like a friend and family member all in one, with a toothy smile Harry loved to see and a warmth that felt infectious. In a way, Harry was so used to her that he couldn’t help but feel as if he was unofficially bonded to her as well — it just felt natural to say Tsuna and Kyoko instead of just Tsuna or Kyoko.
Reborn was still leaning against his stomach and there was an urge to move, but he really didn’t want to make anyone move with him. Harry tries to go back to sleep, closing his eyes, focusing on how people he loved were here. He was happy. Harry was content with this simple life. He keeps repeating it over and over again, digging his muzzle deeper into the fuzzy brown blanket over Tsuna’s body.
It doesn’t work.
He huffs a sigh, having to carefully move his body upwards, digging his paws into the cushion, using his snout to carefully lower Reborn onto the couch (though by their heart rate and subtle change in breathing, Harry guesses that he’s awake.) Eventually, Harry stands up, walking towards the kitchen to catch a drink of water.
Distantly, Harry hears the gentle humming of Nana, unable to help himself perk up as he makes his way outside once he's had his fill of water, using his nose to open the sliding door leading to the patio, shutting it behind him.
Nana is here — her humming stopping once she hears the door open, turning around to spot him with a smile widening across her face.
“Kage-chan!” Nana coos, taking her hand off of her book to scratch behind his ears and down towards his chin. Her fingers were always nice: neatly manicured, always kept clipped to a short length with a thin seal of nail polish to give them a nice, shiny texture. The scent of ink is on her palms, small paper cuts leaving miniscule lines of hardened skin and he can’t help but feel love. A mug of coffee warms her hands, a knitted blanket folded across her lap on the plush chair. She looks at him softly, carves her fingers gently too. “Good morning to you.”
Good morning.
She smells like freshly printed book pages, a warm meal after a long day to come home too. “I didn’t want to wake the kids so I came out here.”
Nana gestures to the garden. They don’t grow roses because of the thorns, but there are hyacinths to make up for it. In Harry’s quiet opinion, the blue and purple flowers are much prettier than the red ones.
“I hope Reborn will be a good tutor for Tsuna,” she begins, setting down her mug on the adjacent table. Harry gets the distinct feeling that she doesn’t exactly know about the mafia with an internal dread. “I worry about him.”
Her fingers curl into the blanket, eyebrows knitted together. “Before you came along and Kyoko-chan, I was worried. He didn’t wake up early, his grades were terrible. Well–” she amends, “They are still not great but they are a lot better than before. Now he is scraping by with C’s and before it was F’s.”
There is a ring on her finger that Nana twists. It’s a pretty ring – silver and with a modest diamond sitting on top of four prongs but Harry has a feeling that it doesn’t match her. “I prefer gold but I had to settle with silver. It is a gorgeous ring but –” Harry rests his head on the leg of the plush armchair, feeling her hands return back to his head. “-- Is it selfish of me, Kage-chan? To wish for something else even though it has already happened? I wish Lemitsu bothered to stay – found a job closer to home instead of just sending postcards every few years. I wish Tsuna had a better childhood than the one I could offer him. I wish I was able to go to college after high school instead of ten years later.”
She lets out this broken sounding laugh, her fingers slipping away from him, the heels of her palms digging into her eyes in a desperate attempt to brush away her tears. “I was almost something, something good.”
Harry lets out a soft whine at her distress spiking, rising in the air. It is consuming in his lungs, a sharp knife wedged in between his ribs as he carefully pulls her hands away from her face, battering them away to nuzzle her tears away. He doesn’t want to see her sad – the way she folds in on herself, too much like him hoping the world will throw him a bone, a gentle reprieve. Some sort of answer to all of life's struggles – a crutch to hold onto, to at least lean on before the next wave pulling them under.
“I want to be kind, Kage-chan.” She is much stronger than Harry ever will be. Here she is, wanting to face life’s struggles head on, to keep continuing, to actually make a change. And what did that say about Harry? Who ran away and didn’t look back? What did it say to be in the face of someone who was better than him? He feels – Harry knows it doesn’t matter but some part of it still does. It still does – and it is at the edge of his vision telling him to run because it will catch up. It will come, and it will hurt. “I want to be a good Mom, a good wife. I want Tsuna to be happy and I – I want to be happy too.”
Quietly, the tension in her shoulders drops, her body slumping. Every single thing that presses against her Atlas has slipped away. “I want to be a Professor, and I want to be kind. I hope the world is gentle enough to grant me that.”
I will make it kind, Harry thinks fiercely because if the world will not croon gentle songs for him, let him train his own voice to croon gentle songs to others. He lets his tongue lick away at her tears.
“Oh Kage-chan,” Nana murmurs softly. She presses her lips against his forehead. The first time he has ever had a forehead kiss was by her and he can’t help but get greedy off of the feeling. The press of lips against his skull, the way her fingers curl around his face to hold him in place, the swallowing feeling of love gentle against him – it was addicting. It was everything Harry wanted, all given to him. For the first time in his life he felt spoiled rotten, unable to help the way his tail starts wagging back and forth, giddy and overwhelmed at the same time. What was there not to love but love itself?
When he thinks back to Ron’s fond grumblings, Hermoines pressed pages, each one from her parents' letters carefully cared for and tucked away into books, Harry understands the unyielding love. The way it stays in his chest even when he is away. The knowledge that home is there, waiting, beckoning him home to a sage green couch and picture frames hugging the walls. To sunlit rooms and a patio with armchairs and worn books. Put your strength down, Nana tells him, her forehead resting against his, arms pulled around his neck in an embrace. We are at the table, and it is okay, it is okay to sleep at the table. I will watch over you. I will be here. “Thank you.”
Harry sits quietly next to her in the cloudy morning, his eyes craned up, watching the gray swoop in curls. The distant echo of thunder on the horizon – it seems that today will be a quiet day. A reprieve from the chaos that was yesterday, a gentle eulogy for them all. Thank you, Harry says to Fate. All of this was chance or some sort of grand scheme, but it still led him here and well. That was okay. Fate did not treat him kindly for the past fourteen years – twisting his kindness into some sort of brutal efficiency to survive, to be good even if that meant the dissatisfaction of everything slipping past him.
Faintly he can recall the photos in that album he has long since lost. His foolish, sentimental heart crooning, flashing images through his skeptical mind of dances and twirls, of the repeated motion of watching James and Lily crack open their mouths in a laugh, head tossed back, and eyes shut, free in a way Harry can only live vicariously through others. He misses the album, the connection to people that are dead, but – Harry is here, in the now. In the present with people he loves, whose eyes are warm, and a smile rests on her face, a book open on her lap.
This is what home must feel like.