What Follows In Silence.

The evening had settled in softly around the two of them, the moonlight barely piercing through the thick canopy of trees above. Harry sat cross-legged on the ground, his back leaning against Teeth’s large, comforting form. The creature hummed quietly in the background, his long limbs relaxed, every so often brushing against Harry in a subtle, reassuring motion.

The meal they’d had earlier had been filling—satisfying in a way Harry had never fully experienced before. It wasn’t just the food itself but the sense of safety that came with eating alongside Teeth, who insisted he finish every bite. It felt right. More right than anything he could remember.

Harry’s fingers traced the edges of the small, folded parchment in his hands. The letter had appeared mysteriously a few moments ago, just before they had finished their quiet meal, as if by magic. He had already known, somehow, that it would come.

The seal on the letter was unmistakable. He didn’t need to read the familiar name at the top to know who it was from. Tom.

He had been away—wandering the world, leaving Harry to the solace of the woods. But Harry hadn’t felt alone. Teeth had been there, as always, and for once, Harry had felt like he belonged, like he was more than just an afterthought in the grand scheme of things. He was a *part* of something.

Still, Tom’s presence had been missed. The void left by his absence was sharp in a way Harry couldn’t quite explain. A longing, perhaps. A desire to share his moments with someone who *truly* understood him.

With a deep breath, Harry broke the seal on the letter and unfolded it. He read Tom’s familiar, neat handwriting with a quiet sense of anticipation.

*Harry,*

*I trust the forest is treating you well. You’re eating properly, I assume. If I hear otherwise, I’ll find a way to ensure you do. Stop avoiding what you need, Harry. It won’t serve you. Let the time alone give you clarity, but don’t let it break you. I expect to hear more from you when you’ve figured things out.*

*I’ve been traveling. The world is much the same—dull and full of fleeting distractions. It’s not the world I need, though, is it? When I return, we will speak more about what comes next. Until then, you know where to find me.*

*I’ve learned some things. We’ll discuss those at another time. Your absence here hasn’t gone unnoticed. Be prepared.*

*Tom.*

The coldness of the letter’s tone hit Harry like a distant, harsh wind. Tom’s words were direct, unemotional—nothing like the warmth Harry had briefly expected. There was no comforting reassurance, no lingering sense of *connection* as there had been in previous letters. It was curt. Practical. No room for sentiment.

But Harry had learned to understand the meaning in Tom’s brevity. The words, though few, cut deep. They spoke of control, of knowing the strings he had to pull and the rules he had to follow. Tom wasn’t here, but the letter was a reminder that Harry still existed within a certain framework. He would always be expected to *function*, to continue moving, no matter what happened.

Harry’s fingers tightened around the letter, his gaze fixed on the last words: *Be prepared.* He wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, but Tom’s calm assurance left a knot of unease tightening in his chest.

Teeth shifted beside him, the movement pulling Harry from his thoughts. He tucked the letter into his pocket, his hand lingering on the worn paper, as if holding onto it would somehow bring Tom back, would bridge the distance between them.

Harry felt different now. Not just in the way his body had responded to the steady rhythm of eating, his weight returning slowly as his cheeks filled out again, as his bones finally stopped aching from the years of neglect. But something deeper. A quiet change that came not from the physical, but from within. It was as if being here with Teeth, being allowed to exist in a space where he wasn’t just tolerated but *valued*, had started to peel away the edges of something hard and dark inside him.

He hadn’t realized how hungry he had been for *all of it*.

For the food. For the care. For the love.

For the connection.

But the ache Tom’s words left in his chest was unmistakable. There was no ignoring it. Even here, surrounded by the silence of the woods and the comforting presence of Teeth, there was a part of him that wanted more—needed more. He wanted to share these moments. He wanted to be with Tom, to feel the pull of their bond again.

Teeth’s hand—huge, rough, and warm—reached out slowly, finding Harry’s shoulder and resting there. Harry leaned back into it, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he tilted his head, closing his eyes for just a moment. Teeth’s presence was always grounding. And Harry found that, for now, that was enough.

It had to be enough.

The night deepened around them, the forest breathing in slow, rhythmic sighs. Harry let his mind wander. He let his thoughts settle, knowing that when the time came, he would be ready to see Tom again. And until then, he had this.

Teeth. The woods. And the gentle hum of something that almost felt like peace.