Chapter 13
Tim and Harry spent the next few days skirting around Bruce and the other Wayne children. They kept trying to talk to him, treating Tim both like he was going to flee like a frightened child or else trying to act “normal”. Jason or Dick would sling an arm around him, pretending to be interested in his studies or the book he was reading while throwing in little hints about how Tim was family no matter what. Tim might have found it comforting if he wasn’t constantly on edge for kind words to turn suspicious, the questions to become demands. He didn’t know much about family but he knew that there was no such thing as “no matter what”.
Harry had reverted to being excessively helpful, offering to mow the lawn and clean the bathroom. If anyone made the mistake to accept Harry’s offer to help, they were forced to watch him scrub his hands raw or nearly pass out from heart stroke in the gardens. Tim stayed in his bedroom, quiet and unintrusive, only leaving for meals and to stop Harry’s cleaning sprees. He had made three new fake identities for both of them and created a list of affordable housing in Crime Alley.
The only Wayne that Harry and Tim couldn’t avoid was Damian but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
“Drake,” Damian appeared out of nowhere behind Tim, crouched over his desk. Tim nearly tipped off the coffee he had squirreled away. He hadn’t even see his bedroom door open.
“Damian?” Harry fell off Tim’s bed in surprise where he had been silently restitching a tear on one of Jason’s hoodies. Tim had no idea where he found it.
“You have been avoiding me,” Damian said, crossing his arms. His glare might have been intimidating if he wasn’t wearing a fluffy brown jacket that made him look like a angry duckling.
“We haven’t,” Harry denied clambering to his feet.
“Do not deny it,” Damian pouted, “you have barely spoken to anyone since the gala. I do not see a reason why.”
Tim closed his laptop. “We’re not avoiding you,” he said, “we’re just giving your family space.”
“Do you need me to kill the headmaster,” Damian growled, “I will not be caught.”
“No!” Harry interrupted quickly.
“But he has hurt you,” Damian cocked his head to the side, “has he not?”
“It’s complicated,” Tim chose his words carefully. “I believe he’s doing what he thinks is best but…it doesn’t matter now anyway. He hasn’t returned.” That in itself was unusual. Tim didn’t believe for a moment that Dumbledore would have given up on his plan to take Harry back to the Dursleys that easily. Yet, he was sure that Bruce would have told him if he did something to the headmaster. It seemed that Dumbledore had just vanished. Tim chose not to question it for now. He strengthened the security around the manor, coding it to send notification to Tim’s phone if someone matching Dumbledore’s description appeared within a mile radius. That would have to be enough for now.
“Then why are you hiding in here,” Damian looked so confused, “I do understand why you would hide your abilities. Father would be proud that you are special. Since that wizard revealed your powers, Father has told you that he loves you, repeatedly. Is that not what you want?”
“I…” Tim swivelled on his chair, looking directly at Damian.
“Can you teach me?” Damian cut in, “Dumbledore he taught you, correct? You could teach me. I am prepared to learn, whatever the cost.”
“It’s not that simple Damian,” Tim spoke softly, “magic isn’t something you can just be taught.”
“Please,” Damian begged, his eyes suddenly filled with pain and desperation, “please. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Harry walked over to Damian and pulled him over to the bed, forcing him to sit down on Tim’s bat patterned blanket.
“I’m sorry we haven’t been there for you these past few days,” Harry said, “Is there something I could do? I could…”
“I want you to teach me magic!” Damian hit his fists against Harry’s chest. It was easy to forget Damian was only six when he spoke with the general cadence of an adult. “Please.”
“Why do you want to learn so badly?” Tim couldn’t help but ask. As much as Tim loved his magic he knew it wasn’t normal. His parents would never call his magic “special.” If they ever found out, Tim was sure they would forbid him from ever use something so unbecoming of the Drake heir. Bruce hadn’t reacted like Tim expected but he did not know half the things he had done. He didn’t know about how Harry’s magic had killed the Joker or how Tim was fully prepared to murder Voldemort if he tried to hurt Harry again. “You’re already powerful.”
Damian bit at his lower lip. “Because then…my mother might want me back.”
“What do you mean?” Harry said gently.
“I can’t do magic!” Damian burst out like it was a horrible secret he had been holding onto for years, “Grandfather tried everything but it didn’t work. I can’t do it.” His face darkened. “I failed him so mother sent me here.” Damian looked up at Tim and Harry. “But I will learn,” he said, his eyes pleading, “I don’t care if I have to go into the pit. I will do it.”
“Damian,” Tim didn’t know what to say. He had only ever had to comfort Harry. Struggling to find the right words, he drew Damian into his chest, wrapping his arms around him. “Does Bruce know any of this?”
He felt Damian shake his head against Tim.
“Are you going to keep avoiding me?” Damian said, muffled in Tim’s shirt.
“I won’t,” Tim said, “I promise.”
“Even though I can’t do magic?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Harry insisted, wrapping his own arms around Tim and Damian. “It’s not your fault.”
“But I could do better, I could still learn,” Damian’s voice was so soft Tim could barely hear it.
“We could teach you about magic plants,” Tim said abruptly. “And magic animals. You know hippogriffs and dragons.”
“They’re real,” Damian poked his head up, “grandfather talked about them sometimes but I wasn’t sure if they were just stories.”
“They’re real,” Harry said, “vampires, werewolves, fairies. You know Ava,” Harry hurried over to Tim’s wardrobe and scooped the little white snake off her heating rock and ran back to Damian. “She’s a magic snake.”
“Really?” Damian wiped his eyes.
“Look at this,” Harry paused briefly, glancing furtively at Tim. When Tim nodded, he bent closer to Avada and hissed. The snake looked up, flickering out her tongue and slithered over to Damian. She curled up Damian’s wrist and rubbed her head against Damian’s cheek like a cat, hissing.
“She saying that she likes you,” Harry translated, “she’s calling you snakelet.”
“You can talk to her?” Damian’s eyes gleamed. “Can, can you teach me how?”
“Let’s try this,” Harry moved on the bed so the three of them formed a little circle. “Copy after me.” Harry made a sound like ash-la-cassam.
Damian repeated it, drawing out the letter s like Harry. “Did I do it right?”
“What do you think Ava?”
The tiny snake hissed back.
“She says you have a strange accent but she understood it.”
Damian beamed. “What does it mean?”
“That’s hello,” Harry said, “and this is goodbye.” He made another hissing sound like sila-cassam.
Damian rushed to copy the sounds. Tim watched on, relieved to see the pain slowly fade from Damian’s eyes replaced by excitement. His phone went off in his pocket and he stepped a little away from them to answer it, leaving Harry to teach Damian more parselmouth.
Flicking open his burner phone he saw that Ruby was calling him.
“Hi Ruby,” Tim said, “is everything ok.”
“Amelia’s gone,” Ruby said and Tim stilled.
“What happened?” Harry and Damian stopped hissing with Ava, both instantly adopting fighting stances at Tim’s tone.
“I don’t know,” Ruby’s voice was frantic. “Mel and I just stepped out to get groceries and when we came back…”
“We’ll be there,” Tim said firmly, already half way towards the door. Harry slipped Ava around his neck and Mortimer who had been lazily pruning his feathers on the window sill fluttered onto Tim’s shoulder. “You are not to follow us,” Tim turned to Damian, “we’ll come back.”
“I do not require your permission,” Damian stood, drawing a sword from somewhere. “Let’s go.”