Harry and Hardships
Tommy had seen an opportunity to get to know the new child being added to their family as soon as Remus insisted on taking Danny home.
Walk the child home? That was simple.
Tommy appraised the child through blank eyes that surely the boy wasn’t able to pluck any curiosity from when he looked up at him.
“You are thirteen?” Tommy asked him.
“Yes, sir,” the boy said, quite polite. Remus had never been so polite, neither had Tommy. Tommy could be, when the situation called for it, Tommy simply preferred to be the receiver of respect in any given situation.
“I see.” Tommy considered that as he lit a smoke and slowed his pace. Thirteen was practically a man in Small Heath, the boy could be useful.
Except he was a true gypsy and the last one that Remus brought home had been both useless and a traitor.
“Have you ever shot a rifle?” Tommy asked.
The boy winced, “No.”
He wouldn’t have, would he? Gypsies used wands, magic, charms and hexes and curses.
“Do you know how to ride?” Tommy asked.
When the boy looked up at him with guileless eyes filled to the brim with confusion, Tommy smirked lightly.
“I will take that as a no,” he said. Tommy took a slow drag off his cigarette as he considered that. The boy couldn’t shoot, couldn’t ride…
“You wouldn’t happen to be incredibly adept at hiding things, would you?” Tommy asked absently, thinking of his current issue.
The crate of stolen guns needed hidden. The Crown would be sniffing around for them and under no circumstances could Tommy allow them to be found. Not by his men, not by his family… no one. Those guns would be invaluable once Tommy found a use for them, and a death sentence if they were found by the wrong party.
“Er… actually…” The boy grinned and Tommy saw a sparkle in his eyes, a tiny glimmer of mischief that Tommy’s brothers’ eyes used to be filled with.
“I do know how to hide something,” the boy said. He drew himself up tall, not so tall truly, and raised his chin when he looked Tommy in the eyes. “And I’d let you use it if you do me a favor.”
Tommy looked down at the gypsy boy and let his mind sift through the options being presented to him. If the boy could hide the crate of guns for Tommy - Tommy was skeptical if a boy was able to do such a thing - then Tommy would do him a favor. And if that slid the allegiance of the child to Tommy rather than Remus… so be it.
“You drive a hard bargain,” Tommy said, mocking the child some. He held a hand out to him. “Name your price, Mister Potter.”
Truly, the simplest trade ever done in history.
Tommy returned to his family home not two hours later, marveling over the efficient way that his greatest problem had been resolved.
Magic.
It was terrible and wondrous.
Tommy leaned back in his office chair, fingering the seal on the letter the boy asked him to send for him. Tommy had already read it on his way back from the stables, it seemed that Harry had wanted to reassure his friends that he was safe. There was nothing terrible in the letter, Harry had simply feared that Remus wouldn’t allow him to send it.
Remus would have, Tommy was sure. Tommy didn’t tell Harry that, it was no bother to him if there was already discord building in Remus’s home.
As long as it worked in Tommy’s favor, it was hardly his problem.
Against his better intentions, Tommy found that he liked the child. He was young, untrained, but he had shown a willingness to barter with Tommy and a gleam of interest when Tommy took him to the stalls. Perhaps, with Tommy’s guidance, the boy wouldn’t end up as Black had.
Something to consider, anyway.
Tommy stayed awake until Arthur returned home. Arthur smelled like the Cut, he must have been moping there with Remus.
They used to spend quite a bit of time down there; drinking, smoking, partying. It had been the place to be - Tommy even recalled a party they held once when Freddy had fallen in the water, too pissed to even stand properly. Remus had laughed and swallowed a shot before diving in the water and pulling Freddy to the dock.
Remus had his eye on the very house that Danny had purchased, always wanting to live on the river. Tommy may have attempted to dissuade Danny of the purchase, but Danny had a child on the way and Remus had been entangled in his war with his gypsies.
Danny.
Tommy sighed and inclined his head when his brother joined him.
“Danny’s going to be an issue,” Tommy foreshadowed, not liking it at all. Danny was a good man, a good soldier. Danny was going to become a liability though, too shell-shocked to be of use. He would bring trouble on them all, Tommy could feel it.
“Aye,” Arthur agreed, not liking it any more than Tommy.
“What did Remus say of it?” Tommy asked, hiding any true curiosity behind a bland tone of disinterest.
“Not much to say,” Arthur said. Arthur took his cap off and worried the bill in his hands. “‘E’s got some errands we’re gonna run soon. The place’s gotta be protected from whoever’s gonna come for the boy.”
Tommy hummed and tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling.
“Sirius Black?” Tommy asked, musing aloud. “Or someone else?”
Harry Potter was an orphan, Remus was the only one with any claim on him, as far as Tommy was aware. The boy was renowned in his community, the least likely child to be taken unnoticed.
“Aye, him too,” Arthur said. He snarled, his dislike for Black almost as deep as Tommy’s. “Sca’s worried that the other Gypsies’ll come and try to take the boy. ‘E wants to be prepared.”
Tommy nearly smiled, very nearly.
“Remus is preparing for a war,” Tommy guessed, envisioning it so clearly. Remus was passionate in his loyalty, unreliable when he moved the force of his loyalty in different directions.
Remus had never been a coward though and if he was preparing for a war then Tommy did not doubt that he would get just that.
If war would be descending on Small Heath, Tommy’s men would be prepared for it.
Tommy was awake before the sun the next morning, out wandering the streets. Tommy had sent off the white owl that brought news of Remus’s return with the boy’s letter. Tommy walked past the Garrison, stopped to drop some money in the mailbox of Danny’s home.
Then, as Tommy’s feet guided him to where he truly wanted to be, Tommy wound up at the stables.
Horses, unlike people, were magnificent beings. Strong, silent, dependable… Tommy would have spent all his days with horses if he had been a person given choices in life.
“Good morning, lovely.” Tommy ran a hand down his mare, checking for any injuries as he did. “How did you sleep, beauty, hmm?”
The mare neighed softly and Tommy could chuckle when it was only the two of them. Tommy could brush her down and whisper compliments and complaints to her, for who would she tell?
Tommy had her brushed down and was debating on taking her for a ride, just a short trot through the woods, when the door of the stables opened.
The hinges squeaked, the footsteps were silent. There was only one person with the ability to sneak up on Tommy Shelby.
“Remus.” Tommy started brushing the mare fired again, forcing himself to not look over at where Remus would be standing. “You’re awake early.”
“Force of habit now,” Remus said. Tommy could see him from the edge of his vision. Remus had his arms folded on the top of the stable door, his chin propped on them.
Before Remus left them, Tommy would have invited him in the pen with him. They would have saddled up Tommy’s mare, taken one of Charlie’s horses, gone out together.
“What can I do for you?” Tommy asked, forcing away thoughts of days long gone. Remus made his decisions, Tommy made his.
“I wanted to know if you’d watch out for Harry today,” Remus said. “Arthur and John are going to travel to London with me. Polly said she would keep an eye on Harry, but Harry seemed to have taken a shining to you.”
Tommy lifted an eyebrow where Remus couldn’t see. Any shining that the boy took to Tommy would have only been a side-effect of the deal they made the night before.
“You’re quiet, Harry’s quiet. He’s…” Remus hesitated and Tommy waited patiently to find out more about the boy.
“He’s had it rough, at home,” Remus said slowly, stressing his words as if Tommy couldn’t see what he wasn’t quite saying.
The boy was small, quiet, polite. Tommy had been like that when he was a mere boy living under the rule of a tyrant.
Arthur would scream, use his fists to fight back. John would hide, running as far from home as his legs would take him. Tommy would close the world out, not let things hurt him if he decided they didn’t hurt.
“I see,” Tommy said. He sighed deeply, acting as if watching over the boy would be a hardship. “I don’t suppose you would send him this way? I’ll have to fetch him myself if I wish to get any semblance of work done today?”
Remus smiled; Tommy didn’t have to see it to hear it.
“He’s outside actually,” Remus said merrily. “Thank you, Tommy. I knew the two of you would hit it off.”
Tommy bristled at that comment and tried to find the meaning behind it. Was Remus implying that Tommy could only get along with children? Or that Tommy was too soft to turn away a single orphaned child?
Tommy only allowed the boy’s presence because he had assisted him in hiding the crate of guns beneath a cloak of magic. If it weren’t for that, Tommy would have told Remus to take him to Polly or Ada.
Remus knew nothing, ever. It was a shock that any school would request him to teach their students.
Tommy continued brushing the mare when Harry shuffled in the stable to take up the precise position that Remus had abandoned. Someone must have found the boy adequate clothes, probably John. Harry had on grey trousers, a bottomed grey coat.
It made him blend in more, masked the glaring uniqueness that he carried.
“He’s pretty,” Harry said, his voice low enough to not spook the horse. “What’s his name?”
“Her name is Amaris,” Tommy informed him.
“Oh, sorry.” Harry pushed his glasses up and Tommy could see him looking at the mare with the proper amount of awe. “Is she yours?”
“She is.” Tommy paused, then decided that he was already too involved with the boy, he may as well see if he could be taught. “Come in here, I’ll show you how to properly saddle her. Do it gently, do not spook her.”
Harry, as Tommy was both pleased and dismayed to learn, was well-suited for horses. Horses were intelligent creatures, they were able to make displeasure with inadequacies made known quickly. Amaris was nuzzling the boy with approval while Tommy taught him how to properly saddle a horse.
“I don’t suppose you know what a hippogriff is, do you?” Harry had a content smile on his face after he climbed in the saddle and held the reins as Tommy instructed him.
“I do not.” Tommy clicked his tongue and took ahold of the bridle to guide Amaris out in the pasture. “Is that a gypsy animal?”
“Er… magic? Yeah,” Harry nodded, not as bothered by the term as Remus was. “I rode one at the beginning of term, it was much harder than this.”
“Oh?” Tommy had been under the impression that Harry had no experience in riding. Tommy released the bridle and stepped away. “By all means,” Tommy waved for Harry to take over. “Do what feels natural,” he advised.
Harry seemed momentarily bewildered, then Tommy watched as he took a more firm grasp of the reigns. Amaris was a good mare for a beginner, she was patient and not as prone to overacting on commands.
“Nudge your heel, gently. There you go.” Tommy nodded approvingly when Harry did exactly as he said and Amaris set off at a slow trot.
The sun had rose, offering a small bit of warmth to the frozen earth. It made it just bearable, though the cold hardly bothered Tommy after his time in France. Tommy moved to the side of the pasture so he could light a cigarette and watch as Harry guided Amaris through her paces.
Harry was not without a natural talent on a horse. It was clearly pleasing to the boy, riding a horse, because Tommy could see him smiling as he gained confidence to encourage Amaris to move faster.
“She won’t,” Tommy called out in warning to him when Harry spotted the short fences set up.
“Those are for Charlie’s horse, Amaris isn’t as agile.”
The side of Tommy’s mouth curled upward of its own accord when Tommy saw Harry’s visible disappointment. As quiet as he was, the boy clearly liked small thrills.
“Next time,” Tommy promised. Charlie saw himself as Remus’s parent, Remus clearly saw himself as Harry’s parent… It would hardly be a strenuous task to ask Charlie to loan his grandson a stallion for a few hours.
Tommy relaxed and let himself enjoy the peaceful hour that Harry spent making laps around the pasture. When the world was quiet, the only sounds the familiar sound of hooves clopping - occasionally mixed with laughter of a child, Tommy could let his mind go quiet.
The problem with Tommy’s mind going quiet was that it never lasted long enough. There was never enough peace, not for Tommy.
Tommy had just instructed Harry to begin slowing down so Amaris could have a break when a sharp whistle could be heard. Tommy turned to lean over the fence, stare down the lane, and knew it was nothing good happening when he saw Marcus jogging to him.
“Tommy!” Marcus was panting, he must have ran clear there. “You gotta come quick, there’s been a murder uptown and they’re saying it was Danny.”
“Damn it all.” Tommy swore under his breath and nodded to Marcus. “Come take Amaris, Curly will brush her down when he arrives. Harry, come.”
Marcus was one of Tommy’s men, clear to Hell and back. It took him no time at all to take the reins from Harry and begin guiding Amaris back in the barn.
Harry was just as obedient, though with a great many questions.
“Danny’s the bloke with the gun, right?” Harry asked as he worked to stay at pace with Tommy. “And he’s killed someone?”
“For his sake, I hope not,” Tommy said, believing fully that Danny had done just that.
Danny’s demons had been fighting him for some time and he had came close to murder the night before. It was no stretch to imagine that Remus had only paused whatever fit Danny had been experiencing.
“I - why did he come get you?” Harry asked. “Why not a doctor or - or the police or something?”
“What would a doctor do for a dead man?” Tommy scoffed. When Harry abruptly fell silent, Tommy sent him a sideways glance.
The boy was red in the face, Tommy had embarrassed him.
“Danny Whiz-Bang is a hero,” Tommy said quietly, an offering instead of an apology he would never give. “He fought beside me in France, he’s a good man. His sickness is not his fault. If he killed a man, the Crown would have him hung and a doctor would do nothing but feel an obligation to report him.”
“And you’ll protect him?” Harry guessed, smart boy.
“Danny is one of mine,” Tommy said, the simple truth. “My men protect me and I protect them.”
When he could… because Tommy had been unable to protect many of them in France, many of them from the sickness of their own minds upon their return.
Tommy had been their leader in France, they continued to trust him at home. Tommy’s jobs kept food on the table for their families, his protection kept more than a few of them from the jails more than once.
It was Danny who Tommy had been unable to help; Tommy hadn’t saved him from injuries in France and if Danny killed a man… Tommy could only stretch his protection so far.
There was a crowd uptown, outside the bakery ran by the family of Italians who lived just outside town. Tommy stuck his arm out to stop Harry from walking any further.
“Italians,” Tommy said, a quiet explanation.
“Er… what?”
Tommy glanced down at Harry, bemused.
“Where did you grow up?” Tommy asked.
“Little Whining, in Surrey.”
Surrey was just south of London, not so close to the city to have many foreigners infiltrating the county. Harry spoke as an Englishmen, a touch more polished than Small Heath boys.
“The Italians here have connections to a man in London, Sabini,” Tommy explained to Harry quietly while he surveyed the damage. The dead man against the wall was one of the brothers, the other two were red-faced as they ranted for the crowd in front of the bakery.
“Sabini is a dangerous man and he will want Danny’s blood,” Tommy said, concerned and trying to hide it. If the Italians knew it had been Danny then they would kill him. It wouldn’t be quick, nor painless.
Danny was a soldier, Danny had been a friend.
If they demanded Danny’s blood, Tommy would have to be the one to deliver it.
Tommy waited for some of the crowd to disperse before he instructed Harry to remain where he was while Tommy went to inspect the damage done. It was one thing to suspect it was Danny, another for them to have any confirmation.
“Ah, I see someone was not a fan of today’s offerings,” Tommy said, mocking the brothers as he strolled up to them casually. If it were one of Tommy’s brothers dead on the ground, they would do the same to him.
“You!” The oldest brother turned and grabbed the front of Tommy’s jacket. He turned him and slammed Tommy in the wall, just beside the dead man.
“Me,” Tommy said blandly, not reacting to the impulsive violence that Italians were so quick to display. Tommy did look down at the meaty hand holding him and refrained from snaking the blade from his cap to cut a finger off with.
Tommy would eventually, Tommy could be patient.
“This was your man!” the man spat, Carlo, Tommy thought his name was.
“Was it?” Tommy asked, staring at Carlo unblinkingly. “You have proof, I’m sure?”
“We do.” The other brother, Antonio, bent down to the dead man and pulled the knife from where it was lodged in his stomach. When he held it up, Tommy knew it had been Danny’s.
Nearly half the men in the Small Heath Rifles had one of those knives, awarded to their brigade at the end of the war. Tommy had thrown his in the Cut with all his awards, Danny Whiz-Bang kept his.
There, gleaming on the handle, was Danny’s military rank and his surname.
As far as proof went, it was damning.
“A knife that fifty men in this town carry?” Tommy asked. “You would kill a man based on something so common?”
“Someone saw him,” Antonio spat, actual spittle hitting Tommy’s check. “Your man killed our brother.”
“He dies tonight,” Carlo added, shaking Tommy to prove his point. When Tommy’s glance slid past him, he saw Harry hovering nearby, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.
Tommy shook his head slightly, a signal for the boy to not do anything rash.
“Must he die at your hands?” Tommy asked, thinking quickly. Any pain he could spare Danny, he would.
Antonio and Carlo exchanged a look, passed a silent message between them.
“No.” Carlo released Tommy, took a step away. “It’s your mad dog, you can put him down.”
“But we will see it done,” Antonio added. He curled his upper lip at Tommy. “That man killed our brother, I wanna see his blood on the ground.”
Tommy smoothed down the front of his coat and tilted his head in semblance of acknowledgement. It would be Tommy or the Italians… Danny would prefer it to be Tommy, Tommy was sure of it.
“Tonight,” Carlo said when Tommy began walking away. “We want it done tonight.”
And so it would have to be.
Tommy began walking slowly toward the river, Harry remaining beside him for the trip. Tommy wished Arthur were there, he would even take Remus.
It would be unfortunate for them to return from London to discover what Tommy had to do.
“Are you really going to kill him?” Harry asked after Tommy lit himself a smoke. Harry pinched his eyebrows and shook his head when Tommy offered him one.
“If I don’t, they will,” Tommy said. “If he flees, they will bring more of their men to Small Heath. If I kill them both, Sabini will send his men.”
And Danny had children, two boys. They would be taken, killed, in retaliation. Loretta would be abused, killed. It would destroy Danny worse to know his family would become further casualties of the war.
“What if you just…” Harry ran his hands through his hair and Tommy watched as he pulled on it, struggling to accept what Tommy already had. Harry looked up at Tommy and his eyes were hiding what seemed to be a million thoughts in his mind.
“Can you pretend to kill him?” Harry asked, a wild idea. “Just hide him like you did those other things?”
Hide Danny Whiz-Bang beneath a cloak made of magic? No, Tommy couldn’t do that in any way that would appease the Italians.
Although…
Tommy stared at Harry while he finished his smoke, allowing his own mind to run wild with ideas. Killing Danny would be a blow… sending Danny away…
“I may have an idea,” Tommy said, considering it carefully. “Come, we have a stop to make.”
Harry, as it so happened, was an eager assistant once Tommy explained his plan to him. The boy had no stomach for the work, but he thought it a grand plan.
Perhaps he was moderately more tolerable than the last gypsy Remus brought to Small Heath.
It took time for Tommy to have all the parts of his plan in order. There was a dock worker with a route that would take him to London, it was a small price to ask him to stop at the Cut where it weaved through the town.
Tommy would do what he could for Danny and he would do it away from his children. No boy should see his father die, even if the death would not be permanent.
Danny was home when Tommy stopped by, his eyes unclouded and rimmed with red.
“Evening, Danny,” Tommy said solemnly. “Your knife, is it missing?”
Danny held his cap in his hands and nodded.
“Aye,” he said quietly, rough with the weight of what he must recall having done. Danny looked at Tommy and there were tears shining in his eyes. “I dunno what I’ve done, Tommy. It’s there, but it ain’t.”
“I understand.” And Tommy did, truly. “You killed one of the Italians,” Tommy told him. “They saw you, they have your knife. They gave me the choice - them or me.”
“You’ll -” Danny sniffled and stepped out of his house to close the door. “You’ll watch out for my boys? Make sure they find good jobs?”
“I will,” Tommy said. “Come, make your peace.”
Danny kept his head hung while he prayed and they walked. Harry remained behind them, not giving anything away in his silence or his eyes. The town was quiet when they entered it and Danny stopped just before they reached their destination.
“Don’t bury me in the mud, Tommy,” Danny whispered urgently, his eyes flicking to where Antonio and Carlo waited to see the deed done.
“I would never,” Tommy swore. None of the men from France would be buried in mud, none of them.
“Alright then.” Danny turned with his back to the river and Tommy waited for the river boat to come in view.
“Any last words, soldier?” Tommy asked, pulling his gun.
“Look after my boys,” Danny said, remaining strong in the moment. “And my Loretta.”
“I will.” Tommy offered Danny his left hand. “You’re a good man, Danny. A good soldier.”
Only one tear spilled over Danny’s lower lip.
“Yes, Sergeant Major.” Danny inhaled deeply and did Tommy the favor of not making Tommy put the gun in his face. “I’m ready,” he said when he turned back to the river.
Harry waited a pace behind Tommy, his eyes on the Italians who watched them. Tommy raised the gun, counted to five.
“In the bleak midwinter, brother.”
Tommy pulled the trigger, spraying brain across the area, splatting his face with blood.
Danny fell forward, landing in the boat, still and silent.
Harry made a sound, only a choked noise that Tommy hardly heard over the ringing in his ears.
The boat continued rowing, taking Danny with it. The Italians across the river were satisfied and didn’t linger in Peaky Blinder area.
It was staged, it was staged.
And yet Tommy’s mind whirled with the times when Danny had nearly died, the times when he kept Tommy from dying. The revolver in Tommy’s hand felt wrong, it should be a rifle. The sunlight, so wanted that morning, became overly bright, overly —
“Tommy?” A child’s hand, not quite grown yet, wrapped around Tommy’s wrist.
It was that feeling of wrongness that had Tommy looking down, using the boy to orient himself.
“Did it work?” the boy whispered, peering at Tommy with his unique eyes.
Did it work?
Tommy looked around and saw the brain matter, the matter that was too light to be human.
Sheep brain and blood, packed inside a thinned casing.
Danny would wake with a pain in his head, but Danny would wake.
“It did work,” Tommy said. He cleared his throat and nodded to his accomplice. “You did well. Come along, I should feed you.”
Or something.
Tommy was not entirely certain what to do with a teenage gypsy boy. Though he had the feeling that if Remus had his way, Tommy would learn.