Hope..
The room had been full of noise.
Chatter erupting from one side and loud laughter on the other. The atmosphere had been cosy, warm and loving even.
It had been.
Until Charteris stepped in and Harry followed.
Then it all turned silent and the roaring fire lit in the fireplace made no difference to the icy tendrils of cold creeping into the room.
"H-hadrian?" A voice called out quietly. It seemed to amplify and echo in the midst of the silence, travelling across the room. Harry bit his lip tightly holding back the tears prickling his eyes and slowly ever so noticeably nodding. He glanced down at his feet suddenly. His shoes were scuffed. Ratty and broken held together by old pieces of tape. Too old, too cheap and too dirty to ever step foot onto the regal red carpet on which he currently stood.
A gasp was heard. Quiet murmurs filled the room and the sound of heavy footsteps filled his ears. They moved closer and closer before coming to an immediate halt. The figure kneeled down, their grey dress in pools around them and their arm reaching out to touch his face. He flinched instinctively, feeling ever so small and insignificant in a room that was filled with royals.
"H-hadrian." The voice repeated once more, cracking as it uttered his name. Harry took a deep breath and turned his head up, his eyes searching the room cautiously till they landed on the person in front of him. Diana Spencer. The princess Diana. His mother.
She gasped as she caught sight of him. Reaching out a tentative hand, she gently touched the side of his face and when he made no effort to move back or flinch, she caressed it slowly. Her other hand came up, resting on his shoulder drawing soothing circles with her fingers before pulling him forward into a tight hug. His head came down and he buried it in her shoulder, his trembling hands wrapping around her in an attempt to hug her back with the same ferocious need and love that she had. His eyes watered and his shoulders shook from the force of his repressed sobs. Tears rolled down his face and he realised with a start that his mother was crying when he felt wetness on his shoulder.
His mother...this was his mother.
He was home.
They didn't pull apart for a while. Neither wanting to let go, choosing to relish in each others warm company for as long as possible. No one attempted to pull them apart watching with both happiness and pain. It wasn't until his mother shifted, moving back to catch a glimpse of his face again and caught sight of the ever growing bruise on his cheek and reached up, rubbing it only to stop suddenly and mumble soft apologies when he winced and shifted away.
A warm hand gently touched his hair, ruffling it softly and when Harry looked up, he found himself staring into the teary eyes of his father.
His father...this was his father...
He surged forward wrapping his arms around his fathers waist and burying his face into his chest. He did not know what drove him to do so. What impulse surged through him or why the familiar feeling of longing and pain crept up so ferociously at that very moment. But what he did know, was that it felt good, to be hugged. It felt even more so when the man hugging him was his father.
"Oh Hadrian." He heard the murmured whisper and felt his fathers run his fingers through his messy hair. He felt lips kiss his head softly and a hand running down his back in a soothing motion. Another hand came round tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ears and drawing soothing circles on his shoulder blades. He knew despite the little time he had spent with them, that those hands belonged to his mother, and that those tears leaking and dripping onto his hair belonged to his father and that those quiet gasps and sobs and whimpers came from his family.
This is what it was like to be loved.
His parents had directed him to the sofa. A large, lavish thing with seats crafted from what most likely was the best memory foam in the country and cushions that were large and seemed to sink as they supported your back.
They sat on either side of him, their hands firmly wrapped around his shoulders and his fathers chin resting on his head. They sat in bliss, skilfully ignoring the numerous stares pinned on them. They sat in silence, no sound heard apart from the occasional heavy breathing or the shaky sigh and sob from Harry to which his parents tugged him closer rubbing his back and soothing him slowly with their presence.
It wasn't till a woman stepped forward did the silence break.
The silence had been comforting, relaxing even preparing him for the fury of the storm.
It wasn't any woman who stepped forward, no. It was no ordinary bodyguard or secretary (though those were prohibited from entering without permission) nor was it some distant relative who had cleared their throat. Their footsteps would have made no difference had it been anyone else. No, it was the queen who stepped forward. Her pearl earrings shining in the light and her large heels scrapping against the floor.
Harry's breath quickened. The queen. The queen was walking towards him. Wait. He was sitting next to royals. He was in a room full of them. He hadn't bowed or respectfully introduced themselves. He had done nothing. Shit.
As if sensing his thoughts, his mother frowned shifting so Harry's head laid on her chest, moving her hand, reaching out and gripping Harry's gently, squeezing it and kissing his forehead before whispering a soft 'It will be okay,' in his ear and moving back to give the queen full access.
The queen took no head of his father's warning glare or his mother's grip tightening or Harry's hyperventilating state but simply moved forward, kneeling before him and reaching out her hand, stroking his hair, her gaze darkening as she searched his face, her eyebrows rising higher with each corner she analysed.
It wasn't long before she took notice of the nervous state Harry had been close to working himself into. It wasn't long till her eyes filled with tears and she pulled him forward capturing him in a long tight hug. It wasn't long till she broke down, murmuring soft apologies and exclamations that her grandson had returned, between sobs. It wasn't long till she moved back, kissing his forehead and leaning against it, relishing in the sight of those royal blue eyes staring back at her. And even then, Harry couldn't help but feel comforted in the familiarity of her embrace.
Family was forever. No one could ever forget family.
Two boys had stepped forward not so long after. One had been tall, height almost matching Harry's, the other had been short, his legs wobbling as he walked over. Their clothes pristine and their hair brushed back perfectly. They grinned at him, their white teeth sparkling in the light. The smaller boy had rushed forward, his red hair catching in the wind and his arms reaching forward grabbing Harry by the waist as he buried his freckled face into his stomach. Letting out a small squeak of shock, Harry jumped slightly, sitting stiff for a moment before his arms hesitantly came round and encompassed the small boy. The older boy came to his side, joining him in the hug, his blond hair becoming slightly mussed as he burrowed further into the embrace.
"Harry. William. Give your brother some space." Diana cut in, her voice firm as she glanced at them and back at Harry's confused and overwhelmed face.
Harry and William...they were... his brothers names. He had brothers.
The boys moved back, their eyes downwards and their demeanour sheepish as they stood as if chastised for their eagerness. Harry smiled at them slowly, his grin hesitant and small. He reached forward by his own accord aching to see grins adorn their faces once more and gently tugged at their sleeves causing them to stumble forward captured in Harry's embrace. He buried his face in their shoulders, breathing in their scent, feeling inexplicable joy at the idea of having brothers. God, he had brothers.
The role of the overprotective, indulging older brother didn't seem too bad of a moniker now that he thought about it.
Another man had stepped forward not to long after. His brothers had situated themselves down on the sofa next to their parents, their faces buried into Harry's side.
The man grinned at him, his teeth showing and his hair thinning and greying. Harry looked down slightly catching sight of the crest on his suit and realised with a jolt that the man in front of him now was his grandfather.
He hesitantly glanced up again and smiled faintly back. It was only moments later that Harry found himself enveloped in a hug, his grandfathers hands on his back rubbing circles on it and his lips kissing his forehead softly. He laughed, a rough sound bubbling in the nape of his throat and Harry smiled wider at the vibrations it sent through the man's chest.
"God." He whispered. "They were so adamant we'd never find you. I knew we would. One day. " He pulled back glancing at Harry's face and ruffling his hair softly. "You know, I promised when you were born that I'd take you fishing when you were older. I'd say your old enough now. What do you say? Perhaps when your parents allow me to drag you away."
"Yeah. I-I'd like that. I've never been before."
"Good. I expect to spend some quality time with my grandson." He stared pointedly at Charles and Diana on the side who chuckled nervously. It must be an inside joke Harry thought.
Grandson. He had never been someone's grandson before.