Harry slipped out onto the roof on the 'Hung Drawn n Quarters' that night during his break before the dinner rush. Bill had called him sweetheart. He and Charlie had both called him kiddo before. That wasn't new, they'd done it over the summer too, and used it on their siblings all the time.
But sweetheart was new and he couldn't get it out of his head. Charlie had done it too. And he had called Harry Love.
Why? It made him feel oddly warm and fuzzy. He liked it. Too much. But it was strangely alien too. It had been happening for a little while now. But at first, it was just every so often. Harry had dismissed it as a slip of habit, from being used to talking to siblings or friends. But he didn't think he could dismiss it now.
He didn't understand.
That wasn't how the world worked. He was Harry, Boy, the freak under the stairs. He was Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Weapon. He could get his head around being allowed to have friends and hugs. But terms of affection? It seemed too strange for anyone to use it on the likes of him...
Letting out a huff, he took out his mirror; he'd ask Charlie about it. Charlie would be able to explain it. He often talked to Charlie on his break via the mirrors. And Charlie didn't seem to mind waking (however briefly) to talk to him.
"Bill called me Sweetheart again," Harry said instead of a greeting.
Charlie smiled in a fondly indulgent way. As if Harry was missing something obvious.
"Yeah, he does that. I do to actually come to think of it. He's very affectionate with those he likes. Does it bother you? He'll stop," Charlie said earnestly. It reminded Harry very much of the same conversation he had had with Bill about Charlie's hugging. And Harry wondered if Charlie was talking about himself as well.
"I don't understand. I've never been called anything affectionate. At all, ever. Why would he? Why would either of you?! I don't get it. People don't talk about me affectionately. Why would you do that?" Harry said bluntly, with honest confusion.
Charlie looked at him for a long moment through the mirror, and Harry felt like Charlie was looking into his very soul.
Charlie's voice was full of affection and a deep sadness Harry didn't understand, as he said, "Harry, sweetheart..." as if the name just slipped out. And again Harry felt a bit warm and fuzzy, and as if his world was slightly off-kilter.
"Names like that, nicknames or terms of endearments, are used for people you like and care for. It's one of the ways Bill shows he cares."
When Harry just stared at him dumbfounded, Charlie's brow furrowed, and he asked, "shall I tell Bill to stop? Does it make you uncomfortable?"
"No? I... I think I like it?" Harry said, frowning slightly, "I'm just not used to it. It's just weird."
Charlie smiled, "well if you don't dislike it, sweetheart, you'd better get used to it then. It will happen a lot. Especially once Bill knows you don't mind." Charlie said.
It was as if Harry admitting he didn't mind the names had given Charlie the excuse to finally allow himself to use them a lot more than he'd previously been allowing himself.
"I'm a hermit," Charlie continued, "I don't like people. And Bill's an introvert too, -ish, but he likes people, more than I do, and can talk to them. They make sense to him, I think. but with the people he really likes-"
"like your exception list?" Harry cut in.
"Just so," Charlie nodded, "he has an exception list too. But while he doesn't mind being around most people, as long as he gets time alone to recharge, his list is who he really likes enough to use names with. He's a hugger too, but he likes using names to show he cares about people."
Harry nodded slowly, "it's nice, feeling cared for."
Charlie's eyes crinkled, "yeah, it is, isn't it? He often calls me 'brother mine.' Some people think it's possessive and weird. But that's not how he means it. I think it's more that he cares about me and considers me one of his own. Not in a possession way, but in as part of that small group he really truly cares for that's close to his heart. I'm one of his people."
Harry thought about it a moment, and wondered if Charlie's use of names was something he picked up from his older brother, "sounds nice," he said.
"It doesn't bother you, Harry, love?"
Harry started, staring at Charlie at the name. That one was new. No-one had ever used that word on him.
"Why do call me that?" he asked suddenly, it came out slightly sharper than he meant.
"What, love? Didn't we just talk about this, sweetheart?" Charlie asked confused.
"No, why do you call me that?" Harry asked, surprised and agitated all of a sudden. Disbelieving. "Do you love me?"
He could get his head around Bill and Charlie liking him, almost. But love? No-one loved him. No-one loved the Freak in the Cupboard Under the Stairs.
"Of course I do. You're my friend. Of course I care about you. You're family, one of my people. You're on the exception list, love. I don't like many people really, but I love every one of that list."
"But how can you?" Harry asked, trying not to snap, not understanding the sudden sharp proof that Charlie genuinely cared for him.
"Just because I'm ace doesn't mean I'm not capable of love," he snapped, "I thought you understood that."
Harry flinched backwards, looking horrified, but before he could say anything, Charlie went on, "I'm not broken, Harry. There are many different types of love. Just because I don't do sex, doesn't mean I don't do love. Of course I can love."
Harry winced again at the sudden return of his proper name.
"Friends, brothers, family, partners," Charlie went on, clearly hurt, "there is more than one type of love and affection. And none of it's a bad thing. You're my friend, one of the few people I actually don't hate being around. Of course, I love you, Harry. You're one of my people."
That wasn't what he had meant! The hurt that Charlie's anger hid broke Harry's heart a bit, and he felt oddly teary.
"Of course you can love Charlie! That's not what I meant! Of course I understand that," Harry said pleadingly, not wanting to lose his friend, not wanting his friend hurt because of him, "but no ones ever said that to me." he said quietly, "that they love me, they don't- you can't- I don't... I don't understand."
Charlie's face crumpled, "ah, shit, love." He swore softly, understanding now, what Harry was struggling to say. He scrubbed a hand over his face looking upwards for a moment.
"I'm really sorry." he said, looking at Harry earnestly, "It's a bit of a saw spot, I shouldn't have assumed you meant I was broken."
"Your not!" Harry said, "because if you are, then it means I am too. And I don't want us to be broken, Charlie! I don't want to be broken anymore!"
"We're not broken, Harry love. I promise. You are loved. You're loved. You're important, and you matter Harry. You. Matter."
Harry pressed his lips together tightly and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He felt dizzy. Sick. He thought the world might be spinning around him.
Charlie was talking still, but it took Harry a while to hear what he was saying, "you matter Harry and that's okay. You're okay, sweetheart. Just breathe, just breathe."
Harry was still unprepared for the warmth that it kindled in his chest. It almost hurt, to have someone, to have people who cared. Who cared, for him. Who loved him.
He looked up at Charlie.
"I don't think I know what love is Charlie," Harry admitted at a whisper, "but your important Charlie, you're so important."
There was a pause; it was almost fearful, "I think I trust you."
Despite it being spoken so softly that Charlie could bearly hear it, there was weight behind those words. So much weight.
"I trust you, Charlie," Harry said, "and I don't understand love, but I trust you."
"Shit, love, I hate these mirrors sometimes."
Harry snorted wetly, when had he started crying? And nodded.
"I wish I could hug you," Charlie said, sounding strained.
Harry nodded again before saying, "Hey, Charlie?"
"Yeah, love?"
Harry smiled at the name this time, "thank you," he said his throat thick.
"Any time love. Any time."
Harry just smiled, "it's so strange. You and Bill caring, and Hermione. Though that's not as new, but lately, we've been really close, and the twins. And Neville and Luna and the Slytherins now. It's like having friends. Real friends, not just people you don't hate that you spend time with because you have to and kind of like. No, this, I think, is like having family, Charlie, and it's so weird and strange, and I don't understand it at all, but I don't want it to end. It frightens me, Charlie.
Sometimes I think it was easier on the streets, sometimes when it was just me."
"What?!" Charlie cried out, horrified.
"Well, when it was just me," Harry said, missing the point, "I didn't have to watch for anyone else. I had nothing to lose, so nothing could hurt me. At least until I always ended up back at the Dursley's. Still not sure how that happened all the time. I think that must be some of the stuff that was obliviated," he said idly, before continuing.
"Now I have you and Bill and Hermione and the twins. And... I think... the loss of it would kill me. I don't think I'd be able to put all the pieces of myself back together after that if anything happened to you; to any of you. It's terrifying. I try not to think of it, its been getting worse, or... stronger? Since they all walked out for me.
And they're going to kidnap someone, Charlie, probably Hermione for the second task. I'm really scared!
Not just losing any of you, but what I'd do to stop it. Or what I'd do to avenge them."
"It's okay to feel Harry," Charlie said earnestly, "it's okay to care deeply for people. It's not a bad thing."
Harry nodded slowly, but before he could say anything else jumped as Hermione tapped on the window and beckoned him to come in.
"I have to go, I've run out of break time more quickly than I thought. Catch you later?"
Charlie nodded, an odd look on his face, "yeah love, we'll talk later. Look after yourself okay kiddo?" he said, sounding strangely hoarse.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, zeroing in on it, feeling worried.
Charlie nodded wordlessly waving him off.
Harry looked at him for a long moment, ignoring Hermione's more frantic tapping on the window, before waving at Charlie and closing the connection.
Harry made a 'just a tick,' hand gesture to Hermione and paused long enough to tap his mirror and say Bill's name. When Bill appeared, he said, "I have to go, but I just hung up on Charlie, and he sounds weird. Can you check on him when you get a minute?"
Bill nodded, "course, everything okay, sweetheart?"
Harry smile at the name, "we had a conversation about that; terms of endearment and love and stuff. He seems funny now. I think I upset him. I didn't mean to! But now I have to go to work. My break's over and it's about to get busy again... so I can't fix it. Can you make sure he's okay, Bill?" Harry asked earnestly, "I don't know what I did wrong. But I didn't mean to upset him, honest!"
"Course I will, don't you worry about it. I'm pretty sure I can guess what's up and it's not your fault. I'll make sure he's okay."
Harry looked seriously at him for a moment and Bill said, "I promise, I'll check on Charlie, sweetheart. I'll make sure he's okay."
"Thank's Bill!" Harry said, closing the connection with a wave and hurrying in to join Hermione.
*
And so the rest of the holiday passed. Harry and Hermione explored the alley more and got to know it. Hermione came to like it, though it was clear she wasn't nearly as comfortable with it as Harry was, who felt right at home in it.
Harry loved Nocturne. It was the most freedom he'd ever had in his life, and he was loath to leave it. He felt safe and comfortable in Nocturne, able to be himself; sharp, harsh, ugly edges and all. He was free to find out who he was here.
Harry was also still picking up all sorts of tidbits of information. He liked it here he thought later that evening towards the end of the dinner rush. For example, despite being nocturnal, they still called the first meal of the day, breakfast even if it was eaten around sunset. Lunch was still lunch despite being at midnight, not midday. Dinner likewise, was still called dinner despite being held at sunrise, which was the end of their nocturnal day.
Harry also used the opportunity Nocturne gave him, to brush up on some rather choice survival skills that he'd neglected while under Dumbledore's magic. Light fingers were among them, to Hermione's slight disapproval. But he made sure not to target the locals; there was an unspoken rule that you didn't pickpocket locals, but those that Nocturne considered outsiders were fair game.
Between that and now getting paid by Morbid he managed to scrounge enough money to pay Dobby for the rest of the year and buy the Hand of Glory. Something that had he and Hermione snickering over. It was frivolous no matter how useful it would be. But he'd always been so carful. It was nice to buy something just because he could.
Besides he'd managed to put a little money aside for the summer just in case and Morbid had agreed to take him back on during the summer so he would be all set.
Harry and Hermione (and Bill when he was around) kept practising duelling. Though it was now more defence and fighting than proper clean duelling, though Bill had made sure they knew how to do formal duels too.
Harry kept working on his Occlumency and sorting his memory's. It was still slow and painful. So many of his memories were unpleasant or traumatic, and he'd rather not look at any of them, despite knowing how important it was and how important 'know thy self' was.
After some debate, they decided to use the time-turner while they were on break, to try and catch up on some of their new OWL subjects. They did, after all, have a lot to do if they wanted to manage all the OWLs and NEWTs. They had initially tried going back in 12 hours blocks. But they found through trial and error it was much easier to do the full 24 to allow themselves adequate extra time to eat and rest as well, without getting their sleeping schedules too messed up. So they continued to spend the rest of the week going back one full day for every day they had left of the holidays. All time spent in the past was spent in the trunk, for the moment, and Harry had started coming up with ideas for where they could set up a secure study spot at Hogwarts.
Hermione caught up to Harry in is his WEA studied dishearteningly quickly. But they settled into an enjoyable competitive one-up-manship. They debated essays and quizzed each other on their work, trying to see who knew the material better and catch the other out with a question they couldn't answer. It was surprisingly enjoyable. Harry had always shied away from competitiveness because it often hurt him, or ended up with being beaten up.
But he knew Hermione. And she made it clear that she enjoyed it, and meant nothing harsh by her competitiveness. And really, it had motivated them to get a lot done. They worked out their study plan for their extracurricular studies and the time turner. And if they followed the new schedule right, with the time-turner, they should be on track to complete some early 'easy' OWLs with the Slytherins that summer.
They were planing on taking Politics, Etiquette and Culture, Estate Management, Languages and Flying. Though Hermione wasn't too keen on the idea of Flying and Harry had yet to coax her onto a broom. They had made good progress on her fear of heights though, and she was already a whizz at the theory.
Harry was learning more every day and picking up more and more and from the locals. There seemed to some kind of unspoken language among the Darke. And they all seemed to know each other and know who was and wasn't a part of it. It was fascinating and frustrating as he felt like an outsider. It was something he was used to, but he disliked it all the same.
He was getting really fond of the Darke. Especially as the longer he was in Nocturne, the more he picked up or was shown by some of the darke locals.
Fern, one of the local werewolves, finally explained to Harry why people kept pocketing bits of food or vanishing a tiny portion of food from their plates, he'd even noticed some people burn bits.
"It's an offering," Fern explained slowly when he caught Harry watching him. He had waved Harry over and pattered the bench seat next to him.
Harry sat.
"Respect is big here, especially to magic. And many who follow the old ways are big on respecting magic, the old ways, and our culture. One of the ways we show respect is with offerings. Particularly to magic herself, Mother Magic, though also to one's personal deities. People do that in different ways. Some will place an apple on their alter or at their deities feet every day, or once a week, or once a month. The timing and ritual of it often varies and is personal." Fern explained, and Harry made a mental note to ask Bill or Charlie about alters later.
"Some will make an offering at each meal. Each time they eat something, they'll often keep a bit as an offering for magic, or their deity. Deity offerings often vanish, not with a vanishing spell but more with wild will magic. You close your eyes and focus on what you're grateful for, and what you're offering. The deities magic vanishes, or burns it, accepting the offering.
An offering can also be left out and will vanish when it's accepted. Another way to do this is to leave an offering for the local spirits, beings, or deities. Different places have local gods too.
We have a nest of pixies in the well back home, in Cork. We leave them offerings every moon, and they leave us alone during the month and watch over us during the moon madness," the werewolf continued.
"Same with bowtruckles. If you want some of their wood you need to make an offering, a tithe, woodlice generally. People forget what it really is. It's not bribery or a distraction or a means of controlling them," Fern explained scornfully. "It's a thank you, a gratefulness and an offering. It's not controlling creatures. It's simply respect.
Another way to do it is to will it, offering something up to magic. That's what happens when people burn food. You either light it with a flame spell, or you close your eyes, sometimes with it in your hand, or on your plate. It doesn't matter how you do it. It's the intention that matters.
And you focus on what you're thankful for and why you're offering it up and magic will burn it as it accepts it. It won't hurt, but it's more obvious that way. So many people take bits of food to do later in privacy. It's not safe, you see."
And Harry thought of all the times he'd seen Bill pocket something from the table. Harry had assumed it was just leftovers or something to eat later, but now he wondered if it was actually an offering. Bill and Charlie had both done it. They'd been careful not to get caught, but Harry noticed things like that.
Harry, himself often pocketed food to make sure he had something to eat later; in case he was starved again. After a summer at the Dursley's, it was always a hard habit to break. He'd thought he'd seen Mrs Weasley frown at them disapprovingly a time or two over the summer when she'd caught them. But now he wondered if it was more to it than just saving food for later.
Later that evening when Harry went on break, he took his bowl of Stone soup up to the roof. Stone Soup actually had very little to do with stones. It was a Hag dish, and the soup itself was cooked in a stone bowl over an open fire for four days strait.
Harry quite liked it. It was sweet and spicy and made from some kind of purple tuber that Harry had never heard of before. But other than being a key ingredient in stone soup, when it was dried and pressed under a full moon and made into tea, the tuber offered relief from arthritis.
He sat on the roof looking up at the sliver of moon and thought for a moment before taking a spoon full of soup on his spoon and holding it up in front of him. He looked at the spoon for a moment and wished.
He was grateful for the food, and his roof and his people. But he was most grateful for his magic and freedom. He didn't know whether he was offering it to Hekate or magic herself, but either way, he was intensely grateful. And he was willing to sacrifice a bit of his soup to show that.
Something tingled in his chest and travelled down along his fingertips. The spoonful of soup burst into flames; tiny black and purple flames that thrummed with magic. It was an exhilarating feeling. And somehow he knew Hekate and magic had heard his thanks and accepted his offer.
He grinned.
*
The other interesting thing he learnt that evening was from the old crone in the corner of the inn. She was sitting by the fire wrapped in a shawl, weaving dream catchers. The Crone had been there all evening grumbling and demanding frozen Firewisky as she made them. Her hands were knobbly and seemed clumsy and stiff. But despite that, she wove the thread around the wooden hoops with a deft hand that belied her arthritic joints. Despite how grumpy she was and how snarky, Harry couldn't help but watch her, fascinated. She was a regular and he'd often watched her making them.
She must have noticed him, and not been to bothered by it as she beckoned him over with a crooked finger. He went over to her. She explained the process as she went, and had him copy her.
She had plenty of hawthorn twigs and sticky acromantula silk to bind the circle with. When she offered to make him one, he offered to add a string of unicorn hair and thestral hair to the sticky silk to add healing properties and endurance to the mix.
He had plenty of the hairs now after spending so much time in the forest. She grinned crookedly at him when he handed over two of each. One was for the knowledge she was sharing and one for the dream catcher itself.
It was fiddly work, and she grumbled when he said he'd never braided before. But she taught him how and then helped him to weave the cord around the hawthorn to make it into a circle. She added feathers and some beads that she'd pulled from somewhere, showing him how to make the tails. Then she blew on it softly, activating its magic before handing it to him.
She said, "keep it above your bed and hang it under the moon to recharge when it gets too heavy," before demanding another frozen Firewisky.
*
The first time he hung it over his bed, he didn't have nearly as many nightmares and wakes up to find silver-grey fuzz on the strands. He picks them off and gets an impression of the nightmares he missed and banishes them with a flick of his wand.
Side note: Charlie's upset at the revelation that harry inadvertently admits to about his childhood. Charlie finds it heartbreaking. That's why he's upset. Bill guesses this. Charlie's sad that harry grew up in such a shit situation.