Chapter Text
It was chilly, it was cold, and clouds shielded the cold sunlight from descending down. White was the only thing that could be seen
Skull breathed in, and breathed out, before he headed to a place his flames directed him to.
It was a small, inconspicuous cottage, in the middle of nowhere, with only thick snow to keep it company. Only the roof could be seen from underneath all that snow, but for his baby body, it’s just enough, he raked through it until he dug into a window of his size, carefully maneuvering for it to open with an icy creak.
The house wasn’t any warm, which creased his worry. Small white puffs of his breath escaped as he looked inside. Not warm enough to his liking, but it was dry and there was no wind. Skull will take the small mercies.
He jumped into the building, noting, at least, without the cold wind, the cold wasn’t as unbearable as outside, still, it wasn’t an ideal temperature.
“Mreowr.” Skull blinked and puffed out a cloud of his hot breath. That sound... Either a giant cat or a small lion... how fitting.
A ginger cat, the ugliest of its kind Skull had ever seen, showed itself before Skull’s eyes.
Thanks to his height, he didn’t even need to crouch down to meet the cat’s eyes.
“Hello Crookshanks.” Skull greeted the cat softly. Crookshanks crooked his head in a questioning way. “Er, Oodako isn’t here, you know how he’s sensitive with ice.”
The cat huffed, as if offended his familiar didn’t go here to greet her.
Skull breathed the cold air, his chest constricting in worry. He looked around before looking back at the cat.“Hey, Crook, where’s your-where’s your owner? Can you lead me to him?”
The cat swings with its tail, before going one way.
It was better than having to turn the whole house upside down looking for him.
They went into the bedroom and Skull’s heart ached as he found it empty. It was rarely used by him most of the time, left clean, cold, just existing. Like he is.
Crookshanks stopped for a while before leaving the room, only Skull and him remaining.
Inside, he noted how the room was even colder at least by feeling.
He looked under the bed first, going around, wondering where he could be before stopping before a wardrobe. Skull was careful not to make too loud noises but make enough sound that it didn’t feel like he was trying to creep up to someone. Soon enough, he was before the entrance to the wardrobe and Skull gently pushed them often revealing-
“Hello Harry.” Skull breathed out. The boy with raven curly hair, vivid green eyes and Lichtenberg scar across his forehead was peacefully sleeping inside, shuffled in-between sheets.
Harry was alive, breathing.
He was so small inside the wardrobe, curled around the sheets, taking one of his many naps.
At the calling of his name, the green eyes of his slowly fluttered open, and peered at Skull, questioning.
He doesn’t realize how much relief Skull is going through.
“I thought I wouldn’t find you in time, Harry.” Skull says soft. Harry doesn’t get up, but scoots in a way that makes clear Skull is welcome to join, to touch, and Skull does, he buries into Harry’s cold, too cold, body, and propagates his own warmth for both of them to bask in.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” Harry asks in his tired way and Skull shuts his eyes.
The heartbeat was there.
His heart was beating.
Harry was alive.
“Yes- Yes it would. What would I do without you Harry?” It’s almost a repetition, this conversation. Only in different settings, but no less painful.
“You’d forget. People eventually would. They do.” Harry replies, like it’s nothing new, like it’s expected.
Skull doesn’t want to think about the many times Skull was so close to losing him, the times at the edge, the cliff, at the hot dessert. Skull always, will always, come, but there is an underlying fear, what if he arrived late?
“I wouldn’t.” Skull croaks as he gets himself closer to Harry. Skull never cared for his babyfied body before. Disliked, yes, outright hated? It was a new feeling. He hated being unable to give Harry enough comfort. To hug him and envelop him in his flames like a soft cloudy blanket for him to understand Harry was his territory, his to care for, the most important person to exist to Skull. Instead, all he has is words, but sometimes, they work better when Harry’s involved. “It would hurt so much I'd never forget.”
Harry breathes in and out a few times and Skull wonders if he’s sleeping again. Harry slept most of the time, days even sometimes, and Skull prepared himself to talk about it again the next time Harry wakes up.
Except Harry twitches once, enough for Skull to know he’s not sleeping, but contemplating.
“So why are you subjecting yourself to it?” Harry asks quietly.
And that was the question, wasn’t it? Harry was, in terms of being a Sky, a mess, probably at the ranking of no.1 undesirable Sky on the planet if he had to guess.
Harry’s flames feel foul.
Where Sky flames entice others into bonding with them, Harry’s flames force them away.
And yet, and yet Skull got caught up in them.
Skull, just as any arcobaleno, was often enticed by Skies, greedy, vibrant flames, full of ambition and liveliness, inviting them into a bond.
Yet Skull, like the anomaly of a Cloud he was, was only truly attracted to a flame that asked for the opposite. Really attracted. Not the times, not like the times before. Not like teh bonds that held no meaning.
From the moment Skull had a brush with Harry’s flames in a shady town in Spain, he could feel the firm and cold rejection, and...
So,
So
Much
Sadness.
Skull never dealt well with that kind of emotion, and yet still, here he is.
Serving probably the saddest Sky in existence.
It was the cloudy day, the day he met him. No sun was in sight, but no rain was coming either. It felt... morose, just like his listless Sky.
It began with small stalking from his side, watching the utter wreck named Harry Potter’s life and escalates talks between them which most of the time felt like one sided conversation or one filled with grief he couldn’t name. More and more seeking where Harry is dwelling at times later, and then, one day, the idea popped out of nowhere, but Skull still did pop the question regardless of how well it would be received.
From the moment the idea crossed his mind, he realized that was something he wanted.
He got smitten.
Attached.
He remembers how the pressure became unbearable, how cold everything became, how upset the Sky was. But that was alright.
Regardless of how upset he felt around Harry, the moment he saw him, he couldn’t leave him alone.
Skull endured enough of Harry’s mood swings to keep asking.
He remembers popping the question because it was the moment everything changed for him.
(“Will you let me become your guardian?”
Skull was met by eyes full of contempt and disappointment, even betrayal in one.
He looks calm, unknowing at the wave of his emotions coloring acres of land he gave off at such a simple question.
And Skull can’t make himself take back those words, as he looks expectantly at Harry, a child, barely 10, contemplating an appropriate answer.
Right. Harry was 10. Too young from him to go through whatever he did.
It’s suffocating, that silence, it would often make people leave, feeling the pressure build up, but Skull waits, patiently, as Harry makes up his mind, already used to how Harry’s mind works.
“Not many want me as a Sky, but there were some who tried to do so to tie me up to certain families that way.” Harry’s gaze sharpened in a rare show of clarity. “It gets old.”
Harry gets down, closer to Skull’s baby face. “None of these people succeeded in becoming my guardian either.” It's a clear threat.
Implying something, somehow, made them stop trying. Skull doubts it was some friendly talk.
“I’m glad.” Skull whispers back. He really is. He might not understand how he got the other suitors leave, but he’s glad Harry isn't tied to some bastard guardian whose sole purpose was to enslave a Sky to a famiglia.
Just the thought of it-makes his blood boil-
Harry snorts. “Of course, you would. So, what do you want? Is a bond with a Sky so important you need to curry favor with me? Prestige of having a Sky? A chance to brag that your ‘Sky’ is a total wreck-”
“I just want to be with you.” He interrupts before he finishes.
It’s odd, the realization, and the fact it came out of his mouth so smoothy. But it was true.
And that was all that mattered in the end.
He wanted, he needed, to be with Harry. There was no other Sky, his flames will adhere to anymore or, he won’t let them at least.
Harry, Skull realized, was a Sky he chose. For himself only. And that made all the difference to the other Skies. Not his flames, not other people, not skies, it was him.
Harry stared at him, his eyes turning unfocused, before closing the green eyes as if hit by sudden tiredness.
“That’s what they always say. Sugar-coated words, it’s all they are.” There was something more to it, he felt so. “I’m cold, Skull. People tell me so.” Harry smiles self-depreciating.
“And that’s fine, I’m used to cold.” Skull reassures Harry. he wouldn't know he half of it. How cold is something so familiar to him it's practically home.)
Skull doesn’t answer, and Harry gives up on waiting, instead, curling around Skull and falling asleep again. Skull once again, hates his small body, unable to caress Harry like he’d want to. Especially in a cold of Alaska. Instead of falling beside him, Skull focuses on propagating warmth and reviewing old memories to give an answer once his Sky wakes up.
(“What would it take for you to accept me into your bond?” Skull asks when they have a cup of warm chocolate. Harry is hard to catch awake, much less coherent enough to start a conversation with, yet still, some way, in that short span of time Harry happens to be awake and active, mysterious things happen around him.
Today, it was dead of the night, and Skull still counts that as a win Harry bothered himself to get up and talk to him.
Harry clutches his mug, absentminded. He looks at the window, and before long, his forehead is touching the cold glass, as if finding some comfort in the notion. Harry closes his eyes.
“Lately, I've been... getting unreasonably angry when someone attempts a bond or even tease me with their flames so much that I'd hurt them as much as I can. Because bonding hurts. And they have to understand that it does.”
There isn’t a single crack of guilt in that statement. His eyes open at the end, glowing orange in anger and displeasure. He says it matter off-factly, as if he wasn’t implying that he was, probably, finding creative and possibly cruel options to keep others away.
And Skull believes Harry could, somehow. He's not against such.
“Sometimes, it becomes the only solution available. Why don’t you pick from the better choices for a Sky Skull?” And Skull doesn’t judge, because he knows in himself that he’s not exactly in place to do so.
“Because I want only you to be my Sky.” It was true. There was no one like Harry.
Harry is silent through the day and a day following after.)
Skull thinks about the day they bonded.
(Bonding between a Guardian and a Sky was supposed, as Skull heard, as he remembers, a beautiful courting protocol, except his was anything but in his case. Not today.
It’s aggressive, it’s cruel, it’s only wanted on one end while apathetic and unwanted from the other party. That also happens to be Sky who rejects bonds.
Harry is not inclined to accept him and Skull-
Skull decides to bare through even when it hurts. It’s unrefined, it’s uncouth, it lacks Mafia etiquette and could be described as barbaric way of bonding if it was seen by others.
Skull propagates his flames large enough, extremely large, that he drowns the sorrow with his flames.
Harry may not want him, and may not need him specifically, but Skull knows, Harry needs someone, and Skull really, really wants to be that someone.
While bonding is called the most refreshing feeling, the most beautiful thing to happen, something out of a romance movie, Skull feels like crawling out of hell after fighting a prolonged battle. And after the bonding is over, something heavy settles in his guts, making Skull aware of his duty as a Guardian.
Many describe bonding as momentarily losing themselves in bliss. Skull feels more aware of things than before. Instead of drunk, he feels hyper aware taking notes of things he didn’t think of before.
Skull’s whole world changed.
Never in his mind did it occur to him, that Harry might have a powerful flame, the thought didn’t cross his mind until he tried to bond.
Really, at that moment, the title of strongest felt like a big joke now, as he realized the deep despair and helplessness were none other but flames themselves letting themselves known in a most unconventional way.
But Skull was one of the arcobaleno for a reason, and propagating his own flames? It was possible, for Skull at least.
He propagated them largely enough to a point of engulfing the rich, large, scorching flames trying to comfort them with his flames into accepting, promising him enough space instead of suffocating him, the largest space only a Cloud could provide.
Cloud flames are known as least comforting flames, and the top was controlled by Skies.
A good match, they made.
It changed him, much more than he thought.
Being a guardian messes with one’s mind, except his Sky was messed up to begin with, making his guardian instincts go haywire.
Skull always thought the talks about people changing was something akin to brainwashing except it was more of a ‘person changing for his lover’ thing. Skull was different, he knew, yet right now, he just realized how much different.
Now he finally understood, what being Guardian meant, it was easier to feel, than to describe it. The simplest way to describe a Guardian changing his character would be them trying to fit onto their Sky’s life. (His first thought was that it was maybe because he was the first guardian, but he didn’t think he was, the first one, that is.)
Even before they bonded, Skull was already trying to fit onto the lifestyle Harry led, preparing things in need, being in his company without pressuring him too much. Was that courting? Or was he just overly hopeful?
The talks about nothing mattering more to a Guardian than a Sky for a good while might have some truths to it, but it might be even more heightened with issues Skull knows Harry has but won’t talk about. Or HIM.
Though Harry did get talkative when it came to dissuading him from becoming his Guardian.
It would be eerie to anyone else when they realized how it seemed Harry was his center of the world, how everything besides him, dulled.
From the moment he became a Guardian, he began taking a step back to his old life.
Like a wrong choice would cost him Harry.
Going back to his origins.
His ruthlessness becomes prominent too as his mind rationalizes about having a blabbering witness or a silent corpse.
How asking and begging was inefficient when it came to this cruel world.
His Cloud flames are itching to protect, to hurt the ones that try to come too close, and Skull finds himself succumbing to his flame instincts etching Harry as his territory purpose, world, law.
In time, Skull realizes, it was less of a Guardian thing Skull was going through, but both Skull's and Harry's thing.
Right. A lot of things will become a Harry thing, as he later realizes in life.
________________________
Harry was a sad child.
Skull feels it through the bond, the emptiness, the tiredness, the heaviness of existing.
Feeling emotions of his Sky like that, the connection itself, that too, must be just a Harry thing. His Sky who is shrouded in mysteries and equal misery.
At these times of despair, sometimes Skull finds him asleep, sleeping through that state, other times, he lies and stares into nothing. Both times, it’s the moment Skull takes care of to him, tending to him at these times, his voice comfortingly filling the silence never expecting a feedback.
It's for the best really, that he’s together with Harry, at those times, Skull isn’t exactly sane either, rather, a hazard to anyone who doesn’t happen to be his Sky.
Harry’s flames taste odd too, like an eerie forest, like a rotting floorboard, like a damp tunnel with no hope of escape, like a deadly cold.
Helpless.
Despairing.
At these times, Harry goes off to secluded places, quiet, most of the time dangerous to scare off other people. Skull never gets deterred when he goes off to search for him.)
And there he finds him, an absolute wreck, and Skull hates this. He hates the helpless emotions flooding his mind, how little he can actually do, how much it hurts, how it messes with his own emotions and yet-
Yet Skull never fails to show up, always caring about Harry’s whereabouts, health and whatnot.
Harry’s not the only one, wondering why he is bothering himself with this. Why he keeps on caring, why he chose his Sky to be Harry when his flames rejected him firmly.
Skull never imagined this to be his life. Fearing, caring for other person’s well-being so much that the loss of it might drive him insane. Loving someone so much he could feel their life connected to the end of the line.
Having to endure despair and episodes of nothingness going through his bond that drive him angry and upset and very much insane.
He could made do with so much better Sky, one that didn’t have such mind issues, that was warm, welcoming, that offered home, that felt safe and happy.
Yet-
And yet Skull is enamored.
There’s no other way to describe it.
(Skull is hardly deterred by Harry’s listless behavior and brings cakes and pies and other desserts for Harry to try. Harry tries several of them, but only with one taste does he really bloom.
The Sky flames are momentarily, shortly, pleased at the taste, that much, Skull knows.
And Harry smiles, not in a blank way or answering to something of his past, but more like one full of fondness and Skull is at that moment lost all his doubts about following his Sky.
“It’s Treacle Tart” Harry says with such adoration to the desert one had to be completely blind not notice it was his favorite kind of food. It's the moment he feels it.
It’s nothing like other Sky flames, which are warm and pressuring, instead, it’s very soft like a feather. Where Skies are warm to a point that induced blindness, Harry was... refreshing, the same way mint would be, upon breathing in and out, it feels like his lungs were set free, like the detail of the world sharpened, like a breath of a fresh breeze coursing through.
At that moment, Skull felt-)
Skull looks at the sleeping figure, wondering if Harry hears him. It’s always 50/50 with him, catching snippets of Skull’s voice. He doesn’t mind repeating it again for Harry, seeing him asking for something is already an accomplishment. Skull reaches with his baby hands to brush Harry’s hair out of his face as he speaks.
“You make me feel free.” Skull whispers, the coldness of Alaska’s cottage carrying his words. “I just realized how It felt.” How it should feel.
Ever since he became an arcobaleno, he thought the concept of free was long lost. No, long before the arcobaleno, the concept of freedom was foreign. Until now that is.
Harry stirs. He wasn’t asleep it seems. “Is freedom worth the pain?” he asks, it’s curious now, and Skull meets eyes that looked … Pleading for validation of sorts. There are things, secrets Skull won’t ever know about his Sky, mysteries he doesn’t dream on unraveling. He doesn’t need to, so long as he answers like he means it and his Sky is satisfied with such answers. “Is it worth it, when you know, when we know, you’re hurting because of it?” Because you’re stuck with me as your Sky? Remains unsaid but heavily implied.
Skull thinks about it, he was one best at forgetting and keeping secrets, way before Harry happened. He was harboring a secret bigger than others would think. Hiding a whole Sky is quite the skill, especially one that changes whereabouts sporadically as this one, but not one of his biggest ones, not yet.
It hurts, yes, this whole thing, mood swings that affect him from the bond, the way flames feel, but Skull can’t bear to leave Harry alone. He can’t bear going back to his old self, uncaring of the reality ever since then, it would bear him down, the empty hole he dug in his heart to firmly place Harry at.
If he was walking a path of thorns, abandoning it would tear him apart.
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” Skull answers softly. Promise of misery never deterred him. “Besides, I, more than once, endured pain, not for freedom.”
Even if this story was to end tomorrow, it wasn’t one he would regret starting.