Chapter Text
A sharp breath.
A shudder.
The woman stood frozen, her hands clamped over her mouth as she stared at the shattered window.
Hannibal turned to her, his expression smooth, measured, as though he hadn’t just thrown a man to his death. He took a careful step forward, watching how she flinched, her eyes darting between him and the broken glass.
“Miss Harper,” he said gently, his voice a soothing counterpoint to the chaos. “Come. Sit.”
She didn’t move, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.
“There is no danger now,” he continued, taking her arm lightly, merely a guiding touch. “You mustn't overexert yourself.”
With careful precision, he led her to the nearest chair. She sat stiffly, her fingers gripping the edges of the seat. Her wide, frantic eyes flickered down, finally noticing the tear in his trousers, the dark stain blooming just above his knee.
“You—your leg,” she stammered, her voice still trembling.
Hannibal glanced down, almost as if it were a mild inconvenience rather than a wound. He exhaled softly, offering the faintest ghost of a smile.
“Do not fret. It is nothing to be concerned about,” he assured her.
She didn't look convinced, her hands twitching in her lap, but she didn't press further. Still, her restless energy was palpable, her gaze shifting toward the broken window, toward where Tobias should have been.
“I—I just need to s-s-see,” she whispered, half-rising, her steps unsteady as she moved toward the shattered frame.
Hannibal anticipated it before she fully committed, smoothly stepping between her and the window. His presence was unyielding yet polite, his posture relaxed yet deliberate.
“There is nothing to see,” he told her evenly. “No need to unsettle yourself further, Miss Harper.”
She hesitated, lingering, her breath uneven. Hannibal tilted his head, watching her, waiting for her to comply. After a moment, she swallowed hard and stepped back, nodding, approaching where she was seated.
Only then did he allow himself a glance outside.
His gaze traveled down to where Tobias is a crumpled, broken form amidst the glass shards.
Or— where his body should have been?
Instead, the ground was empty.
Hannibal's expression remained impassive, but his fingers twitched slightly at his side.
Intrigue and annoyance.
How strange.
After tending with his patient. Hannibal sat on his chair. The distant sound of her giving her statement drifted into the office as she recounted what she had seen. She sat across the room, trembling, her hands wrapped tightly around a tissue.
She was terrified. And rightly so.
She had, however, played the role of an unwitting alibi quite well. Though he had hoped to resolve the situation with Tobias in a more refined manner. He glanced at the ruin of his window and made a mental note to order a replacement to match the original leaded glass.
His leg throbbed beneath the makeshift bandage he tied himself. His arm was similarly bound though neither wound concerned him greatly. Pain was a familiar, predictable thing. It kept the mind disciplined.
“Tobias Budge kills two Baltimore police officers,” Jack said, as behind him the science trio snapped photos, swabbed clothe and carpet, and sealed evidence. “Nearly fatally injures another. And an FBI special agent. After all that, his first stop is here. Your office.”
Hannibal didn't look at him immediately and instead he adjusted his cuff over the torn edge of the bandage.
“He came to kill my patient,” he said.
“Was your patient associated with Budge in any way?”
“Beyond the matter of friendship,” Hannibal reflected, “I am uncertain. Franklyn had…. undisclosed thoughts. He kept things from me, even in session. He told Mr. Budge he didn’t have to kill anymore. That was just before Tobias broke his neck.”
“And then attacked you,” Jack finished, his tone edged. He stared at Hannibal, his eyes narrowing. “Was Franklyn the one Budge was serenading?” Jack asked.
Hannibal allowed a measured pause, hands resting neatly on his lap.
“I’m not certain,” he replied. “But it may be so. Tobias struck me as a man who admired the sound of his own performance. The fact it had not turned out as he expected must have thrown him off.”
Jack looked as if he wanted to say more but Hannibal interrupted, delicately.
“Have you heard from Will?”
Jack blinked at the shift in subject. “Not directly,” he gestured vaguely to the officers moving in and out of the room, some of them collecting evidence, others standing near the doorway as the team also worked on their activity. “But according to the last report, he was the one who called for backup. Paramedics were dispatched to his location.”
Hannibal nodded slowly. Quiet displeasure rose, of the uncertainty.
And then as if summoned by thought alone, Will walked in.
Relief sank in instead.
He wore clothes Hannibal didn’t recognize, ones he hadn’t left in that morning. A bandage was wrapped around his neck, and another around his right arm. Hannibal’s eyes lingered there.
He didn’t like seeing wounds on Will’s body, especially ones he hadn’t caused or healed.
“I was beginning to worry you were dead,” Hannibal said, gaze softening.
Will took in the state of him. Bloodied and bruised and offered a small dry smile.
“You let him get that close?”
Hannibal’s lips just lifted faintly, tilting his head.
Will huffed approaching Hannibal closer to touch him.
Jack held an evidence bag. “We found a pocket knife in Franklyn’s coat. Doesn’t look like a collector’s piece. He might’ve planned to use it on you, Dr. Lecter.”
“That is.. unexpected,” Hannibal didn’t react outwardly but he had already considered the possibility. “He never gave me any indication of such intent.”
“They rarely do,” Jack sighed gravely. “Did Franklyn say anything strange? Out of character?”
“He was becoming more hysterical,” Hannibal admitted. “His attachment was nothing new for certain patients, but he was… intensifying. Then Tobias interrupted us. He assumed Franklyn had betrayed him, if they were truly associated, and decided to finish things himself.”
Hannibal sighed, quietly.
Jack looked contemplative.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Will said quietly, furrowing his brows, placing a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder and giving it a rub. “Was Tobias taken away?” He hadn’t seen a body when he entered, though perhaps he had missed it.
Jack glanced toward the shattered window grimly. “Despite the fall..it appears our suspect is missing.”
Hannibal’s gaze followed Jack’s.
The fall had been deliberate. Backward, through the glass. If Tobias had landed as expected, the damage would have been substantial. Trauma to the spinal cord, shattered vertebrae, ruptured tissue, etc. Enough to paralyze, possibly kill.
And yet, he was gone.
The only plausible explanation was that Tobias had twisted at the last second and somehow lessened the blow. Even then, the blood loss alone should have kept him from getting far. And the building had been surrounded shortly after.
It didn’t make sense.
Will frowned. “What?”
“Adrenaline can push people beyond what’s rational. Still, he won’t have made it far. Not in that condition.” Jack continued and he then turned back to Hannibal. “Are you injured anywhere else, Dr. Lecter?”
“I am not.”
Jack nodded. “We’ve got the perimeter lockdown. Teams are already searching the area. There can be witnesses who might’ve seen something, unless.. you’ve got physical descriptions for us.”
“He appeared injured,” Hannibal said. “Unless the blood belonged to someone else. His face looked clawed and red. His eyes were bloodshot. I believe Will inflicted enough damage to stop him from pursuing any further.”
“I did,” Will replied though Hannibal noted a slight tension in his response.
“Was there anything else Franklyn spoke about recently? Something that might point us to a location?”
“Not that I know of.” Hannibal answered.
Will had been aware of Franklyn’s corpse since the moment he entered. It hadn’t bothered him at first but now it was beginning to. The familiarity of it. That feeling of being watched. He glanced over at the body again.
Franklyn lay crumpled on the floor, neck snapped, eyes wide open—staring at him.
Of course he is.
That strange sensation he had the past few days, weeks.. the eyes. Watching him. He had assumed it was Tobias. Maybe it was Franklyn. Maybe both.
It didn’t matter now.
Will took a slow breath and stepped toward the body as the others instinctively gave him space. Beverly caught his eye, silently mouthing if he was all right. He answered with a tight grimace.
“Well,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Here goes nothing.”
Behind him, Jack and Hannibal continued to speak as their voices blurred into the background.
I keep trying. I try really hard to do everything right, to say the right things, to be what you want. But it's never enough, is it?
You still don’t really see me. Not the way I want you to.
But I keep showing up anyway. I keep hoping today will be the day you finally understand me.
It’s pathetic.
I know that too.
I just want… I want the life I see in you.
I want what you have. Or maybe I want you.
God, I don’t even know anymore.
And then there’s him.
The one who really has your attention.
Why him?
Why not me?
What does he have that I don’t?
I’m smart. I’m thoughtful. I care.
I can be impressive.
I tried to follow his example..
But you weren’t impressed.
I watched him. I paid attention.
He thinks he's better than me. I can tell.
He acts like he's special. Like you belong to him.
I hate him.
I despise him.
I should’ve done something about it. I should’ve—
I should’ve asked to kill him sooner.
I should’ve just said it.
He would’ve done it.
But he did it either way.
He did it. He actually did. He came.
He came for me.
And that should’ve meant something.
But I failed.
Again.
I couldn’t do what I needed to do.
I had to—
Jack had promised to call the moment there were any changes, but in the meantime, Will had little to do but sit still, due to his injuries. He curled up in Hannibal’s chair, phone in hand, scrolling.
Refresh. Refresh. No new messages. No missed calls.
Will huffed, still paranoid.
There wasn’t much he knew about Tobias, except that he was definitely a threat that needed to be dealt with. Tobias was clearly magical. The pieces just didn’t add up otherwise. There was a chance he could be a werewolf… but being this close to the city made it highly unlikely. Just what exactly could he be? Will wasn’t sure. There were aspects of it that remained stubbornly elusive. And he hadn’t been able to get anything valuable about Franlyn either, besides the obvious.
Will turned his attention to the news instead.
Lounds again had taken to prowling around crime scenes again. He's not surprised and instead snorted half relief about the fact she hadn’t written more about him.
Another article caught his eye, and then another. Nothing worth sinking his teeth into. He flicked through headlines until one stopped him.
~
Another Victim of the Boston Scarlet?
What was initially reported as an isolated incident may now be linked to the elusive figure authorities are calling the “Boston Scarlet.” Police say earlier conclusions may have been mistaken, and investigators are re-examining evidence from the scene. The FBI is reportedly on-site.
More updates as the story unfolds —>
~
Freddie Lounds, of course, had covered it.
It had only been a week—maybe less—since the last mention of the Boston Scarlet. Will didn’t speak of it, not aloud. But he knew Jack was obsessively focused on the Chesapeake Ripper, pushing the team to dig for more clues about this new case. Jack was biting off more than he could chew.
Will exhaled sharply as he scratched lightly at his neck, poking at the corner of his healing wound.
“Will,” Hannibal sighed, dabbing antiseptic carefully, “stop aggravating your injuries.”
Will grumbled, eyes averted. “It’s fine.”
Hannibal gave him a look, the kind that didn’t need words. Will relented, patting his hands on his pants like a sulking dog told to stay.
“How’s your leg?” Will asked, concerned now.
Wish I could just heal it.
“It’ll take some time to heal, but nothing permanent,” Hannibal replied smoothly. “Besides, I appreciate the company.”
Will offered a faint smile.
“The others left rather abruptly,” Hannibal added. "It affords me the opportunity to inquire something of you."
Will raised a brow. He knew that voice, the one Hannibal used when he was circling overhead.
“Franklyn mentioned something,” Hannibal said, finishing the bandage. “Something you should know.”
Will hummed in acknowledgment, his attention caught.
“He knew about Teddy .”
The words landed like a slap. Will didn’t move, but something inside him shifted, cold panic threading beneath his calm exterior. He shouldn’t have been surprised. But he was. What parent wouldn’t be, hearing their child’s name spoken in the shadows of a case? Well, it wasn’t like he never took Teddy out in public. He did. Cafes, markets, and bookstores. Still, he should have been extra cautious. And it just clicked in Will’s head.
Merlin..
“There’s more.”
Why hadn’t he considered it.
“I need to go..” Will breathed, rising to his feet stiffly, his fingers shaking. Whether it was fear or fury, he couldn’t tell.
“He’d been tracking my patients, their routines, their whereabouts. Yours included.”
If Franklyn knew, then Tobias knew.
He should have considered that sooner.
Oh shit.
How long has it been?
How long did he have?
Will reached instinctively for his phone, only to curse under his breath, he forgot it had been damaged earlier. “Bloody hell…” His coat was already in hand. “Mind if I borrow your phone? He could-he could already-”
Hannibal didn’t interrupt his spiral and simply handed over the phone, getting his car keys and Will’s jacket while watching as Will typed in the number and pressed the call.
“There’s something else.. from Tobias,” Hannibal added calmly and deliberately.
Will turned to him.
“In the midst of his ramblings, he called you Mr. Potter .”
“What..?”
Will froze.
A long beep sounded as the call had failed to connect.
“It may have been a product of delusion,” Hannibal said carefully, “Even so.. he appeared quite adamant.”
Will didn’t respond.
“I need to get home,” Will said again, voice hoarse.
“I’ll drive,” Hannibal offered as Will nodded absently, barely registering the words, his thoughts already far ahead with worry.
Were Hermione and Draco still at the beach with Teddy? Had he refilled the floo powder?
Merlin, the house–was it warded? No–yes–no. He. Could. Not. Remember.
His chest tightened as panic rose and choked him. He could almost hear the old wards crackling in his ears, see the shimmer in the air..except they weren’t there, not if he’d forgotten—what if someone— what if Tobias —
The next thing he knew, he was in the passenger seat, the car already moving. He didn’t remember getting in. Didn’t remember Hannibal pulling away. Just the pulse in his throat, too fast, too loud, hot and cold.
“You froze,” Hannibal broke the silence, his eyes still on the road. “It unsettled you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“That would be a lie.”
Will turned toward him, jaw tightening. That familiar flicker of annoyance rose in his chest, hot and quick. “You want to psychoanalyze me now?”
Why now? Why does he have to prod at the worst possible time? Can’t it wait?
Calm down. Breathe.
“No,” Hannibal replied evenly. “I want you to be safe. I want your son to be safe. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t… curious.”
Will looked away, looking out the window. Silence stretched. He could see Teddy’s small hands gripping onto a snitch toy. Trying to pull it into his mouth— his shriek, his little face pale with fear, the air filled with smoke, the destruction —
“I let it slide,” Hannibal said, very softly. “I don’t press. We both have our own secrets Will, but this is something different. There’s a weight you carry that has nothing to do with me. Yet somehow, I feel it shaping every moment we have.”
Will swallowed hard, his throat raw. He hated that Hannibal was right. Hated that the truth sat there, breathing against the back of his mind, too dangerous to touch.
If you open your mouth, you’ll tell him. And you can’t. Not now.
“Some things are survival. You know it, Hannibal.”
“For whom?” Hannibal asked.
Will’s stomach turned, heat climbing up his neck.
It’s not fair.
Hannibal always did this. Not demanding, not accusing, but offering his words like open doors Will didn’t want to open. Doors Will had spent years locking, sealing, warding with every trick he knew.
“You speak like it’s still talking through you,” Hannibal continued.
He didn’t know if it was fear or anger that surged in his chest. Maybe both. And behind it, the clawing rise of memories he’d buried deep, the taste of fire and iron in his mouth. He thought he’d built a life solid enough to keep the rest hidden.
Will’s voice cracked. “You said you wanted me safe.”
“I do.”
“Then let me keep quiet.”
They didn’t speak again.
It hung between them. No more words. Like smoke in a sealed room. No way out.
Will didn’t know how he let it get this far.
His hands curled into fists against his knees, nails digging in.
The lines were too blurred. Between past and present, between who he had been and who he was trying to be. Everything inside him felt frayed. He had let go of some control, enough to trust Hannibal. Enough to fall into something almost like peace. Like a life.
But not enough. Not when it really counted.
Despite easing the constant hold he had over his being, despite letting go, it hadn’t been enough. Not when his emotions ran unchecked like this. Wild, burning, lashing outward and inward. His mind was in shambles. His thoughts scattered like broken glass across a floor he couldn’t stop bleeding on.
He hated this feeling.
He hadn’t felt like this since him .
Since the screaming.
Since the blast of green light.
Since the blood and fire and the nursery walls turning to ash.
Since Teddy’s cries shredded the night and Harry could do nothing but hold a child in the ruins of a life he couldn’t rebuild.
His fingers twitched.
His body remembered, even when his mind tried to forget. It remembered what it could do. What he could be . He’d made it forget—forced it down, pressed it into silence. But even then, some part of him knew it was futile.
And Teddy had paid for it.
The fevers. The cries. The worries.
The nights Will laid awake staring at the ceiling questioning everything.
Am I doing the right thing? Am I what Teddy needs? Am I enough?
Doubt. Drowning. Uncertainty. Screams in the dark.
The bone-deep ache of wanting him again.
Wanting him back so much that oblivion— The Killing Curse —would have been easier.
But the world didn’t allow that.
And the guilt only grew heavier.
My fault. Always my fault.
He blamed himself. For not knowing enough. For the fear. For being the one to cause it. For not knowing how to raise a child when his very existence had always been a war. For every mistake.
For letting Teddy’s core weaken until it was fragile—that could’ve stunted his growth or worse left him severed from who he was born to be.
If that had happened…
Not even Harry Potter could have fixed it.
No one could have.
But it hadn’t happened.
By some miracle, it hadn’t.
Still, it never stopped. One danger after another.
He got too comfortable. Too complacent.
And now here they were.
His mess.
His responsibility to fix.
“You’re breathing too fast, Will,” Hannibal observed, calm and precise. “You’ll hyperventilate.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Just drive.”
“Will—”
“Don’t—don’t say anything,” Will muttered, ending in a whisper as he felt his head pounding. “Not unless you can tell me how to undo the last decade”
“You’re not making any sense.” Hannibal’s voice came out low.
Will let out a hollow laugh. Just exhaustion. Just anger. “Nothing does .”
Hannibal exhaled slowly, his patience also waning thin. “Something is eating you away.”
Will didn’t look at him. He just couldn’t
“I wouldn’t press,” Hannibal continued, “if I didn’t think it was endangering you. Or Teddy. You’re circling Tobias like he’s already struck and perhaps he has, in ways I am unaware about. But when I ask, you deflect. You’re still deflecting.”
“I said don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Hannibal pressed.
Will clenched his jaw. “Don’t say anything .”
“I’m saying very little, actually,” Hannibal replied. “You’re the one unraveling.”
That stopped Will cold. Will’s head snapped toward him. “ Excuse me? ”
“I don’t doubt your intentions, Will.” Hannibal said with cool precision, as if trying to achieve something. “But your mind is elsewhere, so preoccupied, it clouds even your instincts. You’re trying to protect Teddy while quietly dismantling your ability to do so.”
And before Will could stop himself, before he even realised the heat climbing up his throat—
“Fuck You. ”
A reflex. Too loud. Too much. Too real .
Regret slammed in almost instantly. He stared at Hannibal.
WIll looked at Hannibal.
Hannibal blinked once. “Noted.”
And then silence. Again. The dense and suffocating kind that made it hard to breathe.
The road in front of them was lit only by a few brake lights.
Will’s chest tightened under the weight of it. The stillness. The shame.
Why do I always ruin everything?
A shaky sigh slipped from him before he could catch it. “I didn’t mean—”
“You did,” Hannibal said, matter-of-fact.
The truth of it burned.
You meant it because he’s right. Because you can’t stand him being right.
Think, Harry told himself. Bloody think.
Will sucked in a sharp breath and looked down at his hands, hands that had healed and hurt and held .
Hands that wouldn’t stop trembling.
“Hannibal?”
Hannibal simply looked ahead.
“I’m sorry—I” Will tried as mind swirled with everything he couldn’t say.
What does he say?
That he’s sorry? That he didn’t mean it? That he did? That Hannibal words hit too deep? That his head’s not on straight and hasn’t been in years?
“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think before I said it. I was just—”
Will’s voice was quieter now.
Angry. Frightened. Tired. Desperate.
“I—” he tried again, then faltered.
There’s so much I want to tell you. So much I want you to see. I want to show you everything. Scream it, throw it at you, whisper it in the dark. To see if you’ll still look at me the same. Once you know what I really am.
He swallowed hard.
“It's—” The word barely made it out.
There are things beyond normal understanding . And I want you to witness it. I want to see if it fascinates you. I want to fascinate you. I want to know if I can still belong, even like this.
He looked over at Hannibal, finally.
Will steadied himself.
“Do you trust me, Hannibal?”
It came out quieter than he meant. Raw. Not manipulative. Desperate.
I want you to stay.
Please.
Don’t leave me.
The question hung in the air.
Hannibal kept his eyes on the road, and the only sounds were the steady hum of the tires. Will could hear his own heartbeat, too fast, too loud.
Every second stretched.
Finally, Hannibal turned his head, searching Will’s face for something he already suspected.
Then, he smiled. It was a small but real smile.
Harry had pushed him away.
But Hannibal did not leave.
“I trust you, Will,” Hannibal said.
And something inside Will broke open .
“Call me Harry.”
“H—?” Hannibal began, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction and gratitude as Will began stepping into the light.
But he never finished.
Reality folded.
The car vanished.
Gone from the middle of the empty road.
Teddy squealed with delight.
“What are you waving at, Teddy?” Hermione asked gently, shifting him higher on her hip as she followed his tiny outstretched arm, waving excitedly at something.
“Wis’ton!” he pointed.
Winston came tearing past them in a blur of fur and joy, tail wagging wildly as he looped around the back garden.
“Oh,” Hermione laughed, “was he hiding from us?”
Teddy giggled hard enough to hiccup, nodding proudly.
From the porch, Draco’s voice rang out. “Mione! It’s getting too chilly, come back in!”
She approached him, Teddy still tucked in her arms. “Didn’t we say we’d go downtown for some things?”
“I know,” Draco said, poking at Teddy’s pink cheeks, “but I think it might do him more good to stay in. He’s flushed.”
Hermione examined Teddy’s face. His nose running just a little as he sniffed, cheeks flushed from the chilly wind, and fingers slightly cold as she touched them.
“Alright,” she agreed. “But take Winston with you. He’s been cooped up too long. A walk will do him good as well.”
“It won’t be long. I’ll take the car.”
“The one you haven’t taken out yet?” she teased.
Draco gave her a look. “I’ll be careful. I was taught by the best.”
“If only Harry were here to hear you admit that.” Hermione smiled.
“I refuse to confirm or deny,” Draco said loftily before brushing Teddy’s curls back and pecking Hermione. Then he strode toward the path, Winston trotting at his side as he called him.
Hermione watched them go before nudging the door open and carrying Teddy inside.
The sudden whoosh of heated air made Teddy scrunch his nose in surprise. Hermione giggled softly, running her fingers through his curls, noticing how they had shifted into soft spirals, curls just like hers.
“Why don’t we warm up, sweetheart?” she murmured, tickling him. “Perhaps, a nice bath?”
He giggled again and burrowed against her shoulder, arms curling around her neck in that unguarded, trusting way that always made her heart squeeze.
He was a happy boy.
Once, the idea of children had been something she skirted around. Too busy, too uncertain, not sure she was meant for that kind of life. Draco had been different, he adored them. He adored Teddy. And Hermione… well, she had always let the question drift past without committing to an answer.
But holding Teddy now, his warmth seeping into her, his hair brushing her cheek, nmade her think. Maybe she was ready. Maybe she could bring it up to Draco.
She let her mind wander. Would their child be a boy or a girl? Would they inherit her curls, or Draco’s sleek platinum hair? Or perhaps a mix of dark gold waves. Whose eyes? Whose smile? Who;s personality? Maybe even their own.
The thought warmed her so much she wanted to relish the image of the child, their child, she created in her head.
Yes. When they returned to the manor, she could say it. She could tell him. She liked that.
The air split.
One moment, they were inside Hannibal’s Bentley. The next split second, nothing.
Then gravity returned all at once.
The ground struck hard as Hannibal hit it with a violent jolt, knees jarring into damp soil, palms scraping against it. He inhaled, steadying himself, taking in his surroundings.
The forest.
Trees loomed around them and startled snort was heard as a deer bolted past.
In the distance, Hannibal saw his Bentley knocked over.
And beside him—
Harry.
He took the name in, let it bloom in his mind. Tasting its shape and sound. Harry.
He had always suspected there was more than the man allowed to surface, especially with his carful omissions and deliberate misdirections in conversation. Tobias’s pointed remark had only been a nudge toward what Hannibal already suspected.
Knowing was one thing. Confirmation was another.
And still… he had not expected this.
Harry was on his hands and knees, coughing, gasping, his entire frame pulsing with energy. Hannibal couldn’t see it but he felt it. The air around him was different. Denser. Charged. It pressed against the skin, hummed faintly in the bones.
Magnificent.
Hannibal’s own body resisted the shift. His stomach roiled, his balance faltered, and for one disorienting moment he thought he might retch. The ground seemed to tilt beneath him. Side effects, perhaps, of whatever… transition Harry had just forced into being.
But nausea was irrelevant.
Hannibal could only watch.
He, who prided himself on understanding both the simplest gestures and the most labyrinthine minds, found himself speechless.
And Harry—Harry was exquisite.
And, the deepest part of him, he reminded Hannibal of—
“Harry?” Hannibal said, in question.
No response.
Harry was doubled over, jaw clenched as a choked sound tearing from his throat. Pain. Like he was trying to shove whatever had come loose down. And more.
Guilt.
Shame.
And Hannibal’s resolve clicked in understanding.
His beau had been unraveling for months. Hannibal had seen threads of it. The brilliance, the empathy, the barely-contained fury. The pressure behind the walls . But he had not been granted the honor of seeing what lay beneath.
Until now.
Now, Harry laid bare and shaking, and Hannibal—
He saw himself.
He couldn't help but see a mirror of his own. The fear of being known and rejected. What Hannibal had feared though he would not name it aloud even before Will accepted his invitation and began unfolding the truth. And with it, more truths.
“Harry,” Hannibal said again, softer now. “You need to breathe.”
Harry's head snapped up, still panting, but his eyes found Hannibal’s.
“I-” he rasped, voice hoarse. “I didn’t m—I just—”
Terrified not only of what he’d done but of what Hannibal now knew.
“You brought us here.”
Harry nodded once too fast. “Yeah, I…— fuck.”
And then his hands were all over him, frantically patting Hannibal down, checking his arms, his chest, his sides, like confirming he was still whole.
Oh.
Hannibal didn’t move. He let Harry touch him, let him check and fret. His leg throbbed from before but the pain was manageable.
Yes, he was in awe. Yes, his curiosity was a wildfire growing but both could wait.
“I am not harmed, Harry.” Hannibal said reassuringly.
Harry flinched anyway and then he leaned forward clenching Hannibal’s front suit, pressing his forehead to Hannibal’s shoulder like it was the only stable thing left in the world.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he whispered.
“I already have.”
“No,” Harry breathed. “Not– this.”
Hannibal did not press.
Instead, he reached out slowly and set his hand on the back of Harry’s neck, fingers curving gently along the line of his jaw. Gently.
Harry didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned into it.
“I’ve suspected for a long while that you were extraordinary,” Hannibal said softly. “But I underestimated how much you’ve been carrying.”
A shaky exhale left Harry lips.
“You were never going to tell me, were you?”
A small shake of the head. “It’s safer if I don’t.”
“Safer for whom?”
Silence.
And then, finally, Harry said, “Teddy. You. Me. Everyone else.”
Hannibal didn’t respond right away.
“I'm sorry about earlier,” Harry said suddenly, pulling away. “Teddy. I need to—I can’t—I need to go to him, I—mmf—”
Hannibal pressed his lips to Harry’s. Gentle. Certain. A twist of tongue, firm enough to anchor without overwhelming. To bring Harry back from the edge of himself. Only when Harry stilled did Hannibal pull away, letting him go with a final, soft press to his lips, gaze sweeping over him, taking in every tremor.
“Are you back with me, Mylimasis?”
“Yeah—I…” Harry trailed off, eyes flicking downward. Then he froze. “Wait. Shit—I forgot—your leg.” He shifted back instinctively, trying to undo the pressure he’d just placed there.
“It is fine-” Hannibal began, but stopped shortly as the pain had faded from a sudden wave from Harry’s hand. Not fully gone but dulled. Manageable. And when he flexed his leg, expecting the sharp warning of a wound—
Nothing.
“Fascinating,” Hannibal murmured, moving it again with clinical precision.
Harry stared at him, wide-eyed.
Patiently. Like expecting a reaction of some sort.
“You will,” Hannibal then replied.
Harry blinked. “I will…?”
“You will see Teddy. And I will be by your side.”
He offered no interrogation, no questions. No accusations. No demands.
Just support. And trust.
And trust Will he did.
“Teddy!?”
Hannibal and Harry landed in a heap, Harry barely steadying Hannibal before his eyes darted wildly. His stomach dropped— no, no, no —and he bolted.
A high, sharp cry. A crash upstairs. “Teddy!?” His voice cracked, heart pounding as he tore up the stairs three at a time, Hannibal close behind. Hannibal’s breathing was fast, one hand brushing the wall for balance from the second apparition. Even so, his eyes flicked quickly, cataloguing.
The house was a mess. The couch and the living room bed were flipped over. The bookshelf on the far wall had been knocked clean down. Books everywhere. Paper and broken picture frames scattered across the floor. The door was ajar, not wide, but enough. The glass was shattered. And there was also something glistening. Strings. Thin, nearly invisible, hanging in the air like spider silk. A few streaked with red. Blood. Only a few had been touched.
A trap.
Someone had made it look safe to pass through.
“You’ve lost your chance. I know you understand,” Tobias’s voice was heard.
“Get away from them!” Harry’s voice cut through raw, shaking with rage as he stepped toward them from the doorway, but the wire tightened with a cruel whine.
And he saw them.
Hermione, on the floor, teeth clenched against the pain, one leg bleeding and twisted in the shining coil. Teddy crushed to her chest as she shielded him, even as the wire bit deeper into her ankle.
He felt Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder.
Tobias smiled.
“You,” he breathed, “are a fine instrument… though unfortunate you’ve been played all wrong.”
He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Wasting yourself with Muggles . Diluting everything you were meant to be.” He waved vaguely toward Hermione… then Hannibal. “But I can fix that.”
Harry edged forward, a heavy vase lifting behind Tobias.
“Do not .” Tobias’s voice snapped, his hand came from beneath his shirt holding a pistol—leveled directly at Teddy’s head.
A split-second. No one breathed. Then— a flash of silver.
The scalpel sliced flew through the air and bit into the side of Tobias’s neck, just shy of the jugular as Hannibal lunged.
Tobias barked, staggering back, instinctively yanking the wire. Hermione screamed, kicked blindly.
The gun went off and plaster rained from the ceiling.
Harry sent the vase into Tobias’s back. Ceramic exploded. The wire slackened. Tobias swung for Hannibal’s face. Hannibal ducked, drove his knee into Tobias’s chest, sending the gun away.
Tobias snarled and slammed Hannibal into the wall, forearm crushing his throat. Hannibal bit deep into the muscle and Tobias roared, smashing his head forward into Hannibal’s brow. With his free hand, he ripped the scalpel from his neck, the wound already sealing, and hurled it toward Harry.
Harry reacted instantly, casting a quick Protego at Hermione and Teddy as he ducked, eyes scanning for them. The scalpel repelled harmlessly.
Hermione was already moving, trembling but focused, cradling Teddy as he sobbed into her shirt.
Harry didn’t move.
Harry didn’t hear the panicked “Mia!” He didn’t see the quick, silent nod exchanged between Hermione and Draco. His attention was locked entirely on Teddy.
He was frozen.
Didn’t breathe.
The world around Harry stopped the moment his eyes locked clearly on Teddy.
And the thin red line trailing across his cheek.