Archive of Our Own ^beta

“No…don’t!” The boy whimpered out, curled into himself on the bed. Heathcliff paused, looking at the curled up boy. He reached out, running a hand through Hareton’s blond hair with a gentleness unknown to anyone but Cathy. 

Harteon gasped and sat up, looking at the man beside him. He remembered going into Heathcliff’s room to bring him a cup of warm milk, before his shivering moved Heathcliff to invite him under the blankets. The next thing he knew, he was in a nightmare about his father.

Hareton looked at Heathcliff for a moment, before launching himself into the man’s arms. Heathcliff caught the sobbing boy, looking down at him in wonder. Like this, with his face hidden and only his hair visible, he could almost be mistaken for a younger Cathy. 

“Hareton,” Heathcliff said quietly, “What’s wrong?” He held the boy tightly, pressing a quick kiss to his hair.

“I had a nightmare.” The boy eventually sobbed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Heathcliff asked nervously. Hareton sniffed and buried his head into Heathcliff’s shoulder. He was so small, Heathcliff couldn’t believe that once he had considered killing him for revenge. 

“It was about Father.” Hareton whispers. “He comes into my room, sometimes, late at night. He says it’s for a game but I don’t like it very much.” 

Heathcliff had the horrible sinking feeling that Hindley was doing to Hareton what he had done to Heathcliff when they were children. 

“The nightmare was about that…game?” Heathcliff draws the grubby child closer to himself, feeling the boy relax into him. 

“Yeah,” Hareton sniffs. Heathcliff does his best to stay calm, not to stiffen and scare the boy. “It hurts sometimes, what he does. But he says I can’t tell anyone or he’ll hurt me.” Hareton tucks his face into Heathcliff’s shoulder again.

“I won’t tell anyone you told me.” Heathcliff said, and the boy seemed to melt into his warmth, all tension leaving his tiny body. “You know, your father used to play that ‘game’ with me when we were boys. I didn’t like it very much either. But once I grew up I got too strong for him to make me play with him.” 

“So I can make him stop once I grow up?” Hareton whimpered. Heathcliff nodded. “I don’t wanna wait that long.” 

Heathcliff dropped another kiss onto the boy’s blond curls. “I can make him stop though, so any night you want you can come in here and be with me. Or Nelly Dean, he won’t make you play if you’re with her.”

“I can come stay with you?” Hareton whispered, looking up at Heathcliff, eyes wide and hopeful, glistening with tears. They were brown, just like Cathy’s, and for a moment Heathcliff imagined this was his child. He and Cathy had gotten married and had a son. That his wife was in the other room getting a glass of milk while Heathcliff comforted their child about a perfectly normal nightmare. He was brought back to reality when Hareton sniffled.

“Of course, anytime you want.” Heathcliff said, looking at his boy. 

“Can you tell me a story?” Hareton asked, voice small. Heathcliff nodded, rubbing down the boy’s back.

“Once upon a time, there were two kids, a boy and a girl. And they loved each other very much. They always wanted to be near each other, and when they couldn’t be they were thinking of each other. The girl was an artist, she made beautiful things for the boy she loved. The boy, even though she loved her, was very selfish. He took her love and wanted to be the only one who could have it. The girl’s family didn’t like him because of this, and ran him off, so the boy left for a long time to seek his fortune. When he came back, older and much richer, he discovered that the girl had married someone else, and was very happy with him. This made the boy, now a man, very angry, and he decided to make everyone around him unhappy. But then, he met a little boy. And the little boy was very kind, and showed the man how to be happy again. Then the man decided not to make other people sad, and instead to take care of the boy whose parents were very mean. And they all lived happily ever after, the end.”

“Now, it’s time for sleep.” Heathcliff laid down, Hareton on top of him, cradled in strong arms. 

“Goodnight Hareton.” Heathcliff felt the boy’s breathing even out, and started to plot how to get revenge on Hindley. He couldn’t let that evil man continue to hurt his boy, especially not when he had so much of Catherine in him. This was his son now, Hindley had lost the rights of a father. Now all he needed was the right way to get his revenge.