Chapter 6: The Bathroom Incident
Hey all! Are you surprised to see another chapter? I sure hope so! Originally I was going to discontinue this story because I just could not find any drive; however, lately I have been having the urge to continue this so I am going to. However, since I have to either wait for inspiration or force myself to write another chapter, I will be updating rather randomly from one after the other, to weeks on between. All-in-all, this story will be continued unless decided against it somewhere along the line.
Opps, and someone pointed out that I called Arthur, England. That was not on purpose! Arthur is not a nation in this story. This is more of a Hetalia AU than a Harry Potter one. Sorry! Feel free to point out mistakes like that if you see any.
Warning: Francis being Francis.
Disclaimer: I asked to own Hetalia but my mom wouldn't let me. I asked to own Harry Potter, but my GPA was to low… Sigh.
It had taken Arthur longer to bathe and dress Harry than it had taken him himself. This scared Arthur for he just had to look absolutely stunning. Not for the reason of "wooing" Francis rather than for ego purposes. Ever since the day he has met Francis, they were in a battle of classiness and it pained Arthur to say that Francis was winning. The reason for this was completely past Arthur.
"Papa," Harry's sweet, high voice drew Arthur from his thoughts. The bushy eye browed man looked down at his son who appeared to, in the short moment Arthur was not paying attention, remove his overalls. "Papa."
"Yes?" Arthur asked, rather annoyed as he began redressing the lad. Harry in return fussed slightly.
"Papa, Hawy poop," The innocent green eyes looked up at the father that looked nothing like him, acted nothing like him, and was biologically, nothing like him. At the new news Arthur's face feel and he began undressing the boy like he had done previously. He wondered if Harry was trying to be obnoxious or help him out a bit.
Changing Harry was one of the hardest tasks Arthur was bestowed with. He couldn't help but wonder at what age it would be appropriate to begin potty training Harry or if he had already missed the preferred age. Raising a child was hard.
By the time Arthur was ready, Harry was ready, the baby bag was put together, and the telly was turned off; he and Harry were already a good 15 minutes late which irked the Brit. He hated being late, even more so being accused of being "fashionably late". In record time, he was able to throw Harry in the car, strap him off and race to their decided meeting place.
It wasn't until he was halfway there, where ever there was, when he realized he had left the address of where it was he was meeting Francis. This resulted in racing back home, running into the house and snatching up the address. By this time, he was over 30 minutes late.
Once he and Harry arrived to the restaurant, Arthur was able to spot Francis undoubtedly waiting in front of the building. Thank the fairies it was a slow day and Arthur was able to find a parking place easily.
"Aw, Arthur," Francis explained when the Brit walked towards him after leaving the house. " 'Ow are you mon cheri?"
"Do not call me that, frog." Arthur spat out.
"It 'as been so long and you are no different," the French man spoke, his words heavily coated with the accent of his native land. "I see you, a baby bad and yet, no baby. Tell me Arthur, w'ere is the boy I heard so much about from unmentionable sources."
"Bloody hell," Arthur shoved the bag into Francis' arms and quickly walked towards his Volvo, opening the door and retrieving the sleeping Harry from the back. Arthur felt awful, hiding his blush while he walked back towards Francis who sported an amused smirk. A wonderful way to start an outing, indeed.
Almost at the swiftness of a speeding bullet, Francis was gushing over the sleeping toddler as if the little scene that just played out never happened. "Mon Dieu, Arthur. Your son is absolutely adorable. I think it was best you decided to adopted, wouldn't want you passing those unsightly eye brows."
Arthur kicked Francis in the shin. If he wasn't going to act professional, then neither would be. Francis winced and smiled slightly. "Non, you 'aven't changed a bit."
It was easy to be seated quickly due to the low amount of people, which made Arthur happy since he had no desire to wait for a table with Francis, none the less actually being out with him. Their past was not the best and their relationship was entirely built upon Arthur desire to be bi curious at the time. He was never able to find anything more that fondness for the other man.
"What brought you back to England?" Arthur asked, half interested as he laid a blanket out across the unused booth chair beside him with his free hand. He laid Harry on this careful not to wake him. "I thought you hated it here, at least, that is what you told me."
"Oui, I do 'ate it 'ere," Francis scoffed, taking a drink of water from the glass a waitress had given them earlier. "But there are better jobs, so I figured I might as well. To be 'onest, I wasn't planning on contacting you at all."
"Then why didn't you save me the trouble and keep your bloody nose out of my life, frog?"
"I 'eard you 'ad a son! I wanted to know what young lady you "knocked up", but that I was told that you adopted 'im." Francis glanced across the table at the barely visible child. "What orphanage?"
"Uh, up north in Southern Durham," Arthur lied through him teeth. "There is a boy's orphanage. Nice place I suppose, not to big though."
"Aw, maybe I should check it out," Francis noted, looking at Arthur as if he was reading his emotions.
"It, uh, they closed it down. That's why I adopted Harry; I wanted to give him a home." He wondered if his lies were obvious to Francis. Luckily he didn't have to question for long since the Parisian seemed to shrug it off, moving onto the next subject on hand. Arthur listened half heartily as Francis began telling him about his job, house, past lovers.
It wasn't until their food arrived and Arthur woke Harry up to eat his small plate of Mac and Cheese. Once the boy was able to come to, he was quickly bomb bordered with questions from Francis which over whelmed him.
"So 'Arry, what is your favorite color?" The mysterious mad asked him.
With his fingers, he picked up some noodles, shoving the food into his mouth before explaining that he liked "gween", "urple", and "ed". Arthur dreaded the thought of having to give Harry another bath when they got home and demanded him use the small fork he had brought.
"Arthur," Francis interrupted. "You 'ad told me you never wanted kids. What changed your mind?"
Arthur shrugged. "It all happened really fast. You could say I didn't have a say in it."
"What do you mean?"
"It doesn't matter."
Francis was about to speak when a cry tore through the air coming from Harry's direction. Both mean looked toward the little boy quickly. It was rather obvious what had caused him to cry for beside him was the streak knife Arthur was using and a bloody hand from most likely a urge to pick up the object. Arthur concluded that in the short time he and Francis were discussing matters; Harry had got a hold of it and unintentionally cut himself.
He was quick to pick the boy up; bouncing him slightly hoping it would calm the boy slightly. The jester turned out to be plentiful as Harry's sobs turned into light cries from being startled. "Excuse me for a second Francis. I need to clean him up.
Francis nodded, watching Arthur walk to the restroom with the crying infant in his arms. He dipped his own napkin into his glass of water and proceeded to clean the slight blood droplets from the table.
In the restroom, Arthur placed the small boy on the counter beside the bathroom sink before reaching to get a napkin from the dispenser and damping it in the sink. Turning to Harry, he opened his hand gently to examine the wound.
Arthur could tell by the amount of blood that it was a rather deep wound. As he went in to dab the cut, a feeling began to build in his gut. He could easily result it in a stomach ache or butterflies but he knew it was something different. The feeling began to spread throughout his veins, towards his brain and finger tips. Every cell in his bloody began to tingle and Arthur swore times slowed down.
Something told him to look down toward his son's hand. Arthur nearly bit his tongue when he saw what was going on. In front of him, inside Harry's palm, the blood was retreating back into the wound as the skin began to re-stitch itself. Arthur gulped and blinked a few.
Was he dreaming?
So apparently according to Wiki as well as the books, wizards and witches can do silent magic that the issuer does not realize they are doing! I will allow you to decide whether it was Harry or Arthur who did it. However, a really good HP fan should be able to figure it out since there appears to be rules to using magic!