A/N1: I want to thank princessofwarrriors for her truly inspirational comments and suggestions on this story.
To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees."
Harry stood facing an opaque door that led into the small, enclosed space that was supposed to serve as a shower. Klingons were apparently strongly opposed to water, either for drinking or cleaning oneself; if Morath's reaction was anything to go by when Harry had tried to explain the function of a shower. The young wizard was at a loss as to how the little room worked though. After a thorough examination, Harry couldn't see any resemblance to a normal shower that might give him a clue as to how to activate the contraption.
He had an additional problem as he had hastily removed his soiled clothing in his excitement over getting a shower and he didn't want to put them back on, but needed to ask Morath for assistance. He spied the new clothing that his mate had provided him, but instantly dismissed any thought of putting the fresh clothes on his grimy body. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been clean really, most likely before the snatchers had caught him.
Looking around the washroom, Harry couldn't see anything that resembled a towel either. Letting out an irritated huff, the wizard wandlessly ran another cleaning spell over his old pants and put them back on. He could just be satisfied with a freshening spell, like other wizards did sometimes, but growing up in the muggle world had conditioned him to needing soap and water to actually feel clean. Besides, the wizard had already been forced to use a cleaning spell after waking to a sticky feeling in his pants, and too many more would cause the muggle fabric to disintegrate from so much contact with magic.
The Klingon captain looked up when he heard the washroom door open; surprised that Harry was finished with the sonic shower already. As a general rule, Klingon warriors did not bathe, as they often preferred the scent of battle to linger upon their skin as a sensory marker of great deeds and honorable warfare. Morath was torn on this matter in regards to his little one. He wanted Harry to be content, and based on the boy's reaction, washing himself would please him greatly, but he also wanted his second-heart's natural scent to remain unchanged. The lingering odor of war and death on the wizard's skin would be an immediate warning to any Klingon near him that the fragile looking human was anything but vulnerable and powerless.
The captain's eyes took in his partially dressed mate lingering in the doorway. Rising, he approached the boy, noticing that the wizard was still dressed in the human clothing. Reaching over and grabbing the boy possessively, the Klingon buried his face once more in the smooth skin and soft hair of his beautiful gift, lingering upon the mark he had placed on the gracefully sloping shoulder.
Harry sighed and melted into Morath's embrace. This simple act, in addition to the knowledge that he had someone who cared for him, who desired him, was a powerful feeling for the lonely, heartsick wizard.
"Have you decided to give up this strange idea of removing the scent of honor that lingers on your skin little one?" Using what he was beginning to see as his most powerful motivator, Morath began gliding his hands up and down this mate's back and sides, taking pleasure in the little sighs that the wizard produced from his actions.
"No, Morath," the young man answered feeling relaxed and slightly aroused from the Klingons ministrations. "I can't figure out how to work the shower. Do you know how to use it?" Harry tipped his head back and directed a hopeful look up at his mate.
"Mmm, I may be able to assist you . . . for a price," Morath murmured into the teen's hair. Making the terms of the bargain immediately clear, the captain brought his hands up to tangle in his parmaqqay's inky black hair and began an assault on the younger man's lips, insuring that his conditions were adequately met before finally releasing his second heart. Looking down at his slightly dazed mate, Morath took great satisfaction in the picture the wizard made, his face still turned up and his kiss-reddened lips parted slightly, ready for the Klingon to slip back in and deliver another scorching kiss.
"Morath," Harry leaned over looking hesitant and almost certainly queasy, "Are those noodles . . . moving?"
"Of course, little one, gagh is always best when served live."
The wizard hummed at this information, but made no other response except to cast weary glances towards the dish of apparently live serpent worms.
Morath stopped eating momentarily and looked over at him curiously, "Are you not hungry beautiful boy?"
This pronouncement promptly drew a flaming blush from the younger male, who discreetly glanced over at the other tables in the large room that served as the ships dining hall, wondering how to respond when several other Klingons in the area were blatantly watching their interaction.
Before Harry could formulate an answer, another warrior seated nearby called out, "Perhaps the human can't stomach Klingon food and would like some milk. We may be able to persuade one of the woman to let him suck at their teats."
This retort set the whole room laughing. If possible, the teenager's face flushed an even darker crimson. Harry ducked his head and hunched over in a vain attempt at escaping the embarrassing situation, which unfortunately brought him even closer to the serving of wriggling worms that Morath had placed before him. So lost in his own discomfort, the wizard almost missed what followed next, but hearing a crash pulled him out of his reverie immediately and the boy looked up to see Klingons pummeling each other all over the room.
His warrior mate apparently having objected to how his gift was spoken of, threw himself at the warriors seated nearby and was even now working his way down the table, punching, kicking, knocking heads together, and generally making a ruckus.
Harry just stared for a moment, unsure of how to react to the pandemonium going on around him. As he looked around, he saw many groups who were also just observing the fighting, occasionally yelling out encouragement to one warrior or another, sloshing the strange drink Morath had identified as Blood Wine across their uniforms and tables in a grisly imitation of the blood bath that was currently going on around them. Seeing that the spectators were undisturbed by the commotion Morath had started, Harry decided to also observe these strange people.
It appeared as if they were having fun! The fighters seemed intent on besting each other, but a gun or blade or any other truly harmful device had yet to be introduced into the chaos. Morath particularly seemed to be enjoying himself. Harry watched as he moved from Klingon to Klingon, knocking into them, throwing them down and growling at them with an energy and spirit that the young wizard had not witnessed in his short acquaintance with his mate.
The Klingon abruptly materialized in front of the human, surprising Harry into squeaking slightly at the suddenness of his appearance. Without waiting for consent, Morath roughly grabbed his mate up out of his chair, pulled him into his arms, and let out an ear-splitting growl at the room. Harry was unable to see the reaction of the others in the area to this clear declaration of claim as a skilled, hot tongue was parting his lips. Dimly, he thought he heard the responding chorus of Klingons roaring around the ship.
"I'm nervous," the boy murmured.
"There is no need my mate. The council will be curious about your origin and purpose here, but will recognize my claim and treat you as one of my house," the Klingon soothed into his little one's ear, taking the opportunity to trace the shell of the small appendage with the tip of his tongue.
"Morath," the boy exclaimed in irritation, "This is not the time! We're standing outside the doors of your seat of government. Have some respect!"
"Mmmm, yes I'll be sure to do that," the captain replied, noting that his second-heart had yet to push him away as he snuffled in the shoulder-length, raven-black hair. Rather, the boy seemed to be pulling him closer. The Klingon chuckled with as close to glee as a warrior such as him could ever feel, reveling in the acceptance and peace found in his little wizard.
The warriors stationed around the pair shifted slightly, freely watching the couple lose themselves in each other. One Klingon guard in particular leered openly; avidly following the progress of Morath's hand down the attractive human's back to where it was resting on the shapely backside, rubbing and squeezing the round cheeks through the thin, Klingon clothes the human wore. Suddenly, the lush green eyes of the boy caught his attention; they were staring straight at him. The Klingon smirked and let his eyes rake over the enticing body in the captain's arms, thinking he would enjoy having a turn after Morath was finished with the tasty, young morsel. Even though a human, the guard thought the prisoner . . . guest . . . whatever, very attractive.
"Morath," Green-eyes leaned up and whispered into the large Klingon's ear, "The guards are watching."
"Yes, I would imagine they are, my parmaqqay, you are a very pleasing human to look upon." This was said in a clear tone of voice while Morath tugged at the collar of the stretchy shirt his mate wore to reveal the claiming mark he had renewed just hours before. "Does it make you uncomfortable, beautiful boy?" A flaming blush was the immediate response to this query, which only seemed to encourage Morath's amorous exploration. He was unable to resume his previous activity though, as the doors to the Great Hall began opening at that moment.
Taking one last fortifying breath of the Klingon captain's calming scent, Harry stepped back from his lover in order to assume a more suitable position for greeting governmental officials. At least he thought that's what he would do as his motion to separate from Morath was immediately halted by the Klingon himself.
"No, my second-heart, we are together in this; as it should be." Running his large hand around the boy's side, the Klingon grabbed his waist and pulled him firmly into his own larger body, making it very clear to the young wizard how Morath wanted to greet the Klingon ruling body.
Desire flared within Harry in the brief moment before the double doors opened wide enough to reveal the room and its occupants. Want and need for Morath and all that he embodied to the young man welled up inside him, like a geyser of water pushing past the surface spilling out of him beyond his will or control.
In that moment, the pieces finally came together in the mind of the young man. Morath was his lover, his mate, his protector, his steadfast warrior. The Klingon stood by him as equals ready to face the next struggle together. They were soul-matched by fate and mother magic. A sense of rightness pervaded the wizard at this realization and final acceptance. A new purpose surrounded him as his magic released from his body unconstrained, surrounding the couple.
Harry finally felt the confidence stripped from him by the wizarding world. He was a magic user, a sorcerer blessed by magic. He could face anything in this new place, amongst these strange people. He already had the only thing that he needed standing right by his side, clutching him protectively.
Finally, he was ready.
A/N2: This is not exactly what I had in mind for this chapter. Just a bit of sentimental drivel really. The plot marches on next chapter.