Chapter Text
The Avalon Seven
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Interlude
January 1 st , 1994; Private Unplottable Royal Retreat, Southwest of Jamaica
Octavian – Tavi, to his friends and family – Ravenclaw-Prince woke the morning after his wedding to the bright sunlight of the Caribbean pouring in through the sheer white curtains blowing softly in the wind of the sea-laden breeze. The sun caressed his bare shoulders and back as he turned his head with a grumble and blinked his eyes open when a questing hand landed on a sun-warmed shoulder instead of empty sheets. Huh. That was new.
Then he remembered and he snapped to awareness, propping himself up on one elbow and drinking in the sight that was his husband of less than a day, sleeping and unaware of his study.
Hadrian’s hair was a tousled mess – not unlike Tavi’s own, he was sure – falling in an ebon snarl onto a chiseled face that had little to do with Hadrian’s actual age and everything to do with magic pushing him to physically mature to continue being able to handle the – frankly – absurd amount of power that pulsed through his love’s veins.
If Tavi didn’t know him, had only seen him on the street, he’d definitely pin the other teen as closer to his own late teens instead of only halfway to fourteen.
There was a solidness to Hadrian’s form and face that didn’t exist in younger teens.
He clearly wasn’t yet fully mature. Even without having seen for himself due to the trick with aging potion at the Hunt Ball what Hadrian would look like as an adult, it was clear to see that the King had a ways to go before developing into the promise the potion showed off. It was mostly in the details: his body not fully filled out, shoulders not as broad as they could be, and gods-knew he was certainly going to add more height despite already standing eye-to-eye with Tavi’s own five-foot-ten height, having put on another inch since the beginning of the school term.
Hadrian had shot up to an impressive six-foot four-inches under the use of the Aging Potion, which currently had him set to outpace all of his friends-and-more in height with the sole exception of David Wallace.
What with the near-giant of a man that Harry’s Highlander had grown to become at six-foot-seven and all.
His new husband was already a handsome sight, but it was one that held a promise of enhanced future beauty as well.
And he was sweet with it, at least in private with those he cared for, which was just unfair.
If it weren’t for the broad streak of ruthlessness (though Tavi didn’t consider that trait a detraction in the least) and a temper that can be nothing short of vicious, Tavi would definitely have wondered long before he married Hadrian what the catch was when it came to the form and personality of the King of Avalon.
Though, in itself, that was the main catch for anyone with sense:
His husband was the ruddy King of Avalon.
It certainly wasn’t the life Octavian had planned for himself. Consort to the King of Avalon. Not in his wildest dreams - or his worst nightmares for that matter.
That said, over the last two years since he’d learned of the Contract between their Houses and met Hadrian, Tavi had come to believe that while it wasn’t the life he’d wanted , now that he was in it with the handsome, sweet, half-mad genius that was Hadrian Emrys, he wouldn’t change it for the world.
(Though, he had to admit, if his father would stop getting into fist-fights with his husband’s godfathers, that would be a glad addition to the current state of affairs.)
…
That night, as they laid beneath the stars shining brightly above their little slice of remote paradise, Tavi looked down at where Hadrian rested his head in the curve of his shoulder. Tavi’s arm was wrapped around the tanned skin of his husband, the contrast between his own pale porcelain canvas and the sunkissed gold of Hadrian striking in the moonlight.
And on that beautiful face, Tavi saw nothing but contentment and deep joy.
None of the cares or worries of Hadrian’s station and duties intruded on their reverie.
The responsibilities of the Throne cast away the moment they’d stepped out onto the brilliant pure white sands of the royal retreat.
Then he thought of how rare seeing Hadrian so… free truly was.
And an idea was born.
…
“You want us to…what?” Severus blinked, staring at his son in befuddlement.
The happy couple had only returned from their brief honeymoon in the tropics two days before, barely allowing themselves any time at all to settle back into what passed for normal life when it was lived in a palace before they would have to depart once more - this time for Hogwarts.
That hadn’t stopped his son from cornering him at the first opportunity, however, or with bringing to the royal potioneer an epiphany that could have been straight out of his half-mad husband’s imagination.
Hadrian and Octavian were both brilliant, each in their own ways it couldn’t be denied - and Severus had no wish to do so.
That didn’t stop them from straying into the realms of near-insanity at times, when pushing the envelope of what was became more than a mere question of what if?
“Can you think of any other gift that he would appreciate half so well?” Tavi arched his brows in question. “We might not have been around since the beginning like the Holmeses, but surely you’ve heard what his childhood was like. Hadrian’s entire life since the moment he was found has revolved around the Throne. It’s always there, hovering over his every moment. Time away - and not just a few days or a week on honeymoon - time to just be…” Tavi shrugged, looking away from his father’s piercing gaze. “It’s probably the last thing he’d ever ask for, and the single greatest thing he actually needs.”
“Arranging any significant time away from Avalon,” Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Would take the agreement and influence of the entire Privy Council - of which I am not a member, Octavian - and even then may very well be impossible to secure.”
Holiday could be difficult to arrange for the average person, let alone a king.
Let alone a king of Hadrian’s stature.
“But you’ll help me bring it to them anyway,” Tavi beamed unrepentantly at his father for the migraine Lord Prince was developing at the thought of more time arguing with the Mutt and his wolf.
“Of course I will.” Severus glared at his brat, then shooed him from his potions lab. “Now off with you, before I regain my senses.”
“Yes, father, of course father…”
…
In the end, Severus was proven correct: it took months to argue and years to arrange.
But in the end, Hadrian got his unasked-for holiday.
Even if he didn’t know of it for years to come, or the part that his second husband played in ensuring it happened, or how the sight of him at peace and resting in golden sand inspired it.
…