Chapter Text
It’s a bad day.
To be honest, it was one of the worst days.
Harry was eating so much more than he should. As he always has.
His dress was clinging tightly on his skin, his girdle making him want to puke. But he had to eat. He had to. There was no other way… no other way…
Harry tries not to sniffle when he eats the remaining leftover pieces of the pumpkin pies their kitchen prepared for tonight’s ball. It embarrassing, how he was the biggest omega there… and what was worse, all the most important eligible bachelors were there.
The marquess. The prince from Hufflepuff. King Tom.
Tom who was smirking and laughing at him with his eyes while he talked with Harry’s father.
“My lady, Harry,” the king says mockingly, kissing Harry’s hand in an exaggerated fashion, “Your grow more beautiful every time I see you.”
Of course, he could say that so shamelessly.
He was King Tom, the most handsome king Merlindom has ever seen. No king was more attractive or more well-dressed. Rumor has it the king never wore the same thing twice. Nobles far and near wonder how the crown could afford such an extravagant wardrobe when their soldiers barely had anything to protect themselves with from an invasion. And an invasion was imminent. The king was too busy frolicking in his expensive clothes to pick a bride and produce an heir. His brothers and sisters had all died. There was no one to wear the Slytherin crown if he too passed. Except maybe the Ravenclaw king. After he finished murdering Tom.
Still, Harry couldn’t help but feel rather… inadequate.
Harry was a duke’s son. The duke’s only son. Perhaps the only omega son left in the kingdom who was reaching the age of two and twenty and was still not married. Still had no children. And still a virgin. Everyone his age above and even below had their tumbles in the marriage bed. But not Harry.
Why?
Because it was exactly as the King said with his taunting eyes.
Harry was not attractive. Harry was… Harry was plump. All the other omegas were stick thin and beautiful in their gowns. But Harry was bursting in it. His girdle barely held on. And he couldn’t breathe. But he soldiered on.
Because his father, the duke, had thought it possible of Harry to… snag the king and make himself Queen of Slytherin, when James thought it impossible before. Harry had never been married because every gentleman refused him. Though he was a duke’s son. But ever since a mysterious jeweler sold them a ring, and James had commanded Harry to try it on, his father suddenly gained hope. Not just to catch any husband for Harry that was of noble blood. No, James wanted King Tom for Harry, wanted to be father-in-law to the treacherous king and grandfather to the future king once Harry gave birth.
All this, because a ring made Harry look… prettier.
He could not understand it himself. Even James was surprised. And his Aunt Petunia had gasped before quickly covering her mouth. Harry couldn’t see in the mirror what it was they saw. But the ring was glittering prettily in his rather puffy hands. In it, his fingers looked almost slender. Like Fleur’s.
And so Harry wore the ring while his father had an expensive gown of red and gold made to match it.
Harry wore them obediently though he knew what kind of man the king was. Though he knew the king would not be fooled by anything like this.
And Harry was right.
Because his smiles were still mocking the moment he saw Harry. And he danced with Harry while putting distance between them as much as he could (he couldn’t, given Harry’s size).
Harry did not want to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him cry even though he was terrified. Terrified because the king was openly disgusted by him. Terrified that would hurt his chances of getting married even more. And terrified that no piece of jewelry could make him beautiful. No matter what his father or his aunt thought.
Fleur was frowning at Harry since she arrived and so did the other ladies. The alphas looked at him and looked again and then scratched their heads in confusion.
And so Harry nearly ran towards the kitchen the moment the party ended. Because he could not take it. He felt everyone looking at him in the dinner table earlier wondering why he looked so big when he ate so little.
Harry puts another spoon of pie in his mouth.
Now, he really cries.
His father was not going to be happy. Harry was just another burden in this household with no husband to support him. James did not like burdens. He liked useful things. Once James’ new wife bears an alpha son, Harry would have to depend on his half-brother to support him once their father died and Harry was older. If his brother was generous enough. He might toss Harry to a convent and completely forget about him.
Harry finishes one whole pie without noticing.
For a moment, he feels better.
At least he would not have to marry the king. Who would want to marry a vain, self-absorbed king, anyway?
But as the minutes go by, Harry feels even worse than before.
Tomorrow was going the be the second and last day of the party.
Harry had avoided his father all night, afraid of the disappointment Harry would surely see in his eyes. James had spent money to entertain the king, to keep him happy while Harry supposedly seduced him. But Harry does not know what to do. He was not Fleur. He was not his mother. He was his father’s son. Except he was an omega.
All his father’s investment on him was going to waste. And Harry did not have a way to pay him back. He was going be furious. And Harry would once again be his useless son.
Harry walks to his room and wipes the tears from his eyes, wondering why he was not born differently. He opens the door and almost jumps when he hears someone speak.
“And where have you been, my beautiful lady?”
Harry looks up to see the king himself standing imperiously inside Harry’s bedroom, eyebrow drawn up in inquiry and lips quirked up in a smirk.
Harry was just about to scream, when Tom quickly covers Harry’s mouth with his hand.
It really was one of the worst days.