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Tom’s shirt clung, skin tight and see-through, to his chest as Harry James Potter stormed back out of his office. The tea was still a little hot when it had been thrown over him and it prickled as it trickled across his skin, blotching it red.
He grinned lecherously at Potter’s retreating back, the snug fit of his slacks and the sway of his hips as he stormed from the room.
God he was hot when he’s angry. He didn’t even remember what he’d been saying but the dark angry flush that had risen across Harry’s cheeks and the way he waved his hands in frustration- getting more and more het up- had been enchanting. It hardly mattered what he’d been saying when Harry had looked so lovely.
The hot tea was (obviously) a bit of a downer but it was worth it to have the tiny, idealistic young man snarling and shouting and pressing ever so close. So close that Tom could feel the warmth of him on his skin.
“God, you’re such a bastard! Do you really just spend all of your time exploiting people and wanking into a pool of children’s tears?”
Tom felt laughter bubble low in his chest but he pushed it down and faked a mournful sigh. “That, and thinking about my undying love for you, dearest, yes.”
Potter shrieked with rage and stormed all the way out of the building. Tom’s watched as he strode off out the front door of the building. He shouldered his way through the hustle and bustle of the London streets, collar flipped up against the bitter wind. Jesus Christ. Tom wanted to bend him over a desk.
---
The next time Tom saw Potter, they were at a formal dinner: every influential person in England gathered in one room. Potter ended up sat next to him in the seating plan and his bum had barely hit the seat before they were arguing.
Tom felt his face stretching into a borderline manic grin as the night went on. At some point, his hand had crept onto Potter’s knee. At first he’d stiffened and screwed up his nose but then he’d seemed to relax all at once and lean further into him: his breath fanning across Tom’s face.
Eventually, Potters foot started creeping up along his calf.
“Let’s go?” Tom murmured
“Yeah.” Potter agreed eagerly.
Somehow, they ended up at Tom’s place. His room was dark and Potter was so warm -so fucking warm, like he’d swallowed the sun. Tom was so head over heels for this boy.
He’d only been able to think that he wanted it. Wanted it so much.
---
The next morning, Tom woke up with his legs tangled in his sheets. His skin felt grimy with sweat but he stretched and smiled, rolling over to look at Potter asleep next to him.
He wasn’t there.
His room was empty, the bed next to him cold. A note lay on the side table like a fallen feather.
Thanks for a great night. Sorry I couldn’t stay. See you at work. Harry.
His hand writing was scratchy and sprawling
Oh.
He didn’t want him. He didn’t fucking want him.
---
Tom went into work on Monday and sat at his desk silently, creep blasting on repeat through his expensive headphones. He didn’t speak when Avery came in, or when Malfoy fucked up his case notes or when Dolohov made a crude comment about “the little twink” he took home over the weekend.
Harry came in around two, questions or criticism to share and Tom smiled banally at him. His face flicked with emotions Tom couldn’t figure out.
“Good afternoon, Mr Potter, how can I help you?”
Harry frowned, the creases doing something odd and terrible to his eyes. Making him look older, harsher.
“Is something wrong?” He seemed confused, as though he hadn’t run out of Toms house two days earlier. As though they hadn’t had sex on Toms shitty couch because he could afford a new one but he got stupidly attached to things for no good reason and he couldn’t bare to spend money on things that didn’t need replacing. As though they hadn’t stained Toms 10000 thread count sheets and fallen asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“Of course not, Mr Potter. What is it you’re here for?”
He looked thrown but slid the addendum to the bill across the table anyway. Toms eyes skimmed the opening page automatically, at least five outrageously unreasonable edits jumping out at him but he took a breath and smiled again.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, I’ll review it right away and get it back to you this week.“
Harry’s made an odd little sound. He looked furious. He looked beautiful. Toms chest ached and he wasn’t sure how to make all that he was feeling show on his face. “That’s it! what the hell happened? Have I done something? “
“You haven’t done anything, I’m just busy. I hope you understand, I need to get back to work.”
Harry looked on the verge of tears and Tom was sure why. He’d left. He’d done that. It wasn’t him. He’d walked the fuck out and Tom was- Tom was so fucking in love with him it was ridiculous.
“Fine. Be an arsehole. It’s no wonder no one wants to fucking date you, when you’re such a soulless bastard all the time.”
Something in Toms chest felt like it was splintering and, for just one moment, he felt as though he might burst into tears. He didn’t.
He plastered a spectacularly fake smile onto his face and opened the door for Harry to leave. “Indeed, Mr Potter. It’s no wonder. I suppose I’ll see you around.”
Harry froze for a second and then walked back out the door.
---
Somehow, they end up sleeping together again. And again. And again.
Around the time he had Harry bent over his desk with his trousers around his ankles in his lunch hour, he realised that it had become a Thing. Harry never stayed, he was always gone within the hour. They never spoke of it and Tom didn’t try to start anything since the first time.
Harry would occasionally come into his office and click the door shut behind him and ask if he had a moment, smiling this specific sly smile. Harry would take him by the hand and drag him into a supply cupboard. Harry would press their mouths together in the lift and then climb into his lap in his car. Harry would slip his hand onto Tom’s thigh at the galas they attended together and they’d end up sprawled on Toms shitty couch.
It was on Harry’s terms, because Tom would take whatever he could get. He got to touch Harry’s hands and lips and that was enough. That had to be enough. That should be enough.
But it wasn’t. He wanted to wake up next to him in the mornings. He wanted to fall asleep next to him at night. He wanted to see what stupid knickknacks Harry kept on his nightstand. He wanted to cook him breakfast and make green tea for the both of them before bed.
But he didn’t. He let it stay as casual sex, because he knew-he knew- that anything more would scare him away.
---
Six months in, Harry pulled him aside and told him he’d started seeing someone. He felt his face go carefully blank and nodded politely. Told him it was inevitable, that someone would see how lovely he was.
Harry snorted. “I don’t need you to take the piss, just letting you know.”
And Tom nodded and walked away.
But he just- he couldn’t let it happen like that. He turned and he pressed Harry’s face between his palms and melded their lips together. His mouth was hot and hungry and possessive and he couldn’t let go- couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t.
He pulled back, grip tight on Harry’s lapels: breathing his breath. Harry’s lashes fluttered against his pale cheeks. He felt stupid and wild and Harry’s was pressed up against him.
He gasped quick aborted breaths and took a step back. Harry’s eyes blinked open and he looked at Tom steadily.
“God-fuck- Jesus- I’m so sorry Harry. I just- god I’m so fucking in love with you and I just- if you say no I’ll let you go and I’ll be so fucking professional towards you and I’ll never mention it again but I - god I adore you. I think you’re so- so- bright. And wonderful. And lovely.”
“I want more than just this stupid sleeping together in my office and never speaking of it at other times. I tried to convince myself that this would be enough but its not and I-I- I want to wake up next to you and I want to go on stupid dates and i want to meet every one of your stupidly heroic friends and i want to spend christmases with you and I want to- I want to take care of you. I want to spend every single day taking care of you.”
Harry gaped at him. “Tom what the actual fuck.” he said flatly. Tom took a step back, ready and braced for the worst. He wanted-wanted-wanted. But he wasn’t a fucking pervert and if Harry said no, that was that. End of story.
Harry pressed up on his toes so he and Tom were closer to the same height. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything, moron.” he said and then they were kissing again. Harry pulled back after a long time, eyes bright and lips shiny. “I love you too, in case you were wondering. This is a for sure yes to stupid dates.”
Tom felt his chest go warm. He grin- he wasn’t a moron, he knew what he looked like when he grinned as wide as he wanted to at that moment- but he felt his eyes crease at the corners. “God, i’m going to take you on so many stupid dates. Most of them at restaurants themed around famous human rights abuses.”
Harry pulled back with a laugh. “What? No! that sounds really bad. I don’t want that.”
“Oh yeah, i’ve got a google doc ready to go. It’s a niche sphere, so we might have to space them out but i think-”
Harry cut him off with another kiss and pulled away and began to tug Tom out the door. “Counter offer, we go back to my place and you don’t judge me for my terrible interior design skills, and then tomorrow we go to the British museum.”
Tom laughed -a strange, cold sound that Harry seemed thrilled to hear. “Sex and human rights abuse? Sounds like my ideal weekend.”
Harry sighed and pressed a hand to his chest. “Sadly there will be no wanking into a pool of children’s tears, which i know would just top off the experience for you, but i will try to make up for that lack.”
“I suppose i’ll just have to make do.”
Tom watched Harry walk ahead of him, dark curls glowing in the evening light, and grinned a his back. That quiet hidden smile that held too much for anyone to see, but he just couldn’t help it. All that happiness in his chest, it just had to overflow somewhere.