for the children
“Funny thing in the news,” Harry commented lightly as he examined the Daily Prophet’s bold and horrifically titled front page. “It seems that McLaggen has gone missing.”
“Strange,” Tom said. He wanted to say more but decided to take a sip of his tea instead. The tea was rather good. Earl Gray, his favorite.
“Hmm… are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with this, Tom?”
“Of course not! I wouldn’t even dream of it!”
An eyebrow was raised at that.
“Perhaps I have dreamed of it. Multiple times, but I myself had no role in his… abduction.”
Harry hummed to himself in thought and then closed the paper, making way to stand up. Tom stood as well, going over to the fireplace to prepare for Harry’s departure.
“Well, you never did like getting your hands dirty,” Harry mused.
“I do quite enjoy baking though.”
“Ah! That reminds me,” Harry muttered, patting his pockets down and pulling out a wrinkled sheet of colorful paper. “Ginny is doing a fundraising bake sale for the children. I thought you might want to join.”
Tom’s nose wrinkled. “Why would I want to do that?”
“It’s for the children, Tom.”
———
Tom hated the children. It was bad enough that he saw Bathilda Bagshot lingering near the apple fritters, but now Tom had to endure standing in the scolding summer sun with a tin of hot fudge brownies that he was just so tempted to smash into some unsuspecting person’s skull.
Litters of redheaded spawn and giggling miniature humans ran around the grassy fields where they had set up the bake sale. Apparently, it was a fundraiser for the poor and needy children. Where was this when Tom was a poor and needy child? It was a bitter thing for him to think about, and so he stood, teeth clenched, and shook down patrons for all their cash to put his aggravated energy elsewhere.
“Alright, everybody! Looking good so far!” Lavender loudly proclaimed, waving an empty platter of where Tom’s cupcakes were. Of course, every baked good that Tom had brought and made was instantly sold. “We’ve raised over 900 galleons, mostly thanks to Riddle! Everybody else… take pointers from him.”
There were a couple of polite claps in the crowd that Tom ignored solely for the reason of Bathila entering his 5-meter radius. She hobbled over, her cane accidentally smacking Tom on the shin, and smiled toothily (or with the 4 teeth that were still remaining).
“You’re looking well, Bathilda,” Tom said politely. In truth, she looked like a sack of lumpy potatoes. Her clothes were an unflattering brown. Didn’t she know the basic principles of fashion?
“Timothy, thank you.” She stared at him a little bit and then said something weakly with an ominous chuckle afterward and then left.
What an odd woman.
A movement coming from the tin of brownies that Tom was guarding interrupted his astute observations only to see a snot-nosed ginger sticking her hands inside the delectable treat.
Tom took a large step back to which the girl tumbled forward. “Do you mind?” he grit, as he sized up the competition. About 3 feet tall and quite thin. This would be an easy match.
“Please, sir?” the little girl asked in her high-pitched voice.
Tom cringed. “No, you may not have one. You need to pay.”
“I’ve got no money to spare, sir,” the girl said. She stuck her hands inside her pockets to pull them out, showing that she was utterly empty-handed.
“That’s unfortunate. Go find your parents,” Tom snapped, clutching the tin in his hands tighter. His lips tightened into a thin line as he watched the girl burst into tears and run away.
Romilda who had been watching the scene unfold grinned brightly as though Yule had come early.
“She’s recently orphaned,” she offered happily. “Parents died tragically in a freak accident with Abraxan horses and race cars.” Romilda bounced on her heels to look at where the orphaned girl had run off to but seemed not able to catch sight of her. “She witnessed it all.”
“How tragic.”
“Mmm, very tragic.”
Large, curly brown hair obscenely decorated in bows and barrettes covered Tom’s view without warning, and after seeing whom it belonged to, Romilda scampered off to appear busy. There was only one person who had such a childish interest in accessories.
“Brown, what a pleasure,” Tom said, spinning around to properly greet her. Despite her being second in charge at the bake sale, it was really Hermione who was counting all the numbers. Lavender just liked the attention. Plus, people liked talking to her a whole lot more. Tom needed to maintain a good reputation with the top in order to take over the Housewives Club one day.
“Riddle, how gorgeous you look in those pearls!” Lavender commented in exaggerated awe. She gushed over the ‘dashing combo’ of the silk black robes with the trim being fully decked in lace. Pearls hung from his waist and his neck. Dolores said he looked like an unseemly prostitute. What gory things he would do to her if they both weren’t in broad daylight. It wasn’t his fault that she mistook his summer gown for lingerie.
“Thank you,” he said, ducking his head politely. “And what a turnout this bake sale is.”
“Yes, yes,” Lavender said with a dismissive air. “It’s for the children, you know. For the children.”
“I see.”
Lavender didn’t seem like she had anything else to say so she bounded away to bother Romilda. They both quickly ended up leaning on the tables, chit-chatting about the fit single dad they saw buy the last slice of lemon custard.
Tom let out a weary sigh. He couldn’t wait to go home. Ginny and Harry were discussing trivial matters that Tom didn’t wish to involve himself in, along with a couple of other low-ranking Ministry members near the tent. He believed the conversation centered around Quidditch bettings or something equally dorky. And of course, Tom was kind enough to let Harry have own his friends and interests that didn’t surround Tom himself.
Ginny passed by, her typically freckled face pink from the warm sun, and plopped a pile of empty tins and boxes onto the table. She wiped at her sweaty forehead and waved over to Tom. Great. Now he had to exert himself. He took a couple of long steps forward and was able to smell the metallic ting of sweat mixed with her flowery perfume.
“It’s so great that you’re here, Tom!” Ginny excitedly said. She started collecting all of the other empty containers to make one big towering pile that was nearing her chin. “Harry was saying how you have the makings of an excellent salesman. You’re quite persuasive!”
“Anything for the children,” Tom lied.
“For the children,” Ginny repeated solemnly. After a moment of silence, she clapped her hands, nearly jostling the precariously placed tower of tins. “Anyway, you can leave now if you want. You did most of the work and we really do appreciate it, you know.”
“I can leave?” Tom asked slowly, feeling as though the sky had just opened up and a chorus of angels were playing in the air.
“Yes, of course! Harry is just wrapping up some conversation with Bagman, but other than that, you’re totally free to go!”
Thank Salazar. He was beginning to harbor some homicidal urges that he had to restrain. It was good to know that his patience was being rewarded. Even if it was later than usual… Choosing to ignore Ginny, Tom neared the tent, where Harry was. Harry was standing with an incredibly bored expression on his effortlessly beautiful face as he very kindly had Ludo Bagman loudly talk at him about the prospects of Purdue United this year. Which were zero to none.
Tom coughed lightly, drawing attention to himself.
“Oh, that appears to be your husband, Potter. Apologies for keeping you here so long,” Ludo said bashfully, redirecting his gaze away from Tom’s slightly revealing clothes. “I’m sure you… ah… have better things to do.”
Harry snapped back to attention and turned to shake Bagman’s hand. “Oh, yes. Thank you for your, erm… time. I really appreciated it. And your thoughts. Very riveting.”
Bagman smiled and quickly wrapped his ramblings up after a few quick glances from Tom’s glower. “Yes, yes… must go now… Off I go…”
“He seems a little strange today,” Harry said, rejoining Tom as they both watched Ludo and his rather large belly stumble away to probably find some other fanatic. “You think he pregamed before coming here?”
“There’s children here,” Tom said pointedly.
“Never stopped him.”
Harry had an unfortunate point there.
They watched as Bagman practically clambered out of the tent, and then Tom faced Harry very seriously. “May we go home now?”
He was rewarded once again but with Harry’s breathtaking smile and laugh. “Tired already? Honestly, yeah, let’s go. I heard you did a lot of good work today! Good job, Tom.”
Suddenly, Tom forgot about the kids. And that stupid orphan. The only thing that mattered was that it all led up to this moment. Harry’s happiness was all that mattered really. Merlin, he’s gotten too soft over the domestic years.
Harry pulled Tom in close, an almost embrace, and they Apparated back to their Tudor house front porch. The floor spun beneath them, but Tom still clung onto Harry’s sleeve despite him having exceptional balance and an amazing ability to never get dizzy.
They wobbled a bit upon their landing (all because of Harry’s un-amazing balance), but Tom quickly straightened the both of them out.
“I’m tired,” he loudly declared, stepping forward to open the door dramatically. “I’m off to bed.”
Even though he couldn’t see Harry roll his eyes behind him, he was so sure that he did, but Harry, very placatingly followed suit with a gentle, “Yes, dear.”