Chapter 2
Tom was pissed. He had met Harry, finally, in person, and well, if he just wasn’t the sweetest. Everything went perfectly, a grocery store wasn’t exactly where he planned for them to meet, but it was as authentic as you could get. God, he was tiny!!
But Tom got distracted trying to talk to Harry and forgot to get his damned milk. So no tea tonight. Not a glass of bell tea or Earl gray, because he forgot the damned organic milk or whatever and he refuses to drink it without.
So there he sat, at the head of his large table, (it had 27 empty seats, to be exact,) drinking canned coke. Canned coke. Canned diet Coke, not even raspberry! He would have to drink canned diet Coke with his steak. His plate was large and marble, his cutlery shiny gold. It simply screamed, ‘I have money’ in an obnoxious way. Just how Tom likes it.
He could picture it now, especially now after seeing that his Harry likes cooking, (possibly salads? Or pasta, judging by Harry’s shopping basket,) Harry would walk over, likely in a short cute apron, and place Tom’s meal down gently, sit to his right of course, and ramble on about his day or the weather. The next two seats would be occupied by a 7-year-old girl, silent and observant, cutting her food delicately with her cutlery, wearing an adorable little dress, victorian style maybe? And a small boy, barely 5, wearing formal clothes, a collared shirt, and basic black pants, his hair black and curly like Harry yet tidy and well cared for like Tom’s. He would smile and grin, talk excitedly like Harry, making his sister laugh and his mispronunciation. Then Harry would clean the table, wash the dishes, pick up his son, maybe ‘Jameson,” as a name wipe his face clean, and carry him to Tom’s white pristine couch. Their daughter would follow, “Jasmine,” is a sweet name, and she would cross her ankles and pick out a fairytale book, and Tom would read it to her in the lounge. Then Harry would tickle their son, and braid their daughter's hair before taking them both to bed, bedrooms closest to theirs of course, each with an ensuite and balcony.
Tom sighed as he walked up the stairs, his food long forgotten. He ducked his head into the passing rooms. This would be their daughters, the walls shiny white, a small bed under the window, to let in light. A soft pink mat, and flowers painted up the walls. A bookshelf in the far corner and teddies next to it.
The next would be their son’s, a little sweet boy with green glowing eyes, a white room again, a small bed with navy blue covers, thick and warm, dinosaur books in the corner, maybe snakes painted up the sides of his bed.
Tom chuckled as he imagined his children bickering, fighting for attention. Then Harry’s and his bedroom, large with a bed centered. Harry would say he sleeps on the left, yet as soon as Tom climbs into bed he cuddles close. Harry would claim that comfy chair on the balcony, maybe sit there and knit as he watches the children run in the backyard.
Tom lies his head on the bed and stares at the ceiling. God. What he wouldn’t give to have a life like that.
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Harry looked around his shabby flat, his couch worn and old. It was well-loved, the word Harry preferred, but there was no denying it was dirty. His house was clean and tidy, the floors vacuumed and walls white, yet the lack of decor, and the shoddy interior made no help. Harry huffed as he walked into his kitchen and placed his food onto the table, preparing the cook he would make soon, hopefully Hermione loved it, he would deliver some to her office tomorrow.
And so, Harry began cooking. He cut the vegetables and measured the grains. He winced as he looked into his empty fridge but shook away that creeping familiar feeling that fueled his while he was living with the Dursleys still. He flicked his phone on and sang any song that he could find. After a particularly loud and off-tune singing to Taylor Swift’s ‘London boy,’ Harry had finished cooking. It looked burnt. But tasted amazing, Harry was sure that with a pinch of the parsley he had been growing on his kitchen top and a handful of grated cheese, he could sculpt it into something impressive that Hermione would love. And Neville. He had made enough that he could tell Hermione to bring some home for Neville too. Just a year ago, Harry was invited to their wedding (He was the best man!). He had always thought that Hermione would marry Ron, but honestly, he is so glad it was Neville. The sweetest guy on earth, and don’t ask Harry how he knows, but he has a feeling that Neville and Hermione might be expanding their family very soon. Which is literally adorable. He will be the best uncle EVER. He always wanted kids. Ginny hated kids, so he never brought that fact up, but deep down, he always wanted a big family to make up for the fact he had none. (Just like Batman. Honestly, at this point he kind of is Batman)
Harry sighed as he made himself a hot chocolate. He didn’t own any drinking chocolate powder, so he simply put a teaspoon of cocoa powder into a mug with heated organic milk he just brought. It was good, if slightly bitter, but overall, rather nice for a sweet drink at the end of the night. Harry huffed as he forced himself into his bedroom. It was empty, empty of personality after Ginny took all her belongings from it. (And some of his too,) After taking a glance at the singular pillow, Harry sighed and walked out the door. Maybe he will just sleep on the couch. Just for tonight.
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Hermione was vengeful. It was 11 pm, and she was still sitting on a stool in her kitchen with a cup of tea, (herbal, of course, no caffeine past 5 pm) and was staring at her laptop. She knew Harry must be upset, rightfully so, after finding out his wife was cheating on him, but he was just so oblivious! Hermione hated Ginerva, for she was always superficial and insulted everyone as soon as they were out of earshot. Especially Harry. She had heard her meltdowns over the phone about how Harry didn’t care for her, and she couldn’t be more glad she was out of Harry’s life right now. Not that she would ever say that. She finished typing another paragraph for her statement tomorrow when Neville walked in yawning. She smiled at her husband, he was tired from working at the hospital all day, yet he didn’t go to bed, for he would rather wait for her. Whatever did she do to deserve such a lovely husband? Quickly finishing her tea, she logged off her computer and followed her sleepy husband to bed.
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Tom woke up with a sore head. His neck ached and he felt far from ‘well rested’. Groaning, he yanked his duvet off himself and strolled leisurely into his wardrobe. Selecting one of the least formal pieces of cloth he owns, (Because he was planning on seeing Harry today, and formal clothes make him seem less welcoming to people like Harry,) he changed quickly before putting his shoes on and walking into his kitchen. Scowling as he remembered he didn’t have milk for his tea, he walked straight out of his house, planning to stop at a small local coffee shop, that should have tea.
Strolling into the shop elegantly, Tom waited in an absurdly long line for his tea. Drawing his attention to his phone, he utilized his time as he checked his emails. Hearing his name being called out for his tea, he walked over only to stun himself still.
“Harry?” He asked, frowning at the short man in front of him who was scowling at his own phone.
“Hm? Oh, um, Tom right?” Harry said, looking up from his phone in surprise.
“Indeed,” Tom drawled dryly, spinning Harry around so he could reach his tea. “Fancy seeing you here,”
“Oh, um, yeah, police officers like their doughnuts?” Harry said, his statement sounding more like a question. Tom grinned at his small, shy smile.
“I’m sure,” He said, his eyes stuck on Harry’s vibrant emerald green eyes.
“Well, I have got to get going, but, um-” Harry was cut off from his ramble.
“No worries, off you go, I am sure a man like you is very busy at this time,” Tom said mockingly but also genuinely. Harry frowned very slightly in confusion.
“Um- yeah- bye then,” Harry said, as he tucked his small paper bag -a doughnut- under his arm and trotted off, trying to leave through the crowded line.
Tom smiled at him, he was really cute~
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Harry was panicking. He stopped in at the rick bakery on the far side of town, just for a doughnut because he knew they made the best in town. A vanilla creme, soft and creamy, god it was delicious. Even though it wasn’t worth the social humiliation he had to go through, for he had no clue that Tom was always there- and he was in the way of Tom’s drink! Agh! He can’t look him in the eye ever again.
Harry frowned as he bit into his doughnut, the sweet creamy taste turning sour as he realized it wasn’t even a vanilla creme. Damned lemon. A freaking lemon doughnut! Did they mess up his order on accident? Or did Harry mumble and accidentally say lemon? My god, Harry scowled. Well, this is a terrible start to the day.
Huffing, Harry sat down at his desk and logged into his computer. He had only theory work to do today at the station, write a few sentence reports, and give a few statements. Just the boring stuff.
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