"You know, you could have gotten with Ginny, just think of what you two could have achieved!"
Harry released a sigh, preparing him for the incoming tirade.
"Even if you swung the same way, no problem there. There's literally Cedric. Cedric!" Oliver emphasized, and Harry groaned, hiding his face behind his hands now.
"Even if that wasn't an option, there's Draco. At least he knows how to ride a broom. But him?" Harry looked towards where the hand was waving, his skin flushed all the way down his neck now.
"He...He's a bookworm Harry?" Oliver all but whined out, "you could've chosen from any of the lot and yet you chose the one person who could be worse than Hermione on a broom. Hermione!"
Harry peeked through his fingers wondering if said person was going to do anything besides placidly read their book. He's pretty sure this is punishment for accepting the invite to the get-together.
"Oi!" Ron shouted in drunk indignation while Hermione only shook her head in fondness for her husband.
"No offense Hermione." She only waved off Oliver's apology, knowing it wasn't in any sort of animosity. It was the same thing every get-together. Harry frowned looking at Ron being offended for his wife and he was suddenly gloomy like the weather outside.
"All I'm saying is I wouldn't complain if he had one hundredth the Quidditch skills Ginny or Cedric has in their pinkies."
Fred laughed out boisterously, clapping Oliver on the back, "man why are you always third wheeling in their relationship."
George also joined in, hooking his arm over Oliver's shoulder, "you sound more like a scorned lover than the ones in said relationship." He teased their ex-captain who only drowsily blinked under the influence of alcohol.
"As much as I like your ramblings, not like it's my thirteenth time hearing it but we are out of drinks. You guys can handle getting drinks from the kitchen right?" Angelina grinned, her head tilted as she sat from the floor leaning onto the couch.
George and Fred shared a look over Oliver's head before rowdily cheering and dragging a dazed Oliver with them. The sound of a book shutting had Harry's attention drawn toward the seat near the fireplace.
Harry raised a brow when Tom got up, slightly confused. Normally Tom liked to stay to himself only joining to talk, and that in itself is on very rare occasions. Mainly making conversation with Hermione or Theo, talking is rather a stretch. More so tolerating it and Harry could not fault his recluse of a boyfriend because he did try just like he promised.
"Something wrong?" Harry frowned, brows creasing downward in concern. It's true Tom is anti-social and sticks to one place but today, something is different. There isn't anything abnormal about Tom's behavior but Harry could not pinpoint exactly what it was.
He wondered briefly if it was maybe perhaps the get-togethers, too many social interactions. Just as soon as it came, he waved it off. Their friends had these get-togethers every few months, seeing how they were all busy.
Harry looked at Tom's face, searching. Whilst the man remained tranquil, face, an even slate of calm, hinting at nothing.
"No, just getting a drink as well." With that curt response, he was off toward the kitchen.
He worried his bottom lip, brows furrowed in thought as he gazed towards the kitchen where the group of three had walked off just before Tom. He briefly wondered if Oliver's drunk rant was what may be affecting him. The first time it happened, Harry had made sure to tell Tom straight up that he did not care about any of it. He made sure to let Tom know that he's made his choice and it was Tom.
Tom in return had merely tilted his head, looking a bit stumped until Harry had to outright tell him not to pay attention to any of Oliver's drunk ramblings. His boyfriend in turn had merely chuckled, asking why he would be and that was the end of that.
Now he's worried that he didn't do that thorough of a job in telling Tom to not pay it any mind but then again it could be a completely different reason. Harry was feeling rather jittery and antsy and perhaps it was just him overthinking things yet again.
He sighed, turning his attention back to his friends. Mind once again tuning back towards the small group reminiscing about their teenage years.
~
Fred grinned crookedly as he started juggling two of the wine bottles, probably no doubt expensive as hell seeing the fancy scribble written on it. Whilst George and Oliver tumbled around the kitchen trying to search for some more muggle beers. When the doors suddenly opened, he was sure it was most likely Angelina coming in, to no doubt yell at them to get their shit together and bring out the drinks.
So when he turned around with a sheepish smile, ready to throw the other two dimwits into the flame, surprise was what overtook his face.
Surprise indeed, seeing how it was none other than Tom Riddle who stood before him. Fred lifted a brow seeing their unexpected visitor, looming over the kitchen threshold as if a grim reaper rather than the bloke who scored their little Harry much to the dismay and distress of many others.
He felt the pull of the smirk upon his face, he didn't waste any time goading and teasing the tossers including his own sister. His grin grew wider, Tom may look like some well-mannered calm collected person but on the contrary, he is chaos walking and Fred liked chaos.
To the disbelief of many, Tom is amusing, a point no one seems to accept except for his twin and of course Harry. Whatever Tom is involved in, there's bound to be entertainment to follow for him.
Fred's eyes alighted watching the figure make his way towards them, wondering just what mayhem was in store for them. He watched as Tom headed to him first, handing out a small glass vial. Brows lifted, Fred observed the swirling blue liquid, it was rather shimmery, borderline sparkling if he may say so.
By the time he looked up, his eyes connected with his twins, the latter raising a brow before smirking. He caught onto the glee radiating from George, a feeling he shared all too well.
They both looked away at the same time to look at Tom, his face was a slate of serenity that not even a petal would dare to disrupt. He waited in anticipation, wondering just what was going to happen. "Drink up," for a man applauded for being so intelligent, his linguistic skill was that of a caveman. Simple and brief.
"Wazz'it," Oliver slurred out, shaking the vial. Fred had to step in and stop him because true enough, he had never seen this sort of potion before. Best not to shake the unknown potion, a lesson well learned from his many escapades.
Tom briefly tilted his head, gazing away from them, his brows pinching down the slightest bit. "A hangover cure would be the best way to describe it I suppose."
Fred blinked, a hangover cure...?
A fucking hangover cure?!
He was baffled and all that stopped him from just bursting a lung was the shock that Tom Riddle of all people had brewed a potion for hangovers. This, he just has to see where this was going. With one last look at the vial, he popped out the stopper and guzzled it all down at once.
He had thought it would taste like an absolute terror as most potions do but it had tasted like nothing. Bland. He did feel a tinge of disappointment albeit. Had expected a bit more from the potion, for it to taste weird, out of this world, and maybe even a prank no matter how far-fetched and unlikely it sounded.
Leave it to Tom to be professional about hungover potions, a real pro. And true to his words, quick like lightning. It felt like a pepper-up potion but of course, that potion did not cure the ailments of having far too many drinks. He felt rejuvenated, mind clear and sharp when scheming, there was no longer that slight lag to his movements.
He'd definitely have to have a talk with his brother about a potential future business partner. It would seem quite well, very well.
He stretched out his limbs, humming when he felt them pop, releasing all the tension there. He doubted this was just some potion for a hangover, pretty sure it would even have the pepper-up potion a run for its money.
It was Oliver who stepped up first, and there was the Puddlemere captain. His arms folded in front of him in a very business forthright attitude, awake and not gibbering like some prissy ex-lover. Fred could see those same calculating eyes as he did back in Hogwarts, analyzing his opponent and the best way to win.
"You have my attention," at Oliver's tone, his smile curled up higher, gaze flickering back to the man of the hour.
Tom motioned towards the door leading outside, face still as placid, "if you will."
Fred caught his brother's gaze, the both of them now grinning, full of teeth that glinted against the chandelier lights.
This was definitely going to be entertaining.
~
At one point or another, Harry had already been scolded by Hermione for biting his lips raw. He was anxious. He hadn't thought he had kept track of time being such a wreck and drunk as he was but he did.
Twenty minutes had passed.
Why would they need twenty minutes just to get drinks?! It didn't even take a minute to walk over to the kitchen, let alone searching for the drinks shouldn't possibly take that long. Then again, the twins did tag along and Oliver was rather a lost cause at the moment.
What could they possibly be doing?
He was worried...
...For the other three...
His boyfriend is often viewed as a charming intelligent person by almost all he comes across, whose manners would put those pretentious purebloods to shame. While that picture of Tom that the public has of him might be true, he also has a streak of...mischief...
That would be putting it lightly, Tom was if not anything rather petty. Harry has seen him dealing with people who have slighted him firsthand. To be fair to Tom, the man had been a total ass to him and Tom even in all his aloofness, would not stand for his own lover to be insulted, no matter how trivial the word may have been.
They had left the pub that night with Tom Smug, Harry nearly having a heart attack, and the man with a broken nose. Much to Harry's distress the following day, he found out Tom had hexed the man to heal the muggle way. Long and painful.
While Tom's aloofness is seen as endearing and pleasant, it can be disconcerting in some cases. Harry hadn't badgered Tom much about his way of living life, indifferent and disregarding everyone else that isn't himself or Harry. He had been getting better at interacting with others, rather genuine or just for show, it was at the least something.
Now he was worried that perhaps Tom has had enough of Oliver's drunken rambles. He dearly hoped that wasn't the case, Harry almost wanted to cry at the thought that his boyfriend may be hexing his ex-captain to hell and beyond.
It was with that thought that he stumbled to his feet, he blinked furiously when the doorway started to shift and he felt the floor below him tilt. He rubbed his eyes before slapping himself hard to gain a sense of sobriety. The sound of the random abrupt slap had the other three in the room startled, he quickly strode out of there, ignoring their questions.
When he arrived in the kitchen, there was no one to be seen, not even a redhead in sight. His stomach further sunk in dread, fearing the worst of what his mind had conjured up.
Where could they possibly be?
Harry looked towards the kitchen door leading outside, and closed his eyes briefly, preparing himself, before he opened them once again and made for the door. His heart pittered and pattered to the beat of the pouring rain outside. With an exhale, his hand landed on the door knob.
Harry swallowed.
It's totally okay, he definitely won't open the door to some broken mangled body. He was making it all up in his head. With one final exhale, he mentally prepared himself to open the door.
His heart almost gave out, when he felt the door knob twist in the opposite way of where he was turning and the door opened far too slowly, the old wood creaking and groaning. The door opened to show a figure, lightning clashed behind the person, drowning them in a shadow of darkness.
It was a miracle he didn't faint then and there from all the built-up stress and anticipation. Harry opened his mouth, readying it to say something. The pulsing thump of his brain caused him to stumble around for words.
When in walks a figure, drenched and sopping wet bracing the clean pristine tiled kitchen floor.
"To-Tom?!"
He looked at the state of the man, he was caught in a state of bursting out laughing at the wet dog look or floundering about and trying to dry up his boyfriend. The options were thrown out of the window when Tom spoke. "Open your hand."
Harry frowned, brows creasing, "huh?"
Tom brought forth a closed fist, waiting for Harry without saying anything else. Harry obliges, opening up his palm for Tom. A ball...? Falls into the palm of his hand, light and cool. He raised a brow when he saw a snitch.
Why a snitch?
Where did he even get one?
Just what exactly was going on?
When he looked up again, Tom was still looking at his hand, where the snitch weakly fluttered its wings before meeting his own questioning gaze. He then smiled, full and bright. It looked childish and youthful, an odd look for Tom to pull but all the same just so right and precious.
Even without knowing just what was happening, Harry brought up his other hand to cup the snitch. He could feel the muscle spasm upon his cheek before his own lips pulled into a big smile.
"Do you like it," Tom suddenly asks and Harry looks down at the snitch. It was a snitch like every other, a snitch that he's caught so many times, he's lost count, an ordinary snitch. And yet... yet, he eyed the snitch as if it was the moon he was holding.
He knew exactly what he was holding, how could he not? Tom might as well have gotten down on his knees and proposed. Harry smiled, cheeks full and bright, he leaned in and gave a chaste kiss to Tom's cheeks.
"Thank you," he murmured as he stared into Tom's eyes, conveying how much he meant it.
The moment didn't last long as loud footsteps got closer followed by boisterous cheering and laughter.
"You!"
Harry blinked when Oliver stepped through the threshold of the kitchen, feet squeaking against the hard tile floors but mainly because he was there fully sober.
"How did you manage to hide away all of this? No actually, this is great!" Harry raised an eyebrow towards Tom at the manic glint in Oliver's eyes and his almost maniacal voice.
"He's...He's a damn prodigy, Harry! Forget about Ginny or Cedric, him. He's the one!"
It was then that Fred and George approached their ex-captain and each wrapped an arm across his shoulder, reining him in.
"Alright, that's enough of that. You're going to give poor Harry a heart attack."
"We wouldn't want that now, would we?" Fred joined in.
George grinned, "oh we definitely don't. Tom will have our heads for it."
"Can't lose our future business partner before we even get to pitch our idea to him, right George?"
"Your business partner?" Oliver scoffed, "no, that one there is going to be playing for the Puddlemore. Mark my words on that. Did you not see how quick and versatile he was, how damn fast he caught the snitch and evaded the bludgers!"
It was then the trio started arguing over one another. Loud enough to wake the dead and certainly loud enough to have the other three in the living room join in on the ruckus.
Harry looked towards Tom, "I didn't know you were in a mischievous mood."
Tom smirked in response, "I thought you liked it when I was mischievous," looking at him knowingly.
Although he had been caught, red to the tips of his ears and nape, Harry only deigned him with a mutter of "you're insufferable."
"And who's the one in love with this insufferable fool?"
Harry rolled his eyes, "yes, I'm the idiot in question. Now," he whipped his wand out, pointing it at Tom, "let's get you dry before you get us both sick."
At the glint in Tom's eyes, Harry whacked him on the forehead with his wand, "don't even think about it."
"I wouldn't mind you looking after me," he leaned down whispering against Harry's ear.
"Are you guys done?"
Harry flinched at the unassuming voice, cursing to hell and back while accidentally poking Tom in the ribs. He sharply turned to see Theo standing near the counter, looking all in the world like he'd rather be somewhere else and Harry burned in embarrassment.
"H-how long have you been there?"
"Longer than I would have liked," was the curt response.
"I thought you had left already?"
Theo turned to him with a painstaking smile that didn't reach his eyes, "with all I heard, I wish that were the case."
"Oh my god," Harry muttered into his hands, mortified. As three other voices yelled out his name at the same time.
He was going to kill his boyfriend.