Chapter 3
As the days continued, Harry spent more time talking with Tom or meeting up with him in person to go over their work. It was frustrating, totally and absolutely just ugh! How can a person be this… Perfect! It just doesn’t make sense. Who has that much self-control? And on that level, no, that's like practically a robot.
He doesn’t know how Tom does it. It’s borderline inhuman-no, it is inhuman. Even Hermione, he’s put her in a whole nother category but Tom? He’s a whole otherworldly being because some of the things he could do are just not possible.
Still, Harry finds himself getting lured in, it’s a trap he keeps telling himself but unlike Tom his self-control is abysmal. He had thought that Tom would be a stuck-up, boring person with no personality. Of all the possible words that Harry could have thought of, the one thing he didn’t think he would be calling him was cute…
Is Tom attractive? Yes, even blind people can tell but that’s just the whole generic physical look. Everybody in school knows he’s good-looking, some say he’s pretty, sexy, handsome, charming, hot, and et cetera et cetera. The one word that hasn’t been used to describe him was cute, nobody sees it but Harry, well he does and his eyes could never unsee it. The moments burned in his brain and he just can’t undo it.
How nobody else noticed was the issue at hand. It’s literally all there to see and that’s not the worst of it. Of course not, when was it ever easy for someone like Harry who is, as his family and friends like to call him, danger-prone. Sirius even joked that he's basically a Variant who attracts danger wherever he goes only to receive a smack from Remus.
No, the problem is that Harry is actually starting to like Tom, which is no good. First of all, what the fuck? Second of all, what in the fucking hell universe? Thirdly, it’s too much work falling in love. Is it love though? No, no it’s not but he has a sneaking suspicion this is where it’s headed and he doesn’t like it one bit.
Where had it all gone wrong? It all started the first time they decided to meet each other, yes all on that cursed day did he realize the power of cuteness. They had been quietly working away after their shared discussion of all the info they had gathered. It was peaceful, serene even...until it wasn’t.
All due to the reason Harry just had to look up in order to lessen the strain on his neck. Then he saw it, in all its pure glory. Tom was pouting, yes pouting and it was adorable. Harry couldn’t help but gush...internally, of course, god forbids he actually blurted it out and made a fool of himself. He’d never hear the end of it, the endless teasing. Sirius would even tease him about it in his eulogy. Even in death, he won’t be able to escape it.
Even knowing he shouldn’t stare any longer to avoid that awkwardness of their eyes meeting and the cringe that would follow. He decided to be brave and only take glances and ok maybe just maybe some of those glances were a little bit too long to be considered a glance but technicalities.
Could he even be blamed? The Tom Riddle, Hogwart's one and very own extraordinaire has a little pout every time he’s deep in thought. Or how he actually puffs his cheeks when he comes across-he won’t ever admit it, but difficult question. Then the freaking dimples, of all things! Dimples! Does Tom smile-NO, not one bit. Not even a small twitch of the lips, just pure stoicism.
BUT!
Harry’s eyes just had to wander about, he just had to, didn't he? Then that was when his awfully impaired eyes caught sight-no, specifically zoomed in on those faint little indents so close to Tom’s lips. That was when he knew he was utterly and disastrously fucked. He peeked a look at Tom, his frown was a bit deeper and Harry noticed he had sucked in the right side of his cheeks while in deep thought about something or another. Harry just wanted to bang his head right then and there, maybe just maybe he’d get a concussion and be saved from this torture.
He thought that was the worse it’d get but boy did he jinx himself. One day he had come up upon an asleep Tom in their corner of the library hidden away from view. He looked so ugh, sweet and just precious… His face was softened, no mature creases to be seen. Then he saw the furrowed brows and scrunched nose and Harry felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach. It was totally a weird sensation.
He sat there, wondering if he should wake Tom up but then again he didn’t know how to? Sue him, he’s as awkward as the day he came into the world. And if anyone said he peeked and stared at Tom like a creep then no that wasn’t him. He refuses to be like his father, ugh his dad was such a stalker from what he could make from his uncles' and mom’s stories. And his mom? She somehow found that sweet? No, he’s definitely not his father’s son, not a stalker nor a creep. It was just for observational purposes, nothing more…
Here he is, in the same corner of the library, yet another day with Tom… Well, specifically more like Harry waiting for him. He’s realized that Tom's been arriving late-well, by his standards five minutes could hardly identify as late but for the ever so punctual prefect it is. So here he is, playing around with a pen because god knows Mrs. Pince could sniff out a phone a kilometer away, how? He has no idea, not even the simplest, lady has the eyes of an eagle. With the whole accident with Seamus, he’s rather too fond of his phone so that’s a no-go.
Although it didn’t escape his notice how Tom was able to and right in front of her, not even two feet away. How can someone be so liked by everyone? Wasn’t it tiresome? Having to keep up appearances and such, he’d sooner be in chemistry… Ugh, yuck but yes he’d rather deal with that grease sleazeball.
Yes, that ugly old bat, who hates everyone and still has a disgusting obsession with his mom even to this day, who already has a kid (who's a teen already) and all. That grease stain who likes to terrorize children actually maybe begrudgingly likes Tom. Seeing the trend with his mom and Tom who were both academically exceptional, he wondered if the man had a thing for smart people or something but well Hermione put an end to that thought. The world was right again and the grease stain to this day never forgets to remind everyone that their existence is a fucking pestilence. Except for his mom and of course Tom…
Harry wanted to tear his hair out. Why must all of his thoughts keep going back to Tom, Tom this, Tom that? When will this cycle end, why did he have to find the teen just so preciously adorable, did he catch a bug, is that it? Yeah, that must be it because he’s not made for love. Yes, his parents, Godfathers and best friends, it's sweet… just not for him, he’s just meant to live the single life and die single. He’s had enough love from the people in his life, it’s good to have balance, to even it out.
He was brought out of his thoughts when he saw Tom rather than walking all elegantly like he always does, actually in a fast walk that’s borderline running and he seems to be… OH! MY! FUCKING! GOD! What in the unholy hell is going on?! He was gaping and openly so, holy shit! Today is the first time in his life he has ever seen Tom with ruffled hair, never has he ever seen the teen without his impeccably done coiffed hair. What is this? What’s happening, is this the day the world ends? The rapture?
Why does he look so freaking damn adorable looking all rushed and the ruffled hair just brings it all together. He's so cute like dolphins-wait, no, no, no. He remembers dolphins are just rapists of the seas-yeah, check that, definitely cannot be compared to those assholes. Just then, Tom bumped into the table, sending the chair scraping against the floor. It was loud and made him jump, the sound annoyingly pitchy in the deafness of this lonely hidden corner.
“Umm, you okay?” He asked as he eyed the now flustered teen? Is this a test from the universe, is he passing...failing...totally bombing it? Because he feels very tested right now. Harry finally took in the outfit Tom wore and shit was his heart fluttering about like a restless butterfly in a cage. Seriously, it was a whole aesthetic. The hazelnut brown leather satchel, long warm beige wool long coat. Harry’s eyes roved over Tom’s body after he took off his coat, of course taking in the outfit, totally just the outfit. A white dress shirt with a loose knitted vest pulled over it, then his eyes went lower taking in the simple dark belt and then the black trousers and it looked just so… divine on his long legs. It didn’t help that somehow Harry had developed an affinity for dark academia being stuck in the library more so these passing weeks, how do these things even happen? Was this a library or a fucking photoshoot for some dark mystery taking place at some fancy Cambridge University movie?
At the sound of Tom clearing his throat, he looked up to see him looking… Harry’s eyes narrowed, was Tom looking sheepish or was it just him seeing things? “Sorry, I am late…again,” Harry waved off his apology, “Tom, I’ve said it before and I'll say it again, five minutes is not late in fact it’s not even on time,” he snapped his fingers, giving a toothy grin, “it’s early.”
There was a soft exhale that sounded suspiciously almost like a fond sigh, “in your books, that is.” Harry gave a shrug, “what can I say, I’m exceptional like that.”
“You truly are,” Harry stilled momentarily, did Tom just make a joke? Was that really one? Was it?! He heard a sound that he couldn't quite make out, he looked up to see if it was Tom but he looked well...like his usual Tom self. Why was he seeing and hearing things? Was this a side effect of catching feelings-no, that can’t be because he didn’t catch anything. Yeah, definitely a no.
“So the trip to the Flamel Inc. is this upcoming Friday, right? Are you going to be able to make it, I know there’s umm the,” Harry’s wrist rotated as he made a gesture and he lamely finished off with, “league?” He’s a complete mess, what even is this? Never in his life has he questioned himself so much as these past few weeks, it’s an affliction. “They had decided to move the math league to next week, and it’s only preliminary rounds anyways.”
Harry was left reeling from the nonchalance, he’s heard Hermione talk about it (more like cry over about it). The gist was that it was beyond difficult, Hermione had specifically used the word ‘cut-throat’ to describe it. He knows very well this math league was unlike the others, it’s in a category of its own. Quite so when even Hermione had studied for months, frankly speaking, she had started preparing for it from the start of the school year. It was a bitch just to qualify and a whole nother to actually get picked, there’s round after round against other students just to get picked. Hermione was dying to get in, those lucky (Harry didn’t think even luck could bring these people past that many rounds) moved onto the finals, to go up against many of the smartest and brightest even some from some high pompous universities that Hermione has been vying for. So yes, Harry was left speechless at the nonchalance because even Hermione the second only top student in their school didn’t get picked, having lost mid-rounds. There were a lot of tears, late nights with tubs of ice cream, and an assortment of quite the colorful words-very big words at that.
“Wow, umm yeah. That’s good?” Harry winced a bit, did he just end it off with a question instead of it being a statement? “How about you? You have training for Quidditch, right? The matches are fast approaching, I heard the captain and coach are very brutal with the training.” He grimaced at the reminder, freaking Oliver and his fucking obsession that he can’t part with. If anything, Harry had to give it to him for his tenacity, the man graduated only to come back as their coach to terrorize them and had the gall to even pick a captain that was just as infatuated with the sport as him. Many of his teammates even made jokes about them being in a poly relationship with the sport or some love affair. Taking all those hits to their heads hasn’t made any of them duller that’s for sure.
“Yeah, Oliver’s a hardass coach but we’re used to his brutal ways but it works. Some of us are exempt from that day, education trumps Quidditch and so on. Snape was rather gleeful about it. So I'll be able to make it with no problems...hopefully…” he added as an afterthought knowing how easily his words get jinxed. Tom nodded, at least he looked agreeable.
It seems, that this will just be another day of slaving away for this project and him fucking simping over Tom.
What’s new?