It took weeks — months of planning, begging and coaxing to bring about today’s day: a dinner between the Potter-Riddle families. Tom had proposed to Harry two years ago now, but neither family had accepted the news well, nor had they ever tolerated each other enough to be in the same building, let alone the same dinner table.
Harry and Tom’s early interactions had been along the same lines. Their schoolmates and teaching staff are both still marvelling that Hogwarts is still standing after weathering through seven years of Harry and Tom being out for each other’s blood. Considering those seven years of enmity ended by Tom snogging the life out of Harry at their graduation, Harry has high hopes for their family’s future cordial relations as well.
And today, they are taking the first step. Harry hopes this day ends the same as his and Tom’s first dinner.
Except without the snogging part. And the sex. By Merlin it would be awkward if it ended up in a threesome between his parents and Tom’s dad. Or his godparents and Tom’s dad.
The start of their meeting is very promising. They meet the Riddle’s as soon as they exit the floo, hand over their coats to the maids, and take a seat around the huge, circular dining table.
The reality is, of course, different than what Harry has just outlined in his imagination.
The glares filled with unspoken threats and silence fraught with tension? Harry manages to ignore those by focusing on Tom’s red-eyed stare.
Sirius’s lame jokes and the pointed ‘doggy’ insults from Riddle Sr? Tom whispers in his ears about all the filthy things he would like to do with him later, and Harry focuses on those sweet, prophetic words instead.
His mum’s razor-sharp smile fencing with Tom’s grandparent’s polite, disinterested ones, and his dad’s indecision on whether to back his wife or friends? Are better left unmentioned.
In fact, Harry decides it never happened.
Seriously, it never happened .
So, they all came, handed over their coats and started with the dinner without anything in between .
An excellent start.
For the sake of ending this evening without any bloodshed, physical or metaphorical, Tom and Harry come to an unspoken agreement to sit in between their families.
Harry sits in between his mother and Tom’s father, Tom sits in between Sirius and his grandparents. Remus, being the good Samaritan that he is, has decided to be the boundary in between his father and Sirius.
Thus, Harry dares to hope once again for an excellent continuation of their day.
And if he once again decides to focus on Tom rather than the conversation around the table, then he can certainly pretend it went very well indeed.
Looking at that coiffed black hair he likes to run his fingers through, mess it up and make him look debauched. Pale lips he remembers biting just the night before and fingers holding the cutlery so delicately, not at all like the times when they would grip his own hands so-
“Oof,” he wheezes as a sudden stinging sensation runs along his thigh and he looks at Tom, who is looking disapprovingly at him from the opposite side, his hand suspiciously hidden underneath the table.
The bastard just sent him a stinging hex under the table.
With an angry glare, Harry shakes his head and decides to finally, finally focus on the conversation that has decidedly hostile undertones.
“I have to say, I am surprised Harry still stays with you,” Tom Sr says as he cuts the steak. “What with all these rumors about your involvement in juvenile pranking competitions in spite of your advanced age.”
Oh, bringing up their pranks and calling them old, both at the same time? Tom Sr is good .
“Damn, that was an epic burn.” Sirius savagely stabs a carrot with his fork. “Did you pay someone to write one-liners for you as well? Because your speeches for the muggle parliament are just as good and just as unoriginal. How gauche .”
“I don’t know, Padfoot.” James smirks even as Thomas and Mary bristle at the insult. “I’m sure he practiced hard for it. The one-liners, I mean. The speeches are just hopeless.”
“Bringing up the disparity in our financial status is just sour grapes,” Thomas Riddle says mildly, his eyes sharp even if the lines on his face make his face otherwise. “It is not the fault of our Tom that he has the means to find proper help and talents to be successful in his field.”
“Excuse you, the Potters and Blacks are quite well off even compared to you-” Sirius sputters, waving about the still-speared carrot like a wand.
“Bah! One made their wealth through cosmetics and another through looting. One is new money while the other are descendants of thieves and cowards -” Tom Sr starts and James raises his spoon, soup splashing on the table.
“As if you have any right to insult our family, oh great descendant of traders who bribed their way to nobility,” James scoffs, the still dripping spoon pointing at Riddle Sr.
Harry gives Tom a teary, wide-eyed look, perfected through years of practice to make Tom give in to his request. Which, in this case, is breaking up the escalating fight between their parents.
Tom, the bastard, gives him an amused look and shakes his head.
Thus, Harry takes action and being the Gryffindor that he is, steps in the line of fire.
“Daddy, can you pass the salt?”
Or not.
Seven pairs of eyes swivel in his direction, and Harry feels his spirit steadily being chipped underneath those piercing looks.
Outwardly, he reveals no sign of his unease and maintains the innocent and eager expression.
Inwardly, he panics and tries to think of a way out of this situation.
Seriously, he could have said anything and this is what he decides to use to defuse the situation? Salt?
He opens his mouth, forcing words to form through his dry throat and chapped lips.
Except, those seven stares turn from him and fall upon the salt shaker, located in the center of the table.
As one, six hands extend towards the item in question.
“Harry asked his dad to pass the salt. That is me,” James says slowly, refusing to let go of his grip on the tip of the tall vessel. “What is your excuse?” He asks, looking at each and every person somehow in contact with the salt shaker.
“Harry is going to be my son-in-law. I asked him to call me father last year,” Tom Sr explains slowly, looking at James pointedly.
“Grandfather makes me feel old. I asked him to call me dad last summer as well,” Thomas Riddle explains, taking back his extended fingertips in contact with the shaker’s base and settling back down in his seat serenely.
“I am Harry’s godfather. If anyone deserves to be called daddy, it’s me,” Sirius points at himself and Remus sighs next to him, his own extended hand turning to take Sirius’s and drag it back from the salt shaker to his side.
“That was when Harry was seven, Sirius,” Remus explains in exasperation. “Me and Harry laughed about it just last week. You know, about all the daddy’s in his life and how if anyone could be called that, it would be me.”
“Oh, that explains Harry’s enthusiastic willingness to try it in bed just a week ago,” Tom muses, a wicked gleam in his eyes. His hands, once pale and elegant in Harry’s eyes, now turn hateful as they release their grip on the salt and demurely settle back in his lap. “I thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but turns out it is not. Do you have a daddy kink, Harry?”
James and Tom Sr both turn red, with Remus and Sirius turning an inquisitive glance in his direction. Harry for his part, just flushes and shrinks back in his chair.
“Tom, you bastard,” he grits out, eyes lowered in embarrassment. “See if I ever agree to any of your experiments again!”
“Ahem,” Lily coughs, and smiles sweetly as eyes turn to her. She extends one delicate hand firmly and her smile turns sharp.
“Hand the salt over to daddy, yes?”
Her words, sweet as honey, fall from red lips and James and Tom Sr both visibly look stunned. As one, they let go of their grip and release the salt in Lily's hand.
“There’s a good boy,” she praises and turns to hand it over to her son. To Harry, who suddenly has a revelation about his parents' relationship he never had before.
“Your salt, my dear,” Lily hands the salt to Harry, who takes it silently, and turns her head back to her stunned audience.
“Well? Carry on. The food isn’t going to eat itself,” she says firmly and Tom coughs before smiling charmingly at his soon-to-be mother-in-law.
“It certainly isn’t,” he demures and offers a plate, “More meat, daddy?”
Sirius chokes out a laugh, and Remus coughs as well, hiding his own smile. Across the table, Thomas and Mary Riddle turn a thoughtful look at the red-haired witch while Tom Sr and James exchange a look filled with a thousand words.
Harry is suddenly very certain their parents first dinner is going to end the same way his and Tom’s did.
He just hopes they become in-laws before becoming family.