Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter.
Edited by faded. brilliance. Thank you so much and my love for you will never fade. -kisses-
Warning : Alternate Universe, an OC and perhaps a bit of OOCness.
It was a cold and dark night in London. Harry had his hat lowered down to cover his face, his body hunched down in his big brown trench coat. He almost couldn't feel his fingers inside of his gloves, and in his haste to look for a warm place, he found an open pub. It was just across the street, and the light that revealed its name – The Snitch – made him smile.
When he entered the pub, he was surprised to see the atmosphere inside. The pub was calm, and had a nice hint of the word 'expensive' in it. The bar was almost empty, not more than five people were sitting across it and the leather couches and small tables were occupied by small groups of people, who probably wanted a quiet surrounding to hang out.
Harry took an empty stool across the bar and the bartender smiled at him.
"Drink, Sir?"
Harry smiled back, slowly pulling off his coat and gloves.
"Orange juice, please."
The bartender looked at him funny for a second before he smiled again, and nodded his head. Harry sighed quietly, the throbbing ache in his head was awful but he knew it's too early to whine. Looking around the dimly lit pub, Harry patted his cellphones inside of his pockets – one for work, one for personal use – and inwardly chuckled at how much chaos he had left behind when he decided to take a walk alone.
"Excuse me, this seat is taken?"
Harry blinked his eyes and looked up, only to get momentarily captivated. A young man, probably older than him by a few years, was looking down at him with his pair of dark blue eyes. His cheeks warmed and Harry shook his head.
"No." he stammered, quickly shook his head again and turned to look at the bartender. He heard the young man chuckle, and the sound of the stool next to him being taken. A woman was singing a slow song on the small stage inside the pub, and Harry unconsciously hummed along to the tune. The stranger next to him ordered an Irish Coffee, and Harry stole a glance of him.
He was tall –definitely taller than Harry, Harry was shorter than an average 21 years old man – and his hair was black, wavy and neatly combed compared to Harry's messy raven locks, still covered by his brown flat cap. He wore a pair of black pants, his white buttoned up shirt had two upper buttons undone, and sleeves rolled to his elbows to show off his muscled biceps. And there was that aura, the one that radiates he was nobody to take lightly. That this man, was actually somebody.
"See something you like?" the man's voice startled him from his blatant staring and Harry flushed red. The man chuckled at his response and Harry looked up to him to cover his embarrassment.
"Hi." He meekly said, and the man chuckled again.
"Well, hello." He replied with a smirk on his face. Harry turned to thank the bartender when the man placed his drink on the counter, next to his companion's ordered coffee.
"Not here to get drunk, yes?" the stranger asked in a casual tone, looking at his juice and Harry nodded his head.
"Just needed some time alone." Harry replied, slowly taking a sip of his cold juice while his companion swirled his coffee.
"So do I." the man confirmed and Harry smiled at him. They exchanged a few words, and Harry grinned a little when the stranger tapped his fingers on the counter, following the beat of 'Killing Me Softly', sang by the woman on the stage.
Both of them were quiet for a moment to enjoy their drinks while stealing glimpses at each other from the corner of their eyes. It was obvious but none of them decided to say anything. Somehow as time passed, their stools got closer to each other and their knees almost touching. It was all heated touches, although briefly, every time their hands brushed against each other, and when the stranger chuckled, his breath sent tremors through Harry's veins.
Later, their conversations were small, and quiet, as if they were secrets exchanged, and Harry found himself leaning even closer when the man spoke to him.
All intimate, all dance, yet distant, and seemed unreal.
And that was until the man suddenly stood up from his chair and took his leave. Harry was left astounded for a second, quickly turned to look at the tall man, and then at his cup of unfinished coffee. The stranger – a name was yet for Harry to know – turned his head to look at Harry over his shoulder. He gave a sly smirk and Harry felt his body shiver – in a good way – at how the stranger's eyes met his. The man actually went to talk with the guitarists on the stage, before he grabbed the microphone fixed for anyone who was willing to perform.
Harry gaped at him for a few seconds but quickly recovered when he heard the man started to hum, his baritone voice later echoed by the microphone. The song that he was going to sing, while standing tall and calm, was a song that Harry knew very well.
It was an old song, Harry often heard it played on the radio but never got around to actually listen to it live. And this man, whoever he was, that had taken Harry's attention so easily, seemed to know very well how much Harry adored these kind of songs.
"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you," he started, his eyes blue and sharp on Harry, and Harry stared at him as if he was somehow the only person existing in the almost empty pub. One of his hand was gripping the microphone, another was holding the stand and his body swayed lightly to the tune. Harry couldn't help himself but to continue with his staring, his glasses felt restricting – he wanted to look at the man without limitation – and everything was all in a haze.
"I need you baby, and if it's quite all right, I need you, baby to warm a lonely night, I love you baby," the man smiled at Harry, and Harry realized this was probably the first time he saw him like that, "Trust in me when I say, it's okay."
Harry didn't know what happened.
The only thing he knew, it happened in a rush and a blow of a sudden want, lust and need surging up his body. The other man wrapped him up in a strong grip, his hands on Harry's hips and Harry was on his toes, kissing him senseless.
His hands ruined the perfectly combed hair, and he felt the man laugh against his cheek when Harry turned to gasp for breath. They were in a hotel, checked in under the name of 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' – Harry swore to himself to look up the name later, but not now, not when he was intoxicated, blinded by such a sudden flare of roller coaster emotions, - and now both were half naked on a big king sized bed.
It felt luscious under his body, but Harry gave no attention to it. Tom – yes, Tom, he said his name was 'Tom' – gave his shoulder rough kisses, biting on his pale skin and it was painful, in a beautiful way.
This is escapism.
This is what Harry can't have.
But this is real.
"T-Tom-"
"Shhh." Tom shut him up by kissing him on his lips and Harry responded hungrily, later to pull away only because Tom growled at him for biting his lower lip.
"It's Harry," Harry panted heavily and Tom smirked down at him, before catching him in a searing kiss again. Harry wrapped his legs around Tom's waist, whining in his mouth when Tom pulled down his pants together with his briefs. His naked ass felt warm against Tom's palms and he turned to give a vicious bite mark on his companion's neck. Tom growled again and this time, it was Harry's turn to laugh. He ruffled Tom's hair again, loving the nice feeling of his wavy locks twirled around his fingers and Tom grabbed one of his wrists, only to press a kiss inside of his palm.
They stared at each other for a moment; Harry looking debauched with his glasses gone and skin flushed and his sight blurred, but Tom looked so real nonetheless, and Tom with his blue eyes dazed and taut body domineering on top of Harry.
"When I looked at you, I think I just saw myself." Tom breathed in a small whisper, all in a sudden, and Harry chuckled softly in return, his fingers brushing against Tom's skin and left invisible marks across his flushed cheek.
"Are you even real?" Harry replied, his green eyes half lidded and Tom kissed him again on his palm.
"Very much so, dear, because you are, in fact, the other half of me."
It was unbearably cliché in its own way and both of them laughed – Harry forgot when was the last time he felt this happy –. The taller man leaned down to kiss him again, and Harry welcomed him contentedly.
They kissed and touched each other non-stop for hours which felt like years, and when Tom was finally inside of him, Harry couldn't stop thinking that this was too real to be true, and whimpered almost pitifully. Tom mistook it as pain and pressed a comforting kiss on his temple. His grip was tight on Harry's hips and Harry clenched the cock inside of him, causing Tom to groan against his neck.
"Damn it," he cursed and pulled out only to pound back into Harry with vicious thrusts. Harry muffled his scream by biting on Tom's shoulder, his legs tightened around Tom's waist and everything was so hurried, brutal and breathtaking, but wonderful and Harry cried out when he came across their stomachs.
This caused Tom to pull out and turned Harry quickly over his stomach, before he thrust into him again. Harry shut his eyes and just took the rushed pounding, while Tom's hands on top of his interlaced their fingers, causing Harry to bring them to his lips for a kiss.
Harry promised himself that he would never forget the feeling of being filled with Tom's essence, his larger body on top of his smaller one, and how Tom had kissed his nape with too much kindness and too much affection for a stranger.
Harry promised himself that he would never forget this. And he would never forget Tom.
He would never forget how was it to love someone at first sight, how it felt when the feeling was returned, and how painful it would be when the morning comes and all of these would disappear into a memorable night.
The next morning, Tom had slowly woken up from his deep slumber, only to realize that the other side of the bed was empty and cold. As if there was no evidence of someone spending the night with him. He stared at the empty space for a moment, before rising up to get ready and might as well, take his leave.
But there was a note written in a beautiful handwriting on the small side table next to the bed. He reached out to take it and a smile appeared on his face after he finished reading it.
It was almost melancholic.
But it was definitely dull.
"Thank you for the beautiful night. I promise I will never forget you. Harry."
"Do you know how annoyed they were when you went missing? Do you know how much sleep I lost because they kept on disturbing me about your disappearance?" a young woman nagged at him through the video call Harry had on his laptop. Harry sighed, hands busy trying to fix his tie but it still managed to look unpresentable. Realizing that she was being ignored, she raised up her voice.
"Brother, are you listening?" she frowned and poked at the camera, as if she could do so to him. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Shut up, sister, they were being unreasonable. I thought you have an assignment to finish." Harry waved her off easily and ran a hand through his messy hair. It felt different than the one that Harry caressed last night.
"So this is how you treated your sister that lost her five hours of beauty sleep, worrying about her foolish, bloody moronic older brother -"
"Harriet, I understand and appreciate your concern, but the least you can do for me now is to stop scolding me and let me enjoy what's left of my freedom." Harry turned to look at his twin younger sister through the webcam and she abruptly shut her mouth. Harry stared at her for one whole minute before turning to put his contact lens on and try to fix his hair again.
"… Your hair defy the rules of gravity. Please give up on trying to fix it. You will cry in the end of your impossible mission."
"For a sister, you never fail to comfort me."
"Sooo… did you have great sex last night?"
Harry turned to look back at her with wide green eyes, cheeks flushed red with surprise and embarrassment.
"How did you-"
"Bite marks. Concealer, Harrison, please do not make our parents roll in their graves just because their only son failed to learn how to conceal bite marks." Her similar green eyes were amused and Harry cussed silently, quick to cover up the marks on his nape. It was pure luck that he wore his coat, with the lapels upturned that covered up to his nose when he returned back to the hotel this morning.
"That was an awful joke, Harriet."
"I know. Does not mean I care, though."
Harry sighed, trying to say something that would not sound like a scold to her sister when the door to his suite was knocked, and then slowly opened. His personal assistant stepped inside to greet him with a smile.
"You are ready, Harry?" Hermoine asked politely and Harriet waved at her through the video call, which caused her to wave back. Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes in frustration.
"Do I really have to do this?"
Hermoine gave him a stern look as the response.
"Appearing in public once in a while is important. Don't you have any conscience now?" Hermoine chided and this time, Harry did roll his eyes.
"Funny, Hermoine, I almost thought you are kinder than Harriet."
"You are asking too much, Harry. Now hurry up, the people are waiting. Not every day the Prince of Wales comes for a visit, yes?"
"Tom, I thought you couldn't make it today. I miss you so much." A young woman threw herself into Tom's arms and the black haired man caught her into a tight hug.
"I'm home now, Ginny." He replied quietly, pressing a kiss on top of her head. She looked up at him and grinned happily.
"The flight must be tiring. Come on inside and get some rest. Mother will be happy to see you now, and you are definitely going to love the wedding arrangement that I have chosen, Tom. It has the same colour as your eyes." she pecked him on the tip of his nose and quick to drag him inside, leaving his luggages to be brought in by the butler instead. Tom nodded his head stiffly.
"I hope so, too."
.
.
.
A/N : Since people know how much I am actually suck in writing chaptered stories, let me tell you, this story can be a standalone, or maybe even something more. Give me ideas, readers, and I'll try to make them real. :O
Review please.
P/S : This story is written down because I kept on imagining Tom singing 'Can't Take My Eyes Off You'. How cruel it is to not share this sexy imagination. Argh. By the way, the story's photo is your lovely Prince Harrison James Potter. :3