Warnings: Alternate Universe (Fantasy/Really really Adventure!AU), Tom is in denial, oblivious!Harry, mentions of implied abuse, age gap relationship
Pairing: TMR/HP (Tom Marvolo Riddle/Harry Potter), LL/BCJr. (Luna Lovegood/Bartemius "Barty" Crouch, Jr.)
Summary: Because Harry deals with romance like a fruit merchant deals with an elephant about to give birth—that is to say, inot at all/i—Luna finds it difficult to be a passive matchmaker, Barty can't stop laughing and insulting Tom's self-esteem issues at the same time, and Tom is just horribly, horribly frustrated with the lot of them.
But he still loves them. Sometimes.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling
"Hey, Tom?"
"Hm?"
Harry squints. "I really, really like you."
Tom spits out all of the water he'd just finished drinking out of his canteen. They're supposed to be refilling the group's water supply—they meaning Harry is sitting there doing nothing while contemplating the meaning of the universe while Tom does all the work—but apparently that's all shot to hell and Tom wonders with growing dread whether or not Luna planned this.
Whether or not Luna instigated this, actually.
Waitasecond—Tom chokes on the water that'd gone down his throat. Harry waits, still and patient as ever, until enough time passes that his companion probably isn't going to give a reply.
"Hey, Tom."
"Yes?" Tom manages to say through his coughing fit.
"Let's catch some fish while we're here. We're almost out of the dried meat from that deer."
This time, Harry doesn't wait. He pulls out his sheathed knife, sets it down on the ground and then proceeds to unlace his combat boots. Tom is frozen until Harry starts unbuckling his pants.
"What are you doing?"
Harry gives him a very dry, confused look. "Uh, going fishing?"
Tom shakes his head. "No, I mean—wait, what?"
"It's the middle of autumn. I'm not going to go walk around with wet pants."
"No," Tom says, utterly thrown, "I mean, that makes sense, fine, but—"
"But what?"
"You…" This is the first time that Harry has ever managed to fluster him so much. Tom is at a loss for words and can only reassure his wounded pride by thinking he'll best Harry in a spar later. Much later. And maybe after in a spar that involves swords of a different nature—
Not where he wants his thoughts to go!
Tom coughs. "You. Like me. You said. Right?"
"Oh. Yeah," Harry says, "I did. I do."
There is a pause where Tom's speechlessness manages to win out. Harry shrugs and resumes taking off his trousers.
"Wait," Tom says, and Harry abruptly stops, pants awkwardly pulled down a bit below his hips with his usual green boxers showing.
"What?"
"Do you…" Tom hesitates. He doesn't want to say something so…immature, but he wants clarification. Clarification is good. Clarification means avoiding certain awkward situations like unwarranted sexual attention and flirting with brick walls and—
Tom likes Harry. Tom might even go so far to say that he's in love with Harry—a gradual thing that's been festering like an infected wound ever since they first crossed blades (and doesn't that sound like a euphemism for something else?), and Tom is very willing to accept this fact of life and move on, because they both don't have time for relationships and flirting and love when they're trying to track down a criminal organization and their leader who happens to be Tom's father.
Not that anyone in the group knows that, but...
Dear God, Tom is woefully unprepared for this, and he really needs to say something before Harry starts taking off his trousers again.
"…Do you really, really like Luna, too?" Tom asks slowly.
Harry mulls the thought over in his head, thumbs still stuck in his pants and fingers still curled about the band in position to pull it off. Tom thinks it's entirely too distracting and tries to avoid looking in…that direction.
"Well," Harry finally replies, "Yeah. I guess I do. It's not hard to like Luna, y'know? Or Barty. It's not hard to like Barty either."
"So you like all of us," Tom clarifies.
"Sure."
"You…really, really like all of us…?"
Harry tilts his head to the side, bites his lip and squints. Tom tries not to look at that either.
"We wouldn't be traveling together if we all didn't like each other," Harry says slowly, "Right?"
"That's…true," Tom admits.
"Even though I met Luna first, that doesn't mean I like Barty any less. Or you. I don't like you any less, even though you joined us last. You're all…very important to me," Harry murmurs the last bit, cheeks bashful. "I said I really, really like you. Tom. I do."
Tom blinks and waits. Nothing more is said. Harry gets started on his pants again.
"So, that's it?"
Harry sighs, clearly frustrated with the lack of progress on removing his bottom wear. "Should there be anything else?"
Tom wants to immediately say 'yes'. Instead, he bites his tongue, holds back the monosyllable, and begins to fill the canteens again. "I suppose there doesn't have to be."
Harry nods. He slips off his trousers completely, folds them up right next to his two swords, and wades into the river. Tom is half-tempted to watch the very fascinating process of his companion fishing with his bare hands, but stops himself when reminded with the very visible fact that Harry is not wearing any pants. Only boxers.
…And he looks good.
Maybe Luna's not behind this after all.
"So, did you tell him?" Luna's excited, conspiring voice would've put Harry on edge if he hadn't already been used to it.
"I did," he replies, skewering the freshly caught fish for lunch time.
"And?"
Harry blinks. Again with the expectation of something more. Both Luna and Tom. "And I did," he says simply.
Luna frowns. "Well, what did he say?"
Harry takes a moment to think back on it. "Nothing, really."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing," he confirms. The disappointed sigh he gets in return is mildly concerning.
"I could've sworn…"
There is a rustling sound of Luna turning her head to glance behind her. Harry is unbothered, knowing if there really is danger then he would be well equipped to deal with it and his companion wouldn't hesitate to tell him. It's how things have always worked in their time together; Harry taking charge once Luna has identified the threat. It's been like that since Barty joined them, and since Tom joined them.
Even though Tom is arguably the better swordsman—Harry certainly respects him as such—Tom allows him to take the lead because every one of them universally trusts Harry in that role. Harry puts the safety of the people around him at first priority, even in regards to their 'quest' so to speak, which is the kind of leadership they need in a small group of four.
Tom knows he can be too ambitious, sometimes. So he lets Harry take care of it because Harry is too stubborn to put his own ambition above his loyalty to his friends.
He feels arms wind about his waist. Harry doesn't look up from his work, but adjusts the positions of his arms to allow for a more comfortable grip. Luna sighs against his back.
"Oh Harry, you can be so frustrating sometimes," she says. "But that's what makes you even cuter than you already are. I sympathize with Tom. I really do."
Harry blinks. "Did I do something wrong?"
"You both did. But you know what they say—two wrongs make a right."
"…Luna, I'm pretty sure the saying is two wrongs don't make a right."
He feels Luna shrug against his back. "Technicalities. Besides, how else am I to explain why you and Tom fit so well?"
Harry frowns. "We spar a lot. It's only natural that—"
Luna is laughing. Luna is laughing, and this time Harry is not sure whether or not she's laughing at him or with him. Then again, Harry isn't laughing, so maybe it has to be the former. Mentally, Harry disregards the matter and continues skewering the small fish. Luna's always been odd. That's what he likes about her. That's how Luna gets along with everyone else, and that's why she's so likeable.
Luna smiles like the sun on a cloudy day. Luna laughs like the sprinkling of a summer shower.
…And Tom is…
Harry smiles. Tom is like a shadow. Ever-present, ever-important, even when at times it's easy to forget. That's what he really, really likes about Tom—always calm, always lithe and lethal when need be. Tom adapts to every situation, and to Harry there is nothing more important than someone dependable in any situation he can think of.
Tom is balance. Tom is peace.
Tom, his heart says, is the most important person to him.
Barty is laughing. Normally, Tom would be okay with that except for the fact that this time, Barty cannot stop laughing.
And, well, that. That's really annoying.
Tom tries to say something. Barty holds up a hand to tell him to give him a moment, just a second really, but then a minute passes and Barty is still laughing and now Tom is just plain pissed. Barty is laughing at him and it's really not funny to be Tom right now and it's offensive and he's more than a little insulted and—
"Barty," Tom growls, "Enough. Stop laughing."
The command is pointless. The forty year old man is literally laughing in tears, hitting the ground and a complete mess because he's found something so funny that he can't help himself, even when that tiny little detail is dangerous enough to be life threatening. Tom is not known to stay his hand when pulling out his sword. Most things die after seeing the tip of his rapier.
Most things other than, well, Harry, which brings it back around to why Barty is laughing in the first place.
"You—you said—you—ha!"
Tom sighs.
"He—and you—pfft—"
"Barty."
"Alright, okay, fine—" The man's laughter winds down to gasping chuckles, and Tom waits another minute to get a coherent sentence out of him. "Okay. I'm okay. Just…pfft—"
"Barty."
"Fine. What's got you so worked up? Oh, wait, I know—"
"Barty, you are five seconds away from being mortally wounded."
"Alright!" Barty gasps. "I'll stop. But, Tom, seriously? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Harry's head over heels in love with you and you're too self-conscious to realize it!"
"He is not," Tom says immediately, the three words all too familiar on his tongue. "And I am not. What proof do you have? You don't have any. See?"
They're supposed to be picking up sticks for their campfire. How else are they going to cook the fish? But no, Barty would prefer to laugh about Tom's struggling crush than actually do the work in order to eat lunch, and Tom wonders why he couldn't have just gone with Luna.
Then again, Luna's really no better than Barty when it comes to Harry.
"Oh my God. You know, when you first teamed up with us the last thing I expected was mister-mysterious-dark-cloak-pointy-sword to be having insecurity problems. And I certainly didn't expect to be talking to you about them. Tom, the only person who doesn't think Harry loves you is you. And that includes Harry."
"He does not," Tom says like a broken record. "How would you know?"
"How would you know?" Barty snarks back. "I think Luna and I are damn better judges than you are."
Tom sneers. "I doubt that. You're both insane."
"I take offense! You have no right to talk about my insanity when you can't see two meters in front of your eyes every day. I swear to God, Harry looks at you like you make the sun rise every morning and you can't even see it. And it's been this way for months!"
"No," Tom sniffs petulantly, "That's how he looks at Luna."
"Oh dear God…if you're going to go on about how Harry and Luna are secretly fucking like you did the first month—"
"Barty, shut up and help me pick up branches."
"I'm just saying," Barty grumbles as he acquiesces. "Harry and Luna are legitimately the most platonic pair in the world. Which goes to prove my point! You didn't even see that and you think you're a good judge of whether or not Harry's in love with you? Take the advice of someone who's lived for four decades. You're both in love with each other, go and snog in the woods somewhere and don't let me see it. Then we'll be good."
"You're delusional," Tom argues. "How do you even know Harry likes men? You don't. And if he doesn't, then he probably doesn't like me that way either."
Barty's look is both insulted and exasperated. "Tom, Harry's gay."
"No he isn't."
"Yes, he is."
"And I'm saying he isn't."
Barty groans. "Pot, meet kettle. Seriously, I'm the delusional one? Fine. If Harry's not gay, he's not straight either. What the hell do you young people call it…pansexual? Demisexual? Whatever. Harry isn't…Harry doesn't…He's not lustful. But he is in love with you so you better go deal with this ridiculous sexual tension sometime soon because Luna and I are getting tired of it."
"Don't you mean it's putting Luna on edge and that, in turn, is putting you on edge?" Tom asks mildly.
"She's nineteen!" Barty shouts. "I'm twice her age. I'm not—she isn't—You know!"
"Luna doesn't care," Tom points out, eager to switch subjects to something that puts Barty at a disadvantage.
"Of course she doesn't! She's too young to care!"
"Are you insulting her intelligence?"
"Wha—no," Barty grumbles, "I'm not. She's a good little lady. I know that. Good judge of character, and what not. And she's been through a lot, I can see that even if she doesn't say anything. That's why she shouldn't go after an old man like me—it's a waste. A real waste, you hear?"
"Luna doesn't think so. And I'm more inclined to believe her than you in this matter," Tom argues back. "She'd be good for you, and you'd be good to her. In the end, I think that's all she cares about—until Harry, no one's ever been good to her. For her."
"You don't think I can't see that?" Barty says. "Of course I can. Of course I know. And of course I wouldn't let just any ass down the alley take her! To hell I would! But not me. It can't be me. I'm twice her age. She needs someone, but not me. I'm bad. Raw. Chewed up and spat back out trash."
Tom snorts. "Keep telling yourself that."
"I'm serious."
"And so am I. She's got you bested, and you're too stubborn to admit it. It's only a matter of time."
Barty yanks a particularly stuck branch out from the foliage in lieu of a retort. Tom smirks and continues on his way. For all Barty laughed at him, Tom thinks it's Barty that needs to be laughed at sometimes. The man is like that—no, they're all like that. Their small little band of four is made up of the strangest, defected people that can be found in their situation.
Harry, completely oblivious to all social cues and niceties but a genius when pitted against an opponent in any sort of warfare. Luna, a magical prodigy who didn't have the slightest clue about how to live for herself; only how to be used. Barty, from a rich, noble family thrown into the throes of street wars and mafia. And he…himself, Tom Riddle, son of the notorious Dark Lord Voldemort—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—leader of the criminal organization known as the Death Eaters.
A father who murdered Harry's parents.
A father who'd abandoned him, too.
They're all pretty fucked up, in retrospect. That's why something overstepping that unmarked boundary line, that line of 'camaraderie' and 'platonic love' into something all the more intimate, something all the more uncontrollable…
It shouldn't happen. Tom knows that. Barty knows that. They have to take care of their own—Luna, Harry, their small band of four.
"I really, really like you."
Tom stamps on his feelings while trying to preserve Harry's. But it's impossible when the two are one and the same.
lol so I was feeling sad about feels coming from depressing fics and so this came of it! This oneshot! This! With my OT4!
Dude. Harry, Tom, Luna, and Barty would make an awesome group. I actually have a very very very inprogress drabble series that I may or may not have dropped before it was even posted about them (I like to affectionately call it, "A Story of Four"), and this MIGHT (probably is, actually) be where this oneshot originates from.
Like a side-story kind of thing. So. Right.
Also I'm in killugon hell right now from the stupidly addicting HxH fandom, so if you have any really awesome killugon to throw at me please do. thanks guys
Sincerely,
R.R.
