Warnings: Canon-ish to HP6, fanon beyond that, spoilers to both Harry Potter and Ouran High School Host Club, slash, not HpatHC compatible

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and affiliates, of which I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisuko and associates, of which I am not one.

Features: Hardworking!Harry, !Takashi (Takashi needs no prefix), Devious!Hani, and various other characters from both fandoms

Silver Dough

Harrison Baker, a native Englishmen living in Tokyo, Japan, couldn't help but smile at the perfect little roses on his latest cake. Of course, he hadn't always been Harrison Baker – it was an alias, and he still went by his real name, Harry, usually – but he didn't mind the change. He checked the preservation charms on the display case before placing the cake inside. It wasn't due to be picked up for an hour, and it really was a nice cake.

"Wow! These are such pretty cakes!" Harry glanced outside and saw a little blond boy had his face pressed against the window. It seemed that the Shika no Hana Bakery (Deer's Flower, a play on words) had customers.

He was about the size of a fourth or fifth year elementary student but Harry recalled seeing that same boy wearing a high school uniform, though quite when he could not recall. He thought perhaps when he delivered a birthday cake to the Morinozuka estate a few weeks back. He couldn't particularly remember the name of the school, but he did recall that the students tended to be quite well off, which the Morinozuka family had been.

The blond pulled his face back and looked up to his left with wide brown eyes. "Let's get cakes from this shop, Takashi! Haru-chan will like them, right?"

A low voice replied with a steady and monosyllabic, "Aa." The small boy reached out his arms beyond the edge of the window and pulled a much taller boy – over six feet at least – with slate gray eyes and black hair that could rival Harry's in messiness, though it probably wasn't as unruly. This boy, he thought, was the one who had delivered the cake for in the first place.

Harry couldn't help but smile as the smaller of the two – he wasn't sure of the blond's age, but given the uniform he suspected the boys was more than double what one might first suspect – dragged the taller boy. It was sweet. Still, he turned the amused expression to one of welcome.

"Irashaimase! (1)" Harry said politely. "Is there anything in particular I can interest you boys in?" Of course, the taller boy – Takashi, the smaller had called him – was probably about the same age as Harry who was 17 (only for another few months though), so referring to them both as "boys" wasn't quite accurate.

"Do you have little cakes?" asked the smaller. "We're going to our friend Haru-chan's house today, and we wanted to bring cakes for all our friends to eat."

"Uh-huh, no problem," Harry gestured to the other end of the counter. "There are some over there. Just pick the ones you want and how many of each. I'll get them from the back." He stayed a polite distance away, keeping himself busy at the mixer as he whipped up some frosting for the cakes that he had pulled from the oven only an hour before.

The blond boy seemed busy pointing out various cakes to his companion, asking if "Haru-chan" would like this or that cake, commenting on how pretty yet another was that he thought he would get and have sent home for later or perhaps he would order it for a club meeting. While his small stature and exuberant nature made him seem young, Harry was still convinced by the uniform that he had to be at least fifteen, more likely sixteen or seventeen.

"Do any of these not have a lot of sugar? Kyou-chan doesn't like too much sugar, but he does like raspberries." Harry smiled at the blond.

"Yeah, I've got a few low-sugar cakes in back," he stated, which was true, "and I usually keep a few plain to decorate on special order, so I can fix that up quickly while you finish deciding on what you would like. You two mind watching the front for me in case I get another customer while I'm back there? I don't want the shop to get destroyed; we've only been set up for a month after all."

The blond chuckled while Harry was certain the taller boy held back a smile. With one last wave, he went into the back half of the shop, which was where he kept the ovens. Mixing up batter and decorating could be done up front, which was what he did, but the ovens and "freezers" (cabinets with preservation charms, actually) had to stay in back simply because that was how the shop had been built when he purchased it.

Harrison Sirius Baker, better known as Harry James Potter, had been in Japan for only two months, having arrived in the midst of the break between the old school year and new one for Japanese students. Of course, this would have been the opportune time to sign up at any number of academies, be they magical or muggle. The Potter name carried a weight that could get him in, no questions asked, but after the past year or so he didn't really want that.

When Dumbledore had fallen from the parapet, he was certain that his world had cracked. Even more so when the locket turned out to be a fake. But in the night when he returned to the Dursleys, Fawkes appeared in a ball of fire and took him away to Grimmauld Place, where the real locket horcrux was kept.

All in one night, Fawkes brought Harry to each place where the horcruxes were hidden, but not back to Hogwarts where the only methods of destruction for the foul items known to Harry could be found. He tried asking Fawkes to take him there, but he found out why the next morning with the arrival of the Daily Prophet; Voldemort had taken over the ancient castle in the night, and it was now his stronghold.

The foul collection rested in Harry's trunk until his birthday, when a great blaze of spell fire alerted him to the presence of Death Eaters rather than his friends. He vanished into the night and spent weeks roughing it and living out of what he had in his trunk or he could discretely buy with the gold stowed in his trunk. Then came the attack on the Ministry on the first of September.

Very few were killed, but many were injured or captured, and Voldemort had taken over the government. Right at the front had been Ron and Hermione, waiting to be executed. But Voldemort claimed he would save them for last as a taunt. That game Harry time, and he apparated to Hogsmeade before taking his Firebolt to Hogwarts and flying in the Headmaster's office. A room that, it seemed, Voldemort had been denied entry.

The sword of Gryffindor destroyed each of the horcruxes and Harry had only Voldemort and Nagini left to deal with. He returned to the Ministry before the executions had even started – it seemed that Voldemort still loved to monologue.

Off to the side, he could see that Nagini lay dead, apparently killed by an attempted escape from some prisoners, but Voldemort obviously didn't mind. He must not know that Harry had destroyed Hufflepuff's Cup, Slytherin's Locket, and Ravenclaw's Brooch, and so didn't realize that his last tether to immortality had been used up.

That was when Harry stepped out of the crowd. He didn't look much the part of a hero. His hair was scruffier from usual from camping the past month, he had a bit of stubble on his chin, and he really had looked more like some crazed hobo than the Great Harry Potter, prophesied vanquisher of the Dark Lord, etc, etc. But by the lightning mark on his forehead and eyes that were comparable to the killing curse that Voldemort kept saying he was going to use on the prisoners... well, he was unmistakable as anyone else.

They had dueled and Harry... well, he lost. He died, and not very magnificently. Voldemort caught him with a trip jinx and, with his wand pressed to the same place it had been the first time he ever tried to kill the child of prophecy, said Avada Kedavra. As if Harry's death meant nothing.

Turns out, Harry's death meant a lot. When he came to, Voldemort was about to kill Hermione – Ron's form was already crumpled on the ground, dead – and Harry struck with that same bolt of green magic.

The next six months went from paradise to hell, very quickly. Everyone wanted Harry to be their friend. At first he didn't mind too much, because they needed this release. Just as they needed someone to blame, they needed someone to praise, and Harry didn't want to take away their newfound joy. He didn't bask in it or anything, and he kept his real friends – Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny – close. It was the latest of these friends who ruined it for him.

Towards the end of November, once Harry was finally getting used to the mantle of Head Boy and Quidditch Captain that had been settled upon him in mid-September when McGonagall restarted school, Ginny approached him. And she asked why he hadn't gotten back together with her. Honestly, Harry couldn't recall why they hadstarted dating – for all the month that lasted – and stated so plainly.

And then she tried to hit him with an Adoration Charm. He was shocked and brought up a shield by instinct, which was when Slughorn found them and asked why they had their wands out and why the hall smelt of Amortentia. Harry had found the grass and wood-smell strange, but only realized it when the potions master mentioned it. The hand Ginny had behind her back contained a phial of Amortentia. Harry had been horrified and not left his private rooms for a week due to a panic attack.

After all, it's not every day that he found out he had never really loved Ginny.

It went down hill from there, as Hermione tried to use him for rebound from Ron, even if she herself didn't realize it, and the public started to wonder if he, for using an unforgivable on the Dark Lord who had so terrorized them, were not going dark himself. That was, of course, ridiculous, but Harry still took a lot of flak in the last two week before the holiday vacation started.

He did not return to Hogwarts in January, instead researching to find a place to escape to and transferring funds into a proxy account "just in case." By March the first, the public believed he was a Dark Lord out to kill them all, and he had a fake identity planted for his move to Japan. It took one month to find a permanent place of residence and set up his bakery.

And now, a month after opening, Harry had to shake his head free of those thoughts as he used raspberries to make the plain white cake with butter-frosting into an elegant piece. While the blond boy had not specified who "Kyou-chan" was, Harry suspected that all the friends he was talking about went to the same private academy as he suspected they went to.

The small cake was placed in a box that he brought out to the front, where the small boy had moved on to talking about one of the larger strawberry cakes that Harry had on display. He also noticed that the tall one seemed to have decided which cake he wanted, though he seemed intent on remaining silent.

"Here's the raspberry cake," Harry announced his presence. "Glad to see my shop is still in tact; you never know what might happen."

"You wouldn't have had to worry!" The blond piped happily, drawing his attention reluctantly from the cakes. "Takashi is the National Kendo Champion and I'm the Karate Champion in the high school level! Even if a band of robbers had come in, we could protect your shop!"

Harry whistled, honestly impressed. Two high school martial arts champions – which did confirm his suspicions as to where he recognized them from – was certainly not the usual fare at his shop. In the past month, he'd had parents getting birthday cakes a lot, or boyfriends getting a gift for a girlfriend, and the odd wedding cake, but they were all fairly normal people – excepting the one Morinozuka order.

"Then I left my shop in competent hands," Harry grinned. He pulled a notepad and ballpoint pen from under the cash register. "So, have you and Takashi-san decided on what cakes you would like to bring with you to your friend's house?"

"Yep! I want to get two tangerine cakes for Kao-chan and Hika-chan 'cause they like all the same things and they're twins," he pointed out the little white cake with pieces of tangerine pieces in it, "and the chocolate one with the frosting-crown on it for Tama-chan. He says he's the King of the Host Club, even though Kyou-chan really does most of the work, but he likes chocolate."

"The crown is a banana frosting," it was actually a special cake that he made for a boy's birthday party and several had ordered it since so he kept a small one on display. It was a rather obscure recipe though, and a few patrons had changed their minds upon hearing that. "In case he doesn't like banana..."

"No, Tama-chan likes bananas," the blond boy nodded, already moving on. "For Haru-chan, we want to get the pink cake with strawberries, and I want that one!" He pointed quite specifically to Harry's signature fruit cake – which was actually made mostly of uncooked strawberries baked into cake mix and frosted to look like a strawberry. More than one customer had already asked how he managed to have the strawberries remain uncooked, only to laugh when he replied with "magic.

"Got it," he jotted that cake down as well, though he didn't write a name for this one since he still didn't know the boy's name. "And you, Takashi-san?"

Takashi did not say anything, but he gestured to a small lemon cake. Harry jotted that down as well and after bidding his customers to wait a moment he retrieved each of the specified cakes from the back and placed them in boxes identical to the first one. He wrote each name in hiragana with a sharpie and brought the boxes to the front where he marked the raspberry cakes box with "Kyou-chan."

"And what should I mark your box with?" Harry asked. While not being labeled would make it stand out enough, it was still courteous to do so.

"Wha – oh! Sorry, I'm Haninozuka Mitsukuni!" The large toothy grin didn't seem at all abashed, and Harry wrote "Mitsu-kun" on top. All the boxes now had a nickname on top, mostly ones that Mitsukuni himself had used, though Harry decided on Mitsu-kun and Taka-kun on his own. Since he only knew nicknames for their friends, he might as well do them all like that.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mitsukuni-san, Takashi-san," Harry nodded to each. "Baker Harrison (2), but you can just call me Harry."

They paid for the seven cakes and left, and Harry figured he would never see those particular boys ever again. His cakes were certainly good, but it was obvious that they were from high class families; his cakes were simple no matter how he could make them appear and not as well suited to the tastes of the rich.

He found out not a week later that he was quite mistaken when Mitsukuni and Takashi returned late in the day, not long before Harry was intending to close for the evening. He smiled and greeted them both by name. Mitsukuni browsed the cakes on display before declaring which one he wanted.

Harry did mention that there were a much larger variety of cakes on advance order after their third visit, since the ones in the window and under the counter were merely his specialties and the most common buys, and Mitsukuni ordered quite a few when he saw the options. For a high school student and martial artist, he apparently had quite the sweet tooth.

Soon, it wasn't abnormal for Harry to see them once or more a week. He smiled and was polite, but didn't treat them any different from his other customers. After all, he was a professional and took his job and his shop quite seriously.

"Harry-chan," Mitsukuni started a few minutes into a visit. He was calmer than normal, not buzzing about as if on a perpetual sugar high, "why are you always here when we come?"

Harry blinked. It was a strange question. "Er, because you always come during business hours," he furrowed his brows. What was Mitsukuni trying to get at?

"No, I mean why is it always you who's here? What about the baker, or anyone else who works here?" Mitsukuni's brow was furrowed, apparently having been puzzling over this for some time.

Harry could have laughed, but instead shrugged. "Well, I'm sure if there were anyone else who worked here you would meet them," Harry replied easily. "And I am the baker. Each cake on display or that you have purchased I made." It was the truth, but by the wide-eyed shock on Mitsukuni's face, it was apparently highly unexpected.

Not that Harry hadn't expected it to be unexpected given the way Mitsukuni put the query.

"But you can't be older than Takashi and I, and I know this shop is open during school hours!" Mitsukuni protested. "It's open all day every day, and I saw on the sign that the hours didn't change for the summer vacation." Actually, there had been a change, of two hours taken off each day for Harry to sit his NEWTs, though he took the Japanese equivalent rather than the real deal; he didn't want to go to Europe anytime soon.

Ah, that did make sense then; Mitsukuni was worried for Harry's education. Considering he was quite happy to just run his little bakery, Harry felt that his education wasn't paramount, though he did a bit of studying here and there. And he hadn't studied muggle subjects in seven years, so he really hoped that Mitsukuni didn't try to convince him to go to a proper school.

"I'm going to be a legal adult soon anyway," by magical standards, he already was, which emancipated him in the muggle world, "and running this bakery seems just fine to me. I am, after all, a baker." Technically he was a Potter, and he was horrible are pottery, but that wasn't the point. He hadn't meant to make a pun; he was just lucky that saying Baker and baker had a difference due to the language barrier.

"But what if the bakery doesn't do well or..." Mitsukuni started listing of tragedies. Harry was amused and looked to Takashi for an ally in this; he wasn't sure if he should be surprised that Takashi had taken the side of the worry-wart rather than be simply entertained by the tirade.

"Honest, even if the bakery goes under I'll be fine," Harry defended when he realized that both of the students were worried about him. "It's really no big deal."

"And your parents?" This was Takashi. It wasn't odd for him to interject the odd comment, but Harry still couldn't help but be surprised. He rubbed the back of his neck unconsciously. "Yeah, well, 'dead men tell no tales' and all that. They can't exactly have a say in the matter at this point."

Revealing that he was an orphan never ended well, and Harry eyed Mitsukuni for a moment before he was tackled in a hug and heard some diatribe about how poor and unfortunate he was. That tackle set him into the corner of the display case, but Harry only winced slightly before straightening them both up. He sighed and pried of his customer and friend.

"Mitsu-kun, I already said it's not a big deal," Harry was careful to keep his hands on Mitsukuni's shoulders to avoid being tackle-hugged again. "They've been dead since I was a kid, so it's not like my situation is anything new. And I suppose it's because of the money I inherited from them that I managed to buy this space and open my shop."

"But –"

"No buts," He said sternly. Harry had to get his message across. "When I said it, I meant it. I have been fine all my life without parents, and now that I'm living on my own I'm fine. Even if the bakery went under I would be fine; my inheritance is enough to last quite some time. So please don't tackle me again like that? I don't fancy crashing into the display cases again."

"Okay Harry-chan," Mitsukuni looked halfway horrified and rather distraught, but he kept his head. "But you should still go to school."

"I study at home, and I already sat my exams while you were on vacation," Harry corrected. "I'm still learning and I passed all the pertinent scores." At this point he was wondering when Mitsukuni would turn his attention back to the sweets. There hadn't been a special order to pick up that day, so Mitsukuni would probably just get some cookies or something else. "So, did you come here for any other reason than to talk about school?"

"Oh! Right," Mitsukuni really did seem a bit abashed for once. "Kyou-chan asked Takashi and I to order some cakes for an event on Friday. We were going to order them anyway, because Ouran is having a festival and Takashi and I are in charge of the sweet shop in our class' display, but since the club won the competition to get the Central Salon, Kyou-chan said we should order some cakes and then he mentioned that he liked the raspberry cake we got for him in May and that if we remembered what bakery it was from that we should try to get cakes from there." He said this all in one breath, which was quite impressive.

"Friday?" It was Monday already, and Friday was his birthday. He was actually intending to close down the shop that night and all weekend, but... well, he could drop off the order when it was required without actually working that day. Yes, and then he could still check out the festivals without any problem. "Well, you can just write a list of all the cakes you want and I'll make sure they get to your school on Friday. Just be sure to leave some contact information so I can get you to come and get them when I get there, okay?"

Mitsukuni readily agreed, and Harry went back behind the counter to get the notepad he kept under the register, only to be stopped by a hand on his wrist. He didn't react terribly much, just half turning and perking an eyebrow at Takashi.

Funny how he meant to be a bit intimidating, and yet the hard stare that Takashi had fixed on him almost made Harry blush. Why the hell was Takashi staring at his butt?!

"Takashi-kun, do you see something you like or shall I just get the notepad for you both?" Harry was actually surprised by his own daring, but his didn't show it. Even though he'd barely learned anything from those occlumancy lessons with Hogwarts' resident bat (Snape), he could still guard his emotions better than that same bats techni-color cousin (Trelawney).

Takashi's gaze darted up, startled. He didn't respond for a moment before dropping Harry's wrist and looking slightly away.

"You're bleeding," he finally stated. Harry's hand went immediately to the area of his back that had bit the display case, and sure enough his shirt was warm, wet, sticky, and stuck to a wound of some sort. He must have hit the corner.

"Thanks for telling me that, Takashi-kun," Harry frowned slightly. He didn't know any medical magic more reliable than the one he had learned off of Tonks, and since he couldn't see the damaged area it would be a good idea to try Episkey anyway. "I'll close early and get it checked at the Hospital then. I guess the endorphins kicked in soon enough that I didn't really get the chance to feel what happened."

No way was he actually going to mention how the injury came to be when Mitsukuni was in an empathic mood. Harry couldn't claim to know the just-younger boy (for Mitsukuni's eighteenth birthday would be in February while Harry's was in a few days), he had a feeling that saying the cause of his apparent bleeding would not be good.

"Now?" Takashi clarified. Mitsukuni seemed to be busy mentally cataloguing which cakes he would order for each group, and so was not bothered by the exchange.

"When you two have left I think," Harry took care to smile as if nothing was wrong, and come to think of it very little was. He couldn't say how big whatever it was just so happened to be, nor how fast it was bleeding, how close to scabbing it was, nothing. But a single trip to a magical hospital would fix him up right as rain, so it hardly mattered to begin with.

He continued on to grab the notepad and had opened the slim drawer that contained it, a few pens, and the keys to the shop. However, when he moved to close the drawer, Harry found it empty. A jingle and click behind him said that the kitchen door had been locked, and he soon found himself being led out by Takashi, who also locked the store front before making Harry go to the car that had brought both Takashi and Mitsukuni to the shop as it always did.

The best car Harry had ever been in (barring Arthur Weasley's Ford Anglia) had been the Ministry car that had taken him to King's Cross in third year. Stretch limousines, as it just so happens, are far better than whatever model the Ministry bought, though Harry was a bit too annoyed with Takashi to really mind that.

"I'm perfectly fine to get to the hospital on my own, and it's not that bad," Harry grumbled as Takashi forced him to get in the car. Takashi did not reply and touched the part of Harry's back that was bleeding through his shirt and showed rather red, drippy fingers to Harry as if to say "oh really?" Harry grimaced. "Okay, a bit worse than I thought, but it isn't all that bad."

Of course, by this time, Mitsukuni was worried as well and actually tried to help Harry to a seat. He sighed and denied the help, sitting down just fine without their aid, though he felt the slightest twinge from stretching his wound, but it was hardly anything. And now that he wasn't concentrating on anything other than trying to not bleed on the upholstery, Harry could feel that the blood was dripping farther down, but for now he was safe so long as he stopped his back from connecting.

While he was being driven to the hospital – a muggle hospital at that – Harry forced at least Mitsukuni to focus on something else by asking them to compile the list of cakes they would need. Most people would send notice of such a large order more than four days in advance, but considering Harry did have magic on his side, he didn't have to worry much about that.

They arrived at the hospital, and even though Harry insisted otherwise both boys came in with him to the Emergency Room rather than just dropping him off, so he couldn't apparate to a better equipped place.

In the ER he had to take off his shirt and lie on his stomach on the table so that the doctor could sanitize and put stitches in what turned out to be a two-inch long gash just a little above and to the side of his tail bone. Harry did this without complaint, though he did mourn the loss of his shirt; he rather liked that one after all, and not even magic could get blood out.

Of course, this also meant that Takashi and Mitsukuni saw the few scars that Harry had. He supposed he could have had more, given when he had gone through, so the one on his shoulder from the Hungarian Horntail, one on his side from a accident in his childhood, and the mark on his left forearm from Voldemort's resurrection were bared when before they had been covered, each and every visit. Given he always wore a long-sleeved and collared shirt under his apron, not even the thin white line on his arm had been visible.

But Harry didn't really mind and had no problem when he had to pay for the treatment; the Potters had been quite well off, maybe not so rich as the students of Ouran, but still rich. He didn't have to have the bakery, but it was part of what he viewed as a normal existence that he should have a job. And why not work at something he liked? Maybe his interests would wane later in life, but for now he was satisfied.

Although Mitsukuni and Takashi still seemed a bit worried – apparently the gash and his blood-smeared back hadn't looked too pretty – Harry managed to convince them that it was perfectly alright for him to take the bullet train home, and he left them with his notepad tucked securely into his back pocket. The he got the gash taken care of properly at a wizarding hospital apparated back to the shop, and opened up for one more hour than night.

Pretending to be a muggle, he decided, was an exhausting business.

On Friday at four pm, Harry brought his first delivery to Ouran High School for the festival. People were only just starting to arrive, and more classes and clubs were going over some last minute directions. Harry barely withheld a grin as one boy in a hurry was running with a tea tray and kept on having to stop because the teapot almost fell over. A classic case of the tortoise and the hare.

Wheeling the trolley stacked with cake boxes to the East Building and the entrance to the gym, Harry took a moment to find a ramp before he made his way in. He stopped dead in his tracks, shocked.

Venice. He was standing in the middle of Venice. He slowly shook his head and took care to ask directions from a student wearing Venitian attire to the sweet shop that was being run by Mitsukuni and Takashi.

"You mean Hani-kun and Mori-kun?" The girl asked. "They're just two blocks over. Be careful going over the bridges though; if it weren't for that trolley you could use a gondola, but the bridges will have to do." And then she went back to... whatever she was doing.

Harry dropped off the sweets and checked that he was to bring the cakes for the Host Club (whatever that was) event in another two-and-a-half hours. Mitsukuni wanted him to stay, but Harry begged off, saying that he had to go make sure that everything was ready. That wasn't much more time than the required given that he had to get back to the shop, load two trolleys of confections, and then get back to the school.

As it turned out, there was actually an extra half hour in that, but he didn't mind and took care to have the first trolley delivered to the correct place before he dismissed the truck and driver he had hired. He started on his way to the Central Salon with the second trolley, humming slightly as he weaved through the crowd of high-class people to find the Salon.

A young man, perhaps a year or two younger than Harry, was standing by the first trolley and marking things in a notebook as he looked around the delivery. Harry recognized him from Mitsukuni's description as "Kyou-chan", better known as Ootori Kyouya.

"Ootori-san, this is the last load," Harry bowed ever-so-slightly to the glasses-wearing student, who didn't seem at all surprised to see him. "I can set everything out on proper dollies, if you like." Quite a way to spend his eighteenth birthday. Back in Britain he would probably be going out with his friends, someone treating him to his first (legal) drink in some pub, and generally having a good time.

Harry tried not to think of how his life was so much less exciting now. He was happy with his life, but he did miss Britain, especially Luna, Neville, and Hermione. Molly Weasley would probably have thrown him a birthday party or something... but he had guaranteed he wouldn't get so much as a card this year by setting up an anti-owl ward on his person. So far as the mail birds were concerned, Harry was not on earth or dead, and therefore not in any sort or state to be receiving their mail.

He shook himself of thoughts of the past and started setting out the wide variety of cakes than Mitsukuni had ordered for his club's activities.

"Would you mind staying?" the potential Ootori heir asked. Harry quirked a brow at the younger male. "Our members will be busy this evening with our duties and entertaining the clientèle, and someone will need to distribute the cakes. We would, f course, pay you for the trouble."

Harry sighed and momentarily cursed himself for being so darn nice. "No, no need," he shook his head. "I'll just consider it a favor to your club, shall I?" Favors were far more useful to Harry than money. He had more than enough of the latter, and one never knew when a favor could come in handy.

So he spent his evening in that Salon, giving out the many cakes to the Host Club's guests. Mitsukuni and Takashi spent a fair amount of time at his cart, and he met a girl named Fujioka Haruhi – obviously Haru-chan – who Harry immediately pegged not only as female despite the fact that she was wearing men's clothing, but also as not being quite the same as the rich folk. She acted more like he did; a middle-class kid tossed into a strange world, except for Harry it was the world of magic while for Haruhi it was the world of the rich.

When Harry returned to his flat that night, he was about ready to collapse and thanked Merlin for his ever-so-soft bed.

Mitsukuni and Takashi came regularly, and it wasn't until October that Harry realized that it wasn't entirely because of the cakes. Sure, he had a sort of friendship with the martial artists, but he hadn't realized that he, to them, was actually important in any way until that day.

The schools were on another vacation – a summer vacation in autumn – and there was a festival going on in several sectors of the city. Harry had considered setting up a booth somewhere, but decided he would rather enjoy the festivities than be stuck in a booth selling cakes. He even took the full day off so he could buy a kimono and just spend his time idly wandering one of the festivals.

At one point, as Harry moving through the crowd, he ran into a rather irate girl wearing far too much make-up and with an intense tan stomping through the crowd and dragging behind her someone who Harry was certain was Haruhi, but they kept on going so he dismissed the incident. Harry just continued on his way and looked around the booths. He'd never been to any sort of festival except for the Quidditch Cup the once, and it was so far turning out to be interesting.

"Harry-chan!" He whipped around and was rather surprised to see all of the strange "Host Club" that he had met were coming his way. Mitsukuni and Takashi were the only ones that seemed at all enthusiastic of course, but Harry was surprised nonetheless.

He had figured than a festival like this might be too plebeian for a bunch of rich playboys, but apparently this was not so.

So he smiled to mask the surprise. "Mitsu-kun, Takashi-kun," he addressed them first since they were the ones he knew best. "Ootori-san, Suou-san, Kaoru-san, Hikaru-san." He made sure to nod to each person in turn, though the red-headed twins looked a bit surprised at that. He assumed it was because he told them apart, but after Fred and George they were easy.

"Harry-chan, your shop was closed today!" Mitsukuni looked pouty. Harry moved to reassure him that he could make a special cake later, but Mitsukuni continued. "We were trying to find you and invite you to come with us to the festival with us, but you weren't there and you didn't pick up when we called!"

They had been intending to actually take him to the festival? Harry was surprised, but again he worked to not show it, acting instead sheepish as he apologized.

But they had thought of him, and that was nice.

Since August, Harry knew he had been nursing a crush. He tried to stomp it down, since he knew that the person he liked – a certain very tall boy who frequented his shop – did not think of him like that, certainly. The October revelation that this certain person at least noticed him in some way, did not help him in this course of action.

Quite to the contrary. In fact, it soon became the highlight of Harry's week when Mitsukuni and Takashi came to visit his shop, not that it hadn't been already, as well as on the occasions when he was called upon to make cakes for the Ouran Host Club. Through November, Harry was a bit nervous, but he made sure to keep himself in line and not giving any untoward signs to the fine specimen before him.

Towards to the middle of December, Harry received a call from Hitachiin Kaoru, one of Mitsukuni's twin friends. The first part of the call was an order for a bunch of his cakes, cookies, and other sweets to be brought to the Hitachiin Mansion on New Year's Eve. The second part, surprisingly enough, was an invitation to a party on that same date at that same place.

Since Harry had no one in Japan that he considered family, he was mostly spending the holiday season baking and working anyway, though he did send out Christmas gifts to his friends in Britain. Muggle mail was something he quite liked, as he couldspell it so that no one would know where it came from when an owl, if sent by him, could be sent back.

Taking New Year's night itself off was not a bad idea, and Harry could do with some social interaction beyond that which he usually had at the shop. He put up a notice stating the early closure that would be on the holiday, and when the time came he had a nice suit and had hired a delivery truck again to take him and the cakes to the party location. Both of the Hitachiin twins greeted him and had servants set up the cakes while Harry hid the trolleys away to shrink and place in his pockets later that night.

Only half an hour after arriving, Harry wasn't entirely certain as to why he had accepted the invitation. He didn't know these people – they were all classy students and he was just some baker who dropped out of Hogwarts (sort of) – and he could honestly say that he did not belong here.

The only ones h e really knew were Mitsukuni and Takashi, and he didn't want to be hanging around them like the pathetic nobody that he was at this party. They didn't need a hanger on and he really shouldn't even be there.

Standing in the corner with a glass of punch, Harry could pretend to not be as uncomfortable as he was. He looked like he was antisocial, true, but it was better than depending on anyone else to be social. It was perhaps childish, but he didn't mind.

Though the appearance of Takashi at his side was a bit of a surprise, when he was sure that no one would have given him even a second glance, Harry smiled in welcome, though it was a bit strained. To be honest, he had been considering leaving before Mitsukuni and Takashi actually noticed him.

"Takashi-kun, nice to see you," Harry tried to make it seem as though he didn't mind the party atmosphere. It was difficult, as he was an outsider, but he could make it seem as though he wasn't uncomfortable at least. Or so he thought.

"You aren't enjoying the party," Takashi stated quite plainly. Apparently Harry was more transparent that previously believed.

"Er, well, it is a nice party," Harry rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Takashi was standing a bit too close for comfort. "I'm just not used to going to these sorts of things, where I don't know anyone. It's no big deal." Though it was a big enough deal for him to decide that fleeing for home was better than to remain.

"Sorry," Harry looked at Takashi strangely; what had he to be sorry for. "I asked Kaoru to invite you."

"Oh," to say that the wizard was surprised would be more than a bit of an understatement. Of course Takashi would be worried about him just hanging out in the corner then, and more so if he hadn't shown up at all. "Er, well I just -"

But Takashi shook his head to cut Harry off and led him over to the table Mitsukuni was sitting at, eating one of Harry's specialty strawberry cakes. Harry had to admit that being with his two friends did make the experience more enjoyable, but he felt guilty since he felt like he was forcing himself on them despite the fact that it was Takashi that had forced Harry on them.

"Look, Takashi-kun, it's not that I don't appreciate it, but maybe I should be heading back home now," Harry sighed. It was almost midnight, and he was feeling no more fitting in than he had been before. He may have been moneyed, but that didn't mean his personality was adjusted for it.

He knew better than to think that he fit in this this sort.

This time Takashi did not stop him, but instead followed him to the coat room where he retrieved the warm jacket that would act as his insulation until he got close enough to the gates that no one would notice him apparating.

"Look, thanks for inviting me," Harry said sheepishy. Takashi was standing too close again, and Harry did his best to look just to the left of Takashi's ear, where a clock displayed it was less than 30 seconds to midnight. "I guess I just wasn't in a party mood." Not quite accurate, but close enough.

"Ten!" The count down had started.

"Nine!" Harry smiled weakly at Takashi and stepped around him to get to the door.

"Eight!" He took a step.

"Seven!" From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Takashi turning as well.

"Six!" Harry took another step.

"Five!" And another.

"Four!" And another.

"Three!" He pushed open the door.

"Two!" His wrist was suddenly caught, and Harry felt himself starting to be turned around.

"One!" He was wheeled completely around another arm was around his waist.

The lips pressed against Harry's shut hit brain down quite well, because he barely noticed anything but that sensation until Takashi had pulled away. Harry had to work to focus his eyes again on the taller boy.

"Um.. H-happy New Year?" Harry blinked. That was a lot better than the mistletoe kiss with Cho or the rather disturbing snogging sessions with Ginny.

Takashi seemed to take this as a good sign and kissed Harry again, this time for no reason. But Harry certainly wasn't going to be complaining.

Happy New Year indeed.

Author's Note: Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Blissful Festivus, Cheery Solstice, whatever it is you celebrate, most especially to Marauder's Heir with this one (as it's her gift). Decided to just make IWTH into a Takashi/Harry one-shot collection, and so it is. There's one more I'm posting this season, and I may or may not add more to it later, but that's how it is.

Yeah, the title is a pun. Harry is a baker and uses dough and Snape's patronus of Lily is a silver doe. I get my punniness from my mom, even if she DOES live 400 miles away. So there. (On a side note, I'm totally happy with her right now because she got me a DS for Xmas; I'm not supposed to know, but I do. The surprise being ruined was ruined further by the power going out at Game Stop when the person picking up the DS got to the register. Stupid snow.)

Er... killed Ron... I just don't like him. I'm kind of curious if I will ever write a story where he isn't bad or doesn't die or something... hm... I dunno.

(1) It basically means 'welcome', and pretty much all shop keepers in Japan say it when someone enters. It's a cultural thing, so I kept it as is.

(2) Pronounced (and spelled) in Japanese as Bekkeru Herison (or that's how it comes out when I try it; I'll ask Tamura-sensei when school starts back up).