A/N:

this fic was suggested by Zenbujin, made possible by Mare, who helped with the general direction of this, and also encouraged by my lovely enablers. ty guys :)

this takes place before the epilogue of 'the office tribute'. think of it as the catalyst for the meeting.

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The Office Party

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Harry was minding the punch bowl in Tom's absence—really, who on earth was going to spike a punch bowl when there was already alcohol?—when Pansy sidled up to him.

Sidled was a good word for it, because there was a mischievous look on her face that bode nothing but trouble.

"Hello," Harry said cautiously. "Did you want some punch?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Pansy's gaze wandered up and down Harry's form, from head to mid-chest. "A little birdie told me something the other day."

"Oh?" Harry asked warily. While Pansy was known for fanning the flames of office gossip, she would never offer information for free. He had every reason to be suspicious of her.

"While I think it's very, very adorable how into each other you and Riddle are, suffice to say that the rest of the office is a little... less than thrilled with your stunning displays of PDA."

Harry coughed. "What?" He hadn't thought he and Tom were indecorous. In fact, they kept their relationship pretty private; behind closed doors. So while it was sort of true that they were up to things while at work, Harry hadn't thought that everyone else knew about it. What kind of PDA was Pansy even talking about?

"Of course, I don't think it's an issue," Pansy continued. "And as the one in charge of Human Resources, I'll be the one to handle any issues. Which I don't believe there will be," she added hastily, "because everyone at the office likes you, Harry."

Harry was growing more concerned by the second. "So you think I need to do something about it?"

Pansy smiled, shark-like, her red lipsticked mouth stretching out. "What I think," she said, "is you need to show them exactly what they're missing out on."

"Um," said Harry.

"Sigh," Pansy said.

Harry balked. Did people actually say words like that out loud?

"Harry," she said. "I think you need to show them just what a real kiss between you and Riddle looks like, so they can stop imagining the worst."

Harry wondered what, exactly, the 'worst' looked like, but he felt he was also rather afraid of the answer.

When Harry didn't respond, Pansy pouted. "Just one little kiss," she said. "And let Riddle get a bit handsy—"

"That's a bit much," Harry interrupted, cheeks flaming.

"—and then people will see you're just like any other horny couple," Pansy finished. "And they'll stop asking me if I think Riddle's tying you up in his office during lunch hour."

Harry's face must have done something interesting, because Pansy added, "Not that I'll judge you if you do get up to those sorts of things. Just keep it out of the office next time, hmm?"

By the time Tom was back from the bathroom, Harry had yet to come to a decision on what to do. His initial instinct had been to just tell Tom what Pansy had said, and then let Tom handle the situation. But given what Harry knew of Tom, he was worried the reaction would be disproportionate to the crime.

Not to mention that while Tom was very much the possessive type—always touching the small of Harry's back, or his shoulder, or an arm wound around Harry's waist—he wasn't actually a PDA type. They didn't kiss in public at the office; Tom never initiated anything of the sort unless they were in private.

So the task of getting Tom to kiss him in public was most definitely a challenge.

"No one came near the punch bowl while you were gone," Harry informed Tom as he drew near. "I think you standing next to it and glaring all evening scared them off the punch permanently."

"Very funny, Harry." Tom hadn't had a sip of alcohol all night, either.

"Someone's got to enjoy themselves," Harry said. "Might as well be me making fun of you."

Tom sighed. Then he touched his hand to Harry's shoulder blade momentarily, as though to reassure himself that Harry was still here with him.

"It's a party," Harry continued. "You need to loosen up a bit."

"I'm still in charge here," Tom said, his tone only mildly condescending. It was an improvement, Harry thought, that the tone was only mild. They would work on that some more.

"Yes," Harry said, beaming, "and I'm in charge of the chaos. Which makes us the perfect pair."

Tom's eyes narrowed, as they ought to whenever Harry brought up his title of honour.

"So I was thinking—" Harry began.

"Always a delight to hear that."

"Shut up," Harry said. "Anyways, I was thinking you should have a drink."

Tom's brows rose up his forehead. "Oh?" he asked. He did not sound as though he was taking Harry's request very seriously.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding his head. "Because what I really, really wanted was for all of us to get along, and for you to come out to drinks with us. Remember? Only you said that there was a snowball's chance in hell of that happening, and that is how we ended up here, at this party—"

"Very expository of you," Tom said, not convinced.

"So the point of all this was for you to relax and have a good time with everyone," Harry said. "And that's not going to happen while you're standing here making grumpy faces."

Tom's face immediately smoothed over from its previous disgruntled expression into a blank canvas of neutrality. It was actually kind of hilarious.

"Please?" Harry wheedled. "Just one drink, so you can make my wish come true—"

"This is the most ridiculous thing you've ever asked of me," Tom said. "Why are you so fixated on my alcohol consumption at this party?"

Harry shrugged. Mostly he was curious to see if he could get Tom to kiss him, but he also really did want Tom to fit in more amongst the staff.

It was a hard thing to do, because Tom had started off as a mean, scary boss, and even after a short while of Harry doing his best to wrangle Tom's behaviour, Tom wasn't the socializing type.

Harry was fairly sure Tom's only real friend was Draco's cousin, Lucius.

"Please?" Harry repeated. He reached for Tom's arm and gave it a tug. "And maybe we can go talk to some of the others? I'm sure the punch bowl can handle itself for a few minutes. I'll even call Ron over to watch it, if you want."

Tom hesitated, his mouth twitching into a frown, and Harry took the opportunity to pounce.

"If you do," Harry said, "then tomorrow we can do whatever you want."

Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant they both would be free. Harry had an idea of what Tom would want to do, and it would probably involve buying Harry a new wardrobe of tight-fitting clothing.

"Anything?" Tom asked, amused. "Does this really mean that much to you?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "It does."

"One drink, then," said Tom. "And we may socialize with two associates of your choosing."

"This isn't a business transaction." Harry made sure that Tom was looking at him, and then very deliberately rolled his eyes.

"Those are my terms."

"Fineee," Harry said, taking Tom's arm in his and proceeding to drag him along. "Let's get you a drink."

Two drinks later, Harry was still holding onto Tom's arm, and they were listening to Daphne talk about her cousin's destination wedding.

It was a testimony to the power of a nice buzz that Tom was only standing there and listening rather than interrupting with snide remarks about the frivolities of nuptials.

At one point, Harry made the mistake of engaging in eye contact with Pansy, who was across the room. She winked at him, smirking, and Harry felt his face flush for the second time that evening.

Tom chose that moment to look over at him. "Something the matter, Harry?"

"No," Harry said. "Just... having a nice time. Talking."

Tom's expression remained skeptical. "Let's get you some water," he decided. Then, to Daphne, "We'll be right back."

Harry accepted a cup of water from Tom. "I'm fine, really."

Tom said nothing, and so Harry took that as his cue to drink from the cup. The water was icy and helped with the lingering embarrassment from Pansy's smug gaze.

"Are you having a good time now?" Harry asked hopefully.

"It's nicer than I imagined it being," Tom allowed. "But I do find my thoughts are more preoccupied with what we'll do tomorrow."

Okay, maybe Harry could lean into that. "I know you've been dying to replace my wardrobe," Harry said. "So I thought I should at least be getting something in exchange."

"You're getting a new wardrobe, isn't that exchange enough?"

"I could think of a few more things to ask for," Harry said slyly. He was feeling ridiculously fond of Tom in this moment, and suddenly Pansy's idea seemed far more attainable than it had an hour ago.

Tom was smiling, and his eyes were warm, warm, warm, like cozy rolled-up blanket tunnels. "What might those be?"

"Hmm." Harry pretended to think about it. "Like maybe a kiss?"

Tom was frowning again, which Harry did not like to see. Harry raised a hand to poke his index finger at the side of Tom's face.

"Frowning like that will give you wrinkles," Harry said.

Tom tugged Harry's hand away, holding it in his own, his thumb sweeping a tingling streak over the inside of Harry's wrist. They were standing closer together than before, Harry noted.

"Let me guess," Tom said. "A cure for wrinkles comes with a kiss?"

Harry nodded. "Yup. Got it in one."

Tom's eyes dropped to Harry's mouth, and Harry felt his heart do a backflip. They were almost there!

Harry widened his eyes, wondering if what he was about to do would be too obvious. "I just want people to see that we're really together."

Tom's hand closed entirely around Harry's, the fingers squeezing. "We are," Tom said, voice tight. "We are together."

Oops. A little too far with that one. "Yes," Harry said quickly. "We are. So I want to be able to kiss you where people can see. We're not at work right now. It's a party, and everyone's a little drunk. No one's going to mind."

"It's still unprofessional," Tom pointed out.

"To hell with it," Harry said. The alcohol must be making him feel bolder than usual tonight. "Screw professionalism. I'd like to kiss you."

This forwardness was enough to catch Tom off guard; his mouth parted slightly in surprise.

Harry maneuvered himself so he was in front, his hand still encased in Tom's, and bounced on the balls of his feet. "You know you want to."

"That is such a juvenile thing to say—" Tom started, and oh, that there was definitely a blush. That was a blush on Tom's face.

Harry grinned. "But is it working? Do you want to?"

"Harry, no," said Tom.

Harry knew Tom was only being contrary, so he placed his free hand on Tom's chest, running it down the length of his tie, and shifted, leaning in so that their chests were almost touching. The opportunity was too good to pass up.

"Harry, yes," said Harry.

And then he kissed Tom with every ounce of incredible affection he felt, so that Tom stumbled back a half step, his hands moving to bracket Harry's hips as he braced himself.

Someone was already whistling in the background. Harry didn't mind, only he was sure Tom would want to murder whoever it had been.

Once satisfied, Harry pulled back, pleased to see that Tom's hair was mussed and his lips were pink, his eyes a bit glazed as they looked Harry over.

"I know, I know," Harry said. He dropped his chin, gazing up from under his eyelashes, playing coy. "I'm incorrigible. Isn't it great?"

Tom sniffed, but he did not pull his hands away from Harry's waist. Then Tom spun them around so that Harry was now the one with his back towards the wall. In their new position, Tom's face was no longer visible to the crowd. So the kiss was half of a win.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "Come Monday, I'm sure you'll remind them all how scary you are."

Come Monday morning, things at the office were back to normal. Tom and Harry had arrived together, and then Tom had gone straight to his office to settle in for the day. The abruptness didn't bother Harry—they worked here, and the work was obviously important to Tom, who took pride in their results.

As Harry had expected, or maybe dreaded, Pansy came by his desk fifteen minutes after nine.

"Hello," Harry said. He was nervous, which made absolutely no sense, because it wasn't as though Pansy was here to assign him a score out of ten for his performance.

"I'm here to deliver the verdict," Pansy declared.

Ginny popped up over the cubicle wall. "Is this about Friday night? I didn't think Riddle could ever look that flustered. It was kind of hot."

Everyone in this office was insane. That was what Harry had learned from all of this.

"As far as PDA goes, it was sickeningly adorable," Pansy said. "As far as what the office thinks—"

Harry had to wonder why they were doing this here, now, aloud, where said 'office' could listen in on them.

"—maybe a bit more tongue next time."

"What?" said Harry.

"What?" said Ron, from the wall to Harry's left. "Come off it, Parkinson! A party is one thing. I don't need to be reminded of what goes on during Harry's lunch hour—"

"Hey," Harry protested. "I'm right here!"

"Right. Sorry. I'm very happy for you, Harry," Ron said, "but really, I liked it better when we pretended our boss was a sexless being."

Harry was getting a little annoyed by the discussion of his private life. Which was semi-understandable because they all worked together, but everyone was making this a lot weirder than it had to be.

"Okay," Harry said. "I'm going to go talk to Tom about this." And then he stood up.

"Wait, wait," Ginny said. "Let's not be hasty, Harry. If—if you want tongue next time, then you can have it—" She cut off mid-sentence, giggling.

"Some of us are trying to get work done," Hermione called out. "Keep the talk of tongues outside of office hours!"

Harry ignored the resulting laughter and made his way to Tom's door. He knocked twice, waited for Tom to answer, then pushed his way inside.

"Harry?" Tom looked up. "Did you need something?"

"They're making fun of us," Harry said.

At that, Tom's entire demeanour changed. He turned away from his monitor, his entire attention now devoted to Harry; he was very, very focused. "Oh? Do we have names?"

"Names don't matter," Harry told him. "They're all equally terrible."

"This is what happens when you're too nice," Tom said. "That's when people start to take advantage—"

"No, not like that." Harry shook his head. "Everyone here just has the mentality of a twelve year old."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "So what do you want me to do about this, then? I assume that's why you're in here."

"I'm calling a ceasefire on our prank war," Harry said.

"Stop calling it a prank war. You're the one pranking me—"

Harry waved it off. Tom would succumb to fun eventually. "And instead," Harry continued, "we will focus our efforts on payback."

"Which will consist of?"

"You know the phrase 'be careful what you wish for'?" Harry asked. "Something like that."

Tom leant back in his chair, his brows knitting together. "And what does that mean?" Tom asked, irritation colouring the words.

"It means that since they think they can make comments on us as a couple, then we should really give them something to talk about."

Tom made a face.

"Come on," Harry said. "They're going to say what they want anyways. Why not have a little fun with it? Go over the top, full-on couples stuff."

"Sounds like a pain."

"Look at what I'm wearing," Harry said, gesturing with a flat hand. "This suit has three pieces. Three. This is the definition of pain."

"I think you look very handsome," Tom said idly, and his eyes wandered up and down Harry's body, as though to visually confirm this fact.

"We can afford to be a little exaggerated in the workplace," Harry said, ignoring Tom's comment. "Ron already covers his ears when I talk about our dates. It can't be that hard. Plus," Harry added, "you'll get to show off your acting skills."

Tom made a vague noise of consideration, and so Harry knew he was moving in the right direction.

"Think about how distressed they'll be," Harry said.

"I thought they were your friends," Tom said. The corner of his mouth was curling into the beginning of a smile.

"They are," Harry said, "but that doesn't mean they don't deserve to suffer a little bit."

"It's a very peculiar way of exacting revenge."

"You'll see," Harry said. "It'll be worth it. It's like every rom-com movie I've ever watched."

"Fine," Tom said. He slid back in his chair and got to his feet. "Let me see you to the door, then."

Harry hadn't really moved away from the door since he'd come into the room, but he waited for Tom to approach anyway.

Tom's arm moved past Harry's torso for the doorknob. Then the door swung open, only Harry was technically standing in between the doorframe and Tom's body, meaning he didn't have a clear path back out to the main office area.

Harry was about to squirm out and away when Tom's arm curled around him, drawing him in. Then they were pressed together, chest and hips, and Harry opened his mouth to ask what was going on, only then Tom covered the question up completely as he descended upon Harry's lips with his own.

Everything else was forgotten for a good period of time while they snogged, and then Tom released him, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face.

"That ought to tide you over until lunch," Tom said, just loud enough to be heard by all the eavesdroppers. And then he gave the top of Harry's head a light ruffle.

Harry felt his face go red. Tom was such a git. Of course Tom had to start off this entire thing without any sort of warning whatsoever.

"Sure, darling," Harry said, just as sweetly. "Just try not to fumble with the ties this time, okay? I like my knots a little tighter than that."

Tom's face twitched, the mask cracking slightly. Harry smothered his own grin and walked back to his desk.

Once there, Harry switched his monitor back on and settled into his chair. The rest of the office was very, very quiet.

Peace at last, Harry thought. He stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. Time to get some actual work done. Maybe he'd even ask Tom to order in pizza for lunch today. Just as a little treat for a job well done.

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END.

A/N:

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