A/N:

this is for Sanya (tomarryherewewhoaagain on AO3 and tumblr) because we keep coming up with terrible, terrible ideas.

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For Your Love

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On the screen of Harry's laptop, the main character, a young boy, was wandering through a house full of mirrors. In the reflection of the mirrors, another young boy was following along, his hand pressed against his side of the glass.

"I'm feeling pizza tonight," Ron said idly, lounging back on the couch and lolling his head to the side.

"I got it covered." Harry paused the movie and took out his phone, pulling up one of his contacts.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked. "You've been paying a lot lately."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said, waving him off. "Don't worry about it." It wasn't his money, so it wasn't his worry.

Hey can you get two pepperoni pizzas delivered to my flat? Thanks

Large?

Yes thanks

Harry put his phone away. He didn't really expect an answer. "Alright. It should be on its way."

Ron squinted at him. "That easy? You're using one of those ordering apps?"

"Something like that." Harry unpaused the movie and reached for his glass of ice water to tide him over until the pizza arrived.

The two boys on the screen were staring with longing at each other through the veil of the mirror. Harry yawned, his mind wandering away despite his attempt to pay attention. Tom was away on 'business', but he would be back by tomorrow. Harry would go and bug him then.

Tom are you home

Tom?

Okay I'm just going to let myself in

Hope you're not committing murder or something cause that would be awkward

WTF WHY IS YOUR ENTIRE LIVING ROOM SOAKED IN BLOOD

DID YOU ACTUALLY KILL SOMEONE IN HERE

Oops.

OOPS?

Don't touch anything. I'll be there in twenty.

Several days later, Harry was having lunch with Hermione at their usual spot. Hermione had ordered a strawberry banana smoothie and a salmon poke bowl. Harry had stuck to his tried and true order of three kinds of chicken wings with a side of crinkle-cut chips and a large glass of lemonade.

"How are things with Tom?" she asked while they ate.

"Things are good," Harry told her. "His business is really taking off."

"Oh? How so?"

"He's gotten some new financial backers." Via blackmail and extortion. "Also the increased interest means he can afford to charge higher prices." One of the perks of having an impeccable reputation in the underworld.

"For a hotline?" Hermione asked skeptically.

Right. Harry had forgotten about that. It was alarming how often he forgot about that, actually. He better not slip up someday and let out Tom's dirty little secret. "Well, er, they've branched out since then," Harry defended. "They're doing other services now."

"Like what?"

"...Counselling." When Tom was bored and between assassin hits, he sat around making aesthetic Pinterest boards full of self-help quotes and romantic song lyrics, then sent them off to Harry. It was kind of therapeutic if you stood several kilometers away and squinted both eyes until they were nearly shut. Or until they were actually shut.

Hermione snorted. "Is Tom even qualified for that?"

Harry didn't know what to say so he shrugged and kept quiet. To his relief, Hermione did not seem interested in pushing for an answer, and soon the conversation switched to safer topics like the time Tom had let himself into Harry's flat without asking, sat there in the dark like an absolute weirdo, then gotten a black eye from a terrified Harry for his troubles. It was not Harry's fault. Harry was understandably prepared to be attacked in his own home because his boyfriend was an assassin. It was Tom's fault for being stupid and dramatic.

"Lunch is on me," Harry said later, when the waitress came by asking after dessert.

"You paid last week," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes. "Nice try, Harry."

"No, really. Tom owes me fifty. Consider it his money."

Hermione scrutinized him for a moment longer, then conceded, "That's fine, then. But I'm paying next."

They ordered ice-cream sundaes for dessert. Harry paid the bill and tipped extra.

Can I come over later?

Of course, darling. You don't have to ask. I gave you a key for that reason.

I kind of do unless we want a repeat of last week

I had to throw my hoodie out cause of the bloodstains :(

That won't happen again, I promise you.

I'll buy you five new hoodies to make up for it.

That is illegal

You are not allowed to do that

I will return them or give them to Ron

:(

Using my frowny face against me is also illegal

:(

"Are you sure you don't need this?" Ginny asked dubiously, hands wrapped around a box that contained an unopened coffee maker. Harry had picked one out on Amazon after doing some heavy research on the different models to determine the best one for her.

"I already have one! Really, it's only going to go to waste if you don't take it."

"I find it hard to believe you've happened to lay hands on one so soon after mine broke. If I find out that you bought this—"

"You can even look at my purchase history," Harry said solemnly, laying a hand over his heart. "All my credit bills too, if you don't believe me."

"Unless you paid cash."

"C'mon, Ginny," Harry said, rolling his eyes for good measure. "If I was going to try and force you into taking something, wouldn't I have bought a new one for myself and given you my old one? That would have been an easier argument because I know you don't like charity. I promise you I didn't pay for this."

"I'm still suspicious of you," Ginny said. She squinted and poked his shoulder roughly. "But I will accept this if only because I require my daily morning caffeine to survive."

"That is all I ask, that you continue to survive. Who else is going to watch Bake Off with me?"

"I think Tom would do anything you asked of him," Ginny said with a snort. "But thank you, Harry."

Harry shrugged and smiled. "You're welcome."

Ginny left his flat with a giddy little skip in her step that she couldn't quite hide. Harry was fairly sure it would be a lot more pronounced if she knew exactly how that coffee maker had come into his possession.

I have two more stops to make

I'll text again when I'm closer

I'll be waiting.

Harry managed to catch Neville on his way out the door. Which was good, because it would have been awkward to show up at Tom's with Neville's present.

"Damn, Harry. Where'd you find these? They've been sold out in-stores for weeks." Neville ran a hand over the glossy cover of the enormous botany book that Harry had located for re-sale on eBay.

"Got it online for a cheap price."

"I can't believe it!" Neville shook his head. "I've been watching the listings ever since they started cropping up. They are absurdly overpriced, Harry."

Harry grinned. "Call it that good old Potter luck, then."

Luna dangled a pair of sparkling stained-glass earrings in front of her. "These are lovely! The Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are very true to form. Did you have them custom made?"

"Yeah, do you like them?"

"I love them, Harry." Luna beamed and kissed Harry on the cheek before she pulled him in for a hug. "Thank you."

Harry hugged her back. "You're welcome. I wanted to do something nice for everyone."

"You're always nice. You don't have to do extra things for us."

"I know."

"Does Tom know you're spending all this money?"

Harry flushed. "No." It wasn't… This wasn't strictly Tom's business. Maybe he should have been telling Tom what he was up to, but he also knew what Tom would say. That wasn't particularly a conversation he wanted to have.

"Okay." Luna patted his arm and drew back.

"I'm going to see him now," Harry told her. He felt bad now. "I'll… bring it up."

"You're a good person," she said kindly. "So is Tom. I'm sure Tom will understand once you explain."

'Good person' was not a label that Harry would apply to Tom, but the sentiment wasn't too far off, so he nodded anyway and bid Luna farewell.

On my way now!

See you soon, my love.

When Harry arrived at Tom's flat, most of the lights were off. Harry set his coat on the rack and called out, "Tom? Are you in your room?"

There was a muffled sound from further in. Cautiously, Harry followed it to Tom's bedroom and pushed open the door.

A quick survey of the room showed that Tom's computer was running even though the screen was off. Tom, on the other hand, was lying face down on his bed, face buried into his pillow.

"Tom? Tom? Oh my god, are you okay?" Harry went over and laid a hand on Tom's shoulder, shaking roughly.

"Yes." The fact that the affirmative was muffled by Tom's navy bed covers was not reassuring. "I'm fine." Tom knocked his hand away with his elbow.

Harry tried to relax. "Doesn't sound like it. Is something bothering you? You haven't been sending me as many texts this week." Being Tom's boyfriend was akin to being Tom Riddle Update Central. While Tom kept the details of his work out of their text messages, he did see fit to update Harry with quite literally anything and everything else he was doing, up to and including the creation of a new Pinterest board.

Tom rolled over onto his back and stared up at Harry. His expression was distinctly morose, like he was a golden retriever that had just been told that there would be no more walkies for the foreseeable future. "I want to buy you a car."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "No! Why do you want to do that? I don't need a car."

Tom sat up and folded his arms across his chest. "Because I want to."

"Tom," Harry said, exasperated. He sat down on the bed. "Buying me a car isn't going to fix whatever it is that's bothering you."

"It might. You don't know that."

Tom reached out and tugged on Harry's hand until Harry got the hint and laid his head on Tom's shoulder. They sat there for a while, listening to the faint background whir of Tom's expensive computer, and then Tom said, "Why do you keep asking Lucius for money?"

Harry blinked. He had expected this question, but hearing it so bluntly still threw him a little. "You told me—"

"I know what I told you," Tom snapped. He had told Harry to ask Lucius for anything he needed, emphasis on the 'anything'. "I didn't expect you to actually do it." His eyes narrowed. "You never let me buy you anything. Why is it different when it's him paying?"

"I'm not spending that much," Harry protested. Then he realized that was not going to be reassuring to Tom, who was feeling… neglected? Because Harry wouldn't let him be a sugar daddy. "It's just that the Malfoys have boatloads of money, you know? Me asking for some pizza is hardly anything. It's definitely less than whatever Draco Malfoy spends on a weekly basis."

For a man like Lucius Malfoy, Harry's spending habits were probably the equivalent of having a second, less-needy child that he only had partial custody of.

Tom's brows pulled together for a moment, then smoothed out. "So this is about exercising control over him?"

"Uh, no. It's not that."

Tom went back to frowning. "Then what?"

"It's one thing to take advantage of a rich asshole and spend all his money. It's another thing to let you, who doesn't technically have the benefit of tossing a thousand quid around, spend money on me. Does that make sense?"

Tom did not seem convinced, if the creases on his face were any indication.

Harry sighed. "Think of it this way: if you hadn't roped the Malfoys into your business in the first place, I wouldn't be able to mooch off them to begin with. You're the one controlling them, not me."

"Fine. I suppose you have a point."

Tom was still pouting. Harry sighed. "I'll let you get me a bike. How about that?"

"...How about a vespa?"

"No."

"Fine." Tom wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and shifted closer. "But it will be a very expensive bike."

"If it makes you happy, then yes. An expensive bike." Harry pecked Tom on the lips and snuggled in. He'd just have to make sure Tom didn't get too carried away and buy a two seater or something.

.

END.

A/N:

when harry says tom owes him money and lucius is supposed to pay up for him, lucius has two choices:

1. ask tom if he's supposed to do it, which can lead to tom being like "YES, OBVIOUSLY, WHY ARE YOU EVEN WASTING OXYGEN BY ASKING ME" or "WHAT HARRY WANTS HARRY GETS, YOU MORON, IT DOESN'T MATTER IF IT'S TRUE OR NOT"

2. just give harry the money without fact checking and live to die another day