Curfew Violations
-v-
26th Violation
**Holiday Special**
(Part 1)
-v-
Christmas at Riddle Manor was always ostensibly festive.
Long before and ever since he'd brought home that whelp of his and raised him into the legitimate heir of the Riddle interests and fortune, Tom Sr. had been made to care about the holiday façade.
It wasn't that he disliked this time of year…specifically.
His young wife—Lucille, had a thing for holiday cheer and shopping in general, but she grew even more voracious around this season and made sure her luxury needs and effusive wants were catered to in all the very best, showy and expensive ways, which spilt over into lots of fanciful decorations all over the grounds and residence, commissioned evergreens fully decked out and lining the paths and drive, as well as a humongous monstrosity in the entrance hall which shimmered and glittered like the Godzilla King of Christmas cheer.
Growing up, Tom Sr. had been involved in more functions and black tie affairs this time of year than he cared to ruminate on, spearheaded by his deceased sire on many an occasion, sucking all the sentimentality and actual familial joy out of the holiday and making way for business negotiations and New Year arrangements and contracts which would carry over into profitable future prospects all round.
Nothing like eggnog, classic carols, and ceremonial drinking plus sexual exploitation to get proposals signed, pockets lined, and hefty debts resolved or otherwise zeroed out.
His father had always impressed upon Tom Sr. the importance of pomp and circumstances surrounding festive gatherings which brought together all and sundry under the guise of wholesome entertainment and charitable donations which could make or break an institution reliant on such good will and stunted publicity.
Everybody wanted a reason to look good at least once a year. Everybody wanted an excuse to be happy and flaunt their ludicrous wealth amongst their wealthiest compatriots and partners in order to seem just as important and well-appointed as they effectively (or ineffectively) projected during the fiscal year.
It was always good business to do business during the busiest season of the year.
And while everybody had a good time and enjoyed what such excitements and raucous entertainment brought, it was prime time for the vultures to scavenge amongst the inebriated and otherwise reckless investors of society's elite.
So no…Tom Sr. didn't dislike this time of the year…specifically. He tolerated and took it for all that it was.
An indelible opportunity wrapped up in a neat little bow, placed beneath murdered greenery and shiny baubles broken out for one purpose and one purpose only—the distraction of greedy eyes with shiny things to detract from all the corruption of endless shadows closing in.
And who better to pass on such traditional knowledge and wisdom to than his heir, whom he also tolerated and was tolerated by in return…always during this auspicious season of holiday effluence and cheer.
"Hun, what about Tommy? You haven't spoken to him yet, and I wanna get the portrait done ahead of the guests this year..."
Tom Sr. rolled his eyes surreptitiously and pressed an indulgent kiss to his wife's cherry red, pouting lips as he passed through the bustling kitchen full of the smells of holiday roast and sugary confections being prepped for the Christmas Eve festivities scheduled for that evening—snagging a flute of bubbly champagne along the way and squeezing her perfectly rounded bottom like the caveman he secretly was.
Lucille gasped and smacked his arm playfully as he stepped away, sipping from his drink and replying, "He'll be here. Relax. We have a working arrangement. He knows his duties."
"Call him! You know he's bound to try and skip if you don't! Remember last year…"
Tom Sr. drifted off, tuning his supple young wife's whining voice out as he made for the sanctuary of his private office and drawing room.
The Manor was alive with activity, with interior decorators putting the finishing touches on rooms throughout the house and altogether making a harried nuisance of themselves, alongside the cleaning staff and extra butlers and maids hired exclusively for support during the special function.
The things he put up with for seasonal inflation. Tom Sr. sighed in relief as he entered his sanctum—well apart from the infiltration of all and sundry.
Snatching up his cordless office line, Tom Sr. speed dialed his son and settled down into his comfiest arm chair by the fireside for another charming conversation with his spiteful genius of a bad seed.
Ring~ Riiiing~Riiiiiiing….CLICK.
"Father. What do you want?"
Tom Sr. smirked and took a slow drag from his thin flute. "Happy holidays, son. I was just thinking of you and decided to call. Lucille sends her regards."
A heavy sigh rattled through the speaker, and Tom Sr. wondered if it was normal to feel so much internalized glee from antagonizing his offspring.
"Apparently you and I have two different dictionaries. Apocalypse does not equate season greetings."
"I'll tell her you sent your love—such that it is. She'll be thrilled."
"…if there is a point to your idiocy, get to it before I hang up."
"My…you are a scrooge. No matter. You must come to the Manor today. Preferably a couple of hours before the guests arrive. And I expect you to put in an appearance at the party."
Tom Sr. heard a rather loud and derisive snort, and then there was the sound of rustling movement—alongside a muffled soft voice, to which his son was indistinctly murmuring in uncharacteristically gentle tones.
Tom Sr. raised a high brow and glanced dubiously at his nearly drained flute. If his ears weren't drunk already…he could swear somebody else was with his son at (his eyes darted to the mantle clock) 8:45AM on the morning of Christmas Eve.
Tom Sr. cleared his throat noisily. "Are you…with someone? Tom…Tom!"
There was muffled laughter and an inordinate amount of rustling now. Tom Sr. frowned deeply and glared into the distance as he was effectively ignored for all of a good two minutes.
"Apologies. You were saying?"
Tom Sr. deadpanned in a no nonsense tone. "Four o'clock sharp. You will be at the Manor. You will take photos with Lucille and I, and you will greet our compatriots later in the evening. Do not argue. This is not up for debate. You know your duties."
"…I'd rather not."
"You have no option. Bring your friend or whoever you're fucking around with at the moment—I really don't give a shit. But you will show up. Do not try me."
Silence reigned on the line for so long that Tom Sr. would have thought he'd been hung up on in a fit of outrage, were it not for the litany of hushed words he picked up on being urgently hissed in the background at decibels too low for him to decipher.
As if someone were coaxing his son not to explode into (doubtlessly creative) expletives for the itching ears of homeland security.
Huh.
Since when did his son have anyone like that?
Tom Sr. was beginning to feel rather out of the loop. Even though he didn't keep too abreast of his son's personal life, so long as it didn't interfere with the teen's work ethics…he was distinctly curious and more than a little pissed to be getting the brush off in favor of some stranger whispering in his son's ear.
As though they had some sway over the kid which he didn't—as though his son would actually be prone to listening to someone besides the voice of his own perfunctory obligations…shared generationally between sire and descendant.
It was the one thing they held in common, aside from exclusive genetics.
Tom Sr. didn't know what to feel about the infringement of such permanent actualities by an interloper in this instance.
He already benevolently gifted his son the concession of being allowed to spend his bedamned anniversary however he saw fit, as he preferred to soundly reject being in the despised presence of his actual kin at that time of year…specifically.
And Tom Sr. didn't actually care enough about the date to make a true fuss over his son's staunch avoidance of him during such a period. Not even as the date did coincide with every year's death throes.
Aside from that, they'd long had a working arrangement—that Tom Jr. would always take care of his public obligations, no matter how he felt privately about catering to all the seasonal schmucks.
It always came down to what must be taken care of and done for the benefit of the Riddle interests at large, without fail.
He would loathe to have to try and hammer that lesson through his son's skull any deeper than he already had, simply because Riddle Jr. was feeling rebellious—fraternizing with an obvious paramour (for it could hardly be anything else at this time of year, knitted up together and whispering endlessly as they had been).
"Fine…I—we will be there. Briefly. Don't expect an extended visit."
Tom Sr.'s chest heaved upon a cross sigh; there were always so many teeth to pull. How monotonous.
"Have it your way. Just be on time. And dress to code…that means your guest too."
He could practically taste the eyes rolling in his son's voice, so saturated was the disdain. "If there is nothing else, I would like to not waste my entire morning on you."
"Very well. Your cooperation is appreciated."
CLICK.
Tom Sr. stared at the receiver in his hand as the line went unceremoniously dead. He scoffed, and felt the oddest tugging sensation in his chest, something akin to frustration…but not quite—more nauseating than anything.
Huh.
He must be getting old…
That—or his seed had given him indigestion.
Riddle Sr. banked on the latter, as the former skirted beyond the absurd.
He needed more champagne. It was sure to be an eventful day.
-v-
xXOXx
-v-
Tom hung up the phone on his father and tossed the thing onto the couch with a disgusted scowl.
"H-hey…don't be like that. It's Christmas Eve. Smile…for me…?"
Tom glared irritably at the ceiling, but allowed his long arms to wind petulantly around Harry's naked torso as Harry clambered easily onto his lap beneath the bedsheets, hanging his arms loosely around Tom's neck and strong shoulders, and nuzzling against his ear…before kissing his way tenderly along the side of Tom's determinedly stony face.
Harry smiled as Tom's scowl involuntarily retreated further and further with every lingering press of his lips upon Tom's flawless, ivory skin.
He kept on butterfly kissing spots at random, until he reached Tom's expectantly slackened and parting lips, falling into an indolent…sultry kiss…ripened with thick morning breath fluctuating between them.
Harry wrinkled his nose as Tom's fingers twisted in his hair, forcing him deeper into the mechanics of the kiss before he could draw back again, forcing the issue persistently until Harry was relegated to merely pawing against Tom's chest.
Helplessly panting breathless laughter for the unpleasant taste being left on his tongue, as Tom's mouth worked tirelessly against his own.
That's what you got when you did utterly filthy things at night and neglected to brush your teeth afterwards, Harry knew.
It was hot when it happened, but rather unsavory first thing.
Finally being allowed to breathe untainted air, Harry was quick to force his hand up over Tom's mouth—poised to dive right back into the fray, even as he maintained brokenly between fizzling mirth, "You k-kiss me again…haha…a-after…haaah…you brush."
Tom merely grinned unrepentantly beneath Harry's hand, and raised a cocky eyebrow before knocking Harry sideways onto the bed and pinning his boy effectively to the mattress with his taller body.
"Say you love me." He demanded hotly, purposefully wafting waves of sour air in the general vicinity of Harry's flaring nostrils.
"Unfff…Gerroff!" Harry twisted his head immediately to the side and writhed beneath Tom, outright giggling as he held his breath and struggled to evade Tom's open mouth—which kept blowing air on him most unpleasantly.
"Say it." Tom purred deep as he refused to let up. Tormenting Harry with his own pleasure and groaning darkly as Harry's movements brushed the lengths of their partially clad bodies continuously together, provoking warming friction down below with startling intensity.
Harry gasped aloud as he clearly felt Tom beginning to rise to the occasion.
"N-no! Go brush! Haah…now!" he pushed ineffectually at Tom's shoulder, and legit squealed when Tom crushed him into the sheets and began sucking and licking his way down his body, ignoring all of Harry's protests and hygienic wisdom with the singlemindedness of panther with prey.
"Not 'til I hear it, darling. And you're going to kiss me again…soon…"
Harry thought it patently unfair that Tom was threatening him so ominously with bad breath kissing, but he grinned and bit his lower lip against an abrupt moan as Tom traveled lower and lower on his body, with his offending (but talented) mouth sampling much flesh along the way.
"Unnn…say…wh-what now?"
Tom raised his head and stared heatedly up into mischievous green orbs, shining brightly down at him from beneath disheveled bangs, highlighted further by the rosy flush in Harry's cheeks and his delicately curling lashes brushing his cheekbones on every fluttering blink.
"What you said before…when you remembered."
Harry made a show of visibly wracking his brain, and Tom scrunched up his nose—thoroughly unimpressed, before giving the junction between Harry's groin and thigh a punishing, sharp nip in retaliation.
Harry yelped and thrashed as Tom continued his assault, nipping and sucking a legion of riotous red hickies in scattered locations no one else would ever find.
"Haa…nnngh…T-Tooom…"
Harry was hard enough to be leaking copiously at this point, and Tom studiously ignored the boy's bouncing erection in favor of less fulfilling, but endlessly sensitive and tortuous pursuits.
Harry panted and clawed at the sheets, spreading his legs invitingly as Tom fastidiously marked his skin.
On a last, particularly hard and wet suck—Harry groaned and rasped out at last, "Love you…"
Tom froze mid-motion of relinquishing the bruised skin, peering silently up at Harry as he opened his mouth with triumphantly glinting eyes and murmured all too casually, "Come again?"
Harry exasperatedly rolled his eyes and threaded his fingers graspingly through Tom's ebony curls, before tugging him upwards until they were effectively nose to nose again, and whispering ardently, "You heard me."
Tom widened his eyes theatrically, lifting his brows in a mockery of innocence as he drawled, "My ears seem to malfunctioning this morning. You'll simply have to repeat that."
"I said…" Harry crushed their lips together, kissing Tom open mouthed and uninhibitedly…clashing and twisting their tongues, until they were both forced to resurface for oxygen. "…I love you."
Chest heaving against Harry beneath him, Tom rested his forehead against Harry's own and didn't even try to suppress the goofy, lopsided grin tugging at his well kissed mouth.
"Once more. With feeling." Tom demanded.
Endlessly exasperated—but utterly charmed, Harry complied.
And finally…after a veritable age spent taking care of their hard problems…Tom went to go brush his teeth, starting the day in earnest with Harry dogging his every step.
That was how Christmas Eve officially began for Tom Riddle Jr. that year.
-v-
"You know you don't have to do this, right? It'll be nothing but dressed up stodgy old people and wannabes looking for a shot in the society spotlight. You won't see anything interesting, I assure you."
Harry smoothed his hands over the fine fabric of the customized white ivory and black three-piece suit Tom had taken him out to get that afternoon, grumbling all the while about having to subject Harry to what he deemed an unnecessary trial of patience at an otherwise stressful time of year.
Harry adjusted the buttons at his neck and turned this way and that in front of the dressing room mirror, smiling coyly at Tom as he at last reemerged for appraisal, holding his arms spread in the universal how do I look gesture.
Tom leaned casually against the wall with his arms crossed, and he tilted his head to the side as he raked his eyes intently up and down Harry's sveltely elegant figure. All his boy was missing were wings…and he could be an angel…Tom reckoned.
The irony did not escape him.
Tom himself resembled a rather handsome devil by contrast, standing tall and fit, decked out in his own sleek black suit, tapered specifically to his height and superior build with a vibrant green tie affixed at his neck—purposefully chosen for contrast because it reminded him of Harry's eyes, and not merely as festive costuming.
A part of him was supremely pleased he got to see Harry all dolled up like this.
The remaining portion, however…covetously didn't want to be made to share such a breathtaking sight with anyone else, least of all his undeserving father and those gluttonous rich bastards he called associates.
But alas…needs must demand.
He would be sure to keep Harry by his side at all times during the evening's event.
Tom's eyes gleamed with something muted, and oppressively famished. Harry swallowed thickly and averted his gaze. "Sold, I guess," he murmured with a happy blush staining the bridge of his nose, shuffling his shiny black dress shoe clad feet.
~v~
~v~
"By the way, Tom—" Harry began, commanding Tom's undivided attention as he stepped closer and lowered his voice to an intimate whisper, "A-after we go to your folk's place…can we s-swing by my house? I spoke with Mom yesterday…and she requested us b-both for our traditional Holiday supper. L-Luna will be there too…with her Dad…it should be n-nice…"
Harry stared up at Tom hopefully; eyes sparkling with a luminescence Tom couldn't look away from—even as his stomach flipped and churned curiously at the thought of an actual family gathering for the holidays…with himself and Harry…and Harry's family and friend…plus one.
It sounded like the type of thing typified in Hallmark films.
Tom wasn't sure just how he felt about the prospect of such an authentic assembling.
It was one thing to be in an intimate setting with people when he had a particular function and reason to be around them. He handled being at the hospital well enough amongst Harry's extended loved ones off and on, because he'd had a definite place there…by Harry's side.
And while he was still by Harry's side…still very much attached at the hip to all things regarding his boy…Tom felt a strange hesitation to attend such a genuine thing.
It didn't help that it'd be his first honorary scene of such…in ever.
His father and that woman did not count. They never had to him.
That man was more a business partner and means to an end that anything else, evidenced by his abandonment and later obligatory recollection of his son.
Tom only called him father because of the wasted instrumental seed—and naught else.
Lucille was a hanger-on and far too…much and little, to mean anything to him. She wasn't his mother. She was his father's bed warmer…a mere twelve years his senior.
It was no secret his old man was rather lecherous in his own right for such fine and tender flesh.
Tom didn't spare much thought to either of the two of them outside formal occasions and forcibly coerced interactions. They were the white noise background to his singular accomplishments.
"…you in there…Tom…?"
Harry's voice echoed as he was touching Tom, squeezing the taller teen's shoulder and frowning in concern, as Tom's mind had uncharacteristically wandered away from the immediacy of their current situation and down the rabbit hole to his patent lack of sentimental family ties.
"You want me at your…family gathering…?" Tom stared blankly at Harry as he spoke in monotone, and Harry flashed him a rather disarming, worried and awkward grin.
"Why d-do you sound so shocked? I want all my l-loved ones together…and that includes you—always."
Tom nodded slowly, allowing that to sink in the way it needed to…the way he desired it to…through his bones and into the marrow, until his blood was sufficiently poisoned by it, pumping throughout the whole of his heart—heating the blood soaked flesh to unbearable warmness in his chest cavity, being seared open like so much cracked stone beneath the sun's rays.
"Maybe I should tell you m-more often…as you don't seem to believe it…yet..." Harry was teasing him now—gently, cautiously pressing his hand to Tom's chest…sliding it upwards until it settled against Tom's cheek. The lightest pressure he could feel like a sensuous brand, traveling in a steady stream down the length of his spine.
Tom turned his head to the side, holding Harry's hand in place whilst their gazes locked. He pressed his lips affectionately to Harry's fingers; kissing them all briefly—radiating a near smug gratification for the goosebumps he could see peppering Harry's delicate skin.
His boy was becoming flustered.
Tom's voice affected a rumbling purr as he walked Harry backwards into the curtained off dressing room, smiling as they were concealed from all and sundry, and Harry's eyes dilated rapidly as he continued to stare up into Tom's own glinting, hazel orbs, with the ghost of resurrected arousal manifesting upon his sweet face.
"I would recommend wearing the suit out of here, but I'm afraid we'll have to visit the stylist next, and I do not wish for your clothes to be ruined by stray hairs and shampoo stains and such…so it has to come off…"
Harry dry swallowed and murmured, "I'm sure they h-have drapes…you needn't w-worry about that…"
Tom smirked, beginning to slowly unbutton Harry's suit from the waist up as he sighed aloud, "I'd rather not chance it."
If the genial shop attendant noticed two of his customers had suddenly disappeared, and strange…insidious noises were drifting about from the dressing room, he wisely held his tongue and chalked it up to the holiday influence.
Some people were merely unable to restrain themselves this time of year.
Aahh…youth.
He remembered it well.
-v-
After leaving the previous shop, permanently red faced and stammering with Tom toting Harry's purchased suit all bagged and zipped up, wearing his own suit out of the shop as he grinned wolfishly at the endlessly polite attendant, and paid for them both—judiciously concealing the receipt from his boy's averted eyes, so as not to provoke an unnecessary heart attack, Harry and the older teen made their way to the only available hairdresser in town…a mere hour before they were set to close for the holidays.
Now Harry was sat in the chair beneath a full bodied tarp, glaring lightly in obvious silent accusation at Tom through the mirror—who licked his lips slowly, and smirked back at him, utterly unabashed by his earlier display of depravity in a public location under the flimsiest excuse of protecting the suit.
Now Harry would have to do another change out before they made it to Riddle Manor.
Harry sighed, and fought off an unbidden smile tugging at the corner of his mouth for Tom's continued interest in having him in all ways, at all times.
You'd think he'd be well sated by now…but Harry wouldn't complain. Whatever Tom wanted from him, so long as it kept the other near and well attached, he'd provide.
He just hoped they never got arrested for stuff like what Tom so readily did to him in that dressing room.
His parents would not be impressed.
-v-
Apparently Tom was already as perfect as he was going to get, and so Harry had been the only one in need of professional grooming.
It had been most embarrassing to hear the incensed mutterings of the flamboyant hairdresser going on and on in reflexive horror about his patently wild locks, and threatening to take half of it off in retribution for the birds' nest of a state which it had always kind of resembled.
Harry had gotten ready to plead for clemency, as he didn't want to be bald…but Tom swiftly stepped in with his own polite, but firm suggestions that the hairdresser merely wash it well, trim the ends and give it a soft blow out, as they were truly pressed for time…and the man was a professional who'd surely be able to make such simplicity look divine.
Taking the slick flattery straight to heart, the hairdresser had puffed his chest then and brushed Tom to the side—saying with inflated authority that he would have Harry all fixed up in a jiff—or his name wasn't Gilderoy Lockhart.
Harry decided to just close his eyes and think of England as the man got to work.
Because apparently Tom liked his hair just as well—and certainly would not stand to see him butchered, in any way, shape or form by the man.
It had been a decidedly relaxing forty five minutes. Harry felt considerably pampered and relaxed.
Afterwards—gazing into the mirror with Tom humming his approval, and Gilderoy crying effusively at his apparent masterpiece made from blatant catastrophe (his words exactly), Harry had to admit…it was the best his hair had ever looked on him.
It also helped that Tom couldn't seem to stop staring.
He thought he'd be coming back to this shop in the future as well. Further insurance for his appearance could never hurt his prospects—such as they were.
He did love to have Tom's undivided attention.
Harry smiled angelically up at the tall teen and stood from the chair after shrugging out of the tarp to the friendly goodbyes of Lockhart.
Tom exited the shop with Harry affixed proudly to his side, strutting calmly out into the late December air and murmuring up at the overcast sky as his breath misted into white clouds in the air, "We just might see snow, darling."
Harry shivered and huddled closer to Tom as a cold gust of wind blew through them. "Y-yeah? You really think so?"
Tom looked down at him and playfully winked, "I do."
Harry pushed his glasses up his nose as the partial fog cleared out of their lenses, and asked, "Are you f-fond of snow…?"
They reached the car in short order, and Tom opened the side door for Harry to slide in—waiting until they were both inside the warmer vehicle before responding, "It's the purest thing about this season. So yes…I suppose."
Harry smiled softly.
He certainly hoped they did see snow…if only to be able to catch that tender light filtering through Tom's eyes again.
-v-
xXOXx
-v-
Christmastime had a way of bringing out the melancholy in the otherwise buoyant Lovegoods. It had been her favorite time of year, once upon an age ago.
Their entire family, small and intimate as it was, had loved to decorate the entire house together—each adding their own eccentric take on the holiday season and making the house look like a chaotic wonderland of whimsical cheer and warmth and joy.
Nowadays…Luna and her father had more subdued times this time of year, because the memories…they just wouldn't let up.
It was bittersweet.
Her mother had been so full of life. And everything about the giving and loving time of year had brought out the tenderness and adoration from her to the extent that it spilled over into every nook and crevice of their home.
Her father especially became morose at this time.
Any celebration they did felt oddly lopsided and unbalanced, and so…they didn't make as much of a deal of it as they once had.
Luna didn't want to see the light of suppressed ache and loneliness clouding her Dad's eyes the way it had a tendency to, especially after her Mom had first passed.
Those had been very dark days indeed.
It'd almost felt like Luna had lost the both of them at once. Luna remembered…it was impossible to forget, and so she didn't press the issue of holiday cheer onto her Dad's shoulders more than he could bear.
No matter that she longed for the intimacy of their family's once upon a time closeness during this season.
It was merely a hole she had never truly expected to have quite filled again. And she'd accepted that.
-v-
When the Potters had invited the Lovegoods to share Christmastime with them, Luna had been apprehensive at first—telling Lily that she'd have to check with her father, because she didn't know if he'd be able to stomach being cheerful with relative strangers to him at such a loaded time, no matter how much Luna loved spending time with the Potters and had attached herself to Harry…she couldn't in good conscience force her happiness on her father as though his heartache didn't count anymore.
As though by her mending, he was expected to be able to suddenly do the same.
Luna had been most pleasantly floored and surprised when her father had agreed to accompany her to the Potters. Saying softly that it would be nice to spend Christmas amongst friends again, and that Luna deserved to be around the ones she so cared for during such an auspicious time of the year.
And also—he needed some adults to get safely drunk with, so what the hell?
Luna had beamed brightly and immediately phoned the Potters to inform them of her father's acceptance, bubbling with excitement and making sure to recommend Lily invite Tom…thinking of Harry's happiness all the while, only to find that Lily had definitely not neglected either of the boys in that sector, and so Luna would be amongst all the people she cared about this year.
It was enough to leave her grinning like a madwoman for the remaining days leading up to Christmas Eve.
Her biggest worry now was gifts. But as homemade was her specialty…she decided to stick to what she knew.
After all—mother had always said, if you put your heart and hands directly into it, you were sure to receive love in return. And Luna wanted nothing more than to collect and save all the love she could.
It was her smallest obsession.
-v-
When Christmas Eve arrived, Luna and her father showed up on the Potters doorstep at 4o'clock sharp—ready to begin the evening's festivities in earnest, loaded down with a bag full of wrapped presents and well wishes.
Lily and James greeted them both at the door, and Luna gazed eagerly around at the warmly decked out and festive house as they entered the familiar living space.
Lily hugged her warmly as James clasped hands with her Dad and laughed openly as Xenophilius surreptitiously pressed a bottle of Ogden's Finest into James' hand—stage whispering it was for later, when the kids were otherwise occupied with each other.
Luna shrugged out of her coat and bounded over to the couch, asking softly after Harry and Tom as Lily joined her.
"They'll be on a bit later. Harry called and told me he was accompanying Tom to his father's for a brief visit. Apparently it's some huge shindig Tom wanted to get out of but couldn't."
Luna nodded in understanding.
"Tom and the Riddles are well off."
Lily smiled and raised a conspiratorial brow, "I gathered as much, no regular teen would have access to such a nice place as that apartment Tom has. I just figured I shouldn't pry into his personal affairs too deeply…as Tom never volunteers information about his family. It wouldn't do to make him uncomfortable when he's doing so much for Harry."
Luna sighed and remarked, "My Mom…when she was with us, used to take us ice skating every Christmas Eve at Rosmerta's Rink in Meade Ville. It's only a twenty minute drive from here...but they do the loveliest Christmas display for families in attendance this time of year…"
Lily blinked, interest piqued. "I wasn't aware there was a place like that around here. I haven't been skating in ages."
Luna smiled serenely, "Mom used to figure skate when she was younger, nothing truly competitive—but she loved the ice as a girl. She said it was part of the reason her and Dad moved here…as the rink was nearby enough to be accessible without compromising Dad's job or my schooling."
Lily hummed and rubbed Luna's hand soothingly, picking up on the faraway tone of Luna's voice as she recounted facts about her mother.
"She sounds like quite the woman."
Luna nodded, "She was."
Lily hummed thoughtfully, "What time does Rosemerta's close?"
Luna airily responded, "They're open until an hour past midnight."
Lily grinned. "Fantastic."
Luna tilted her head curiously as Lily called out to her husband, who was in the kitchen with Xeno—stealing cookies and likely taste testing the eggnog. "James! Luna has just told me the most wonderful thing, and I have a notion."
James floated back into the living room with a telling white moustache on his upper lip, to which Lily playfully glared and shook her head, "After Harry and Tom get here and we've had something to eat…how do you feel about hitting the ice?"
James blinked and Xeno walked up behind him, sporting a matching stash above his lip and staring at his little girl with a knowing gleam in his eyes.
"Let me guess…Rosemerta's?" Xeno smiled.
Lily glanced between Luna and her father and said warmly, "It'd be our first holiday outing as a family in this area. I'm sure Harry will be ecstatic for a new place to visit."
At the mention of Harry, Luna recalled his injury and furrowed her brow—about to promptly interject her reservations about having her friend on the ice with his frailties…no matter how it caused a weight to sink in her stomach.
"Harry's legs…he probably shouldn't…"
Lily's eyes glittered with some private amusement as she turned to Luna. "Now dear…between us all, he'll be perfectly fine. Also—I'm sure Tom will be more than available to keep him upright."
A little less apprehensive and regaining enthusiasm for the prospect of going back to Rosmerta's, Luna replied, "I'm sure you're right. We can watch over him. And Tom certainly will."
Lily smiled and addressed James once more, "Well, honey? You game or have your bones become so frail already…?"
Lily trailed off mischievously as James bristled in playful affront. "I'll have you know, back in my day, I was King of Skates."
Lily raised a skeptical brow, "Hmmm…this I must see."
And just like that, additional evening plans were made. Luna could hardly wait for Harry and Tom to arrive.
Even her father looked pleased to have their family tradition restored so readily amongst their new friends. Luna couldn't ask for anything more.
-v-
xXOXx
-v-
Harry grimaced as he took another careful sip of unfamiliar champagne as he stood awkwardly by the refreshment table in the massive decked out internal chambers of Riddle Manor, after having been effectively separated from Tom in a whirlwind of the stodgy people Tom had forewarned him of—vying for the older teen's attention most voraciously, until he'd been made to entertain their interests in a separate location.
It really was the type of thing Harry could only call blatantly commercial.
Everything was beautiful in the house. The drive up to it had been rather lovely, even in the daylight when they'd arrived. Now, a little after sunset, it looked quite magical.
All lit up and glittering.
But it left Harry feeling cold deep inside, and being left amongst so many unfamiliar, apparently wealthy and socializing strangers as he had been, Harry couldn't in good conscience consider it a comfortable…or nice place to be.
Was this really what constituted Christmas for the Riddles?
Such an empty and meaningless show of the holiday without any sentimental value attached?
Harry couldn't quite stomach another sip of champagne. He hadn't touched a bit of the food after his first bite, as it all looked sumptuous…but lacked what he equated to homemade love within the high class ingredients.
It was so obviously contrived and paid for. Harry hated it.
And so…alone he lingered, just holding the pretty much full champagne flute to look somewhat occupied, and searching the room for Tom to reappear and whisk them both away.
It hadn't been as bad when they'd first arrived; he'd actually met Tom's father and stepmother...Riddle Sr. and his (rather young and pretty) wife.
At first, Harry had been stunned by the apparent facial likenesses between Tom and his father. But then Riddle Sr. spoke, and all similarity was stomped viciously out.
Where Tom's voice held a velvety, intense and controlled quality which always compelled Harry to listen and sent endless chills down his spine when he used it just right…
Riddle Sr. had a voice that left him feeling unclean on the outside. It was lilting…oily, condescending in a way that made you feel like you were being complimented when he was dressing you completely down.
And when Riddle Sr.'s unfamiliarly dark hued eyes met Harry's own shining emeralds, he'd felt like an ice cube had been slipped straight down the back of his suit—unexpectedly, and viciously chilled.
Tom standing at Harry's side had stepped forward, half shielding Harry from his father's gaze, and staring straight back at the man with an expression surpassing the coldest of winds blowing outside.
As Tom spoke, never taking his stoic eyes off Riddle Sr., it was to Lucille—who was cheerfully affixed to Riddle Sr.'s arm, in a little red cocktail dress and heels, matching ruby drop gold earrings and an understated, diamond and mixed green jade necklace clasped at her throat—seemingly unaware of the tension building between the senior Riddle and his son.
"I assume you want the usual portrait, shall we adjourn to the location?"
"Fantastic, Tommy! Come on dear, we need to get this done before the guests arrive and get all up in the shots. It's good to meet you Harry."
Harry nodded and smiled stiffly as Tom steered him along after Lucille's swaying hips and Riddle Sr.'s matching broad backside.
He could see where Tom good his carriage.
But he much preferred his Tom to the older model. He didn't think Riddle Sr. thought much of him at all, and his gut churned at the notion of spending much more time in the man's company.
He was quite unpleasant, in a backhanded—politic way Harry felt he could grow to despise.
Tom's hand had squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, even as Tom kept his flinty gaze forward at all times, allowing them to be maneuvered through the Manor and to Lucille's chosen portrait taking destination.
Apparently it was out back, on the scenic, elegantly decked out patio area—flanked by a hedge maze garden stretching well off into the distance of the spacious backyard.
Harry had watched passively as Tom was whisked away to pose with his father and Lucille, amongst a bustling lighting crew and camera men who began snapping away as soon as they got the perfect ambience established.
Harry had never seen Tom look so distant and unapproachable.
Sure…it wasn't directed at him, but he felt like he was observing a stranger.
This was the way Tom was to his actual family. This was the way Tom interacted with the man who'd given life to, abandoned, and then regathered him like so much unwanted but useful…junk.
Harry flinched as Riddle Sr.'s smile and arrogant eyes found him across the way, and the man pointedly attached a claw channeling hand to Tom's shoulder, to which Tom did not show rejection nor appreciation… as nothing untoward approached his handsome face in response, still perfectly poised for the camera.
After the shoot was over—the evening had rapidly begun to deteriorate to its current unpleasant state.
-v-
Harry heaved a sigh as he quietly watched the proceedings.
His suit was beginning to feel stifling. It'd been alright at first, a novel experience to be all dressed up and looking mature, and unlike his usual casual, teenaged self.
But as the evening wore on, the novelty wore off…leaving behind a discomfort he could only grit his teeth and bear.
Tom had yet to return, and Harry didn't want to move away from his spot leaned up against the wall, still close to the refreshment table; lest he get lost in the huge Manor's depths before Tom found him again.
He fingered his cellphone in his pocket, which he was glad he'd thought to bring.
Soft Christmassy music was being played in the background by an in-house orchestral assemblage, and no one had sought him out. It made him feel invisible and insulated, longing for his own family to wash the bad taste of this contrived social event out of his mouth.
Just as he had resolved to dial home and at least hear the voice of his mother to comfort himself whilst he waited, a new voice entered his ears, speaking politely and sounding as gentlemanly as you'd please.
"Good evening, I had not expected to find you plastered against the wall here."
Harry turned his head to find himself staring up at a very attractive man, the antithesis to Tom's dark and dangerously sexy vibe.
He was shorter than Tom by a couple of inches to Harry's near foot, making him still quite a bit taller than Harry himself.
He had slicked back, white blonde hair—and his eyes were a pale blue, which gleamed with some undefinable expectation Harry didn't know how to comprehend.
"Um…good evening…I don't believe we've m-met…" Harry trailed off with a slight frown.
"How remiss of me. My name is Draco. Draco Malfoy. I'm an associate of the Riddles and your friend, Tom Jr…specifically."
Harry's mouth formed a small oh as Draco stretched out an elegant hand, which Harry took without thinking. Draco smiled down at him and shook Harry's hand in a smooth grip, before raising it automatically to his mouth and kissing the backside—causing Harry to startle and make an abortive move to jerk it away.
"Err…" Harry stuttered with a confused blush, and glanced around skittishly with his glasses sliding partially down the bridge of his nose, as Draco kept his hand well detained.
"How is life with the youngest Riddle? I presume you've settled in well since you began living together?"
Harry blinked once, stunned. "You know a-about that?"
Draco's smile was disarming as he finally released Harry's hand and leaned a shoulder against the wall beside the shorter boy, tilting his head to stare down at the unsure teen with predation concealed within the depths of his baby blues.
"Of course…Tom and I are rather close, you see. We share many things in common."
Harry's spine stiffened for the undertones in Draco's careful wording, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean…by that?"
"I mean…Harry Potter…that I find you just as intriguing as Tom does."
Harry squared his shoulders in recognition and stepped away from the wall, putting some necessary distance between himself and Draco as he pushed his glasses up and prepared to firmly shut the man down.
"I'm really n-not that interesting. You should play in your own y-yard…Mr. Malfoy."
Draco stood up straight and bridged the space between himself and Harry in one step, murmuring silkily, "Mr. Malfoy is my father. Please call me Draco."
Harry huffed and pushed at Draco's chest, firmly asserting his lack of interest with the force behind his arm, causing the taller man to stumble slightly backwards.
"I don't know you enough to be on a f-first name basis, sir. And Tom would not approve."
Draco smirked and licked his lips, suddenly appearing less attractive, and more foxlike than anything. "Is he your Daddy then?"
Harry glared, ignoring the jolt in his chest as his cheeks involuntarily warmed for the notion. "Excuse me."
Harry made to walk away from Draco, turning his back on the man pointedly, refusing to dignify the blond any longer with his attention and deciding to be proactive and search out Tom's whereabouts on his own.
He was so done with this party.
"Don't be like that." Draco caught Harry by the arm, and spun the boy back around—his grip more viselike than it had been before—impressing upon Harry the fact that he was very much dealing with a full grown man.
"Let go." Harry said clearly through clenched teeth, not even attempting to tug his arm away, and staring Draco down with a cold rage simmering behind his eyes.
He did not appreciate this man touching him. He did not want this man's hands attached to his body in any way.
If Tom didn't come right now…he was about to make a scene.
-v-
xXOXx
-v-
Tom was saying his firm goodbyes to the last of the vultures and making his way back to where he'd been parted from Harry with his steps eating up the distance through the swarming guests as though he had a straight path, and wasn't ducking and weaving like a pro through the proverbial not parted red sea.
He tugged irritably at his tie and resolved that he was done with this place.
That no matter what his father had to say, he wouldn't be staying a moment after he had Harry back in his clutches.
It had incensed him like nothing else when those bastards had pulled him away from his boy, but he couldn't shut them all down like he'd wanted, because he'd recognized them as some investors rather high up on the totem pole whom the Riddles had been courting for quite some time now—and making a killing off of.
It wouldn't have been good business sense to alienate the trash.
So he'd done the unthinkable and allowed himself to be parted briefly from Harry. Assuming he could wade through the cesspool quickly and have them out of the way in a matter of minutes.
Those minutes had turned into nearly an hour.
And while he'd acted in the Riddle interests the whole time, finagling more than a few (partially drunken) contractual agreements, skewed in his own personal favor with Barty on speaker making certain impromptu arrangements as they'd all spoke (which were sure to bring Tom and Barty both much gain in the near future from the background revenue alone)…it had taken far longer than he'd anticipated.
And now, he was well and truly done with them all.
When he found Harry in the banquet hall, the last thing he expected to see was him hauling off and sucker punching Draco Malfoy in the face.
And when Draco slammed Harry against the wall in retaliation and made to strike back, Tom saw red and was on him in a veritable flash.
-v-
Tom had Draco's swinging arm bent behind his back at a painful angle with one hand, and the other constricting threateningly around the man's throat—numbing his windpipe, before Draco could even think to yell.
Harry gaped up at Tom, emerald eyes livid and sparking with rage vibrant enough to send the blood thrumming through Tom's veins in a dark and visceral way.
"Make another move and I will snap your neck."
Tom's voice was low and dangerous, and his hazel eyes flashed with an insidious red tint as he held Harry's gaze all the while, holding onto the Malfoy who'd gone limp like an oversized ragdoll in Tom's grasp, shuddering in a cold sweat at the serious words floating through his ears.
Harry swallowed thickly as Tom addressed him. "Are you hurt?"
His boy shook his head, trembling minutely from the adrenaline rush of attacking Draco, his knuckles a little scraped and red—but himself none the worse for wear.
Still looking utterly divine in his suit, and making Tom salivate at the thought of peeling him out of it.
But first—
Tom switched his attention back to Draco, squeezing the man's neck once in deadly warning as he murmured, "I'm going to let go. You'd do well to keep this incident to yourself. If you come near Harry again, I won't hesitate to do actual damage."
Draco nodded as best he could in Tom's hold, and Tom released the man with a disgusted sneer as Draco clutched his throat and tentatively touched his nose—which had thankfully remained unbroken from Harry's determined, but untrained fist.
Draco stood ramrod straight and smoothed the lapels of his suit before stalking off without another word to Harry or Tom, who stared after him in converse states of relief and resolving rage.
It was a miracle the scene hadn't attracted the attention of the other guests any, as most of them were well and truly on their way to drunk and mingling away from the food at this point.
The few servers in residence who'd witnessed the drama had prudently stayed out of it, because they valued their jobs more than getting into rich people's squabbles.
Once Draco well and truly disappeared from view, Tom stepped forward and pulled Harry near by the waist—tilting his boy's head up and kissing him deeply, uncaring of who might see as Harry clutched his front and kissed him fervidly right back.
When air became a necessity again, Harry pulled away with a gasp, and Tom smirked down at him—looking every bit as keyed up as his darling as he hoarsely whispered, "Let's blow this joint."
Harry grinned broadly up at him and replied, "Lets."
Right before Tom swept them both off the premises.
-v-
xXOXx
-v-
Driving away from Riddle Manor with Tom having loosened his tie, and grinning wolfishly behind the wheel—Harry stared out at the passing scenery of all lit up with Christmas lights and decorations, once again feeling comfortable in his skin as he relaxed beside Tom.
They were swinging back by the apartment to change, and then it'd be off to his parents' house.
It was a quarter past seven by the time they reached Tom's place.
In between making out and helping each other out of their fancier trappings, Tom and Harry redressed into more comfortable (but no less nice) attire for the remainder of Christmas Eve spent amongst people they cared about.
Harry stood running his fingers through his recently blown out hair in the bathroom mirror, and he laughed as Tom popped up behind him and began playfully biting at his skin above the turtleneck of his soft green sweater.
Tom had pulled on his own long black trench over khakis and a cream cashmere sweater of his own, in difference to the weather outside.
Harry kissed Tom's jaw and danced out of reach, saying they'd miss the whole evening if Tom didn't come on.
Tom mock pouted and followed Harry to the door of his apartment, smirking at the familiar scarf now wound around Harry's neck as Harry's eyes gleamed happily up at him through the partially fogging lenses of his glasses.
Harry grumbled something about retrieving his contacts before stepping out of the apartment with Tom close on his heels.
Tom grabbed his hand and pulled Harry into the elevator, deliberately jerking the boy in close enough to kiss again as the doors closed and they were carried down.
Harry couldn't stop grinning as Tom and he got back into the car, and he was practically bouncing in his seat from the excitement of bringing Tom home for an actual holiday away from the commercialism he was used to.
"I h-hope you're hungry. Mom always cooks a lot around this t-time. And do you like homemade eggnog? She has the b-best recipe…"
Harry's ramblings were cut off by Tom chuckling softly and squeezing his thigh, catching his gaze briefly with warmth shining in his own hazel orbs as they flew swiftly down the road.
"I'm famished. And I look forward to sampling everything you enjoy."
Harry blushed lightly and stammered an okay as Tom focused his eyes on the road and getting them safely to their destination, turning on the defroster as the windshield began to haze up from all the internal heat.
The rest of the drive was made with soft music playing in the background, instrumentals of holiday tunes humming through the radio speakers as they rode along.
Harry put all thought of the unpleasantness of Riddle Manor out of his mind as they got closer to their destination.
And he intertwined his fingers with Tom's as Tom handled the wheel with single-handed ease.
In no time at all—they were pulling into the lit up drive of Harry's house.
Harry took a deep breath as Tom shut off the engine, and he stepped out of the car at Tom's side, stepping close to the taller teen as they trekked up to the front door and knocked.
In a moment it was swung open, and Harry and Tom were greeted with warmth and smiling faces all around—the scent of dinner and dessert pervading the air and making their stomachs collectively rumble in appreciation.
And so it began.
-v-
xXOXx
-v-
Christmas Eve at the Potters' was unlike anything Tom had ever experienced.
Sure…he'd read about and seen such festivities laid out on television before…in passing, but never had he been an active participant in such seasonal joy.
It made him feel awkward but very near unbearably warmed inside…especially as the only person truly beloved to him remained by his side the whole time.
Harry hadn't left him for a moment, and Tom had been included in all the evening's festivities from the second they'd crossed the Potter threshold.
Lily and James had both been welcoming, as well as both Lovegoods in attendance.
Apparently everybody had been waiting for Harry and Tom to arrive before starting on the food in earnest, and so—their arrival heralded the beginning of dinner.
At the table, Harry sat beside Tom with Luna directly across from him beside Lily, and James and Xeno on opposite ends of the dining table diagonal from their girls.
The table wasn't uncomfortably large with gaps for miles between people like Tom was used to; it was big enough to give everyone elbow room while maintaining the intimate family air.
It had also been laden down with familiar holiday dishes, each more succulent than the last and smelling better than anything Tom recalled the professional cooks whipping up in the Manor's kitchen.
There really was a discernable difference between food made for the unrelated masses, and homemade meals prepped for family and friends only.
It made something tighten in Tom's throat as Harry took it upon himself to prepare Tom's plate with a little of everything, until there was no room left on the plate for him to fill.
Tom had thanked his boy carefully around the sudden lump in his throat, and politely dug into the first thing which caught his eye.
The whole table seemed to go quiet as he took the first bite—and when he chewed and finally swallowed, Tom glanced up and around until his eyes fell on Lily and he truthfully murmured, "You've outdone yourself, Lily. It's delicious."
Harry beamed beside him and Lily laughed airily and prompted him to eat up, saying there was plenty to go around and she'd have an extra stone on him by the time the evening was out.
Tom had merely smiled and complied. It was no hardship.
Every swallow felt like it was melting something formerly iced over and solid deep within him, and the lump in his throat dissolved slowly as Harry's hand found and squeezed his thigh beneath the table, never moving and staying settled there as a firm support…even as his boy devoured his own meal one handed and made idle conversation with all and sundry.
Tom had his plate cleaned before he realized, and then came dessert.
By the time they'd all been adequately stuffed—Tom felt he could understand the appeal of the holiday season, beyond the commercial value.
It was a sentiment which brought a sting to his eyes and had him transitioning into a quiet mode which Harry picked up on, but didn't try to force him out of.
Understanding innately that Tom…was merely content and slightly overwrought, and did not need to be hassled for speech…as some feelings went beyond the realm of mere words—translated so much better in a gentling touch or tender glance.
Tom felt serene…and grateful.
Harry was more than happy to be the grounding fixture beside him through it all, as he silently coped with a range of emotion he'd once presumed well beyond himself.
-v-
After the meal, everyone adjourned to the living room, and Lily brought up the matter of Rosemerta's Rink.
"It'll be fun, and we can all work off a few pounds in a lovely setting. Luna says it's always beautiful this time of year." Lily was staring at Harry and Tom as she spoke, as they were the only ones who'd yet to agree to the outing.
Harry shrugged and smiled, bumping Tom lightly with his shoulder as he clearly said, "I'm game if Tom is."
Tom blinked and stared down at his boy, something undefinable flitting through his eyes before he replied to the room at large, "Sure. Why not?"
Lily clapped her hands and hopped out of her seat. "Wonderful! I'll start the car to warming up while you all get bundled. You kids can ride together while we adults take one car. That way we'll save one of us some gas."
Xeno hummed and replied, "We could just as well take my vehicle, you know. I'm not averse to paying for such an outing amongst friends."
Lily grinned and remarked, "You sir, may split the costs of all the tickets and skates. As a guest, James and I shall treat you to a free ride at least."
Xeno held up his hands in the universal gesture of acceptance. Lily nodded her satisfaction and bounded out the front door.
Tom, Harry and Luna began shrugging into their coats and scarves.
In a matter of minutes—everybody was back on the road with full stomachs and hearts.
-v-
xXOXx
-v-
Rosemerta's Rink was a sprawling, magically lit, open air affair.
The ice glittered pure as the heavens beneath big and small skaters' feet, reflecting the myriad of fairy lights strung upon and between Christmas trees lining the area at strategic points, stretching ropes of colorful lights in glowing webs above the heads of everyone on the ice, leading up to a gigantic snow dusted, platform mounted silvery Christmas tree at the center of the rink…serving as the breathtaking focal point for the lights to stream from and all the attendees to skate in meandering circles around.
There were tabled booths on the sidelines covered with partial tent-like apparatuses which kept the worst of the night chill off and still allowed you to stare unimpeded at the gorgeous display on ice.
They sold fresh hot chocolate, steaming with marshmallows in cute mugs as warming treats.
And for families coming in, the entry fee and skates were neatly bundled in and affordable half priced package dependent upon the size of the party you came with.
Harry stood at Luna and Tom's side as their skates were divvyed out, and the three teens separated from the adults in order to get started on the ice.
Sitting on the benches along the sides and pulling on their skates, Harry's shown with excitement to be able to get out there on all that glorious slickness.
Luna was the first to stand, followed by Harry.
Tom took an inordinately long time lacing up his skates, but Luna and Harry waited patiently for him to finish.
When at last he looked up with both hands on his knees and his lips pursed in a curious manner, Harry tilted his head and asked, "Something wrong?"
Tom blinked once and averted his eyes after a silent beat. Harry frowned and stared in astonishment as Tom cleared his throat, with a light pink flush blooming upon his ivory cheeks and causing his nose to go quite red at the cold tip.
Luna hummed suddenly and plopped back down beside Tom on the bench.
Harry glanced from her to Tom, opened his mouth and shut it—and finally figured it out, saying slowly as if he didn't quite believe the words coming out of his mouth, "C-could it be…you don't know…h-how…to skate, Tom?"
Tom crossed his arms and stared pointedly off to the side as he muttered almost defensively, "There was never an occasion…before."
Luna said airily, "It's never too late to learn. We can teach you."
Harry nodded emphatically, sitting back down on Tom's opposite side and grasping one of Tom's long fingered hands in his own.
"Don't sweat it. W-we've got this."
Tom frowned and glanced warily down at Harry, "If I fall, I'll take you down with me and you'll get hurt."
Harry snorted and flashed Luna a look, before standing again unceremoniously on his skates and tugging firmly on Tom's arm—forcing Tom to clamber to his feet or overbalance the shorter boy.
Luna got the message and grabbed Tom's other arm, acting as the further balance he needed to be fully stable between the two of them, as she stood serenely at his other side.
"And now…we skate." Harry grinned with determination, laughing softly as Tom's fingers laced tightly with his own, even as Tom stood ramrod straight and valiantly walked his way out onto the ice…heart lurching to his throat as he stepped onto the slick whiteness with Harry and Luna both acting as watchful sentries at his sides.
Despite his reservations for falling on his boy, Tom didn't let go of Harry's hand at any point…nor did he brush Luna off his arm.
By the time they got a good rhythm going, sliding carefully along in a line, three deep on the ice…Tom was actually having fun.
Harry laughed openly with glee as Tom got the hang of moving steadily at last, and Luna felt he got it good enough that she let go of his arm and relinquished his person fully to Harry.
Skating unimpeded, drifting backwards in front of the two boys—Luna's face split into a beatific grin as she sang out, "It's tradition to kiss by the tree if you catch the first snow."
Tom smirked down at her, now rather haughtily maneuvering alongside Harry—looking all too graceful for his initial newness to the ice.
"I'll kiss Harry, but you'll have to settle for a hug...Miss Lovegood."
Luna blinked up at him, blushing faintly as she dreamily exclaimed, "Oh my…Harry…I think he loves me."
Harry tilted his head, making a show of scrutinizing Tom's face as the taller of the two rolled his eyes and merely tugged Harry faster along the ice beside him.
Leaving Luna to catch up to them both skating the right way round as he maintained, "Clearly she's delusional. Come along, darling. We have a snow to catch."
Harry clicked his tongue and slipped suddenly out of Tom's grip, sliding up to Luna and grabbing her by the hand as Tom stared at him—stunned and bristling, before raising an eyebrow as Harry called out, "B-better catch me first! C'mon Luna—let's make him work!"
And so, the chase was on.
By the time Tom caught up to the fast duo, they'd definitely made him work for his prize…and the moon was shining at its apex overhead, and the first dustings of snow had started to drift and flutter down to the ice.
Freezing in astonishment…with Harry clutched to his chest and Luna tilting her head back to catch snowflakes on her tongue, Tom wondered at the state of himself.
Glancing down at Harry held so tightly within his arms, puffing white clouds from his parted lips and grinning directly up at him with unabashed joy shining in his eyes as the snow continued to fall and the silvery tree sparkled just a few yards away…
Tom had never felt so at peace…and so alive all at once.
Deciding upon a reckless course, not caring at the moment for anything but the moment…Tom grabbed Luna by the arm as he skated up to the tree with both her and Harry in tow.
And as they rounded the thing, he pulled Harry close, pressing their lips warmly together and yanking Luna into his side all at once.
Killing two birds with one stone as they all clung to each other and made the most of a private moment in the open rink...
And that was how Christmas Eve rounded off for Tom.
Right on the ice, beneath shimmering lights and a tree…kissing the one he loved, who loved him back—and hugging a girl stuck to them both.
All in all…it wasn't bad.
-v-
End Violation.
-v-
A/N: And there you have it. Part one of the utterly monstrous Holiday Violation! Next stop—New Year's Eve.
I wanted so bad to get it all in one…but #DaMuses be cracked out slave drivers. T-T I do hope you all enjoyed this and I didn't mess up the ending.
Seriously…I feel like I may've done it too fast or something…I could really use some assurance it didn't fizzle out.
Meh…I'll be the first to admit to glossing over a lot of extra bits trying to get us to the ending. Who knew the holidays could be so involved?
Altogether though, I enjoyed writing this. And I look forward to hearing back from each and every one of you lovely peeps on how we did this round.
Also—as Tom's b-day is New Year's Eve, I'm looking forward to some spicy alone time between our boys.
Already got a few plans, which may or may not stand to be altered/added to if I get any more juicy suggestions in the comments. Remember, anniversaries only come once, and Harry loves being a genie for Tom.
Until next time,
Cheers!
P.S.: Present Day me can only stare in awe at the length of the Holidays. But it was FUN. So I hope ya'll enjoyed thus far. Onward to (PART 2)! HUZZAH!
Obligatory Disclaimer: This is why AO3 is now Da-King! (Or Da-Queen.) I loathe repeating me-self! #SnootySniff
~ Ravelslith-FledglingMoon ~ 🌺🐍🌕