PREVIOUSLY:

"Oh!" Harry says, having finally noticed his daughter in one of the large booths in the back corner. "I see her."

Tom counts to three, carefully arranging his face into a blank, confused expression. He will be the only to emerge unscathed from this particular battle. "Is that her there in the back?"

"Yeah," Harry says, already moving towards the table. "I think she's with someone."

"Yeah," Tom echoes, trying to sound dazed. "That's my father."


Part Two


"Your father?" Harry repeats, nonplussed. He's still walking towards the table, Tom following a step behind him.

"Dad!" Lily Luna leaps to her feet to greet them. "I'm so glad you made it." She's beaming ear to ear, but Tom can see the anxiety underneath her cheerfulness as her eyes flicker from her father, to Riddle Senior, to Tom.

"Lily," Harry says warmly, allowing his daughter to pull him into a hug.

"Father," Tom says briskly, pulling out a chair for himself. "Care to explain what's going on?"

Riddle Senior narrows his eyes. "Lily wanted to meet you."

"Oh," Lily Luna says, drawing back from Harry. "Yes, it's so nice to meet you, Tom." Her wide smile returns, only this time it's dislike that Tom sees in her gaze. No doubt his father has been filling her head with all sorts of stories.

"Pleasure," Tom says, not bothering to rise from his seat. "But I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."

Harry's face has grown steadily more confused. "Lily? Who is this?"

Lily Luna clears her throat. "Dad, this is Thomas, my fiancé."

There is a long period of silence during which Harry gazes at Tom's father—greying hair, crow's feet, sharp suit that would look more appropriate on the decaying body of a ninety-year-old man in a casket—and goes completely, utterly still.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Riddle Senior says politely, standing up and offering Harry his hand to shake. "Lily has told me so much about you."

Harry, bless him, slams his fist into Riddle Senior's face, and the sound of cartilage fracturing is music to Tom's ears.

Someone screams. It isn't Lily Luna, surprisingly enough.

"Dad," she hisses, grabbing his arm and yanking it back before Harry can throw another punch—Tom admires the blood on Harry's knuckles, tucking the memory away for later, "what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Belatedly, Tom realizes that she had chosen to break the news in public specifically hoping to avoid this type of reaction. It's amusing that none of the staff have come over to stop the fight. Perhaps they want to see how things play out.

"You're engaged?" Harry snaps back at her. "To this fucking creep?"

Riddle Senior has stuffed a napkin under his nose to staunch the blood flow, but his posture is perfectly straight as he walks to Lily Luna's side and takes her hand in his. "It's alright, Lily, I'm fine," he says, voice strained.

"Shut up before I hit you again," Harry says angrily, jabbing a finger at him. "And step away from my daughter!"

Tom would dearly love to reach for his father's glass of wine, but that might be a bit much for the situation at hand. "That's your daughter?" Tom asks, affecting a scandalized tone.

Riddle Senior shoots him a glare filled with so much loathing that Tom is surprised the old man hasn't keeled over from forcing his cold, dead heart to feel so much at once.

Harry spins around, having evidently forgotten that Tom had arrived with him. "This is your father?" he asks, sounding sick.

Since everyone else is standing, Tom decides it's probably a good idea for him to do the same. "I had no idea," Tom says in a halting voice. "I didn't realize."

"Don't act as if you didn't intend to sabotage me!" Riddle Senior accuses sharply. He gestures at Harry. "Did you think you could turn him against me? Is that it?"

"Not everything is about you," Tom spits back. "And not that it's any of your business, but Harry and I have known each other for months."

"So you're fucking him," Riddle Senior snarls in an undertone. "Is that your way of getting your revenge? By whoring yourself out?"

"Stop," Lily says furiously. Her face is red as she glances around the restaurant. "Stop it! Let's take this outside—"

"So when I meet someone I'm interested in," Tom says aggressively, "it's a crime, but when you get engaged to a girl young enough to be your daughter—" Tom breaks off to release an incoherent noise of outrage. "When you want to marry a girl younger than I am, your own son, I'm supposed to be happy for you?"

People are staring at them. Tom loves it. He loves the way his father's face goes from red to purple with rage and indignation at Tom's beautifully truthful outburst.

"We're leaving," Harry says. He reaches for Lily Luna's arm, but she scowls and pulls away from him.

"I'm not leaving!" she exclaims hotly. Her eyes are wet with angry, unshed tears. "You're ruined everything. I can't believe you would do this to me. That you would embarrass me like this!"

"Embarrass?" Harry says, scowling. "You're engaged to a man I've never met, a man old enough to be your grandfather, from the looks of it—"

Tom has to try very hard not to laugh. He knows that he shouldn't, but the absurdity is getting to him.

Lily Luna's eyes turn hard, like emeralds. The venom in her voice is unmistakeable as she says, "Oh, and you're fucking some boy who's my age? Who's the real hypocrite, dad?"

Harry stares at her, the colour slowly draining from his face. "That's not—" he splutters. "I'm not—"

Riddle Senior tosses his bloody napkin aside. He pulls his wallet from his pocket and leaves several bills onto the table to cover the cost of the drinks they'd already ordered. "Lily, let's go. Give your father some time to calm down."

Lily takes her fiancé by the hand and leads him out the door. Tom wonders how long it'll take for the driver to come fetch them, or if they'll take a cab instead.

Harry watches them go, a stunned expression on his face.

Tom edges around the table to Harry's side. "We should go," he murmurs, reaching for Harry's elbow. "I think they're going to kick us out if we don't."

Harry nods dumbly and permits Tom to guide him back out to the lot, which is apparently empty of family members. A shame, that. Tom would have liked to see his father with a black eye in addition to a broken nose.

"They're gone," Tom says reassuringly. "They're gone, Harry."

Harry climbs into the car and buries his head in his hands. Tom slides into the passenger seat and lets Harry process things for a moment.

Then he says, "I can't believe that just happened," to break the silence.

Harry lifts his head to stare blankly at the wall in front of them, his hands now engaged in a death grip on the steering wheel. One of them is spotted with blood. "That was your father," he says. "Your father and my daughter. Engaged."

"I told you he was an asshole," Tom says.

Harry laughs, half-hysterical. "What the fuck," he says emphatically, "what the fuck was that? What are the chances of that?"

Tom takes a moment to think about that. If he hadn't sought Harry out on his own, would they still have met? Would Tom have still been attracted to him?

"It's ridiculous," Tom agrees.

Harry shakes his head. "I can't believe this. I can't believe she didn't tell me." His eyes fall shut as he inhales deeply. "What am I going to do?"

"Kill him?" Tom suggests.

Another burst of laughter escapes Harry in a rush. "I just might."

"Watching you break my father's nose is a memory I will cherish for the rest of my life," Tom confides, leaning in.

A reluctant smile curls Harry's mouth for a split second. "I shouldn't have lost my temper," Harry admits, his fingers finally uncurling from their stiff position on top of the wheel.

Tom smiles back, unrepentant. "Please. I'd pay you to do it again."

Harry snorts. "You're terrible. You can't tell me you're not as horrified as I am."

"I already knew my father was engaged to some girl younger than me," Tom reminds him.

Harry pauses, clearly thinking that over. "Didn't he ever tell you her name?"

"No," Tom lies. "I didn't care enough to ask. Why would I?"

Harry sighs. "I don't know what to do. She's an adult, she can do what she likes but—" His hands tighten back into fists. "She's so young. How can she know what she wants? And your father…" Harry trails off. "This isn't right. But what can I do? I don't want her to hate me."

"What about her mother?" Tom suggests. "Have her pressure your daughter to break things off."

Harry grimaces. "I'd forgotten about Ginny. I wonder if Lily plans to take her to dinner, too."

"Maybe," Tom allows. "My father never told me he planned to meet her. Or you."

Harry rubs at his eyes. "Guess you'll be staying with me a while longer," he jokes.

Tom likes hearing that. "I guess so."

Harry sighs again. "Well, there's nothing we can do now. We should probably grab dinner somewhere before everywhere is full."

"Dinner sounds great," Tom agrees.

They go to dinner at an Irish pub that Harry likes. It's essentially a date, even though the day's events hang over Harry like a dark cloud. Tom keeps the conversation light, intending to take Harry's mind off of things, and by the time they arrive back at the flat, Harry's spirits do seem a little lifted.

Then Harry says, "I'm going to call Ginny," while heading straight for the couch.

So much for his hopes for a fun night. "Do you want me to go?"

Harry hesitates, which is all the answer that Tom needs.

"I'll go," Tom says. "Just let me know when you're done."

Tom waits in the guest room that Harry had originally assigned him. It's a long, boring wait. For a moment, Tom toys with the idea of getting himself off to the memory of Harry's blood-stained fist, but he figures that he'll be worse off in the long run if he lets his mind wander in that direction.

The phone call is surprisingly quick. Tom can hear Harry's angry voice followed by the ominous sound of his phone clattering onto the wooden coffee table.

Tom rolls off the bed and rejoins Harry in the tiny living room. Harry's stormy expression leaves no doubt as to the outcome of his phone call.

"She already knew," Harry spits, hands balled into fists.

Tom blinks. "My father never mentioned—"

"They haven't met," Harry says, standing up. "Ginny's been travelling for work again. But she knew."

Tom considers this. If Ginny is in favour of the relationship, it is a double-edged sword. On one hand, Tom dearly wants his father to be single and miserable for the rest of his pathetic life. On the other, it's much better if Harry is on Tom's side, driven to hating the relationship just as much as Tom does.

"So she won't break them up," Tom concludes.

Harry shakes his head. He takes several deep, heavy breaths, then smooths his hands over his thighs. "It's done, I suppose. I don't stand a chance of convincing her otherwise, not if Ginny's on her side." The way he says his ex-wife's name is full of shocking bitterness.

Tom aims for sympathy as he says, "I can imagine this is not the life you wanted for your daughter."

Harry closes his eyes. "I married young," he says darkly, "and look at where that got me. I'd care less if she waited, if she wasn't—wasn't with a man older than I am." His voice cracks, horrified. Then he looks at Tom, and the haunted look seems amplified. "This isn't right," he says, an echo of his previous statement.

Tom has to tread carefully here. He's aware of the parallels between their respective situations—Riddle Senior and Lily Luna, him and Harry.

"You don't feel that way about us, do you?" Tom says gently, cautiously. He injects a note of hurt into his tone as he adds, "You're not as old as my father is, and I'm older than Lily."

"I—" Harry breaks off, flustered. "I don't know what to think."

Tom shuffles close enough to lay a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I don't like them together either," he says. "But what they do doesn't have anything to do with us."

Harry pulls back. "I need some space," he mumbles. "Sorry, Tom, I just—"

"I understand," Tom says smoothly, expression shuttering over. "Take all the time you need."

Harry rubs his hands over his face. "God, I don't know. It's all so much. So fast. She's engaged."

Tom keeps quiet, letting Harry work through his distress on his own.

"You—" Harry begins, voice plagued with guilt. "You can still stay here, of course. I'm not taking that back, not when you have nowhere else to go. So don't worry about that."

"That's the last worry on my mind," Tom says, unable to keep his annoyance from bleeding into the words. "I'm worried about you," he adds, trying to soften the negativity.

Harry sighs and glances down at the floor. "I'm sorry," he says, sounding exhausted, defeated. "I don't mean to push you away."

Tom just wants the conversation to reach some kind of resolution. "I know you don't," he says, shoving down his steadily increasing irritation. "But this doesn't have to be complicated. Not if you look at it the right way. If she won't change her mind, if you can't change her mind, then there is nothing we can do. I know my father won't budge on the matter." Not unless Tom comes up with a new clever plan to run the engagement i into the ground.

"Then what?" Harry asks, somewhat desperately. "Do I go to her wedding? Give her away with a smile on my face?" His voice rises in pitch, hysteria creeping in at the edges.

Tom lays both of his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Only if you want to. And I'll be by your side for every moment of it." It's a romantic statement, a pledge of commitment. Tom does mean it, somewhat—if his father goes through with this, then Tom will also have no choice but to participate.

Harry shivers, his entire body quivering under Tom's touch. Slowly, his breathing steadies, the rhythmic give and take of air once again calm and unhurried. "Let's just go to bed," he says. "Sleep," he adds, face reddening slightly.

They wash for bed in relative silence. Tom doesn't ask for permission; he simply tucks himself under the covers next to Harry and tangles their limbs together. It isn't sex, but maybe in the morning…

It's alright either way for now. Harry is warm and comfortable. He smells nice and doesn't move around a lot. Tom finds that he doesn't mind sharing the bed as much as he would if Harry were someone else.

So Tom rests his head on Harry's chest, listening to the man's heartbeat, to the way it occasionally lurches and jumps when his thoughts wander to places where they shouldn't.

Eventually, though, Harry passes into unconsciousness, worn out by the emotional upheaval, and Tom follows soon after.

The next morning, Tom wakes first. His mouth is dry and his erection—it is very interested in the heat radiating from the body next to his—presses insistently against Harry's thigh.

"Good morning," Tom says quietly, just to see if Harry is awake.

"Morning," Harry says, voice rough. He still sounds tired.

Tom crawls up a little to plant a slow trail of kisses along Harry's jaw. "How are you feeling?" he asks. There's a husky undertone to his question, the dregs of sleepiness and arousal that he can't quite mask.

"I'm alright." The question seems to wake Harry up the rest of the way; he sits up, his hands mindful as they move Tom aside. "Should get up. Been lying around too long. You can sleep in a little more, if you want."

Tom watches Harry pad off to the bedroom and sighs. He doesn't know how long it will take for Harry to feel comfortable with sex again, but he's not exactly willing to wait. If he has to hurry things along, he will.

They have breakfast together—toast and jam, nothing fancy—and sit on the couch while Harry flicks absently through the channels, wincing at the laugh tracks and romantic scenes as they blur past. Eventually, he settles on some action film, an old blockbuster that Tom vaguely recalls hearing about.

The obnoxious noise of the television is grating. Tom wants to push Harry to open up some more, but the blank look on the man's face is not very inviting, so he retrieves his phone instead and recounts yesterday's events for Barty.

so you're still at his?

Yes

He's upset. I've been trying to cheer him up but it's not working

what does he like?

What does Harry like? He likes the gym. He likes his job. He likes his daughter. Then there are the other, minor details—the way Harry likes his tea, the restaurants he prefers, the songs he has on CD, and the various logos plastered on his t-shirts.

He's boring

well he must like something

Tom stuffs his phone back into his pocket, irritated with the lack of help. What good will any of that do? If he gives Harry a new CD, it won't fix the problem.

"Harry?"

Harry makes a faint noise of acknowledgement. When Tom doesn't continue, he turns to look, his eyes focusing.

"What can I do to help?" Tom asks bluntly.

Harry's brow crinkles. He's thrown by the straightforwardness of Tom's offer. "You don't have to do anything," he says.

"But I want to," Tom says. "I want to help you." That's his job, isn't it? If they're together. He's supposed to help, be a shoulder to cry on and all that.

Harry shuts off the telly. "Thank you," he says. "But I'm fine, really." He taps a restless hand on his knee. "Why don't we do something? I was thinking about baking."

"Baking," Tom repeats, incredulous. Well, if it's something Harry's likes to do, then he'll be following Barty's advice.

They make biscuits from a box mix. Harry does most of the work while Tom hovers, cleaning and washing up as Harry plods through the instructions written on the side of the package. Once the treats are secure in the oven, Harry settles against the counter and stares at him.

Some of the stress lines are gone from his face. The dead-eyed look has faded enough that Tom thinks he has a chance at teasing out a laugh or a smile.

"So," he says, "how's your hand?"

Harry startles. It's clear he'd forgotten all about punching Tom's father in the face. He raises his hand to examine his knuckles. "Fine, I guess."

"That's good." Tom smiles. "Can I be honest about something?"

"Of course," Harry says quickly.

"It was really very sexy," Tom says, "watching you hit him."

Harry's cheeks go red. "I shouldn't have," he mutters, but he seems pleased by Tom's compliment.

Tom slides across the kitchen to rest against the counter next to Harry. "I like a man who's willing to get his hands dirty," Tom says in a low, playful voice.

Harry snorts. "You're impossible."

"I am," Tom allows, turning in place to press his chest against Harry's shoulder. "But it makes me interesting, don't you think?"

Harry hums, green eyes assessing. "I suppose someone has to be good with their fists to keep up with you," he says. "Do you get into fights often?"

Tom scoffs. "God, no." Why bother with fists when he can use other, cleaner methods?

Harry squints at him. He doesn't seem to believe Tom's words.

"I'd offer to hit your daughter to reciprocate," Tom says, still trying to lighten the mood, "but I feel like you don't want that."

Harry sobers at the mention of Lily Luna. "I should talk to her. I don't like how we left things yesterday."

"There is time for that," Tom allows. "But you have to take care of yourself first. Tomorrow is Monday. You should use today to relax."

"If I put it off, I won't get it done," Harry says half-heartedly, but when Tom leans even closer, he doesn't pull away. "I suppose," he adds, tone sardonic, "you have a specific sort of relaxation in mind?"

Tom lifts Harry's hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over the knuckles. "You are always on my mind," he murmurs, and it startles him a little to realize that for the past few weeks, this has held true.

Harry's eyes soften. "I think about you, too," he admits. "More than I thought I would when I told you I wasn't interested."

Tom feels his chest warm with appreciation upon hearing those words. "Then let's forget about the rest," he encourages. "Let's enjoy each other."

Perhaps it is a younger man's prerogative to ignore his problems by using sex to distract himself, but it would be a lie to claim that this particular vice isn't extremely effective as Tom winds his hands through Harry's hair and tugs the man in for an all-consuming kiss.

Soon enough, Tom finds himself back on his knees, lips wrapped around Harry's thick cock. The taste of Harry on his tongue, the leaking tip thrust all the way to the back of his throat, is by far more appealing than the smell of the biscuits burning from their proper, golden colour to a burnt, crunchy brown.

Responsible even while on the cusp of orgasm, Harry shuts off the oven before retrieving lube from the bedroom. Then he's bending Tom over his kitchen counter and fucking him so gorgeously well that Tom comes twice against the pristine cream cupboard doors.

"Fuck," Tom says, once he's cleared some of the blurriness from his vision, "that was good."

Harry laughs a little, breathless, and lays his forehead against Tom's sweat-dampened curls. "I'm going to have to do so much laundry this week," he muses.

Tom rolls over, bracing his elbows on the counter behind him, to raise an incredulous brow in Harry's direction. "Laundry, really?"

Harry laughs again and kisses Tom on the tip of his nose. "Let's see how the biscuits turned out."

They taste terrible. Harry soldiers through two of them before giving up and tossing the rest.

The rest of Sunday is much better. Tom gets exactly what he wants—which is Harry—and when his father calls him—which he ignores—seeing the notification for the missed call doesn't annoy him as much as it normally does.

On Monday, Harry has classes. He texts Tom on and off throughout the day, then calls his daughter during lunch. This call, apparently, ends in another shouting match where Tom's name is also dragged through the mud.

"She said you were using me," Harry grits out reluctantly, after Tom pries for more information. "To get back at your father."

Tom wonders if Lily Luna inherited her spiteful, fiery nature from her mother. Luckily, Harry doesn't appear to believe her, which means Tom doesn't have to waste his time with pointless placations. It comes as a relief that he can move directly to an attack.

After checking Harry's phone for Lily Luna's number, Tom grabs his own phone, screenshots one of his bank accounts, and sends it to her.

My father is richer than I am

Who is using who?

He never gets a reply, which is satisfying all on its own. It's a petty, almost childish insult, but he never claimed to be a saint.

Midway through the week, Ginny calls to berate her ex-husband for his poor behaviour. Harry yells at her, too, but his anger is less explosive than before. Once the call is done, he sits quietly on the couch, staring morosely at the far wall. The blistering rage has tapered off, resentful guilt taking its place.

Tom sits next to him and leans heavily against Harry's shoulder. "You've done nothing wrong," he says soothingly. "Don't listen to them."

But Harry continues to mope, his mood steadily deteriorating despite Tom's constant reassurances.

Thankfully, a weekend respite arrives in the form of a visit from Harry's friend Ron—Lily Luna's uncle—who shares the enlightened opinion that Riddle Senior is a disgusting piece of garbage and must be kept away from Lily Luna at all costs.

That shared opinion is why Tom withstands the shrewd, questioning weight of Ron's gaze that lingers on Tom's bed-tousled hair and the hole-ridden sweatshirt borrowed from Harry's closet. If Harry is more cheerful after the visit, his doubts momentarily quieted, then that is worth suffering any minor irritation he feels from Ron Weasley's impolite judgement.

Ron does ask to speak to Harry in private before he goes. Tom listens in on the conversation out in the hall, both men whispering in lowered voices so as to avoid Tom's notice.

"Ginny said he was her age."

"Well, he's not. He's older. And besides, it's different with Tom and I." There's a cold, defensive edge to Harry's voice that Tom has never heard before. It pleases him.

Ron backtracks quickly. "I mean, I know that. You're not taking advantage of him like his piece of shit dad is with Lily. It just looks bad to other people, you know?"

"Yeah." Harry is quiet for a moment. "I've decided I don't care about that," he finally says.

"I'm happy for you," Ron continues in a rush, "I've been saying you should move on, haven't I? With someone new. It's just rubbish timing. And a bad coincidence."

"A bad coincidence," Harry echoes.

Ron leaves after that. When Harry re-enters the flat, his expression is pensive, muted. Tom approaches and wraps his arms around Harry's waist.

"Do you feel better?"

One side of Harry's mouth lifts. "Yeah. A little."

Tom kisses him, slow and sweet. Harry kisses back, so very eager, and everything is alright again.

They have sex on the couch that night, Tom on Harry's lap, and they have sex the next morning, too. Whatever had been holding Harry back, it seems to be gone.

Time begins to fly by—the unanswered calls from his father and Mrs. Cole taper off into silence. He wouldn't be surprised if all of his belongings have been burned to ashes in the backyard.

On the plus side, staying at Harry's and having regular sex means that he can fuck Harry pretty much whenever he wants to with little need for excessive preparation. Some afternoons, he jumps Harry as soon as the man arrives home.

Tom can't decide what he likes more, being pinned under Harry's weight, body folded nearly in half while Harry fucks him into oblivion, or controlling the pace himself, hands planted firmly on Harry's muscular chest while Harry moans wantonly beneath him.

"Shouldn't I be telling you to get a job?" Harry asks one day, voice amused as he threads his hand through Tom's hair, fingernails scratching lightly at the scalp.

Tom doesn't see the appeal of working when he can stay here in Harry's flat and have sex all the time. "I have enough money to fund a small country for the next decade. I don't need a job." His father should have thought twice before providing him with such an extensive trust fund.

"No ambitions?"

Tom's singular ambition, at the moment, is to ruin his father's life. He has been slacking on that front lately, though. Being with Harry takes up all of his time and attention. At least staying here has meant his father has been leaving him alone.

"Nothing that interests me," Tom settles for saying.

"You'll think of something," Harry says encouragingly.

Tom doesn't plan on it. However, after thinking about Harry's words and scrolling through Lily Luna's engagement party photos on Instagram, he comes up with an actual plan for something new.

"Let's go away this summer," he tells Harry. "Travel the world together."

The more he thinks about it, the more he wants to. He imagines dragging Harry around the globe, showing him the sights, joining the mile-high club. They could have sex on all of the different continents and at some of the major historical landmarks.

Harry is hesitant at first, moreso when Tom announces he'll be paying for all of it. But when the date of Lily Luna's wedding is announced—mid-August, a destination wedding in Italy—he is suddenly much more amenable to the idea of getting away for a while.

Tom makes all the arrangements, and Harry forgoes teaching summer school for the first time since he'd been hired.

The trip is incredible, even with the upcoming wedding looming over their heads. Tom finds he is content with the way things are, with Harry in his life. It's almost cruel when they have to return to London for wedding preparations.

Riddle Senior's oldest friend and business partner, Abraxas Malfoy, has the honour of being the best man, a blatant snub that Tom takes in stride. He will still be part of the farce, charged with escorting Ginny Weasley down the aisle.

Even with so much animosity between them, Riddle Senior still expects Tom to attend with a positive attitude, no matter how fake that attitude may be.

And Harry, of course, will have to give his daughter away to a man he doesn't trust one bit.

The two of them, Tom and Harry, are fitted for tuxedos together. Tom supposes it's the least Lily and his father can do, letting him and Harry go through this torture as a pair.

Shortly after that fun event, Tom is introduced to Harry's ex-wife, Ginny Weasley.

"Lily isn't like us," Ginny says to Harry in a tight, quiet voice. Her eyes flicker to Tom for a brief second. Then she says, "She loves him, Harry. She isn't repeating our mistakes."

Harry's jaw is strained with tension. "I hope so," he says in a monotone.

"Be happy for her," Ginny adds. "That's all we ask."

Lily Luna's maid of honour is Rose Weasley, the daughter of Ron and Hermione, who are Harry's best friends from high school. Tom supposes that with such a tight knit family, it must be difficult for Harry to refuse anyone anything. It also explains why Harry lives on his own, so far away from the rest. Since his divorce, he no longer feels like he is included or welcome amongst the Weasleys.

Tom knows more about the divorce now. Harry and Ginny had held on for eighteen long, painful years before going their separate ways. Any chance for amity between them had died over the course of their increasingly strained marriage.

Lily Luna had reacted poorly in response to her parents' divorce. She had dropped out of university and careened down a path of self-destruction. Partying every night, drinking herself silly. Harry had tried desperately to help her, willing to beg on his knees if that was what it took.

To Harry's credit, Lily had been making slow progress over the past year or so. She had gone back to school, at least. Harry had begun to hope that things would turn out alright.

However, marrying Tom's father doesn't exactly speak of a sound mind.

From careful examination of her behaviour, Tom notes that Lily Luna is no longer mad at her father. Nor does she seem determined to mend the bridge between her divorced parents. She seems, at heart, most determined to see this wedding to its ultimate end with everyone in one piece.

Privately, Tom thinks it will take nothing short of a miracle to keep everyone civilized. If it wasn't for Harry, he wouldn't have agreed to go at all, regardless of whatever threats his father threw at him. His father hates his relationship with Harry. But that's fine; Tom hates his father's impending marriage with Lily Luna just as much, which means a great deal of his time spent on 'wedding preparations' is actually time spent draping himself all over Harry.

The best part is, Harry doesn't seem bothered by any of it. He welcomes Tom's enthusiastic snogging sessions and merely snorts whenever Tom squeezes or slaps his ass in public.

Part of Harry must enjoy the scandalized looks on the faces of his family and friends. After eighteen years of feeling pressured to stay with a wife and a child he had never asked for, it must be nice to be able to do whatever he wants.

As it stands now, Tom wonders if he can get away with fucking Harry in the bathroom during the wedding dinner.

On the night before the wedding, Tom orders expensive drinks to their hotel room and watches the moon glow high in the sky. Harry's arms are wrapped tight around him as they enjoy the peaceful evening together.

"Are you alright with this?" Harry asks.

Tom feels pleasantly snuggled and is slightly buzzed from the alcohol. "With what?"

"With the wedding." Harry frowns. "Soon we'll be getting invitations to Christmas dinners and birthdays and god knows what else."

"No," Tom says after a pause, deciding to be honest. "I hate all of it. But it's unavoidable at this point, so what can we do?" He hasn't entirely ruled out murdering his father in an untraceable way, but Harry would be upset if his daughter's happiness was ruined, so Tom will have to settle for his father's future financial ruin instead.

"We could run," Harry muses, nuzzling against the back of Tom's head. "Keep running. You said you had the money to keep us travelling forever."

It's a nice idea. They could be nomads, wandering the earth with no place to call home except for each other. But as much as that appeals to him, it isn't perfect. It isn't the sanctuary of Harry's flat. It isn't what Harry wants, and it isn't what he wants.

Tom yawns and stretches his arms out. "Too much effort," he says. "Do you know how long I spent planning our summer holidays?"

"Not everything needs to be planned," Harry points out.

Tom lolls his head back against Harry's shoulder and sighs. "I don't want to run," he admits. He likes what they have, right where they have it. "We'll just have to scandalize my father so badly that he never invites us to anything ever again."

Harry scoffs in response, but his arms tighten almost imperceptibly around Tom's torso.

"It won't be difficult," Tom continues lazily. "One time I convinced my Tinder date to suck me off under the table. Everyone was removed from the restaurant in under fifteen minutes." He beams at the memory. "A personal best, actually. My father didn't even text me 'happy birthday' a week later, that's how furious he was with me."

Harry sighs in an exaggerated manner. "You're an absolute menace," he says, half-admiring. His fond tone fills Tom's chest with warmth.

Still, Tom wonders if that admiration will hold when he's the one sucking Harry off under the table.

Harry trails his fingers along Tom's hairline, brushing back the errant strands. "So after the wedding tomorrow…"

"Nothing will change," Tom says firmly. He reaches for Harry's hand and laces their fingers together, relishing in the calloused feel of Harry's palm pressed against his own.

"I'll be your step-grandfather," Harry points out.

Tom makes a disgusted noise. "That makes me sound like a child."

Harry huffs, sounding amused. "Maybe we should have married first. Beaten them to the punch. Then you'd be your father's father-in-law."

Tom sits bolt upright. "That's right," he says, inspired. "I would."

Harry, to his credit, catches on right away. "Tom, it's two hours to midnight. The wedding is tomorrow. There is no way—"

"We can," Tom insists, twisting around to look at him. "I have the priest's number. I'll pay him double what he's being paid to do the wedding. If he does say no, then I'll make Lucius get one of those internet licenses."

"Tom," Harry says, amusement and exasperation threaded in his voice. "We're not getting married just to spite your father."

"Why not?" Tom demands. "What we have is so much better than what they have. If it really bothers you, we can have it annulled afterwards."

Harry's expression freezes. It lasts barely a second, but Tom notices it. "Tom," Harry says in a slow, cautious tone, "I don't want us to get an annulment."

Tom stares at him, uncomprehending.

"If we get married," Harry continues, resting his hand on Tom's cheek, "it will be because we both want to. Because we're both ready."

Tom hadn't known Harry felt that way. He'd assumed that Harry had sworn off the entire constitution of marriage after divorcing Ginny. Now he has to reconsider. Does he want to get married to Harry? He'd never given the sanctity of marriage any serious consideration in the past. He'd never imagined wanting to marry anyone.

After a long pause, Tom settles back against Harry's chest. "I suppose I'll let him have this, then."

"You can still be his in-law someday," Harry teases, a hint of relief apparent in his voice as he presses a kiss to the side of Tom's jaw.

"Someday," Tom echoes, grabbing Harry's arm and tucking it over his waist, like he's trapping the promise in place, and it feels right.

Later that night, after Harry has fallen asleep, Tom thinks about marriage some more. The marriages that he knows of. Harry's failed marriage to Ginny, his father's first marriage to his gold-digging ex-wife, and now his father's impending marriage to Lily Luna.

He examines all those terrible examples of commitment and finds they don't apply to him and Harry. He'd meant it when he'd said that what they have together is so much better than what anyone else has.

If Harry wants marriage as a reassurance, if it's a requirement to keep Harry in his life, then it makes sense to get married. It isn't as if there's anyone he would ever want to marry other than Harry.

Tom decides that he wants to have the option of marriage open for its useful purpose of eternal entrapment.

But, more than that, he thinks he wants to have Harry.


On the big wedding day, Tom stands at Abraxas Malfoy's side while the priest recites wedding vows.

Harry is seated in the front row a few steps away. It had taken them three tries to get dressed that morning because Tom hadn't been able to resist derailing Harry every time he tried to put on his trousers.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride."

Lily Luna and Riddle Senior share a tender kiss while the audience politely claps and cheers. Tom keeps his hands clasped behind him and fakes a smile.

As they flow into the reception area, Tom stays close to Harry, keeping his eyes peeled for unwanted interlopers.

Lily Luna is the epitome of the beautiful, blushing bride. Her skin glows with happiness, radiance seeping from her every pore. In this gentler light, on this momentous day, Tom understands why his father has fallen for her. Youthfulness aside, Harry's daughter carries herself with an impressive presence that would bring weaker men to their knees.

"Thank you for coming," she says in a soft voice to her father. Her hands clasp his, her green eyes cool as sea glass, but there is unease roiling beneath the surface. After all this time, she hopes for Harry's acceptance.

Harry gazes at their joined hands. Then he looks Riddle Senior, who stares pointedly at the wall just over their shoulders.

"Thank you for having us," Harry says, placing firm emphasis on the word 'us' as he half-glances at Tom.

Lily's answering smile is awkward, faltering, but Tom thinks it looks genuine, and evidently Harry must agree because he pulls his daughter into a tender, affectionate embrace.

Riddle Senior does not speak a single word as Tom passes by to take his place on Harry's left side to greet the guests that pour through.

The happy couple had asked him and Harry to keep their relationship out of the public eye, but Tom isn't going to spend the entire sodding day with only Abraxas Malfoy for company. Harry is the one who has kept him sane throughout this circus show; Tom could care less about what other people think of them now.

"We're going to be here for hours," Tom complains under his breath as another camera flashes in their faces.

Harry presses his hand against the small of Tom's back for a brief moment. "If you behave," he whispers, low enough that only Tom could hope to hear him, "I'll see if we can sneak off during dinner for a quick one in the bathroom."

It's funny how willing Tom is to make nice with his father's boring friends after that.

Lily Luna greets each guest with great kindness and patience. She encourages small talk that would bore Tom to tears. Riddle Senior complements her bright attitude nicely, providing a quiet, protective backdrop for his new wife.

Once the procession has finally begun to thin, Tom makes a show of checking his watch. How much longer until dinner?

"Bored already, Tom?" Riddle Senior asks in an undertone, the first words he has spoken to Tom all day.

Part of Tom is pleased to annoy his father so much that even Harry's presence between them does not deter him from making his little barbs.

"Harry promised me a quickie in the bathroom once we were done here," Tom drawls, injecting as much sarcasm into his voice as possible. He'll let his father wonder how honest he's being.

Harry very subtly digs his elbow into Tom's side in a scolding way. Tom smirks and slips his arm around Harry's waist, feeling suddenly possessive. With a disapproving sound, Harry untangles himself from Tom's side, but he does slide his hand down Tom's arm to twist their fingers together. A compromise.

Tom smiles at his father's reproachful stare and greets Augusta Longbottom with more zest than is really necessary. His smile widens when her vulture-like gaze drops to his and Harry's joined hands.

Beside him, he can hear Harry's half-exasperated sigh. Tom hums with delight and turns to beam at Madam Zabini, who is next in line.

He still hates his father. Someday, he'll dismantle the man's entire company, the purported Riddle legacy, and sell it off in parts.

But that isn't all that the future holds. Someday, he and Harry might get married. He thinks he doesn't mind waiting for that.

.

END.


A/N:

this universe was a lot of fun! i don't think i'll revisit it again, but i think i will revisit this particular dynamic again some time in the future. thank you all for reading! all your comments were super fun to read and i love all the support for manwhore tom, it warms my little author heart