Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Challenges listed at the bottom.
Word Count: 1981
Hogwarts Assignment 1: Egyptology, Task 1: Write about a musician
I'm Your Responsibility Now
Harry turned the radio off with a sigh, shaking his head. He couldn't listen to Tom singing anymore. Unfortunately, given his popularity, it was hard to avoid it. He tried to carry on decorating his cupcakes, but ended up throwing the icing bag onto the worktop.
Stepping out the back door of the bakery, Harry let the cool morning breeze wash over him. Why was it still so hard? It wasn't even like the two of them had had much beyond a relationship filled with secrets and clandestine meetings, because Tom wouldn't be open about who he was with.
And it had been months since Harry had declared he'd had enough, since he'd walked away with a broken heart and nothing to show for it but his dignity intact.
Running a hand through his hair, Harry told himself off internally. He should be over it by now, and he really needed to pull himself together. It was just a voice on the radio, singing this week's most popular song. That was all.
Yearning for the unattainable was pointless.
…
"Are you taking them yourself?" Hermione asked, as she watched Harry count the boxes of cupcakes for the private meeting he'd been asked to provide.
He nodded absently, double and triple checking his order to make sure it was perfect. He didn't get that many orders that were so big, and he wanted to make a good impression. The possibility of repeat business might even mean he could finally look at hiring more help than the part timer he had on weekends.
"You know it's Riddle's management, right?"
Harry blinked and then looked at her. "Is it?"
She nodded, looking at the order sheet. "Yep."
"Fuck."
She gave him a sympathetic smile, and checked her watch. "I can probably take them over for you, if they're ready now? I have to be back at work by two though, so it'd have to be quick."
Harry sighed and shook his head. "It's fine, hun. Thanks though. I… there's always going to be the chance of me running into them if I get repeat business, right? I've just gotta put my big boy pants on and deal with it."
She leant over to kiss his cheek. "If you're sure. You should come over to ours for dinner tonight, okay?"
"Hermione—"
"Six o clock, I'll see you then."
He snorted but nodded his head. "See you then."
…
Harry was pointed to a meeting room by a disinterested receptionist. He thanked her regardless—and was ignored for the trouble—and walked towards the room. He knocked, but there was no answer so he pushed the door open and pulled in the trolly he'd been transferring the cakes on.
Inside was empty, but there had been tables set up across the far end of the room for the cakes, so Harry unloaded quickly, setting the cakes up properly, glad that he had the opportunity to do so rather than just leaving them for someone else to do.
He heard the door open and close behind him, but by the time he'd turned around, he'd already been joined in the room by the last person he wanted to see.
He took a breath and then offered a bland smile. "Mr Riddle."
"Harry," Tom purred, "It's good to see you."
"I wish I could say the same," Harry replied flatly. He arranged the final box of cupcakes to his liking, and then stepped back to make sure it was all set up the way he wanted. Nodding to himself, he stacked the boxes neatly under the table for any leftovers, and then wrapped his hand around his trolley, intent on leaving quickly.
"In a rush?" Tom asked, when Harry skirted around him.
"Yes."
Tom followed him towards the door, his strides longer and quicker than Harry's. He reached up to touch the earring in the top of Harry's ear with surprisingly gentle fingers.
"You're still wearing it."
Harry snorted. "Don't flatter yourself into thinking it's got anything to do with you buying it. I just like the earring. Goodbye, Mr Riddle."
"Harry."
"No."
…
Harry had hoped that that would have been their last run in, but merely a week later, he got another order from the same company. Part of him—a large part of him at that—really wanted to turn the order down, but he couldn't justify it.
Regardless of it being Tom's management team, Harry's bakery was still a relatively new business, and he needed the repeat custom if he was going to make anything of it. Already, since the first order, he'd had a few of the executives come in before work for treats to brighten the work day, and Harry hoped that word would spread.
Still, he could really do without the weekly run ins with Tom.
"I hate you," he muttered, when, for the fourth time, Tom cornered him in the meeting room.
"Do you really?" Tom asked, tone low and predatory. "Are you sure about that, Harry?"
"Yes."
"So you don't want me anymore? Not even a little bit?"
"Tom, you need to stop this," Harry said, a pleading note to his tone that he really tried and failed to suppress. "Nothing has changed, you're still trying to get me into clandestine little meetings, where nobody can possibly see us. I'm tired of hiding, and if you still need to hide, that's fine. I get it. But I'm not going to do it anymore."
"Harry."
"Please, just… stop it."
…
There was no order to the bakery the following week, and while Harry regretted that he'd lost the business, he was also grateful that Tom seemed to have taken the hint. That Harry had managed to escape before he fell right back into the space beside Tom—beneath Tom.
He was listening to the radio when it was announced that they'd be playing Tom's new song next, and Harry rubbed a hand over his face but he made no move to turn it off. He had to get used to the sound of Tom's voice; it certainly seemed like he'd be hearing it a lot with the way people seemed to be clamouring for, well, everything about him.
The soft sounds of a piano started the song, and Harry bit his lip as he moved one tray of doughnuts to the front counter. He was just coming back when he heard Tom's voice croon, "I just wanna hold you close."
Harry shivered and shook his head at himself, forcing himself to continue on with his job. He could do this.
He could.
…
"Harry!" Harry pulled the phone away from his ear, the shout of his best friend shocking him when he'd answered the ringing tone. "You need to put MTV on," Ron demanded. "Right now!"
Harry blinked, but did as he was bid. He was surprised when he saw Tom on the screen—Ron hadn't been his biggest fan, in fact, he downright hated Tom Riddle for what he'd done to Harry. Best friend privilege, or so he'd said.
"...and I don't know if he'll be watching this, or not, but just in case he is, Harry, I love you, and I'm sorry. You know what for. If you can forgive me… well, you have my number. It hasn't changed."
Tom walked away from the flashing cameras and the shouting journalists, and slipped into the venue for whatever event was being televised.
"Well."
"Right?" Ron asked, a little calmer now, or a little quieter at least. "What are you going to do?"
"I… I don't know," Harry admitted. "I really don't know."
"Hermione said Twitter is already going wild with people trying to figure out who Harry is," Ron said after a small pause. Then he snorted. "It seems that a lot of people think it's Harry Styles. You know, the one from that boyband."
Laughing now, Harry shook his head. "Wild. I was just heading to bed mate, but I'll catch up with you this weekend, okay?"
"Sure thing, Harry. Whatever you do, just… make sure it's for you, and not him, okay?"
"Uh huh. Love you, dude."
"Love you too, Harry Styles."
The call ended before Harry could bitch about the new nickname, and he tossed his phone on the cushion beside him.
Bloody hell.
Yawning, he stretched and then picked his phone up again, scrolling through the phonebook until he found a number he'd blocked months ago. He hesitated for a moment before he unblocked it, and opened up his whatsapp.
That was… unexpected. But I really don't think you understood the assignment, Tom. It was never about the public acknowledging me. It was you acknowledging me that I wanted.
…
Three days after Tom's announcement, and Harry's text, there had been no contact, and Harry was admittedly confused. He was getting ready to shut the bakery for the day when the bell rung out. He called for the customer to just give him a second, and quickly finished wiping the work top before he walked through to the main store.
He blinked when he found himself face to face with Tom.
"Oh. Hi."
"Harry," Tom greeted with a small smile.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, leaning against the counter.
"I wanted to see you. After that cryptic little text you sent me—"
"It wasn't cryptic," Harry replied. "I was very clear about what I wanted, Tom."
"You wanted me to tell you that I loved you, correct?"
Harry wrinkled his nose. "It was never about the words, Tom. It was… I wanted you to show me that I meant more to you that being pressed up against a wall because you wouldn't even take me to your bedroom. I wanted you to show me that I mattered beyond being a fuck toy for you to play with. I wanted to matter to you, and know that you were mine like I was yours."
"And you didn't want to hide."
"And I wanted to stop hiding," Harry agreed. "But again, that was more about the people that were important than the public; though I hear you and Harry Styles have quite the following now. They're calling you Tomarry. I think I ship it."
Tom chuckled, shaking his head.
"What are you doing here, Tom."
"I'm here, because… because I love you," Tom said softly. "And because I tried to carry on without you and I was utterly miserable. I suppose it took losing you to realise what I had."
"Just let me close up," Harry said, nodding at the door.
"No need," Tom said, as Harry rounded the corner. "This… won't take long."
Harry noticed the small box in his hand as he gracefully dropped to one knee in the middle of the bakery. "Harry James Potter, I love you. I need you, and I want you. And I've been an idiot, but I'm hoping you'll let me make it up to you. But to prove I'm yours… will you marry me?"
The engagement ring was beautiful, white gold with emerald inlaid into the metal. Harry stared at Tom for a long moment.
"Are you mad?"
"Madly in love, perhaps. Please, Harry. Let me show you how very much I belong to you. In every sense of the word."
Harry slowly nodded his head. "It's going to be a long engagement," he warned, as Tom slipped the ring onto his finger and then pulled him in for a long kiss, his arms wrapping around Harry's back to hold him securely.
"I'll allow a year."
"Think closer to five, and we'll be in agreement," Harry replied, laughing when Tom wrinkled his nose. Harry reached up and bopped Tom on the nose. "I love you too, by the way. Even if you are an idiot."
"I believe you've just agreed to take responsibility for that idiocy."
Harry smiled. "I guess I have."
Written for:
Book Club: 12. Earring
Film Festival: 26. Break-up to Make-up
Showtime: 21. Clandestine meeting
Trope of the Month: 16. "I hate you."/"Do you really?"
TV Spree: 10. Singing
Ari's AU Armoury: 15. Yearning
Pucker Up: Bill Weasley: 2. Engagement Ring
Treat Yourself: Scented Candle: Escape
365: 44. Cryptic
Musical Yearly: 37. 90's: I don't wanna miss a thing: I just wanna hold you close
Character Collection: 274. Harry Potter
Insane Challenge: 22. Singing
