A/N: Okay, why not a little more. It's been a while since I've updated this fic - apologies, I got sucked back in by Romione, my main ship. That said, I still have a few more ideas for this series, so hopefully this won't be the last update!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the immature ramblings that fall out of my brain.

"Tom, are you doing the fucking thing again?"

"Tom, I'm home!" Harry called, dragging bags of groceries behind him. He had just arrived home from Tesco, where he'd procured all of the ingredients they'd need for their little get-together that evening. It had been about four weeks since the end of the war, and Tom and Harry had used most of that time moving into and setting up their new flat in Notting Hill, London. The two-bedroom, two-bathroom flat was newly renovated and practically turnkey. It had a large, open kitchen, a bright living room with plenty of natural light, and a pleasing pale taupe paint with Tuscan red accents.

Tom had been immediately drawn to the bedroom in the back corner with its two large windows, and its style was noticeably different. Over the past few weeks, he'd delighted in decorating the room exactly how he liked it, incorporating plenty of eccentric touches to make it, in his words, "feel like the world's coziest dungeon." The walls were emerald green with a Slytherin "S" stenciled in silver above his grey wood headboard. He had crafted a DIY lampshade made entirely of Nagini's molted skin and bewitched it to float around an ornate silver candelabra on his nightstand. Harry suspected that the other artifacts scattered over his dresser and bureau, including what appeared to be a Hand of Glory, were associated with Dark magic, but he figured that that was Tom's space and therefore not really his business. Nagini shared the room with her master, having her own bed of clothes in one corner. Lastly, several posters of the Muggle band Oasis were taped up on the wall. Tom had been listening to them constantly on his new 5-CD changer stereo system and never missed an opportunity to explain to Harry why they just embodied him and his new happy-go-lucky attitude.

Harry's room, on the other hand, was a bit smaller, only had one window above his bed, and was painted red and gold with a Gryffindor lion head on the wall. Golden Snitches were charmed to float around the ceiling, reflecting the rays of the overhead light fixtures into every corner of the room. Books about magical law enforcement were neatly organized on his desk as he had started studying for his upcoming Auror training, and several letters from Ginny were rolled up and placed side by side in a drawer that was slightly ajar.

The two men had both agreed that living together had been an adjustment, and they were still getting used to one another's company. Harry had awoken screaming on multiple occasions, finding Nagini slithering along his bedspread or digging through his trash. Tom, who was used to living in seclusion with nobody else around, had procured a white noise machine to help him drown out the constant dull hum of traffic and people in the neighborhood. On one occasion, he'd gotten so irritated with the incessant honking and engine revving that he cracked his window and flicked his wand at a nearby tree, setting it instantly alight. After the screams of passing pedestrians had faded, he smiled as he tucked himself back into his bed, finally able to get some shut-eye. The situation predictably backfired, though, when not minutes later a fire truck screamed up to the front of their building to douse the blaze. The racket had woken Harry, who, upon getting up for a drink of water, found Tom leaning against the kitchen counter with a scowl on his face, shoveling crisps into his mouth. Crumbs were spilling all down the front of his monster truck pyjamas, which he had only purchased due to a gross misunderstanding of the vehicles.

It hadn't been an easy transition for either, but they were making it work. The hardest thing for both of them was getting used to the other's friends. One weekend ago, the Carrows had come over for dinner and drinks. Harry and Tom had nothing but pots and pans and had no idea how to use them, so they all sat around the dining room table and feasted on takeaway fish and chips. Much to Harry's disgust, their guests wiped their greasy hands on the tablecloth and curtains as if they were napkins, and the after-dinner game of "Shag, Marry, or Kill" always ended with them laughing about how many Muggles or blood traitors they would murder. Harry had never laughed so uncomfortably in his life, especially when Alecto bucked the trend and said she would shag Ron.

This weekend, however, was Harry's turn to have friends over, and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were due later in the afternoon. Before then, though, there was a lot of work left to do. The flat was far from clean, and the food needed to be prepared.

"Have you been able to take care of the vacuuming? They're going to be here in a couple hours!"

"Vacuuming?" Tom answered, padding into the room wearing sweats and his trucker hat that read 'Every Little Thing I Do Is Magic'. "Who needs that? Nagini cleans up all the crumbs and whatnot."

"Yeah, but there's still dirt. I thought you said you'd take care of that, Tom. I've been out all morning doing the shopping."

"I don't see any dirt, but fine, if you insist," Tom replied, snapping his wand out of his pocket and giving it a swish. Specks of dirt began rising from the floors and carpets, funneling themselves into a neat pile. Tom then charmed the pile to arrange itself into a flawless portrait of Harry himself, all the while staring down his roommate with petulant derision before sending the portrait zooming into the trash.

"Very mature, Tom."

Tom chuckled to himself, not trying to hide his grin from his roommate. "I thought it was rather clever."

"Yeah, you would. Okay, well anyway, do you think you could help me with some of the food prep? I got everything we'll need for taco night aside from the coriander you've been growing in your garden. You have enough to make salsa, right?"

"Indeed I do, chum," said Tom, scampering off to his bedroom and retrieving several stalks of the herb. It had surprised Harry that Tom took to gardening so naturally, but Tom insisted that he found it almost as calming as watching Nagini digest a collaborator, which used to be his main form of stress relief.

"Okay, great," Harry said, extracting the blender from a cabinet and pulling all of the ingredients out of the shopping bags. "Now, the recipe said we need to roast the tomatoes and peppers first. Apparently, it's the key to good salsa. Could you preheat the oven?"

"Why?" Tom asked, rinsing off the coriander stalks.

"What do you mean, why? We need to roast them."

Eyebrows furrowed, Tom retrieved his wand again, pointed it at the plump, ripe tomatoes, and stated, "Incendio".

For several seconds, the produce was engulfed in flames, achieving a perfect char in a fraction of the time of oven roasting. Harry grabbed a pot lid to smother the hand towel that was burning on the countertop.

"There," Tom said. "Problem solved."

"Merlin, Tom!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean, brilliant, actually, but I thought you wanted to start doing things the Muggle way."

"I mean, sometimes. But…come on, seriously? How long does the oven take?"

"Not long, only twenty to thirty minutes."

"Right, but I just did it in about three seconds."

"And yet you almost set the kitchen on fire."

"But I didn't."

"We could've died…"

A chuckle spluttered out of Tom. "Do you honestly think I'd let a tomato kill me? Dumbledore couldn't kill me. You couldn't kill me. The entire Order of the…flaming bird thing couldn't kill me. I think I can handle a tomato."

"Just…try to be careful, okay? Okay. Now, I'll call out the rest of the ingredients and you grab them for me."

"Deal, roomie," Tom replied, rushing across the room and pulling open the refrigerator door. "Ready when you are."

"Okay, we need that onion I chopped up."

"One onion, finely diced, you will add an acerbic zing."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Tom, whose lip was curling up in a curious manner. "Okay, now that coriander of yours…"

"A dozen stalks of coriander," Tom stated, delivering them to Harry, "lovingly grown, you will contribute your herbal aroma."

"Wait a second…"

Tom reached for his wand again, levitating the tomatoes into the blender. "Four tomatoes, thriftily purchased—"

"Goddammit, Tom, are you doing the thing?"

"—your sweet, acidic flesh is our canvas."

"Tom, are you doing the fucking thing again?" Harry asked, slamming the dish towel down on the countertop.

Despite trying to hold in a chuckle, it sneaked out the side of Tom's mouth. "Maybe…"

"That's super creepy when you turn things into the graveyard speech! Cedric was dead a meter away from me! And then you tried to kill me like three minutes after that happened!"

"Oh, lighten up," Tom responded, waving a dismissive hand. "I didn't, did I? Now, where were we?"

For the rest of the afternoon, Harry tried to ignore his roommate's crass jokes as he cleaned up the flat and prepared the rest of the food for the party. At five minutes to six, all of the toppings for taco night were ready, and the doorbell rang just as he finished wiping down the kitchen sink. When he opened the door, Ginny threw herself over the threshold and into Harry's arms, capturing his lips in a deep kiss.

"Oi! A little warning next time!" Ron reprimanded, earning an eye roll from Hermione.

"Grow up, Ronald," she said, pushing past him into the living room. "Harry, your flat looks fantastic. So much better now that everything's unpacked."

"Yeah, it's really coming together," Harry answered, still clinging to Ginny's waist. "Tom and I have made it our own. It's starting to feel like home, I guess."

Each of his friends' expressions dropped at the mention of his roommate. It was clear that, despite their sentiments to the contrary, they were all still uncomfortable with the idea of Harry and Tom living together.

"Whatever you say, mate," Ron said, patting his best friend on the shoulder and shoving a bottle of wine into his chest.

"Hello, all!" Tom called as he strolled down the hallway and into the bright open space. He had jumped in the shower half an hour ago, and the outfit he'd changed into was…unexpected. It looked as though he'd jumbled up advice from several different clothing trends, combining a flannel shirt with corduroy shorts and a tweed blazer. Harry suddenly regretted telling Tom that tacos originated in Mexico when he saw that his former nemesis had topped off the outfit with a large, gaudy, rather distasteful sombrero. "Who's ready for a fiesta?"

"Erm…you?" Ron replied, forehead wrinkled with disdain.

"Good—good to see you, Tom," Hermione offered, wringing her hands together. "How are you enjoying life in London?"

"Oh, it has its ups and downs, but young Harry here has proven an invaluable companion. He's helped me learn where to find food, how to use Muggle money, and he's taught me all about the, uhh, the cylindrical thing?"

"The tube?" Harry suggested.

"Ahh yes, the tube. I do love riding it back and forth. I used to make Lucius attach a small chariot to the back of his broomstick and pull me when I needed to get places from time to time, but this tube invention is so much more entertaining. Plus, the conductor isn't constantly complaining about feeling degraded all the time, or if he is, he keeps it to himself."

"Right," Ginny said, forcing a laugh as she shot a panicked look in Harry's direction.

"Erm, Tom," Harry said, "would you mind grabbing the guacamole? The food is hot, no use waiting, right?"

"Ahh, good thinking! I'm starved!"

As the two of them brought out all of the small dishes, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arranged themselves around the dinner table.

"So," Tom said, depositing the shredded lettuce and taking his seat, "you'll want to start with the tortilla and then pile as many of the accoutrements on top as you like."

"Mate, d'you think we've never had a taco before?" Ron asked, already helping himself.

Hermione's eyes flew open, and Ron flinched as she undoubtedly pinched him under the table. "Thank you, Tom," she said. "It looks delicious."

"Most of the credit goes to my young roommate, here," Tom continued. "Worked himself to the bone getting everything ready, and I think—"

"Nonsense, Tom," Harry interrupted. "You helped as well. The coriander is straight from his garden. It's been growing like crazy lately."

"Ahh, yes, that'll be because of the snake feces."

The conversation ground to a halt, and Ron choked, half of his taco hanging out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, did you say snake feces? What the hell have you got me eating here?"

Tom nodded. "Erm…tacos? And yes, naturally snake feces make excellent fertilizer. Nagini digests everything she eats so thoroughly, so it really works a treat!"

Harry looked a bit queasy as well but offered a forced smile to his roommate. "Tom's, uhh, been reading about the science of gardening. Didn't know he'd picked up that little tidbit, but there you have it."

With a heaving sigh, Ginny tried to steer the conversation in another direction. "Anyway, I can't wait for next weekend. Did Harry tell you what we're doing?"

Hermione shook her head, glancing over to Ron to see if he knew anything. When he shrugged, she turned back to Ginny. "No, what?"

"Harry's taking me on holiday, just the two of us. We're staying in a little cottage in the hills. It looks absolutely gorgeous."

"That's great!" Hermione exclaimed. "Nobody deserves a break more than you two. I'm sure you'll have a fantastic time."

"Oh, we will," Harry chimed in, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "We're going to go hiking through the country, maybe check out the water park—"

"If we ever leave the room, that is," Ginny added with a mischievous grin.

"Sounds kind of like our trip to Ibiza a couple weeks ago, remember?" Ron hinted, elbowing Hermione in the ribs.

Her face turned bright red and she cleared her throat, staring back down at her plate and reassembling her taco. "Yes, but if you'll recall, we incorporated lots of interesting historical stops and got out of the room plenty."

"I mean, I suppose we took it outside to the balcony that one night when everything was quiet—"

"Ronald!"

Harry looked clearly uncomfortable across the table, but Ron was grinning like an idiot, evidently quite proud of himself.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I follow," Tom finally said, his gaze shifting from person to person in an attempt to understand. "Was your balcony historically significant in some way?"

"It was after that performance…" Ron murmured with a chuckle, earning a smack on the arm from Hermione. Ginny glared at him from across the table, silently condemning his sophomoric humor.

"Erm, you see, Tom," Harry started, quite sure he didn't want to have to explain his best friends' sex life to his former enemy, "not leaving the room is sort of a…a code. It means staying in bed all day and…you know?"

Tom's eyes opened wide, and his jaw dropped as he turned back to Ron. "Ohh, intercourse! Right, good for you, mate!"

"Thanks, Tom…" Ron replied, still giggling to himself.

"Is it time to share those stories? Can do, pals. That reminds me, this one time, Bella and I were alone in this dilapidated old shed in the forest. We'd just tortured the owners and Imperius'ed them to cartwheel all the way back to London, so needless to say, we were riding high. She stripped down, and I can still remember the way her crooked smile reflected the glint of the candlelight, at least off of the part of her teeth that weren't completely decayed…"

For the next several minutes, Tom went on to describe the encounter in great detail, at one point even standing on top of the kitchen counter for what he referred to as 'a spirited demonstration for future reference'. By the time the story came to an end, everyone's appetites were thoroughly spoiled.

"—And don't ask me how her tongue was able to reach all the way back there, but I can't say I didn't enjoy myself."

Silence engulfed the dining room, even the clanking of silverware against plates ceasing entirely. Tom searched around the table for validation, but anytime his eyes landed on another person, they looked away, slightly greener in the face than they were when dinner had started.

"We're, erm, we're glad you're happy, Tom," Harry finally said, after which Tom gave a polite nod and returned to his meal.

The rest of them shoved their plates forward and continued to avoid eye contact with each other, nobody wanting to relive the last few minutes. Tom, on the other hand, continued putting away tacos like he was celebrating Dumbledore's murder, scooping pile after heaping pile of meat, cheese, and onions into his tortillas.

Dinner continued in relative silence, the conversation meandering for a couple hours. The quiet was often broken by Tom's periodic reviews of various combinations of toppings. Right after he finished telling them how it was really smartest to put a layer of salsa down on top of the meat so that the cheese and herbs have something to stick to, everyone else pushed back from the table and cleared their plates. Ron was openly snickering as they strolled into the kitchen. To his credit, Harry shot him a dirty look, doing his best to defend his new roommate and his less than conventional table manners.

Despite an invitation to stay and chat or have a game of Wizard's Chess, Ron and Hermione declined, both saying they had an early morning the following day. As they headed to the front closet to get their jackets, Harry cornered them out of Tom's earshot.

"I'm sorry, guys. Honestly, he's getting much better, but…well, it might be a while before he's truly excellent company."

Hermione slipped into her light coat and gave Harry a sympathetic look. "We know, Harry. And we really do both have an early morning tomorrow. For what it's worth, I still find it admirable that you've agreed to this, and I'm proud of you for putting the needs of the magical community above your own. It's very noble and Gryffindor-ish, not that I'm surprised."

"Thanks, Hermione. That means a lot. Ron, you all right?"

"Yeah, mate," the tall redhead replied, tucking his hand into Hermione's. "Don't get me wrong, that man's still a nutter, but I suppose he's way better than he used to be. He didn't outright insult us this time, so that's a plus, I guess."

"I guess…he'll get there, just give him time. It's a big transition."

"It is," Hermione said, stepping forward and wrapping Harry in a hug. "Thanks for having us, Harry. We'll have to repay the favor sometime."

"Yeah, any time, mate," Ron added.

As Harry pulled open the door, Tom appeared around the corner, rushing after them with a takeaway container that he'd wrapped several times in duct tape. "Wait, wait! I packed up some leftovers for you. There's enough for a hearty dinner for two, extra coriander! I hear that's the thing to do, no?"

Ron looked a little impressed and a little nervous as he accepted the box. "Kind of you, Tom. Cheers."

"Thank you, Tom. It was lovely to see you again," Hermione replied with an overeager nod of her head.

"Having company is truly a joy, you'll have to return sometime. In fact, if you're free next weekend, Rookwood's coming over. He may not look like it, but he's got a deft touch for making the flakiest pasties you've ever had. The more the merrier!"

"We'll, uhh…we'll be in touch," Ron said with a wave as they headed out into the cool evening air.

After closing and locking the door, Harry joined Tom in the kitchen where the latter had already taken care of the washing up. Harry wasn't sure how, but Tom had charmed the dishes to clean themselves, dry themselves, and fly neatly back into the cabinet themselves.

"Tom, that's genius!"

"Like it, do you? I thought it would be a good use of that particular type of magic."

Swallowing against a lump in his throat, Harry asked the question he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to. "What type of magic would that be?"

"Oh, it's a modified Imperius curse. The Ministry hasn't seemed to mind now that I'm rarely using it on people any longer, and it is much more efficient."

"Rarely? Any longer?!"

Tom looked confused and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. Some of my followers needed a little persuading, shall we say. Anyone who had cold feet got a quick dose of this and they snapped right back into line, I'll tell you that for sure."

"Right, but…no people recently, right?"

Staring off into the corner of the kitchen, Tom scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, starting now, absolutely."

"Tom? What did you do?"

"It's not a big deal, but…fine, in the interest of roommate transparency. One time, you were sitting on the sofa reading about Merlin knows what and crunching on pretzels. These pretzels, I swear on my favorite Horcrux, had to have been made out of gravel. And your mouth…the inside of it must be the size of the Great Hall. I am not being hyperbolic when I say that you eating those things sounded like someone was sucking up wingnuts with a Shop-vac. I, of course, was trying to focus on my songwriting at the time, and I kept losing my train of thought. So, I may have just used a tiny little spell to make you a bit more intrigued by yogurt for the day."

"Tom, that was you?" Harry exclaimed. "I should've known! I didn't remember buying thirty cups of yogurt, but now they're taking up half of the fridge!"

"Well, if you'd gotten better flavors, perhaps I could be helping you clear them out. Honestly, honey and cream? Just get regular and then add your own honey, everyone knows that!"

"Not the point, Tom! I'm your roommate now, you can't just put me under the Imperius curse—"

"Modified Imperius curse, to be exact," Tom interrupted. "It wasn't unforgivable, I checked."

"Still! If we're roommates, we're going to have to trust one another! And I can't trust you if you're manipulating me with magic just because of my snack preference!"

His face dropping, Tom angled his body away from Harry. "I see. I'm sorry, Harry, I—I have no excuse. I guess I still have a lot to learn about having friends instead of followers."

Maybe it was the pathetic slumping of Tom's shoulders that spurred Harry to mercy. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed contrite. Or maybe it was the single tear that he could produce on cue every time. How the hell did he do that? Like clockwork, the man was!

"I know," Harry said, his tone calming. "But if you have a problem with something I'm doing, just tell me, okay? Most of the time, I bet we'll be able to work it out between ourselves."

Tom stuck his hand out toward Harry, who grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. "Deal. I'll do my best to respect your autonomy. I know it's important to you."

"And I'll do my best not to annoy you as long as I know what the problem is."

"Sounds fair."

"Alright. Anyway, Ginny and I are going to go to bed. See you in the morning, though?"

"Already?" Tom asked, looking down at his watch. "It's barely ten o'clock!"

No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, a small blush crept onto Harry's cheeks, and he offered a non-committal mumble. "Yeah, well…you know…company…just kinda tired, I guess."

"Ahh," Tom said with a suspicious grin. "Ten-four, my young friend. Looking for some…alone time, eh?"

"I'll just…I'll see you tomorrow, Tom."

Tom folded his arms across his chest and watched as his roommate hustled into his bedroom, quickly closing the door behind him. A faint giggle rang out through the door, and Tom chuckled and shook his head.

"Oh yes, definitely intercourse. Nagini, find me my earplugs!"