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Harry fiddled nervously with his shirt collar as he eyed his reflection in the mirror. His hair had been tamed into a manageable look. He had showered, shaved, and spritzed a bit of cologne.
Tom had said to dress ‘casual’, but Harry knew that Tom—who was nearly always dressed in formal wear—had a different definition of ‘casual’ than most people.
Though Harry had the horrible feeling he was going to be out of his element tonight, he was determined to do his best. He would cope with whatever insanely extravagant things Tom had planned for their first date.
Because if Harry didn’t, then Tom might decide that Harry wasn’t suited for his world after all—a world that consisted of designer clothing and expensive champagne. Of course, Harry didn’t care about the money. Harry liked Tom for who he was. But the fact remained that Harry didn’t quite fit into Tom’s fancy life the way he wished he did.
Smoothing his hands down his only pair of slacks, Harry took a deep breath. He had insisted on getting ready in his own flat so that he could have the space to talk himself up. Tom had agreed. He had told Harry to simply come over whenever he was ready. Unfortunately, this had not helped. Harry had begun to worry that he was taking up too much time in his bathroom, that Tom was waiting in his flat and getting impatient for Harry to finish up.
But now Harry was done, and he felt reasonably confident that he looked good. He had considered wearing a tie, but then decided it probably wouldn’t be worth the anxiety of having it pulled up around his neck. Harry pulled out his phone, his new phone that Tom had gotten him for Christmas, and looked at the time. He hadn’t taken that long, surely? He had taken a normal amount of time.
Steeling his nerves, Harry left his flat, locked it up, and then went to knock on flat 6S. Tom had told him to just come in, but Harry still felt weird letting himself into Tom’s place without knocking first.
“Come in!”
Harry pushed his way inside. Tom was lounging on his couch, his left foot propped up on the opposite knee. He was wearing a pair of charcoal trousers and a black silk shirt with the top button undone. The shirt looked positively sinful. Harry was having a hard time focusing on anything else.
“You look wonderful,” Tom said, voice full of warmth as he got to his feet. He came over to Harry, taking one of Harry’s hands in his, lifting it so that he could brush his lips against the top. Tom’s other hand was holding a small bouquet of red roses, which he held out. “These are for you.”
Harry felt himself flush as he took the flowers. “You look really great, too,” he said, ducking his head under the guise of smelling the bouquet.
Tom hummed in response, taking another step closer. Harry felt Tom’s other hand come to rest against his waist. “At this rate, we may not make it to the restaurant,” Tom said, smirking.
Though Harry knew Tom was probably joking, the firm press of Tom’s hand on his waist was making him feel a bit lightheaded. “Ah, maybe we should go then?”
Tom laughed, his eyes dancing with mischief as he took a step back, putting some distance between them. “Very good decision,” Tom praised. “It is our first date, after all. Wouldn’t do to end up in the bedroom too soon.” And then he winked.
Harry let Tom guide him into the passenger seat of the car. He was glad they weren’t being escorted by Tom’s usual driver, because that would have been a bit weird. Tom slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine while Harry twiddled his now-empty hands. They had left his bouquet of flowers in a vase at Tom’s flat.
As they pulled out onto the road, Harry worried over where they would be going. He knew from movies and television shows that sometimes there were extra utensils for eating certain things, but Harry had never paid much attention to their uses before. Even when he’d lived at the Dursley’s, his only task had been to set the tables up, not to know how they worked.
If Tom was taking him to a fancy, expensive restaurant, then Harry was going to embarrass himself horribly by asking what fork he ought to use.
“What are you thinking about?”
Tom’s voice broke Harry out of his melancholy. Though his focus was mostly fixed on the road ahead of them, Tom had shifted to glance at Harry out of the corner of his eye.
“Nothing,” said Harry. “Just wondering where we’re going.”
Tom smiled. “It’s a surprise,” he said, reaching over with one hand to give Harry’s knee a quick squeeze.
What Harry really wanted to ask was whether or not it was going to be a place with more than one fork, but that seemed like the kind of thing he ought to keep to himself. So Harry let them sit in silence as Tom continued to drive, hoping that wherever they ended up would be somewhere where he could bluff his way through a meal.
When they arrived at the restaurant, it looked normal. That was to say, it looked like the kind of place Harry would go to with Ron and Hermione. Tom parked the car near the entrance, then came around to open the door for Harry.
“I’ve never been here before,” Harry said.
“You’ll like it,” Tom promised. His hand came to rest against the small of Harry’s back, guiding him towards the door.
The hostess greeted them with a wide smile as they walked in. Harry glanced around. The restaurant was a spaghetti house, and the interior was almost… rustic? The lights hanging from the ceiling had stained glass lampshades. There was also a lot of warm-toned wood: the tables, the booths, the columns that supported the ceiling.
Harry felt relieved they were somewhere that felt familiar, even though he hadn’t been here before.
“I have a reservation booked for two, please. Under ‘Riddle’,” Tom said to the hostess, offering her a charming smile.
The hostess blushed. “A moment, please.”
As the hostess consulted her reservation list, Tom leaned over to press a quick kiss to Harry’s head. Then his hand slid up to rest upon Harry’s shoulder, his long fingers curling against the start of Harry’s collarbone.
“Right this way, gentlemen,” said the hostess, her eyes flickering between the two of them.
She led them to a small booth towards the back of the restaurant. “Will this do?”
Tom was still smiling. “This is excellent, thank you.”
The hostess set their menus upon the table and wandered away. Tom’s hands moved to peel Harry’s jacket off. Once the task of removing was done, Tom hung Harry’s jacket up on one of the little hooks that stuck out from the booth. Then Tom shed his jacket as well, placing it delicately on the hook next to Harry’s.
They slid into their seats. At this point, Harry was dealing with a mixture of arousal, confusion, and mild anxiety. Though to be honest, Harry wasn’t sure exactly what he was anxious about. This restaurant was perfectly nice and Tom was being the perfect gentleman.
Tom opened his menu up and began to look, so Harry did the same thing. Everything looked delicious; Harry wasn’t sure what to choose. So he flipped to the drinks instead, just to see what his options were. There was pop, various juices, tea, and coffee. A quick glance upward confirmed that there was also a separate menu for alcohol.
He and Tom reached for the wine menu at the same time. Their hands bumped. Tom had a gleam in his eye that led Harry to suspect this collision could have perhaps been avoided. Harry smiled, his hand lingering.
“You first,” Tom said, withdrawing his hand.
It was then that their waitress arrived. She introduced herself, then asked if they would like any drinks.
Harry hadn’t gotten a chance to look properly at the alcohol. “I’ll just… I’ll have a Dr. Pepper,” he said, because that was what he usually drank, and then he mentally cursed himself, because they were out to dinner on a date, not on some casual outing as friends.
The waitress turned to Tom. “And for you, sir?”
“A merlot, please.”
Harry went back to looking at his menu so he could hide his face.
When the waitress returned with their drinks, Harry was ready to present his order. He was going to order the spaghetti with the two kinds of sauces: tomato and cream. That way he wasn’t ordering something basic, and he was still adhering to the general theme of having spaghetti at a spaghetti house. Tom ordered a side of garlic bread and some kind of pasta Harry had never tried before.
Wanting to occupy his hands, Harry picked up his glass of pop and took a sip. The fizziness of the pop helped to distract him from his nervousness.
“Have you thought about any of the movies in theaters lately?” Tom asked.
Harry hadn’t. The last movie he had gone to see had been with Ron, maybe three months ago. It had been some action blockbuster thing with fast cars and lots of explosions.
So Tom proceeded to list the titles of the latest releases, giving Harry a brief description of each of their synopses. Partway through Tom’s talking, the garlic bread arrived, and Harry was able to occupy his hands with it. As Tom continued to talk, Harry listened attentively, nodding along, asking questions when applicable. This conversation lasted all the way until the main dishes arrived, which Harry was infinitely thankful for.
The pasta was delicious. Harry told Tom so, because Tom had chosen the restaurant, and Tom seemed pleased about it.
“So after we finish eating—” Tom began.
Harry’s brain did a nervous flip. This was it. This was where Tom was going to say they would be going on a helicopter ride over London, or that he’d rented a boat to go sailing across the Thames, or that they would be going ballroom dancing in Mayfair. Harry was terrible at ballroom dancing.
“—I was thinking we could go and see a movie.”
“Oh.” Harry blinked. “That would be really great,” he added.
“Excellent,” Tom said, and then he resumed eating.
Tom ordered them apple pie for dessert. It was so normal and wholesome that Harry had actually allowed himself to relax and enjoy it. Harry had expected this date to be completely wild, but so far everything had been pretty typical. Perhaps he had misjudged Tom. Although, buying a brand new phone for someone you’d only known vaguely for six months was still kind of crazy.
After the pie was done and Tom had paid the bill, Harry and Tom returned to the car. While Tom drove them to the theater, Harry tapped his fingers on his thighs, trying to avoid bouncing his legs up and down.
“What movie are we seeing?” asked Harry. “Or is that also a surprise?”
“‘Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse’,” said Tom. “I thought you’d like it since it was your Halloween costume last October. You haven’t seen it, have you?”
As Tom adjusted his hands on the wheel, the watch on his wrist glinted. Harry blinked, momentarily dazed by the flash of light. The wristwatch looked expensive, and Harry was suddenly reminded that no, this was not a normal date, because Tom was special. Tom was different from all the other people that Harry had dated. Tom always seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking, what to do to help pull Harry out of his own head.
“No,” Harry said. “I haven’t.”
Tom hit a button on the dashboard. The music player in front of them lit up, displaying an ‘insert CD’ message. “Why don’t you pick a CD?” Tom asked. “They’re in the glove compartment. Usually I use the Bluetooth, but I feel as though this is easier. We won’t be driving much longer anyways.”
Harry hesitated, then went to open the glove compartment up. Inside were a number of CDs, mostly classical music. He picked a disc at random and fed it into the player. The soothing sound of a violin filled the car.
Tom began to hum along, his voice quiet and comforting. So Harry turned his gaze out to the window and watched as the streets passed them by, feeling confident with how things were going.
The theater wasn’t too busy. It was a Tuesday evening, meaning most people were probably too tired to go out. However, since both Harry and Tom worked irregular hours, this had been the best day for them to go out together.
Tom paid for two bottles of water and some popcorn to share, then walked them over to the ticket taker, where he produced their two tickets on his mobile for scanning. There were already about a dozen people seated when Harry and Tom walked into their assigned theater.
“Let’s sit at the back,” Tom said, heading straight for the stairs.
Harry didn’t particularly care where they sat, so he followed Tom up to the very last row. They shed their jackets and sat down near the center of the row. Harry felt a little bad that Tom was paying for everything, but Tom had prefaced his entire date invitation with the fact that since he would be planning the entire date, he would also be paying for it all.
Tom struck Harry as the sort of person who would get offended if you offered to pay, which was sort of how Ron was sometimes. So Harry had kept his thoughts about money to himself, resolving to buy Tom a nice gift later down the line. Maybe a nice scarf. He hadn’t seen Tom with one of those (yet), and it seemed like the sort of fashionable thing Tom ought to be wearing.
Harry snacked on popcorn as they sat through the trailers. Tom had only purchased a small container since they’d just had dinner, which meant that Harry had to moderate his unconscious desire to keep his hands busy, otherwise the bucket would end up empty before the movie had even started.
When the movie finally began, Harry settled in to watch. Two hours with no worries about committing a social faux pas sounded like a dream come true.
Maybe a third of the way into the movie, Harry noticed that Tom had put an arm around his shoulders. Embarrassingly, Harry hadn’t even noticed when that had happened. He’d probably been too focused on the movie. But now that he had noticed, the gentle pressure of Tom’s arm wrapped around him felt really nice.
Harry glanced over at Tom. Tom had his eyes fixed firmly on the screen, so Harry felt safe in admiring Tom’s profile for a moment. The soft tendrils of hair that fell across his forehead, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the sensual curve of his mouth. He knew Tom was at least a few years older than him, but the way Tom carried himself emanated a maturity Harry felt miles away from.
It was a wonder that Tom thought he, Harry, was worth spending time with. But Tom had talked to him all throughout dinner, sounding genuinely interested in what Harry thought. Tom had his arm around Harry’s shoulders. Whatever it was that Tom liked about him, Harry hoped he was doing a good job of continuing to do it.
Turning his attention back to the movie, Harry did his best to re-immerse himself in the film.
When the lights eventually came on, Harry had to blink a few times to adjust his vision. He could still feel Tom’s arm pressed against him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had fallen asleep by now. Although, Harry was a bit shorter than Tom was, so perhaps the position was comfortable enough for him to leave his arm there.
The two of them stood and stretched. Harry suppressed a yawn. Sitting in the dark theater for so long had made him sleepy. Picking up his bottle of water and the empty popcorn container, Harry made his way back to the aisle so they could leave. Tom followed behind at a sedate pace.
“Did you like the movie?” Tom asked.
“Yeah! It was really awesome. I liked seeing all the different art styles for all the different characters—” Harry rambled on about the movie all the way back to the car, and then, since his mouth seemed intent on continuing, he kept up his stream of words as Tom started the car and drove them away from the theater.
Harry thought they would be going home, as it had gotten fairly late, but apparently Tom’s plans had yet to run their course. They were still driving even after Harry had run out of things to say about the movie.
“Where are we going now?” Harry asked.
“Chiswick House Gardens,” Tom replied. “They have a light show set up there.”
Harry had heard about the lights and seen pictures on Instagram. It had looked like a really great place for a date. Glancing at the clock display on Tom’s dashboard, Harry frowned. “Isn’t it kind of late now?”
“They’re still open, don’t worry.”
Harry felt the urge to fact check this on Google, but it probably would come across as rude, so he settled for stuffing his hands under his thighs as he waited for them to arrive at their destination.
The gardens were… empty. There were only a few cars around them as Tom parked the car and got out. Harry held onto a desperate hope this was because of the late hour, but unfortunately he was to be proven wrong.
As they approached the area where the tickets were supposed to be paid for, Harry’s eyes caught on the sign that listed the operating hours. He and Tom were most definitely operating outside regular operating hours.
An attendant came out to greet them, smiling and waving.
“Tom?” asked Harry. “Did you rent this entire place out?”
“Only for an hour or so.” Then Tom reached over to loop their arms together, and so Harry had no choice but to allow himself to be pulled along.
Harry pondered in silence over the likely-exorbitant cost of renting this space for ‘an hour or so’. The attendant followed them from a distance, not quite hovering as Tom walked them around and pointed out a few things here and there. The gardens were really very beautiful, and soon enough Harry found himself distracted by all of the brilliant displays.
“We should take a photograph,” Tom mused. They were paused in the middle of a tunnel that consisted entirely of strands of lights. It was a pretty spot, one usually featured in couple’s shots. Harry supposed it made sense for him and Tom to be standing here.
Tom gestured for the attendant, who came running up to take their photograph. They tried a few poses, mostly with Tom moving Harry about and directing him on how to stand. Harry didn’t mind; it gave them an excuse to touch each other, and Tom probably had a better sense of what would look good anyways.
When they were done, Tom took his phone back and swiped through all the photos, frowning.
“One more,” Tom said, holding his mobile back out. “I think I know what we need to do.”
The attendant took a few steps back and held the phone up, waiting.
Tom placed a gentle hand on Harry’s elbow, turning him so they were facing each other. Then he placed his hand against Harry’s cheek, cupping his face, his fingertips tender against Harry’s upper jaw.
“Eyes on me,” Tom said, quiet.
Harry stared into Tom’s eyes. In the dark, surrounded by all the lights, they looked dark enough that they were unfathomable, heavy as the night sky surrounding them. Harry could imagine himself falling into Tom’s gaze and never leaving. His world had narrowed down to only this, to only Tom. Tom was close enough that Harry could feel the faint huff of Tom’s breath against his skin.
The camera flashed. It took Harry a moment to register it. Then Tom placed a kiss to his forehead, disentangling them from each other.
Once Tom had his phone in hand again, he brought it over to show Harry.
“Perfect,” Tom said. He sounded very pleased.
Harry looked down at the photo. Him and Tom were facing each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. Surrounded by the dazzling lights. Tom’s side profile looked as handsome as ever, but Harry found, surprisingly, that he liked his own appearance in the photo as well. Overall, the picture was better than Harry could have imagined it looking.
“I really like this,” Harry said.
Tom reached for his hand. “Let’s wrap this night up, shall we?” Tom asked. The mischievous look from before was back.
Harry nodded, a smile spreading across his face, and let Tom lead the way forward.
Some days later, Harry was hanging around in Tom’s flat and watching cooking videos on Youtube. Tom was in the shower, which usually meant that Harry wouldn’t see him for at least another twenty minutes.
Halfway through a recipe on how to make macaroons, Tom’s phone rang. It was the loud, obnoxious ringtone that Harry had come to associate with Tom’s personal assistant, Lucius Malfoy.
“Harry?” It was Tom’s voice coming from the bathroom, though Harry had no idea how Tom was able to hear his phone from such a distance. Perhaps Tom was simply attuned to the sound of his phone going off with Lucius’ ringtone.
“Yes?” Harry asked.
“Can you please check that for me?”
“Sure,” Harry called back. He paused his video and shifted over on the couch so he could pick up Tom’s phone, which had already stopped ringing. Tom didn’t use a passcode; he preferred the fingerprint option. So Harry pressed his thumb against the button and watched the screen unlock. Tom had insisted on adding him, and Harry hadn’t been able to think of any reasonable argument against it.
Harry went straight to the call history. Stopped. Exited the call history and went back to the main screen. Tom’s phone wallpaper was the photo of the two of them from the gardens. The photo had been blown up a little, so that the focus was on them looking at each other.
The sight of this made Harry feel stupidly happy. Tom liked him. Tom was using the photo of them together on their first date as his wallpaper.
Harry spent so long starting at the photo that eventually Tom emerged from his shower, dark hair dripping wet and towel slung loosely around his waist. “What did he want?” Tom asked.
“Oh, sorry,” Harry said, looking up. “I got distracted.”
Tom came over to stand behind the couch, looming over Harry as he peered down at his phone. There was a beat of silence, and then Harry felt Tom’s hand come to rest lightly on his shoulder.
“It’s fine, Harry. Don’t worry,” Tom said. “I doubt whatever Lucius was calling about had any major importance.”
Harry maneuvered himself in a half-circle the couch, turning to face Tom so he could wrap his arms around Tom’s damp waist. Tom made a noise of approval, his hand sliding down to give Harry’s bicep a squeeze.
“Let’s say we make date night a regular occurrence,” Tom crooned, his other hand now winding its way into Harry’s messy hair.
“Yes,” Harry said, voice thick. He pressed his face against Tom’s chest, inhaling the clean scent of Tom’s soap. Then he added, “I think I would really like that a lot.”
