(Tomarry - HP/TR) Burnt Ice Cream

Part IV

Tom startled as his wand suddenly started vibrating, a melodic ringing slowly increasing in volume emanating from the stick. For a second, he had no idea what was happening and stared at his wand, clueless, before it hit him. He had a customer.

He rose from the decking chair, the overcast day having made of an easier, albeit colder read shielded from the direct sunlight, and re-entered the shop. He was instantly assaulted by a miasma of dust clouds and blinked, adjusting his eyes to the sudden darkness and picking up a lantern to navigate the shop with.

This is such a fire hazard, he thought, wondering if Madam Medea had finally cracked. But then again, it was more likely that her brain had been put through the blender years ago. Footsteps to his left told him the direction the customer was in, and he carefully wound his way around the piles of books that hadn't accumulated on the shelves, cursing the old witch as he knocked his knee against a jutting-out charms manual.

"Hello? Anyone there?" A younger voice than he had expected called out from a few shelves down and Tom scowled, hoping to Morgana that it wouldn't be one of his classmates.

No, it was even worse.

"You," Tom stated bluntly upon seeing the bespectacled boy perusing through some of the books, the lantern faintly illuminating the youth with weak yellow light.

"Yep, me," Harry Potter replied, sending what was supposed to be a disarming grin at Tom, which he promptly brushed off.

"What do you want?" Tom asked through gritted teeth, the niceties Madam Medea had tried to install in him forgone. Potter frowned, face scrunched up in thought.

"Well…this is a bookshop, right?"

"Yes," Tom replied, fist clenching white and nails digging into the palm of his hand. Save him from Gryffindors…

A teasing grin stretched obnoxiously across Potter's face. "Then I want a book."

"What sort of book?" Tom asked stiffly. He knew Potter's game – he was always trying to talk to Tom, chat about meaningless things and distract him his books. It was infuriating – all he wanted to do was read in peace and then Potter had to come along and ruin it with his unwanted chatter. Why was he so fixated on talking to Tom? Couldn't he take a hint?

Potter prodded some of the worn spines lining the shelves, "I'm looking for a book on Human Transfiguration, for summer homework, you know, but these all seem rather…explicit."

Tom eyed the titles Potter was pointing at, reciting one out loud, "The use of Transfiguration in Battle Magic," Tom smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. "Yes…they can be rather vivid."

"Uh huh," Potter affirmed, wide green eyes pleading with Tom, "So… what should I get?"

Tom gestured the boy to follow him, turning on his heels and striding down the aisles. Potter struggled to catch up with him, and Tom with no small amount of glee heard lots of cursing as Potter tried to navigate the shop, struggling without the light from Tom's lantern close by. Tom stopped by a row of shelves near the back of the shop, in a section he had quickly dismissed due to its more basic and commonplace material. He silently drew out a dog-eared Transfiguration textbook that had gone out of date over a decade ago, but its commentary on Human Transfiguration was still relevant.