One Shots - HP

Cottage

Harry waved goodbye to the Weasley's. "See you for seventh year!"
"See you, Harry!"
"Bye!"
He walked over to his uncle, who was waiting by the car. "You know the drill," he muttered, slipping him a thousand pounds.
Vernon nodded, stuffing the money into his pocket and hopping into the car, before driving off without Harry.
Harry smiled, slipping into a side alley to wandlessly shrink and lighten his trunk, before wandlessly apparating away.
He had practiced all of fourth year at wandless magic, secretly, and fifth learning to apparate - wandlessly again, because of the Trace on his wand.
The summer after his fifth year, last year, he had paid off Uncle Vernon and family to keep his disappearance a secret; tell everyone it was a summer camp or something. A win-win situation; they get money and no 'freak', and he's free!
He anonymously bought a little cottage in some woods, which were his as well, actually; all two hundred acres.
It was picture perfect. Cobblestoned walls, log beams, maple interior, soft decor with a beautiful kitchen; a bayonet window in the front sitting room, gorgeous slate fireplace in the den, fully functional attic with windows, perfectly proportioned marble bathroom, a sweet little garden to tinker in, a koi pond out back alongside a gazebo - it was perfect in every sense of the word. He was quite literally in love.
He walked up the short gravel pathway to the two steps up to the door - an amazing stained glass piece taking up a third of it. He took his keys from his pocket, unlocking the door as his core unlocked the lockdown wards.
Stepping into the little entrance hallway, Harry sighed with content. Coming home felt amazing; better than anything he'd ever felt before. He felt happy, relaxed, and just plain calm for the first time in months.
After resizing his trunk and putting everything away - books on the mahogany bookshelf, homework and co. on the cherry desk, clothes in the cedar wardrobe, Hedwig's cage in the attic and her stand in the livingroom far corner - he went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
As he boiled the water, he started the rose sauce and the side salad; cesaer with croutons. He poured the rotini noddles into the water, stirring the sauce as he did so. He quickly finished the salad, drained the noodles, mixed them in with the sauce, and served everything up. He then grabbed a bottle of aged red wine, imported from Italy, and poured out a decent measure.
After setting the table nicely, candles and silverware and china and all, he went to the front hallway and tugged on a satin ribbon hanging against the wall. A minute later, there was a quiet crack, barely the same noise level of a twig snapping, and he opened the door.
"Hello, my lovely," the wonderful sight before him purred, sweeping him into a tight, loving embrace.
Harry burried his face into the crook of his love's neck, relieved to finally be in his arms again.
"Merlin, I've missed you," Harry whispered. He heard his lover breath in his scent, hand gripping his hair.
"By Circe, I've missed you, too," he mumbled, pressing slow kisses to his neck, tugging him even closer.
After standing there for a good ten minutes, Harry muttered, "The food's going cold."
A huff. "Fuck the bloody food; I'd not eat for a week if it meant I got to hold you the whole while."
Harry giggled, pulling back to kiss his stubbly cheek. "You need to shave, love. Have you been looking after yourself?"
A sheepish look crossed his face. "Er... yes?"
Harry frowned. "Tom, you come first; ignore the bloody paperwork for an hour to fix yourself up, eat, and shower. Please tell me you've at least been doing the bare minimum?"
Tom quickly nods. "Yes, yes, my darling, I've done enough to get me by."
Harry's frown deepens. "Tsk. Well, now that I'm back, you better believe you'll be 'getting by' on a hundred percent, instead of two."
Rolling his eyes, Tom smiled at him fondly. "It was more like twenty than two, my love."
He purses his lips, eyebrow raised. "Mhm. Sure. Come on, dinner's on the table."
Turning around, Harry began back to the kitchen, a little miffed.
Quick as lightning, Tom spun him back around, pulling him into a deep, heavy kiss.
When they pulled back, gasping for air, Harry gently smacked his chest with a shy grin. "Stupid git. Dinner time."
He bounced off, beaming as Tom languidly strolled behind him, smirking fondly.
They sat at the table, Harry thowing a quick heating spell over the pasta before they dug in.
"Dear everything sacred," Tom muttered. "I don't know how I lived without your cooking for nine months, Harry. Bloody hell, this is delicious."
Smiling, Harry bit his lip as he thanked him.
After dinner was finished, Tom casted a quick barrage of spells, cleaning and putting away all of the dishes and blowing out the candles. "There," he said. "Now, to the den!"
Laughing, Harry followed him as he walked down the hallway, lighting the fire before settling onto the couch. He plopped down in his lap, leaning back and getting comfortable.
"...If your followers call you, what are you going to do?"
Sensing the landmine, yet unsure where it was, Tom treaded carefully.
"I... will... sit here... and ignore it...?"
Harry smirked. "You sure?"
"...yes."
He pecked him on the nose. "Good job. You're not leaving 'til after breakfast tomorrow; the whole world care burn for all I care."
"I thought you didn't-"
"Don't start, Tom. I'm not in the mood, and you won't win anyway, so there's no point."
Pouting, he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "Fine."
They sat in front of the crackling fire for hours, relaxing in each other's presence.
Finally, at eleven, Harry sighed, standing up. "Come on love; bedtime."
Groaning, Tom did as told, slowly pushing himself up before cracking his back. "Ah... Alright. Lead the way, darling."
Up the stairs, across the hall, and into their pajamas from their cedar wardrobe, they climbed into the cream coloured covers, Tom immediately spooning Harry to him.
They snuggle down, wrapped up in the duvet, already half asleep.
"Goodnight, Cheesecake."
Tom snorted. "Goodnight... Blueberry Muffin."

1,054 words