Tomarry One Shots

For I am a fool

Summary: Harry talks to someone who's not Tom and Tom gets all angsty.

Ship: HarryPotterxTomRiddle

All credit goes to Melon_Green on Ao3

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They were in their usual café.

Tom's favorite.

Because it was Harry's favourite.

But this time it was not Tom sitting in front of Harry. It was not her watching Harry ramble about quidditch and move her hand through her nest of thick long hair for the thousandth time to fix it.

Fun fact: It messed it up even more but Tom being the ultimate swoon she was, complimented it nevertheless.

She loved to see her hair look more like her, chaotic and free-spirited. Because Harry looked happier when she didn't have to struggle to keep her messy hair in neat tight braids.

But today Harry was not sitting with her like they usually did. One arm on Tom's shoulder and another holding that monstrosity of iced white mocha with salted caramel cold foam and caramel drizzle.

But Tom was still ready with her drink on the table Harry always preferred because 'You will get some nice air from here, Tom. It's better than studying in that air conditioner all day'.

No, Harry was sitting across from a guy, his animated gestures drawing a smile from her lips.

And Tom watched from a distance, sipping her black coffee, her brown eyes flicking back and forth between them. She tried to appear nonchalant, but her heart was pounding hard in her chest.

The guy leaned in closer, his laughter mingling with Harry's and Tom's grip tightened around her coffee cup. She knew she had no right to feel this way—Harry was just talking to a friend, after all. But the thought of Harry laughing like that with someone else made her stomach churn with frustration.

She desperately wanted to storm over there and pull Harry away from that gross ginger. But she forced herself to look away instead, pretending to be engrossed in her phone.

Taking a deep breath, Tom tried to focus on anything else—the chatter around her, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee—but her mind kept drifting back to Harry and the Weasley guy.

Just what was so interesting in gnomes, homemade apple pie, and some chess matches. Harry didn't even like to play chess! At least his blabbering about quidditch were understandable to catch Harry's attention.

But why was Harry laughing about fucking chess? Did Tom need to play more chess with her?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she excused herself from the table, HUGGING the motherfucker goodbye and made her way back to Tom.

Her relief turned to dismay as Harry wrapped the guy in a warm hug with her arms around his shoulders. A surge of jealousy coursed through Tom's veins, overwhelming her senses.

In a moment of irrational frustration, Tom's grip on her coffee cup tightened- the porcelain cracking under the pressure of accidental magic. She winced as the cup shattered in her hand, the shards scattering across the table.

And without her knowing, She found herself shouting at the waiter who came panicking over the broken mug and dirty floor.

Startled by the sudden noise, Harry turned back to Tom, her eyes widening in concern. "Tom, are you alright?" she asked, hurrying back to the table.

She held her hands without even hearing any of the reasons and excuses. And Tom couldn't stop thinking how she prioritized her over everything else. The blabbering of the waiter was a blur in her mind.