Good Night, Darling

[ The Glory of the Sun ]

Summary: domesticated tomarry

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The sun was causing Harry to sweat tumultuous amounts, and it wasn't pleasant. As much as he enjoyed Orion's company, he didn't think the boy's choice to sit outside had been a very good one. Tom was obviously feeling similar, the tops of his ears and cheeks having turned a pinkish colour. He was burning up, and Harry knew that he– too– was on the verge of becoming burnt.

Orion, somehow, was managing to avoid the stuffiness of the heat and the raging of the sun and was happily chatting at the both of them while nibbling on cucumber sandwiches and sipping on lemon water. It was all very fancy, and all very proper, and if it had been inside Harry would not have minded it one bit.

Apologetically, Harry interrupted the younger boy's tirade, "Orion, It's been a long day, so I think that I might leave now. If Tom wants to–"

"I'll join you," Tom interrupted, standing quickly and shuffling towards the house, "The trial was very stressful, and I think Hadrian needs a good nights rest away from the cells at the Ministry."

"Yup," Harry said, nodding. Orion engulfed him in a hug once more, and Harry realised with a pang of upset that he smelled just like Sirius.

Tom shot him an enquiring look, "You can always see Orion another time, if you're that distraught about leaving him."

"It's fine," Harry bit out, hurrying from the house and summoning the Knight Bus.

"It feels good to be back," Harry said, sighing as he opened the door to the cottage. The slightly dusty and dirty quality of the house didn't take away from its calmness, its feeling of home.

"Agreed. It was boring without you and the bed was too cold..."

Harry batted him on the arm, "It's summer, Tom, what did I say about lying to get me into bed?"

"You haven't mentioned it," Tom replied, "But now that you brought it up..."

He placed his hand quickly over Tom's mouth, eyebrows shooting into his hair, "No, no, no. That we sleep in the same bed is bad enough, Tom."

Tom tried to reply, his voice muffled, though Harry could make out the gist of what he was saying. And he didn't like it, not one bit. It seemed snarky and rude and utterly Tom Riddle.

"If I remove my hand, do you promise to change the subject?" Harry asked, and Tom nodded.

The other teenager ran a hand through his hair, "Who was the man at the trial?"

Harry groaned, a low and annoyed thing that signified how he had forgotten about it, "Grindelwald."

Tom scrunched his nose, "Don't joke."

"I'm not, that's the thing. It was a freaky, younger version of Grindelwald. He must have had a glamour on... I thought that he had disillusioned himself to everyone except me but, if you saw him, then I don't know how anyone didn't recognise him."

"He has an unnatural obsession with you," Tom agreed, humming, "It's quite abnormal."

Harry snorted slightly, regarding Tom. The boy was completely serious in his words, not noticing the comparison between himself and Grindelwald. Though, maybe, it was the comparison between Voldemort and Grindelwald. Harry did, in fact, attract Dark Lord's like moths to lamps.

"You can say that again," Harry agreed, before frowning.

"What's that noise?" Harry asked, turning his head around in order to find the source.

Tom cocked his head to the side, smirking, "I got chickens."