Tomarry One Shots

Drive First, Question Later

Summary: "First you throw a rock at my window," he gesticulates, waving his arms, "which, if it was closed, would've broken the glass. It hit me instead, not any better. You wake me up at an unholy hour, not even gently, mind you, but with violence — and then you order me to come down?" Riddle drops his smirk, adopting a contemplative expression. He shakes his head. "More or less." "Fuck. You."

Ship: HarryPotterxTomRiddle

All credit goes to izharptitsa on Ao3

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With a grunt, Harry drags himself out of bed. It's a hot summer night and sweat is clinging to his back. He'd foregone a shirt as he slept, and it hardly helped at all. He'd just managed to doze off in the awakening dawn when someone threw a rock at his open window. Thanks to the layout of his room, it landed on his calf.

He sticks his head out, enraged at the view of Tom Riddle awake and immaculate at 6 a.m. "Are you trying to kill me?" Harry hisses, running his hand through his sweaty hair so he can easily glare upon the other boy with all his might.

"If I wanted to kill you, Potter, I'd have done it years ago," Riddle calls up. "Now come down."

Harry is incredulous.

"First you throw a rock at my window," he gesticulates, waving his arms, "which, if it was closed, would've broken the glass. It hit me instead, not any better. You wake me up at an unholy hour, not even gently, mind you, but with violence — and then you order me to come down?"

Riddle drops his smirk, adopting a contemplative expression. He shakes his head. "More or less."

"Fuck. You."

Riddle sneers at his salute. "That's so much better. Potter, listen to me. Pack and come down."

Harry blinks.

"The hell do you mean pack?" He asks.

"I mean," the corner of Riddle's mouth lifts in that spectacularly smarmy way. "We're ditching."

Harry tosses his head back in exasperation. "Couldn't have said that to begin with? And at this hour? Seriously," he mumbles as he turns back to his room to hunt down a shirt, "never letting you plan runaways again. Insane."

Minutes later, Harry is dressed in jeans and a loose flannel shirt. He has one bag full of his things that he tosses to Riddle to catch. Then he balances on the windowsill, turns over, lowers his body to the air conditioning unit below, and then hops to the ground.

"See now, that wasn't so hard." Riddle hands him his bag.

Harry mumbles something crude in return which Riddle chooses to ignore. He follows as Riddle makes his way from the backyard to the front of Privet Drive, and then stops.

"What are you doing?"

Riddle looks over his shoulder. Between his fingers is a key ring that makes Harry's jaw drop.

"You're driving."

He throws it right at Harry, who unwittingly catches it out of reflex. The key is small in his palm when he looks down at it in wonder. He looks at Riddle.

"How did you..."

"Drive first, question later."

Harry suddenly laughs, then he laughs again, and again. He runs up to Riddle, puts his hands on either side of Riddle's face, and drags him down to kiss his lips. A moment later, he pulls away to see Riddle's bewildered expression, which is cooled to apathy almost instantly.

"You're fucking forgiven," Harry says with a wide smile.

"I was not asking for —" Riddle is going on behind him, but Harry drowns him out. As he rounds the car, he lets his hand drift across the body, petting it.

"I'm going to treat you so right, baby," he tells Vernon's Impala. "Whoo!" He gets in the driver's seat and throws his bag into the back. Riddle enters through the passenger side as Harry turns the key in the ignition system, doing the same with his own bag.

He grips the steering wheel with one hand, and turns to Riddle.

Riddle is already looking at him. "Step on it, Potter."

Harry does.