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“Perfection is a matter of will and practice, not happenstance, which is why I so wish that you would put more of a general effort into your appearance, Harrison.” Tom tutted at his boyfriend.
Said paramour was sprawled in the dark grey lounge-back chaise that Tom had recently added to his sitting room, one leg dangling down the side while the other laid tucked underneath his prone body. His hand rested under his head, fingers threaded into unruly raven locks becoming wilder with every shift and adjustment the man made. Harrison’s overrobe was half-hanging from his shoulders, wrinkling underneath him, and his white button up was partially untucked from his charcoal trousers.
From the moment Harrison had flooed over at the end of his shift, Tom had quietly despaired. He had hoped to surprise his boyfriend with last-minute tickets to the recent production of Taming of the Shrew at the Globe, but Harrison couldn’t go looking so disheveled. They would need to leave in fifteen minutes to get to the show on time, and the man just wanted to lounge around after a long day at the Auror office.
Harrison rolled his eyes once he realized Tom was looking at him, awaiting a response.
“Perfection doesn’t exist Tom. Much as you like to think it does, you’re wrong.” Harrison looked bored at the conversation, but his emerald eyes stayed on Tom’s light brown ones until Tom huffed and turned to continue pacing over the forest green rug laid over the room’s hardwood floor.
“Of course perfection exists. How can you doubt it with such an example in front of you?” His right hand twitched upwards as if Tom were going to run it over his cheeks in frustration. He had made sure to look impeccable for tonight. He had planned to ask Harrison to move in with him when he took him out for dinner after the show.
Despite his nerves, Tom hated anxious movements so as he noticed his arm moving he forced it back down and tried to calm himself. “That’s why I don’t think it is too much to ask of you to try and emulate my efforts.
Tom froze in his walking as Harrison’s laugh boomed out in the room. This wasn’t the man’s soft chuckle or amused snort. These were harsh guffaws that had Harrison sitting up for the first time in half an hour so he could bend over and rest his weight on the foot now balancing on the floor. Harrison’s left arm was holding his stomach, forearm muscles clenching as he tried to keep himself steady. Despite his irritation at what felt like laughter directed towards him, Tom couldn’t stop his eyes from resting on Harrison’s elegant neck and the outline of his Adam’s apple so obvious with his head thrown back in mirth.
His gaze moved up Harrison’s neck along his sharp jawline, across his high cheekbones and up the lines of his boyfriend’s narrow, slightly upturned nose. His rumpled hair looked sexy even if Tom wished with (almost) everything in him that Harrison would keep it tamed during the day.
Finally, Harrison got words out past his deep echoing laughter. “You--Did you--Tom, did you just seriously insinuate that you are perfect?” Harrison’s hilarity swam in his eyes, possibly because he had made his eyes water from laughing so hard.
“There’s no need to be jealous, Harrison. I’m sure if you worked at it you would come close.”
The bursting guffaws began again. His boyfriend’s shoulders shook with the force of them.
“Oh, Merlin. Tom, you’ve got to be kidding me. You? Perfect? Maybe. But only if by perfect you mean perfectly awful.”
“What?!” Tom’s angry shout did not come out at a higher pitch than his normal smooth tenor. “I have impeccable manners, a reputation as a strong presence on the Minister’s staff, a position as a junior undersecretary while under the age of thirty, and I won over your friends, your parents and your godfathers the first time I met them.” Harrison’s eyebrows rose further and further as Tom went on, breaking into another spurt of laughter at Tom’s, “I even went to that horrendous Puddlemere vs Chudley quidditch match with you, Ronald and your father when I loathe the sport!”
Harrison still had a smile on his lips, but his eyes were dead serious as he told his boyfriend, “My family and friends loathe you, Tom. Utterly and completely.”
No. Of course not. The Potters were always perfectly polite to him, and they always offered to watch Harrison’s godson so the pair could have alone time rather than crowd him and Harrison with their presence. And Harrison’s friends were always giving him such lovely suggestions about outings to take Harrison on when they had free time, as they wouldn’t want to interrupt date nights. Oh. OH.
Harrison continued, watching as things began to sink in for Tom. “Every time they see me, they ask if we’ve broken up yet. My mother apologized to me for pressuring me to date and then being unable to like the person I chose to date. Not surprising when the first thing you say to her is that you’re surprised someone with her background would include so many muggle things in her home.”
Tom opened his mouth to explain that Lucius had told him earlier that day that Lily Potter was a Runes Mistress which meant that Tom at least shouldn’t have to worry about shorting out muggle appliances with his anxious magic. Tom had been grateful at the time for his friend’s response to Tom’s admission that he was nervous about meeting the Potters. Then, when he’d actually arrived at his boyfriend’s childhood home and saw all the familiar muggle electronics, Tom had gone on guard immediately, worried that he’d had faulty information and would ruin their things in his disquiet. He never got the explanation out, seeing as Harrison seemed unable to stop once he had finally started on the subject of Tom’s faults.
“You know, my father teared up as he questioned if he and my mum’s playful banter had set a bad example of what a kind and loving partner is supposed to look like. He doesn’t like the way you talk down to me, you see. None of them do.” Harrison’s eyes hardened further as Tom made to interrupt once more. Tom didn’t realize he had been talking down to his boyfriend. Harrison was so intelligent and had such cutting wit. Tom honestly thought it had been banter.
“My godfather asked me if he gave me enough attention as a child, as you were clingy and disdainful of others despite the way you spoke to me.” Well, Tom couldn’t even argue that point. Harrison was just so much more interesting that the rest of his circle. Salazar, Harrison was more interesting than the rest of Tom’s circle!
“My best friends told me that if I was feeling like a third wheel I didn’t have to punish them so harshly by making them interact with you like this. My boss told me flat-out that you weren’t allowed to come visit me at work, because the other aurors were ready to hex you after the first time you stopped by just from your expression as you eyed the DMLE offices with haughty disdain” Tom’s eyes widened a little further with every sentence falling from Harrison’s lips.
“Tom, everyone is perfectly polite and bland to you so that you won’t feel the need to make further conversation, and--”
“They suggest things for you and I to do together so they don’t have to spend time with me.” Tom’s only recourse was to cut his boyfriend off if he wanted to get a word in, it seemed.
“I see that now.” Tom shut his eyes for a moment, not wishing to see the blank expression that took over his boyfriend’s usually expressive face. He opened them again after taking and releasing a deep breath to center himself.
“Harrison. I never intended--.”
“I know that. You truly thought you were doing the right things. That almost made it worse.”
“Then why did you ask me to be your boyfriend?” Tom questioned. His voice was quiet, still firm but only out of sheer effort. Harrison softened slightly, noticing the shift in Tom’s demeanor, the slight sinking of the politician’s shoulders.
Harrison sighed. “Look, I’d been with my most recent ex, Ginny, for about four years, and while she was great, she just wasn’t what I wanted. Our families had been encouraging us to settle down in that fourth year of our relationship, and I couldn’t have a meal with my parents without someone mentioning marriage, children or engagement rings. I wasn’t ready. I’m still not, but no one cared what my or Ginny’s feelings were on the matter.” Harrison’s hands flitted around, mimicking his remembered agitation.
“The breakup was mutual, and we’ve stayed friends. Convenient that, since she’s my best mate’s sister. Still, my parents have it in their minds that it’s time for me to settle down. So, what I needed was a relationship that they wanted to end rather than extend. Along comes you about 10 months after the breakup.” This time Harrison’s hand waved at Tom’s tall, lithe figure. Other than a paler-than-normal cast to his skin, Tom remained looking like the picture of poise with his pressed slacks, crisp dress shirt, navy suit jacket, silver Windsor-knotted tie and artfully arranged hair.
“You were incredibly handsome but arrogant, condescending and unaware that people disapproved of your rude behavior. So, I guess, you’re right. You were perfect. You had the exact personality I needed to get my family to stop with the wedding talk, and you’re plenty pleasant to look at.” Harrison eyed his boyfriend’s body with a familiar hunger, and Tom, despite his mortified anger felt a flush run up his neck. “Merlin, you really are fit. Physically you have been quite the catch, Tom.” Harrison smirked as he saw how his words affected Tom.
“It took a lot to convince everyone I liked you for more than your looks, but eventually they bought that you must be different when you were alone with me.”
Tom felt hope swell in the bottom of his lungs and fill his chest at Harrison’s words. He was different when it was just the two of them. He was.
Yes, Tom was still high-strung and disdainful towards others, but not towards Harrison. They had engaging conversation over dinners that they cooked side-by-side in Tom’s kitchen, and they both preferred to listen to the same classical music while they completed paperwork or read on the sofa while curled into each other. Tom was positively soft and, he shuddered, Hufflepuff when he left a good-night kiss at his boyfriend’s hairline as they drifted off to sleep together.
“They weren’t happy about it, mind you. Not in the slightest. But they believed in my judgement.” Harrison finished, bringing Tom back to the moment. He stepped closer to his boyfriend, reaching a hand out to lay on Harrison’s arm.
“I--I didn’t realize everyone you care for felt this way about me.”
The sigh that fell from Harrison’s lips brushed over Tom’s face with how close he had gotten. Tom began to lean in, ready to whisper apologies and promises to be better, to try harder, but Harrison had a response ready.
“I know, Tom. It’s what made things work so well for my purpose. While I’d never let you treat my family like you have or talk to me the way you do in public, sometimes even in private, if I had wanted to be with you, I was fine to let it slide considering I was using you too.”
The devastation that washed over Tom was instantaneous at Harrison’s casual admission. His hand fell from his boyfriend’s arm as the hurt suffused his limbs, his voice.
“Using me too?” Tom didn’t even pause as his voice cracked under his emotional strain. “I wasn’t using you, Harrison. I truly--
“No. Stop right there.” The man’s voice rang out like the clearest Christmas bell, silencing Tom on the spot.
“You were using me,” Harrison stated with conviction. “You were using my name and my connections to benefit your own dealings. I know your status as the Potter Heir’s boyfriend opened political doors for you that had been barred before then. I know you held my position as an auror over a trainee’s head.” Tom couldn’t contain his surprise.
How did Harrison find out about that? It was just the one time, and Tom had needed to acquire those specimens for Bagman. The former beater had gotten caught in gambling debts and was desperate, threatening Harrison’s father if he didn’t get the ingredients needed for an illegal permanent transanthromorphism potion. Tom didn’t know for sure that Bagman had enough sway to take over as Department Head of Magical Games and Sports if Mr. Potter was killed, but Tom wasn’t willing to risk calling his bluff if it meant Harrison may lose his father.
“Remember, that trainee who caught you purchasing those illegal potion ingredients from the back room at Slug and Jigger’s? Remember how you got out of a three-hundred gallon fine, forfeiture of goods and a wand-monitoring charm because of who you were dating? You can say you care all you want, but you’ve been dating me for my name more than anything. That ends today.” Harrison’s hands were clenched into tight fists, and he glared at the now-shaking Tom.
“Harrison, no, please. We can--” Tom tried to find the words to convince his boyfriend they could make it work, they could talk it out. And to think, Tom had thought tonight would end with Harrison agreeing to live with him, spending every night in his home, in his bed.
“No.” Tom inhaled a ragged breath at Harrison’s determination. “I won’t listen to any more lectures about how I should be improving myself or what I should be doing differently to prepare for our future together, a future that seems mostly political to you.”
No. Tom’s thoughts were pure anguish, only expressible in that one word. No no no no no.
“The whole point of dating you was so that I could stop having to listen to that conversation. It’s significantly worse hearing someone talk at you about things you don’t want rather than listening to what you do want when it comes from your significant other instead of just your parents.”
Harrison’s cold anger shocked Tom. He’d never seen his boyfriend like this. Sure, he’d seen the man focused on his paperwork the one time he went to visit him at the ministry. But the icy fury settled in his eyes and the emotionless cast of the rest of his features made Harrison look like someone new, some version of his boyfriend Tom had never seen before today.
Before Tom could protest that he did care, he did! That yes the Potter name was valuable especially in Tom’s line of work, but that the feel of Harrison’s hands on Tom’s bare skin drove him wild and that hearing Harrison’s chuckle when they went to the theatre to see the latest Shakespeare production made a warmth rise in Tom’s chest and that the first time he saw the picture of Mr. Potter swinging his four year old son around by the armpits while the pair giggled into the camera Tom imagined himself one day swinging around a little boy who looked just like that. Before Tom could say any of those things, Harrison had already swept through the room and grabbed a handful of floo powder.
Before he hurled it into the fire and called out for his friend Ronald’s house, Harrison left Tom with a final sentence that hit him like the last blow of a ten-round prize fight.
“For someone who was so concerned with my name, did you really never notice that I loathe being called Harrison instead of Harry?
The whoosh of the fireplace left Tom alone with his regrets and with his idea of perfection irrevocably changed. Harrison, no. Harry was wrong. Perfection did exist, and it had just flooed out of Tom’s life.