Chapter Text
Boredom. Disgust.
Tom wasn’t sure which one he felt more every time he arrived at his workplace.
There was nothing wrong with the building itself — all glass windows and sky-high exteriors, surprisingly modern architecture for a Wizarding establishment. The trip from the nearest fireplace to the second floor was perfectly acceptable.
But afterwards, everything went downhill.
Immediately off the elevator, there was a giant, obtrusive bulletin board: a sentient, color-changing board that shifted according to the nearest holiday. On Valentine’s Day — the first holiday Tom had experienced at the office — it had been bright pink, emitting red hearts and horrid little cupids that flew around like violent pixies.
Most of his colleagues had laughed it off, thinking the pesky little creatures “adorable.” Tom had barely resisted the urge to kill them on the spot.
Now, the bulletin board was solid gold, emitting the occasional firework from time to time. It was surprisingly well-behaved and un-troublesome for the approaching New Year. He could only hope that it was an omen that the year ahead of him would be normal and agreeable.
Maybe he would even rack up enough money to leave this horrid establishment.
Tom really should have taken that job at Borgin and Burke’s instead—
“Good Morning, Tom!” A redhead — Ginevra Weasley -— waved at him as he passed by. Tom nodded back at her, returning the greeting. She was one of the few colleagues who genuinely, cheerfully greeted him every day… perhaps one of the few who still made an effort to make him feel included.
He didn’t know why she bothered.
A bushy-haired woman with a pile of papers that seemed taller than herself turned the corner. She eyed Tom with a no-nonsense look, causing him to pause on the spot. Hermione Granger, Tom sighed internally, his lips automatically curling with distaste.
“Your agenda for January,” she said briefly, holding out a folder. Tom took it with the hand that wasn’t holding a drink—a Vanilla Snitch macchiato.
“Oh — and Harry’s waiting for you,” she called over her shoulder, already heading towards another individual three cubicles away.
Tom gritted his teeth, praying to God for patience.
He knew Potter was waiting for him. Tom went straight to Potter’s office every morning, and straight back before he left every night. And often, many times in between.
The only reason Tom hadn’t reached the office before Potter today was because the ridiculous coffee shop his boss was so fond of decided to open at ten o’clock today. He’d arrived outside the shop at precisely ten minutes to eight, only to see a sign on the door:
The Nargles caught a cold. Late opening today.
Tom’s eyes twitched as he remembered the note. No specified time had been given… which, of course, had led to Tom waiting two full hours outside of the store, not daring to greet his boss without successfully completing every task.
Now, as he now entered his boss’s office, the raven-haired man at the desk looked up blearily from the documents before him.
Tom paused in front of him, brimming with uncertainty. His boss was so unpredictable at times… especially when he hadn’t gotten his daily espresso. Really, it was best to keep a distance.
When he’d first met Harry Potter, his first thought had been this man couldn’t possibly be the CEO of the Wizarding World’s most successful card-making company.
He looked… like an elf.
He was lithe, slim yet muscular, with an odd combination of delicate and masculine features. His strong, stubborn jaw had probably gotten him his way more times than he deserved. He had cheeks that were prone to flushing at the slightest bit of emotion — such an odd contrast to Tom’s own.
And then there were his eyes. Vibrant, Avada Kedavra green — always so doe-like and huge behind his circular spectacles, making him look like he was perpetually surprised.
Even now, Potter’s eyes seemed especially large as Tom entered the office. His mouth had slipped open slightly, releasing a sugar-tipped quill. Strawberry-flavored, Tom noted vaguely, having ordered them countless times for his boss. Although, the pink tinge upon his lips could have told him the same.
“Hello Tom,” Potter greeted casually, while in the process of loosening his tie. “I hope you enjoyed your weekend?”
It had been decent, all things considered. Tom had spent both evenings researching a certain locket, trying to figure out where it could possibly be.
“Fine, thank you sir,” Tom replied tersely, handing Potter his special coffee.
Potter glanced at him with amusement. “Sir? Tom, please, I only graduated Hogwarts a few years before you. Just Harry is fine.”
He tasted the coffee, squinting his eyes at it before spelling it hotter and tasting it again. “Mmm, also, this is wonderful. Thanks for bringing this, Tom.”
Tom gave a small, close-lipped smile, nodding in acknowledgement before crossing his arms and getting down to business. If there’s one thing he hated to do in the man’s presence, it was stall. It was best to quickly get out of the man’s hair before Potter started trying to make small talk with him.
“I assume you’ve looked at your calendar for today?” Tom asked, wandlessly conjuring a notebook and an accompanying quill. Though he had exceptional memory, he never left things to chance — and in his opinion, good note-taking was the key to success.
Potter nodded at him. “Yeah, I just checked.”
Thank goodness, Tom snarked. The man was so lazy sometimes that he’d simply rely on Tom to tell him what to do at times. If it wasn’t for Potter’s charisma and the fact that everyone in the office adored him so damn much, Tom would have taken over his boss’s position by now.
Tom observed as Potter swiped a hand through his horridly messy head of hair. The older man was narrowing his eyes in deep concentration… most likely straining his two brain cells in an attempt to remember his tasks for today.
“Things are getting busy with Christmas approaching,” Potter said eventually. “There’s a lunch meeting with Dumbledore today, right? Something about a mass shipment of cards for all the Hogwarts students.”
Tom hummed in assent, trying to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth at the sound of a name he’d hoped never to hear again. “Correct. He wants them ready before students leave for Christmas break.” He flipped through his notebook. “You also have a meeting with the Malfoys at three o’clock.”
This time, Potter was the one making faces. “The Malfoys? What do they want?”
Tom raised an eyebrow at him. After all, they were a perfectly respectable family; Potter was just being prejudiced.
“They’re one of our biggest customers, sir,” Tom stated. “And they wanted to send out cards and customary invitational gifts for the Yule ball they’re holding later this month.”
Potter raised his eyebrows in understanding, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I see. Well, I suppose I could delegate this task to you? It’s only an introductory meeting. We aren’t closing any shipment deals.”
Tom’s eyes widened with excitement. Yes, he’d absolutely wanted to meet the Malfoys. This was what he’d been waiting for. The opportunity to build important connections was one of the reasons he’d joined this company and taken this position in the first place.
He placed a hand on his chest. “Of course, sir, I wouldn’t mind at all—”
Potter waved a hand, laughing. “I’m only joking, Tom. It’s a Friday, please go ahead and enjoy your evening.”
Tom’s jaw dropped.
“But, sir, I insist—”
“Tom—”
“ — I can handle this—”
“Tom, please!” Potter smiled benignly, as if he were doing Tom a special favor. “You work too hard. You’re off after the lunch meeting and that’s final.”
He grinned at Tom, giving him a cheerful thumbs up.
Tom wanted to murder the man.
Instead, he only smiled weakly back — most likely grimacing in the process — and continued to list off tasks and statistics for the rest of the meeting. And the longer Tom spent in his presence, the more furious he grew.
Harry Potter was a special breed of human. Completely oblivious. Somewhat patronizing. Annoyingly cheerful and illogically optimistic. Sometimes, he even gave off wise man vibes that reminded Tom of Dumbledore.
It frustrated — no, disgusted — Tom to no end.
… And most unfortunately, the meeting only got worse as it progressed.
His boss started adapting Tom’s working schedule for the busy holiday season, suggesting that Tom work on the one day he’d requested to take off when he’d first joined.
He remained silent as Potter fixed him with a penetrating stare, an odd contrast to the hopeful, sheepish smile flirting with the edges of his lips.
“You don’t mind working the extra hours, do you? You’ll be fully compensated for them, of course.”
Tom only stared at him, barely quelling the rage that threatened to overcome his features.
“It’s just that there’s too much bloody paperwork.” Potter sighed dramatically, running a hand through his distressed, flyaway locks. “And I know it’s New Year’s, but of course — that’s when the magic for this company really happens.”
His eyes lit up with that same excited passion, that almost childlike, creative wonder…
If Tom had to guess his boss’s Patronus, it would be a unicorn. Harry Potter was certainly the most oblivious, optimistic creature that had ever lived.
It was no wonder that someone like him had founded a company like Expecto Patronum — the Wizarding World’s most successful Holiday Card Company. Phrases like, “Chase away those Dementors with good wishes!” and “One happy memory is all it takes!” were practically ingrained into Tom’s mind — just as ingrained as the quirky mess of Harry Potter was into his daily life. A constant, whether Tom wanted him to be or not, because he was the CEO’s personal assistant.
And sure, part of him could admit it was an honor. Tom was somewhat grateful that Potter had even hired him — an orphan with no credentials, connections, or background to speak of — literally off the streets. Never mind the fact that his interview may have initially solely taken place based on the pity he’d gleaned from those vivid green eyes. That pity had quickly transformed into respect once he’d seen how hardworking and effective Tom was.
But, still. Did his boss have to be so fucking oblivious?
On Tom’s birthday. Harry James Potter wanted him in the office, faxing documents, on his bloody birthday. He never asked for days off, and December 31st had been the one exception to that.
But of course, Potter had to ruin that too.
“It would be my utmost pleasure,” Tom replied, his voice as calm and placid as always. Perhaps a little too calm.
If Potter noticed anything, he didn’t let on. He clapped his hands together, exclaiming, “Wonderful, thank you! Really, Tom — you are a godsend.”
In all honesty, Harry Potter really was a fair boss.
But God, Tom hated him with a burning passion.