Chapter Text
Harry woke up in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. The only thing missing was his lover's arms that were no longer wrapped around him. He then realized that he was wrong; the arms were there, but instead of holding him close they were gently shaking him awake.
"Time for breakfast sleepy head."
Harry slowly opened his eyes to find Tom standing over him already dressed and ready to go to work with the exception of breakfast. Getting up with a groan, Harry follows his husband into the dining room where the table is already covered with plates of food cooked by the house elves. Tom pulls out a chair for him before sitting down in the one next to him.
They eat in silence. Not becuase they are uncomfortable, but rather because they are comfortable. Both of them have suffered through childhoods of starvation laced with nights of scavenging subpar food, often times from the trash. This lead to the fostering of a vast appreciation of food in both of them. The couple savor their breakfast to the fullest, and only once they are done does Tom address Harry.
"Darling, I'm supposed to be having a meeting with a very annoying foreign ambassador this morning. I'll be needing something to help pick me up. Would you like to come have lunch with me today?" Tom asked, his voice smooth as butter, making Harry melt as if he was made of butter.
"I would love to have lunch with you"
It always baffles Harry that Tom goes to such lengths to act like he cares for Harry outside of any benefits Tom can get from him. Nonetheless, he will (almost) never refuse an opportunity to spend more time with his beloved. Also, if he's lucky, he might get to see Hermione. Besides, it's not like he doesn't have the time; he doesn't have qudditch practice on Sundays, so he has nothing he needs to do today, freeing up his schedule to provide ample amount of time for whatever he wants, including a lunch with his husband. Merlin, he is so happy that he chose to become a professional qudditch player rather than giving into peer preasure and becoming an auror... well not from Tom; Tom really didn't want him to be an auror; Harry thought it might be becuase he thought it would be awkward due to the fact that Tom was going into politics.
"Where would you like to go, love?"
"How about that new French place in Diagon Alley that you wanted to try?"
Harry didn't like French food nearly as much as Tom did, but he did say that the meeting would exhaust him, so Harry didn't regret suggesting it. Besides, just that overly fond look forming on Tom's face makes it all worth it.
Tom leaned over and captured his mouth in a gentle but passionate kiss. He pulled away a bit; his breath a bit ragged and his hands still caressing Harry's cheeks.
"So I'll see you at about... hmmmm... 12, my dear?" Tom asked, or rather, practically purred.
"12 sounds good"
Tom leaned in for another kiss before standing up and walking out the door on his way to work.
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"Sir Harry sir, yous bes telling Tilly to tells Sir Harry to bes getting ready for lunch with Sir Tom at 11:30."
"Thank you Tilly."
Harry was relieved that he was finally able to convince all the house elves to not call him 'Master Harry'. He would still prefer that they didn't insist on using so many sirs, but its still far better than Master.
Getting up from his comfortable chair, Harry went to collect his clothes and take a shower. As per usual, he didn't even bother to even attempt to tame his hair, knowing that it will return to its previous state the second that a change is made. After being sure he was ready, he flooed to the Ministry and walked to his husband's office.
Harry watched in fascination how Tom's face melted from a mixture of anger and annoyance into an expression full of an overwhelming amount of fondness. It made Harry preen to know that his love could be so lightened just from the sight of him- even while part of his mind yelled at him that it was all just an act.
"Love, are you ready to go?" Harry asked.
In response Tom put the report he was reading in a folder and walked over to link arms with Harry. Arm in arm, they walked to the lines of floos covering the walls in the opening of the Ministry. They reluctantly unlinked arms to allow for Tom to use the floo. Once the emerald flames died away, Harry took a deep breath before stepping into the fireplace and tossing down the floo powder with a yell of "Diagon Alley".
The world started to spin round and round; his nostrils and airways choked on clouds ash. Blindly, Harry stumbled out, relieved when he finally felt gentle arms wrap around him, holding him. He still doesn't understand why, after all these years, he still cannot handle the floo, even if he has gotten better at dealing with it since his original introduction to traveling via fireplace. That is actually why Tom went first; Tom knew of Harry's troubles and would go first so he could help Harry on the other side.
Once the world finally returned to a standstill, Harry relinked his arm with Tom's, allowing him to lead Harry out of the Leaky Cauldron and through the secret brick entrance into Diagon Alley. On the way to the new French place, Tom started rambling on about how his day has been so far.
"I will say that the foreign ambassador is a complete idiot. He doesn't understand anything that was written in..."
They never made it to the new French Place.
If Harry and Tom were paying more attention, they would notice the multiple wizards that seemed to be glancing at them even more then the usual wix did when faced with the Boy-Who-Lived and his minister husband walking through Diagon Alley together. Unfortunately, they were too caught up in each other, and too used to being subjugated to crowds of stares, so they didn't notice. That is, they didn't notice until they heard one very specific yell.
"Ferventi Sanguine!"
Harry gasped in utter agony as his blood turned into fire; nothing is on his mind except for the painful heat running through his veins and the worry that runs alongside it. Worry for the safety of his beloved.
His vision goes black.