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Once again, Tom can feel eyes on his back – they’ve been his frequent companion for the past few weeks, and he’s growing tired of being observed.
(At first, he’d thought someone was looking for an opportunity to attack him. When a few days and several walks down dark, empty corridors didn’t draw the person out, he’d reconsidered. Now, he’s quite convinced he has a stalker – an unsubtle one, but as he has yet to catch sight of the person, they’re at least adept at hiding.)
His patience has completely run out, so when he hears the scuff of a shoe close behind him, he turns around and strikes out with his fist. And hits… what appears to be air.
“Oof!” the air shouts.
Tom yanks on the silky fabric he can feel to reveal a scowling Harry Potter rubbing at his shoulder.
“So you’re my stalker,” Tom says. “I should’ve known.”
Potter squawks. “I’m not a stalker!”
“No? What else should I think, when you’ve been following me everywhere?”
Potter’s expression turns mulish and Tom knows he’ll have to push harder.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were infatuated with me.”
The other boy’s eyes go wide as he stills like he’s been petrified. Potter has never resembled his Patronus more than he does at this moment. Slowly, Potter’s cheeks begin to fill with blood, flushing them a pleasant shade of rose. The blush then spreads to his neck and ears, and suddenly the boy is practically glowing with embarrassment. Tom stares at the spectacle for two seconds before Potter tugs the invisibility cloak back over his head.
“...” Potter’s silence is somehow incredibly loud.
“Is that it? Do you have a crush on me, Potter?”
“You wish.” He pulls the cloak back from his face enough for his glower to be visible.
“I really don’t,” Tom says dryly. He’s been unable to make progress on his search for the Chamber of Secrets (among other things) since Potter decided to tail him at all hours. “Flattered as I am, I’d appreciate it if you stopped being my shadow. I’d much prefer books or chocolates if you’re trying to woo me.”
Potter grumbles imprecations as he disappears once more under the cloak, his stomping steps quieting as he moves further away.
—
When Tom finds a few bars of Honeydukes' finest in his book bag a few days after the next Hogsmeade visit and a blushing Harry Potter refuses to meet his eyes for the rest of the day, he thinks, oh.
And then he starts compiling a list of books he wants that he can slip into Potter’s bag later.
Perhaps love has its uses, after all.