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“Are you ready?” Tom snaps in impatience.
Barty fumbles with the phone for a moment then nods. “Yeah, 3-2-1…”
When Barty begins recording, the sharp look Tom had been wearing slides off and is replaced by a charming smile.
“Hello! I'm Lord Voldemort and today I'm coming at you from the streets of London! I'm here today to give some gifts to the homeless!”
“Unhoused,” Barty interrupts.
Tom shoots him a withering look. “What?”
“Unhoused,” Barty says, a bit louder. “That's the more politically correct term these days.”
Tom cocks his head. “But why? Doesn't it basically mean the same thing? Homeless. Unhoused. What's the difference?”
“Er, well, I think homeless is seen as a pejorative and unhoused is considered a more person-first term that frames the issue as systemic rather than a personal failing,” Barty says hesitantly. “Or at least that's what I've heard.”
“Barty, that's retar-”
“Okay, er, take five. Are you ready, Tom?”
“Of course, I’m ready,” Tom seethes. “You're the one who keeps cutting me off over the most moronic shit imaginable.”
Barty shrugs. “I just figured Potter would care about that kind of shit.”
“Potter?” Tom narrows his eyes. “What's he got to do with anything?”
“Well, I figured-”
“This is a purely selfless act, Barty, and I would thank you not to imply otherwise.”
“Sure,” Barty agrees. His finger hovers over the phone screen. “Okay, let's do this. 3-2-1…”
Tom smiles so hard his cheeks ache. “Hello! I'm Lord Voldemort and today I'm coming at you from the streets of London! I'm here today to give some gifts to the unhoused!”
Tom looks around the street until he finds a tired looking woman sitting against a wall. “Here's someone now!”
He takes off running to her, Barty faithfully at his rear.
“Excuse me, miss!” Tom says when he reaches her. “I'm Lord Voldemort from Tiktok and I'm here today helping out London’s unhoused population! Here, this is for you!”
He thrusts the heavy package towards her and she flinches away. “I’m not homeless,” she says. “I'm just waiting for a friend.”
“Are you sure?” Tom asks, with a pointed look at her hideous shoes.
“Quite sure,” she says, grimacing.
“Well, then you ought to know the more politically correct term these days is unhoused-”
An hour after filming and posting his latest Tiktok, Tom has a spring in his step as approaches the dingy old building where Harry usually is at this time of day.
It still rankles a bit for Tom to have had his heart stolen by an ill-dressed scruffy-haired liberal… but all will be well. Soon, Harry will see that Tom truly is a decent person and give him a chance.
The red-haired girl sitting at the desk in the lobby rolls her eyes when Tom enters. Slut, Tom thinks, with a sniff.
“He's back in the kitchen,” she says, sounding bored.
Sure enough, Tom finds Harry in the kitchen efficiently chopping potatoes and carrots. He's looking rather roguish today, with a red bandana in his wild hair and his usual red apron fastened around his trim waist. “Hullo Tom,” he greets. His tone is beleaguered but his lips twitch upwards and skin around his eyes crinkle.
“Did you watch my new Tiktok?” Tom blurts.
“Oh,” Harry blinks. “I still haven't downloaded the app.”
“You said you would,” Tom states, his tone coming out much whinier than he would have liked.
“I will soon,” Harry says. “Just been busy.”
“Well, that's fine,” Tom tells him, pulling out his phone. “You can just watch it on mine.”
Tom brings up the video and waits for Harry to put down his knife so he can take the phone. “Let me know what you think.”
Tom can't help the way his feet fidget as he watches Harry watch the video. Thankfully, it's all hidden behind the counter. Harry views the entire video with a thoughtful look on his face, his plump lip poking slightly outward.
Harry sighs and hands the phone back. “May I ask, why did you hand out hoverboards?”
Tom bristles in defense. “Hoverboards are cool,” he says. “Lots of people want hoverboards.”
“Right,” Harry says. He resumes his chopping. “You didn't think that something else might be more suitable? Like food or hygiene supplies?”
“You and your lot do all that, don't you?” Tom says. “I thought I would give them something fun. Don't the unhoused deserve luxuries as well?”
Harry breathes out a soft laugh. “Sure, Tom.”
Silence hangs in the air. Then, apropos of nothing, Harry says, “You're like really smart, right?”
“I joined Mensa when I was four,” Tom tells him, confused at the turn of conversation. He peers over to the pile of vegetables that Harry has accrued. “What are you making?”
“Stew,” Harry says.
“Why stew?” Tom asks.
“It's hearty, filling, and I can make a lot for cheap.” Harry gives Tom a small smile. “Would you like to help?”
“Sure,” Tom says, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “Can we film us making it?”
Harry opens his mouth and makes an odd choked off noise. He closes it again, brows wrinkling. Finally, he laughs softly. “Yeah, you know what? Sure. You have to tag the Order of the Phoenix, though.”
Tom nods. He can see it now. If he tags Harry’s do-gooder organization in one of Lord Voldemort’s videos, they'll be flooded in donations. Harry will be so pleased, he’ll have no choice but to agree to go on a date with Tom, where they certainly will not be eating stew.
Tom wonders if Harry has ever had wagyu beef.
“I've never actually cooked before,” Tom says hesitantly.
Harry rolls his eyes. “That's fine. You can stir.”