Of Monsters, Of Men

Chapter 15

December 13, 1940

It was a snowy Friday afternoon. Snowflakes fell all around them, dotting Tom's hair lightly as they chatted on a bench.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked as Tom picked up his bag.

"I'm going to ask Giles on a date. Today's her birthday."

Harry's heart sank into his stomach, and he felt nauseous. He scowled, scrunching his eyebrows. Of course it's fucking Giles that ruins it. "Don't."

Tom shook his head, trying to throw off the snowflakes, but it was to no avail. "I've got to," he said distractedly.

Harry crossed his arms and sunk back into the bench, trying to focus on the anger bubbling beneath his skin rather than his chest constricting. "You'll regret it when you do."

Tom shot Harry an irritated glare before he got up and walked to the winter jasmine near the bench. He crouched down, plucking a couple of the yellow flowers. Then, he walked to Giles, who was sitting so far away that Harry had to squint to see her face clearly. Even so, he was still unsure that it was her, as she was sitting with a gaggle of her friends.

Fuck this.

Harry dug out the invisibility cloak from within his bag, confident that no one nearby was watching him, and slipped it around his body. He followed in Tom's footprints, making sure to not step outside of the boundaries. Thankfully, Tom's feet were bigger than his.

When he was about a couple feet away from the group of girls sitting on the snowless walkway, Tom tapped Giles on the shoulder. The group fell silent, while Giles instantly turned around, and her face broke into a starry-eyed smile as she saw that it was Tom.

"Happy Birthday, Marya," Tom said warmly.

Harry clenched his hands and glared at Giles with the force of a thousand suns, wishing that she would see it and cower. Alas, she blushed heavily, too shy to meet Tom's eyes. "Thank you, Tom."

Get away from him! Harry wanted to roar at the top of his lungs.

Tom's suave voice was barely audible as he said, "Would you be willing to accompany me to the Quidditch game tomorrow?"

It felt like a physical punch, knocking all the wind out of him. Tom had never gone to a quidditch game before, and yet, he was asking Giles. I should be the one, Harry thought furiously, blinking rapidly. Only when he wiped his eyes did he realize he had been blinking away tears.

"Oh, yes! I mean, of course—" Giles stammered, jumping up with hands clutched close to her chest.

A torrential wave of rage flooded him, toppling his common sense. He felt like he would explode from the giganticness of it. "You fucking cunt," Harry snarled under his breath. He didn't know who he hated more at that moment: Tom for asking her out or Giles for saying yes. Rationally, he knew Tom couldn't stand her, but the show he was putting on was infuriating.

"Wonderful," Tom interrupted smoothly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a winter jasmine flower that he had plucked earlier. "Do you mind if I...?"

Something ugly in Harry's mind reared its head, a small and jealous thing that howled and clawed, trying to force itself out of the confines of Harry's body.

"Of course not!" Giles squeaked, blushing heavily. Her hair bounced lightly as she moved.

Harry seethed as Tom smiled charmingly at her, pearly-whites on display. When Tom reached up and gently brushed her hair up and over her ear, disgust embroiled him, making his insides squirm from boiling-hot revulsion. Tom deftly positioned the flower behind her ear. Only then did he "notice" the rest of the group, turning his head from each side to gaze and crinkle his eyes at them.