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Their small apartment in Knockturn Alley smelled delightful. Apples, cinnamon and butter. Harry mixed the ingredients he had bought earlier in the evening from the small corner grocery store for the base of the pie. Their cupboards hadn’t contained enough flour, apples, sugars or lemon juice, not to mention no ground nutmeg.
Flour, salt, sugar and butter cubes in a bowl, Harry worked the mixture with his fingers, feeling the pressure build at his fingertips as the dough began to come together. Baking had always been a way for him to release stress, while giving his hands something to do. Help him think things through. And for the past two weeks or so, all he could think about has been Tom’s working situation. Seeing him looking so tense and bothered.
Settling into living together with Tom after Hogwarts hadn’t been hard, they were both orphans and knew how to handle tough living situations. Had slept beside each other since the first year of Hogwarts, knew each other's habits. Still, it had had its own adjustments.
For one, the availability of affordable food in the wixen society. Neither of them was wealthy, and the conversion rate from pounds to galleons was horrible. Galleons were gold while pounds worthless. The ending of the second world war of muggles did not help their case, as the muggles didn’t have enough food either.
Harry studied the dough, then drizzled in a few tablespoons of cold water to help it hold better. Then he added a splash of lemon juice as well for good measure. Almost every proper wixen household had their own gardens to provide their food, but they lived in Knockturn. The small apartment had no space for an additional garden, let alone a suitably sized flowerpot. He sighed out loud in frustration just from the thought. It was an uphill battle.
The pie crust was ready for rolling. After a cooling charm that is, which was an easy fix. Harry had no time to wait for an hour, Tom was to be back home in two hours. Their small but cozy kitchen had two counter spaces for cooking, on one of which he had set the flour bag for later use. He opened the bag and evenly spread the flour onto the counter. There were no specific dimensions for the circle, just rolling it out until the look was just right.
The second adjustment was the way wixen operated in the Ministry. As Tom had gotten to know very quickly and told Harry, getting even an entrance level job was a complicated process. Everything was about your connections and blood, which also meant the power and influence a person held in their hands. If you were a half-blood or muggle-born, you would face many walls.
That had made Harry research if the muggle world held more opportunities, but that idea was quickly scrapped. In these times, they were doing much worse than their wixen counterparts. And then there were their views, religious views and societal views. Harry and Tom could never be who they were, could never live together or show their relationship publicly. He couldn’t take it if all they would hear for the rest of their lives was discrimination.
That didn’t matter in wixen society, for they didn’t have as many obstacles in attaining the same things muggles did. His hands had worked on autopilot. The pie crust was ready, rolled out wide and even. Harry set the pie dish on the counter and gently laid the crust inside, pressing it into place before trimming the edges.
Then came the apples. Harry had picked Granny Smith and McIntosh Red- tart and sweet, and more importantly, the most affordable. He carefully peeled each one, removed the cores, and began slicing them into thin wedges.
He knew that at the moment Tom worked at Borgin and Burkes. Had worked there since they had left Hogwarts. Since many doors to the Ministry had not opened. Now came the crux of the problem that they were facing. Tom had gotten a notice from the owner of the shop, Mr. Borgin, informing him that he might get fired in the coming weeks. Not enough customers, not enough returns, no available pay.
Tom had shown time and time again to Harry that he was resourceful and prideful, would do all he could to keep them afloat. As his own part time job as a shop assistant at Flourish and Blotts wasn’t enough to keep the roof over their heads, food on the table and water supply running. Though, there was still hope. His lover had already been looking for new job opportunities, having offhandedly remarked last evening that there had been some promising ones.
Using the same bowl from earlier, Harry combined the ingredients for the apple filling: sliced apples, sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, lemon juice and a pinch of salt. Stirring gently, until the apples were evenly coated. Then he carefully spooned the mixture into the pie crust, coating it evenly in the center.
Now, all he needed to make was the crumble topping. He looked at his surroundings, gathering all he needed. He had the flour, granulated sugar and leftover butter cubes. A contemplative hum left his lips. Where had he placed the brown sugar and oats? As he searched, his eyes wandered over the kitchen, quietly appreciating the renovations they’d done.
The end result wasn’t grandiose, more on the side of efficient and functional. Where there had been sagging overhead cupboards, rusty hinges and a leaky faucet, now stood newly painted cabinets and a deep farmhouse sink. Old solid wooden countertops had been sanded down and re-oiled, to restore and save their funds. The overhead light had been thoroughly polished to look new. Everything else had been given a good scrub or wipe down, from the tile backsplash to the pipe covers at the back of their cabinets. They had done the best they could within their means.
“Hmm, there they are.” Harry muttered to himself, pulling out what he needed. The oats had been tucked in with the dry goods, while the brown sugar had somehow found its way into the breakfast section. Must’ve been an unintentional switch-up, the packagings looked similar enough.
Still using the same bowl, Harry added together the crumble ingredients and began to mix. Working the mixture with the weight of his arms, pressing the butter into the flour, oats and sugars until it formed coarse, sandy crumbs. Then, with a generous hand, he sprinkled the mixture over the apple filling.
Finally, the pie was ready for baking. Harry checked the oven thermometer, it pointed at exactly hundred and ninety Celsius. The appliances that came with the apartment were muggle-made. Clunky, outdated and far cheaper than their magical equivalents. Not surprising really. Their landlord was a notorious cheapskate. Everyone residing in the complex knew about that.
He took the pie dish into his hands and bent down. Opened the oven, carefully placing the pie inside. He also set the timer to forty minutes, and layed down the oven mitts next to the stove top. Later, he would check if the crumble topping had turned a nice golden brown and looked crispy on the outside.
Harry checked the clock, an hour till Tom came back. That was convenient, the pie would have enough time to bake and be ready, the apartment would fill with a mouthwatering scent. Harry considered that a success. He walked to the sink and washed his hands. Musing to himself, there was even time to pick back up the book he had left unfinished a few days ago.
So, to the living room he went.
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Tom had to hurry. The assignment wasn’t completed yet and Harry was waiting for him. His pace stepped up, with sleek and quiet movement. None could see or hear him, not even smell him. What he was doing now hadn’t been the first choice, but when was it ever. The times have been tough, and he would never let them starve, let them beg on the streets.
Besides, he had no issues with this. Always having been magically powerful, with physical strength, that came straight from his bones, his core. Tom had the person he cared about and wouldn’t need any others. Otherwise, emotional ties just happened to have a way to come back for vengeance with a ferocious bite.
The entitled purebloods, the bane of his existence. Tom had built connections large enough that they could have been called a web. But so fickle had their minds been. They hadn’t seen the bigger picture, the full plan for the improvement of the British wixen society. Just a little bit of discouragement shown by their parents, who lorded over them, as much as they shielded them, making them quit.
Their interests, the thought made him want to sneer. It was as if after Hogwarts, after all the planning, none of it mattered. That it had just been a nice past time activity, that he was a passing fancy, an interest. Inside the false safety of their homes. They had forgotten how cruel he could be.
At the moment, Tom was a hit-wizard, for hire. A quite skilled one, if he could say so himself. Clean killings, torture or messy murder, he could do them all. Working at Borgin and Burkes didn’t matter anymore. In the future, he could provide better for them. Buy them a two-story house with a grand kitchen and lovely back garden for Harry. Make him happy.
Word of his services had already spread, the quality and variety. Customer till just kept growing. Tom knew he had it in him. To grow the business, make it an empire. To crush competitors into bone dust. If not in the daylight, then in the dark. In the wixen underworld of crime.
Tom’s pace stopped to glance around. He was in a small dark alleyway between buildings. This time, it would be a messy kill, good thing he came prepared. And the target, the homeowner of the house to his left. An outspoken man, Ministry worker and member of the light party. They really had stepped on some toes and had to pay for that.
Behind the mask, his lips quirked. This would be easy, and he held not a hint of remorse.
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Harry was startled, book falling from his hands. The timer for the oven rang, and it sure was loud. “Oh, just great.” He hadn’t put a bookmark between the pages, and he didn’t remember the page on which he stopped, not having payed attention to the number.
Rubbing his temples in frustration, he walked to the kitchen. Oh well, he'll just pick the book up from the floor later.
“Well let’s take a look.” Harry opened the oven after putting on the oven mitts. A heavenly delicious smell wafted into the air. He took a deep breath in, air coming out as a satisfied sigh. Just as he had known and predicted, the apple crumble pie was perfect.
Harry took the pie out of the oven, setting the oven mitts to the side. He couldn’t wait for a piece.
The pie crust and crumble on top were golden brown, the apple filling inside looked juicy. Placed so perfectly on to the stove top. Looking at it, made his mouth water. It was his most perfectly baked pie yet.
Harry snapped out of it as he heard the rustle of the lock turning, Tom was home. He went to the door to greet his lover “Tom!” His lovers head turned to him, giving a kiss to his lips “Harry, sweetheart. How has your day off been?”
“It has been great.” Harry had a smile on his face “I made some apple crumble pie, why don’t we eat some?” Tom smiled at him with a fond knowing look on his face. “Sure. I will just go and set my bag down.”
Harry was excited and went back to the kitchen, waiting for Tom to come. It didn’t take long “Give me the knife Harry.” He handed it to Tom. While his lover cut the pie, in his anticipatory related boredom, Harry observed Tom’s attire for the day.
A pair of black slacks with a leather belt and a dark gray button-up shirt. Worn but well-kept, his usual work outfit. Everything looked the same, except that the sleeves of the shirt had been rolled up. Oh, Harry mused, the cuff of the shirt sleeve had some type of small dark dirt stain. Many of them in fact.
Tom for sure had been hard at work. Hary might as well show his appreciation by doing the next load of laundry. He had already been skiving off of responsibility for a week.
“There, all done.” Tom handed him a generously sized piece on a plate. “Thank you.” Harry was impatient, shoving a spoonful into his mouth. Humming in full satisfaction, he could say nothing else as his senses were attacked by the taste.
It was truly flawless.