Cornered

Harry had tried, adorably, to charm Tom into being one of the endless string of admirers the Gryffindor had—fluttering his eyelashes shyly, blushing like a maiden, and unable to meet Tom’s eyes.

Tom flashed him a smile, and said, “That won’t work on me.”

And he saw the omega drop all his pretenses, red not from blushing but from anger, and pointed at Tom with all the force of a 5’3 omega. “And that,” he said looking at Tom’s charming smile scathingly. “Won’t work on me."