Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Durarara.

Pairing: Tom Riddle/Izaya Orihara

Warnings: slash

Summary: The Order should've picked a better place to hide the Wizarding World's dirty little secret.

Author's Notes: I don't really have much to say about this one...

Any feedback or constructive criticisms would be very appreciated.

B is for Bulimia – a continuous abnormal hunger

The streets here were rather crowded, he mused. Only Diagon Alley seemed to compare but then, he never had much of an opportunity to wonder outside of the Wizarding world. His guards seemed to think that he would snap and kill any Muggles he was exposed to. It was as if they thought him to still be a Dark Lord! Regardless, the lack of faith the Order seemed to have in his ability to control his impulses was annoying. He wasn't some overeager eleven year old; he could control himself.

Tom turned away from the streets below to glance at the rest of his apartment building's roof. Tinted a fire-orange from the setting sun, it reminded him of the post-apocalyptic films Harry's Mudblood friend insisted on watching whenever they had a chance. But thousands of little disgusting ants still walked along the sidewalks below, chattering away on their cell phones as if their lives meant anything. He sighed.

He reached into his jacket to remove a thin pale box from the inner pocket and pulled from it a cigarette which Tom placed between his lips. He slipped the box back into its place, and then fished around in the outer pockets for a lighter. Annoyance curled through him when he realized it wasn't there. The little Mudblood bitch had likely stolen it in an attempt to force him to give up his "disgusting unhygienic" habit. Such an annoying foolish girl she was to think that she could control him.

Pulling a thread of magic from his core, Tom weaved it into a familiar spell pattern and, holding his fingers under the end of the cigarette, snapped. A small flicker of fire licked at the tip, lighting it before it fade from existence. He inhaled slowly, letting the heated smoke coil its way down into his lungs before exhaling.

Tom tried to ignore the way his vision blurred and the way everything seemed to lose its color, graying until it resembled the old photographs that his roommate kept locked in his desk drawer. This had been occurring more often with each spell he weaved. He wasn't sure what was going on exactly, but it probably had something to do with the block the Order had placed on him.

"That's always so interesting to see."

Surprised at the sudden intrusion, Tom jerked back against the railing as he flicked his gaze around the roof in search of the voice's origin. Thin arms wrapped themselves around his waist and a dark-haired head pressed against his neck. The wizard sighed heavily.

"Orihara-san," he said only to be interrupted.

"No; it's Iza-kun!" Izaya dug his fingers into Tom's back. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were forgetting on purpose…"

"Maybe I am."

The shorter man pulled back enough to look up at him and smiled slowly. With practiced ease Tom pretended to ignore him, taking another drag of his cigarette. They stood there in silence until Izaya began to pout.

"You're being very mean today," he said. "I guess I'm just going to have to play with Shizu-chan instead. He won't ig–" He was cut off by Tom's mouth and his tongue forcing its way into his mouth. Moving his arms wrap around the other's neck, Izaya hummed in appreciation. Tom brought his free hand up and laced his fingers in Izaya's hair, tugging sharply. When he pulled back, he kept his hand there. He leaned forward until his mouth hovered next to the short man's ear and sighed.

"Why are you here?" He pressed his open mouth to Izaya's neck and bit down. Nails scrapped down the nape of his neck; he bit harder. Izaya groaned.

"Does it really matter?"

"Always," he said as he pulled back.

Izaya huffed in annoyance, pressing his face against the junction of taller man's shoulders and neck. Exasperated, Tom rolled his eyes and continued to smoke as he waited, letting his other hand play with the short strains of dark hair at the base of the other's neck.

When he finally spoke, Izaya's voice was muffled. Tom forced himself not to react to the slight brush of lips against his skin. "Play a game with me." He paused with his cigarette halfway to his mouth and blinked.

"Sure."