Chapter Three:
By lunchtime, Harry was ready to completely explode.
He knew he should probably go and be friendly in the Ministry cafeteria, field questions, do some proper networking, investigations...but he needed air.
He was an Auror, for god's sake, he would have expected people to be at least a little less stifling. Not only was he an Auror, he'd been the soldier on the front line of war - it was insulting that they thought he needed protecting so much.
He wasn't exactly helpless, and, what was LV going to do, jump him from behind a filing cabinet? He was at the bloody Ministry of Magic, nothing was going to happen and he'd had quite enough of sharing his personal life for one day.
Maybe, for that reason, he avoided Ron and Hermione too. They were the ones that ensured his first morning as an Auror was spent being interrogated rather intrusively.
He knew it wasn't fair to blame them; they were only looking out for him, worried, and he knew in their position he'd be doing anything he could to help. They just weren't helping.
He went to the roof of the building.
It wasn't strictly allowed, and he really should have been setting a better example as one of the Law Enforcement, but...well...
He'd always liked being high up, near the air, or, preferably, flying. It was calming, to be so above the world and whatever was happening in it, like it could give him some perspective on the situation. It could calm his mind, because he liked to think he wasn't a coward and could face whatever people threw at him...but spending a morning theorising about some creep, potential Dark Lord and how it could escalate to him being raped and murdered if he was provocative was enough to put anyone on edge.
He wasn't scared, but he'd be lying if he said he was nonchalant and utterly at ease with the whole thing either.
Training never really covered being personally targeted, but he supposed he'd had some of his own experiential schooling on that matter already. He'd had more than one Dark Lord obsessed with him in his life.
The problem was that someone had already found his spot, and...
"Are you stalking me or something?" Riddle demanded, glancing around.
Harry spluttered.
"No! I didn't think anyone was up here," he protested. "I'll just, uh, go-"
"-Oh relax, I'm only teasing you, soldier boy. More or less. You may as well sit down," Tom rolled his eyes, before waving a thermos. "I have more coffee."
Harry wasn't entirely sure if he should be amused or not. But he didn't want to go face the canteen just yet, that was for sure.
"You know, you can't buy my affections through coffee, don't you?" he smirked, rolling his eyes. Determined to shove any awkwardness between him and Riddle aside. It wasn't professional.
"Bribery doesn't work?" Riddle raised his brows. "What a pity. Can I buy it through dinner and food instead? Tonight? Eight O Clock?"
Harry forced himself to laugh, flopping down next to the man.
"You're a creep."
"And you're just charming," Riddle returned, dryly, not missing a beat. "I don't know what this Dark Lord sees in you. Be as polite to him as you are to me and I'm sure he'll cringe away in horror. Speaking of, should you be wandering around on your own when you're evidence and a possible target?"
"Oh don't start," Harry snapped, grimacing. "The whole department have been hassling and coddling me all morning. It's driving me bloody nuts."
Riddle laughed.
"It doesn't bother you that there's some insane psychopath after you?"
"Well, it doesn't exactly make my day," Harry muttered. "But it's not like it's proven yet. Everyone could be freaking out over nothing. Besides, if he is the Dark Lord and comes after me and gets too close than I can stab him, can't I?"
"You can try, I'm sure. Though I'm certain that's not exactly an official or legal method of apprehending criminal activists."
Right. Junior Under-secretary to the minister, wasn't he?
"When they arrest me for murder, be my alibi and pretend this conversation never happened, yeah? Deal?" he said, aiming for a winning grin.
"Perhaps for the right price," Tom murmured, eyes gleaming with amusement...and he was getting stared at again. Harry looked away pointedly, clearing his throat.
"I'll leave you to drink your coffee in peac-what are you even doing up here?" Harry asked. He couldn't believe that question hadn't popped into his head immediately.
"I could ask you the same question," Tom returned. "But, seeing as you asked first - I'm avoiding my supervisor giving me more paperwork. That, and she keeps flirting with me. It's a bit disturbing really."
"Is she the one who looks like a toad?" Harry's lips twitched. "Least she's not stalking you."
"Would be easier if she was. Then I could put a restraining order on her," Tom drawled.
"Lucky for some. I don't think a Dark Lord would really give a damn about a legal restraining order," Harry muttered, voice darkening a little.
"You also don't know who the Dark Lord is, so it could be rather difficult," Riddle said, shrugging carelessly. Harry couldn't help but suddenly appreciate the man, freaky staring aside, for not making a massive big deal about and acting all serious about it. In all honesty, making a bit of a joke and a banter about it actually really helped.
"Yeah, it couldbe you. You're 21, went to Hogwarts with me. Bit of a creep. Fits the bill," Harry joked. "That and you keep staring at me."
"Wear a paper bag. You have interesting eyes, I can't help myself."
Harry promptly went beetroot all over again.
"Yeah, well, starthelping yourself-" he growled, only to pause and then groan as Riddle smirked at his phrasing. "Damn it, I didn't mean help yourself, bloody hell, I-"
"I'm teasing you, Harry. Though you do have lovely eyes. Do you want coffee or not? If not, feel free to leave me to enjoy my break instead of hovering."
Harry accepted the coffee.
"It's a free country, I can stay up here and pester you all I want," he added. When he first saw Tom, he'd initially planned to keep his distance at that would probably be best – but the man was as magnetic as he'd always been, and right now strangely comforting.
It was probably cruel of him to latch onto Tom though, all things considered. The man didn't seem to mind though, simply giving a thoughtful hum.
"Always found that saying interesting. It's a free country," Riddle murmured. "And of course you can stay as long as you like. You know that, Harry."
Harry stared down at his knees, suddenly uncomfortable all over again. The past lurked far more heavy with those soft words, with that scrutiny. His throat thickened with the urge to say something, to apologize, but…
In the end he drank his coffee in silence. Awkward on his side, a bit infuriatingly companionable on Tom's as they looked out over the streets of London. He followed Tom's gaze to find it was resting on the general direction of the Orphanage.
"It burnt down a few years ago, whilst you were away," Tom said, answering the question Harry didn't ask. Harry swallowed – but he also felt the tension break a bit.
"It feels wrong to say 'good', but…"
"I know," Tom murmured. Harry turned his head to study the other man for a moment. It really had been a very long time. He opened his mouth to say something again, to bring that up, to apologize-
"I should get going," he said.
"Even if it's a free county?" Tom raised his brows, head inclining to look at him in turn.
"Even then. Sorry. Next time bring food and maybe you can bribe my awesome company a bit longer, I'm starving," Harry teased, managed a smile. "Do you come up here often then?"
"I find it calming. Most Mondays."
"I bloody hate Mondays. They're always the worst," Harry grumbled, mildly.
"Indeed. Off you go then, try not to get kidnapped on your way down the stairs."
"Oh, ha ha..." Harry sneered. "You're just a blast, Riddle. It's a date then or whatever...except, y'know, not really. You're just in my spot, but hey, if my potential stalker Dark Lord hears of it, maybe he'll kill you. Then I can just have the roof to myself."
That had the possibility of coming across very wrong, so it was a relief when Riddle seemed more amused than anything – though they'd always shared that odd sort of humour.
"Ouch," Riddle pressed a hand against his heart. "Just as we were getting along. You break my heart, Potter."
Harry snickered and shut the door behind him.
The cafeteria seemed more manageable now.
He still felt guilty.
"My lord."
Tom didn't look up at the soft murmur, sitting on the Chesterfield with his documents in hand. They had been simple enough to get hold of, especially for someone in his position, and easy to make copies of so they wouldn't be missed.
The personal files of all the Aurors, those on the Voldemort investigation.
It was interesting reading, useful research. They'd investigate him, he'd study them in turn to ensure he always ended up on top.
"You may enter," he said, quietly. Lucius came over, a little stiffly, kneeling in front of him with a rustle of cloth. As it should be. "Did you do as I asked?"
"Yes, my lord. We've managed to attain Thicknesse. As the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, he has prime control over the Aurors, even Scrimgeour, and is well placed to succeed when the time is opportune."
Somehow, it was even more glorious to have the allegiance and loyalty of those older than him, those who had once turned their noses up at him and his heritage. He'd certainly proven them wrong on that account. He got their children, his peers, first, and from there he'd broadened his scope to snag their parent's generation too.
With the fall of Grindelwald, the Dark community had their eyes on him, the Heir and Lord of Slytherin. He would not disappoint them, with a blood line as pure and regal as his it was clear he was worthy of their loyalty and their hopes.
He had power they could scarcely dream of. Where once Lord Voldemort was a child's dream and fantasy, he was now real, and so very much alive. The world would not be able to look away and Britain would fall to its knees before him.
"You have done well," he purred. "Dismissed. Send your son in, I have a new assignment for him too, seeing as he saw fit to interrupt me in the weekend's festivities."
Lucius nodded, gaze glancing up at him, so very briefly.
He loved the terror and respect in their eyes most of all.
It had been a bloody long day at the Office. Considering it was his first day, it was ridiculous that he should be hauled into over-time already...but with another war looming in the shadows, he couldn't complain.
Harry had yet to receive missive from Albus either.
His Professor and...General, for want of a better word perhaps, had promised to send message once he was back in England, after settling Grindelwald into his new quarters at Numergard.
The entire nation awaited him with a hero's welcome for having defeated the Dark Lord. Harry himself had only been honoured to be mentored by the man on the field.
It was unusual, really, for a fresh-faced graduate such as himself to be selected for the front line, or for any close relationship with the Leader of the Light, and, at times, he'd felt like his Professor was almost prepping him for something...
But it had never happened, so the thought was ridiculous, irrelevant.
He assumed the man had just taken interest in him because he knew his parents, before they were murdered. Of course, that raised the question of how he'd ended up in the Orphanage in the first place, but considering the state of affairs at the time he couldn't blame Dumbledore for allowing some children to slip through the cracks of society. Not in the larger scheme of things.
For the first three years of his life, he'd been raised by the Dursleys, on his mother's side of the family.
Harry supposed, one day, that day, they just got sick of his 'freakishness' and their inability to suppress it. He'd been left to wander London whilst they went away on Holiday, only to be found and dropped off at the nearest Orphanage.
And there, he stayed. Most of his previous life faded from memory, but there was still the traces, the shouts in his ears.
The Orphanage hadn't been much better.
He got into fights with the other children too much, mainly the older ones whenever they picked on anyone younger than themselves - including Tom as well, he supposed.
He wondered if Riddle remembered that, he wasn't going to bring it up. Even if it seemed a better memory and more flattering a one, then what had followed.
He would have done the same for anyone - he did - it was just that Riddle seemed to attract the abuse more than anyone else.
He'd wondered then if he had the freakishness too, but the boy seemed so normal, no outbursts of any kind, no accidental magic. He'd assumed he was wrong, and it melted from memory, and he felt so alone...then he got his Hogwarts letter, and most other thoughts were forgotten.
Tom had got his letter the next year.
He assumed, then, that whilst he hadn't picked up on the younger's magic, that Tom had noticed and been drawn to him. It was probably why the kid had always stared at him.
Well, that, and because he protected him. Hero worship, or something. It was kind of sweet, if not a bit annoying.
Thankfully the man had got over it now...aside from the staring. He was surprisingly good company. The awkwardness was Harry's fault – Tom seemed to have forgiven everything.
He fished his keys out, thinking that maybe an owl would come tonight, shoved them into the lock and stepped into his crappy apartment.
He exhaled a sigh, letting his bag drop, only to frown.
Was...the floor a bit dark and stickier than normal?
His wand was out instantly, his hand fumbling for the lights.
He blinked to adjust as the gloom and darkness faded, only to wish he hadn't.
Shit.
