A/N:

In response to a prompt by Anna_Hopkins in the CoronaChallenge collection on AO3.

Prompt:

"Harry, no!"

"Harry, yes."

The Office Tribute

I. tribute

Harry gazed around at his solemn compatriots. The lights were off, and all the curtains had been pulled shut. Everyone had arrived before the sun had risen in order to avoid arousing suspicion, and now they were twenty minutes into what promised to be an utterly demotivating discussion.

"I'll do it," Harry said, willing his voice not to tremble.

"Harry," Ron said, horror written on his face, "no!"

"Harry, yes," Harry said, somber. "As the office's unofficial Chaos Manager—"

"The only chaos you manage is jamming the paper copier whenever you come within a meter of it," Draco muttered from across the table.

"—I assign myself the title of the Chosen One," Harry finished. "Unless there are any other volunteers," he added, staring at Draco.

A few people shifted uncomfortably. "We need to discuss this," said Daphne. "Reconvene in five."

And then the other half of the table—HR, marketing, and accounting—pulled away into a huddle, their whispers only vaguely audible from where Harry and his other coworkers sat.

"He'll fire you!" Hermione said in a sharp tone. "Harry, what are you thinking?"

"Better me than anyone else," Harry replied.

"No," said Ron. "Better Malfoy than you."

"Learn to whisper, Weasley!" Draco called out.

Ron crossed his arms, stubbornly rolling back in his chair, but his mouth snapped shut into a flat line.

"You know what I don't get," said Ginny, "is how accounting gets along with marketing. Aren't those two departments slated to be enemies?"

"They're all equally soul-sucking," Ron said, sitting back up.

"We can still hear you," said Pansy.

"Good!" Ron said. "You're all soul-suckers!"

"Anyways," said Hermione, looking at Harry. "Are you sure you want to do this? No one will judge you if you change your mind."

"I can do this," Harry said confidently. "How hard can it be?"

His coworkers exchanged a dubious look, which was rude, because Harry was right here, and they were all visibly doubting his sanity right in front of him.

The other half of the office adjourned their little meeting and turned back to face the rest of the room at large. It looked like they had elected Pansy, who was head of HR, as their spokesperson.

"We have come to the conclusion that Harry is the most acceptable tribute," said Pansy. "You have the full support of our departments in this endeavour."

"Great," Ginny said. "What does that 'support' look like? 'Cause if it's anything like how long it takes you to respond to an email—"

Harry rubbed at his face as the table dissolved into bickering. Riddle was going to be here any moment now, and they were all going to get yelled at for wasting time even though the regular work day still didn't start for another two hours.

"Listen!" Harry said, raising his voice so as to be heard above all the barbed insults that were flying back and forth. "I'm going to do this, and no one is going to get in any trouble. I can do this. Riddle's not going to know what hit him."

II. surprise

Nothing happened for the rest of the week. Harry deflected his coworker's pointed questions ("I am working on it, guys—") and kept up business as usual.

Then, on Friday morning, Harry rose hours before dawn so he could beat everyone to the office. He was yawning as he stumbled in, arms occupied with his surprise, wishing that he'd thought to pick up some coffee or tea before he'd gotten here.

Riddle's office was normally locked, but Harry was friends with the building staff, and so it had only been a matter of asking for a temporary loan of the key.

Harry deposited his gift onto the desk and wandered back out into the main office. Checking his watch revealed that he was still here too early. Trust Riddle to choose today as the one day to not come in early, leaving Harry with nothing but his boredom to occupy himself for the next hour or so.

Speaking of occupying himself… Harry debated whether he ought to be sticking around or not.

It would probably be safer if he left and came back when everyone else would be here. That way Riddle couldn't single him out. Harry might be brave, but he wasn't downright suicidal.

There was a shop down the street he could pop into for some tea and breakfast. Hopefully, by the time he got back, Riddle would be in a marginally better mood and they could all leave on time at the end of the day for once.

The hours slid by. Harry hadn't seen Riddle come in to work, but he was informed by Ron that Riddle had shown up, gone directly to his office, and had not been seen since. Which was strange, because it was a habit for Riddle to summon someone to his office before lunch time to be interrogated for updates.

It was after lunch that Daphne came by Harry's cubicle, eyes narrowed, sheer scarf draped loosely over her shoulder as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Did you finally do something?" Daphne asked. "People are asking why Riddle's not left his office today."

"Um," Harry said.

"If you get fired today," Ron said loyally, "we can still hang out on weekends."

Ginny peered over the wall that separated their cubicles. "What'd you do, Harry? Set a rat trap?"

"No," Harry said hastily. "I'm trying to be nice, is all."

"Nice?" Daphne echoed. Then she snorted. "Riddle's probably in there planning Harry's funeral. All fancy, so the rest of us know not to try it again."

A few other people had wandered over upon hearing the topic of conversation, and Harry felt put on the spot. He had already volunteered for this, he didn't need people hanging about and judging him for it.

"I just left him some flowers," Harry said defensively. "I didn't even leave a card or anything, but I'm sure it's all fine, how can someone get offended by flowers—?"

"Harry," Hermione shrieked, bolting up from across the room, her voice rising just above the level of a whisper, "Riddle's allergic to flowers!"

Everyone turned in silent horror to regard the door to Riddle's office. Riddle's silent, isolated office.

"Ah," Harry said. "Fuck."

III. meanings

"It's half past six," Ginny said, staring so hard at the clock on the wall that she was nearly cross-eyed. "On a Friday."

They were all too afraid to leave. Usually everyone stayed either until six pm, which was when Riddle tended to depart, or until however late Riddle decided to stay behind. Only with the current situation being what it was, no one was sure whether Riddle would be leaving his office or not.

"How bad did you say that allergy was, Hermione?" Ron asked.

It was then that Riddle's office door slammed open, cutting off any reply Hermione might have had.

Harry jerked violently, knocking his stapler over, ready for Riddle to march over and fire him. Though Harry wasn't sure how Riddle could have traced the flowers to him, given that Harry had left the entire bouquet there without a card—

Riddle strode by at his typical brisk pace. Only his face was flushed, his eyes puffy and rimmed with red like he'd been crying. But he was still walking normally, like there was absolutely nothing wrong. Perfect posture, dark hair swept into its usual style, clothing smooth and wrinkle-free. Riddle just didn't have any sense of shame, Harry thought, dazed as he watched Riddle sweep past the rows of cubicles, head held high.

But as Riddle passed Harry, his pace slowed, his nostrils flaring, his gaze slanting over to where Harry was seated. Harry felt himself on the verge of heart failure. But Riddle didn't stop, thankfully; he resumed walking at the same speed as before, leaving Harry to stare at his backside. Not that Harry was staring, but. Ahem.

They all watched as Riddle disappeared into the elevator, and it was only when the doors slid shut that Harry dared to breath.

"You live another day!" Ginny exclaimed cheerfully.

Hermione, meanwhile, made a beeline for the office. She came back out with her arms full of Harry's flowers.

"What flowers are these?" Hermione demanded. "They look like asters."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I just sort of… picked what looked nice. I think they're asters?" He really should have sucked it up and asked the shop person for help.

"Hold on, I'm Googling," Ron said. He wheeled his chair towards Harry, his eyes fixed on his phone screen. Then he grimaced. "Mate, you're not gonna like this—"

"Let me see!" Hermione said, dropping the flowers onto Harry's desk and stalking over. She came up behind Ron, looked down, and made a sound like a squeak.

"What does it say?" Draco asked. He had appeared out of nowhere and was now walking up to their little gathered group. Harry figured Draco was only surfacing now because news had spread that Riddle was gone.

Hermione had a hand clasped over her mouth, but she lowered it and said, "Asters are a symbol of love and patience."

For a long time, no one said anything. It was likely they were too horrified at the idea of their boss having any sort of love life to come up with a comment.

"Well," Ginny said. "You said you didn't put your name on it, right? So you're safe."

Harry, who rather felt that Riddle's cursory glance might now have had a lot more meaning, was less sure.