IV. success

Harry had all weekend to stew. He told himself dozens of times that he had done nothing wrong, and so by the time Monday rolled around, he was ready to face the music.

If he was going to be fired, then it would happen. Losing his job wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him. He just had to hope he could survive whatever verbal punishment Riddle was bound to unleash.

When Harry walked into the office on Monday morning, slow and wary, he was immediately assaulted by Hermione, who grabbed him by the shoulders and told him to go to Meeting Room C in five minutes.

Bewildered, Harry set his things down on his desk and followed her directive.

There were only a few people in the room: Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Theodore, who was from IT downstairs. The few people who came in extremely early to start the work day, in other words.

"Riddle's been in a good mood," Hermione said without preamble.

What?

"What?" asked Harry.

"Yes, your crackbrained plot seems to have worked," Draco said, waving an airy hand. "Either that, or Riddle improved his mood by taking potshots at the elderly over the weekend. The intern got his coffee order wrong for the third time since he was hired and escaped unscathed. Riddle just kicked him out of his office and slammed the door."

Now that was a miracle. Riddle burned through interns faster than Dudley went through chocolate cakes. Most people had already stopped trying to remember the names of the interns that cycled through the office like clockwork.

Harry thought back to Riddle's allergy-plagued face and failed to make the connection as to how this could have led to an improved mood.

"Anyways," Theodore said, "we were wondering what the next step was. Do you need any help?"

"Next step?" Harry repeated blankly.

"You do have a plan, don't you?" Hermione said. "Being nice? That was what you said."

"Um, yes, but—" Harry wasn't sure how to explain that you couldn't plan being nice to someone. You had to let the ideas come naturally. Harry had been struck by a whim Thursday night, and so he had bought the flowers for the next day. "I don't plan these things. They just, erm, happen?"

Hermione frowned, sitting back in her chair. "You know, maybe we shouldn't be meddling. Harry, do what you want, and let us know if you need any help."

"Last time you said that," Draco said, derisive, "we ended up with a pair of scissors embedded in the water cooler. He's a disaster magnet, Granger. We call him the Chaos Manager as an insult. He's the one who takes it as a badge of honour. Everyone in accounting is betting on him getting fired because of this!"

"It's worked so far," Hermione said confidently. "This may be the singular case in which Harry's terrible luck does us all some good."

"I don't have terrible luck," Harry protested. "I'll just. Make sure to check that Riddle's not allergic before I give him anything else." Harry paused, then asked, "Is he allergic to anything else?"

Draco set his forehead down on the table with a thump. "I can't believe we're putting our faith into Potter. We're all doomed."

V. interactions

Thanks to his coworkers, Harry was jumpy all morning long.

Then, just before lunch, Riddle called Ginny in for an operations report. Harry and a few others took their meals in their cubicles to wait for her.

When she emerged, Riddle was on her heels, his expression impassive.

Riddle did not look as though he'd spent the weekend at emergency being treated for severe allergies, which was a relief. Riddle did, however, pause to take in the employees that were all pretending to be occupied with their packed lunches.

Riddle's gaze wandered over the room, desk by desk, and Harry swallowed, nervous, waiting—

As their eyes caught, Harry realized, with no small amount of horror, that he should have been pretending that he was occupied with his lunch. Because now he had been caught staring.

"Hi, Tom," Harry squeaked out. "How're you today?"

Silence ballooned in the room. Harry was fairly sure that even Ron had stopped chewing.

Riddle inclined his head, lip curling, sharp eyes discerning. "Harry," he said in greeting.

And then Riddle spun away, departing.

Once Riddle was gone, Harry tried to inhale, choked on nothing, and started coughing.

"Ohmygod," Ginny said immediately, rushing over to kneel in front of Harry's chair. She took his hands in hers, a look of sympathy stealing over her features. "You called him Tom. He called you Harry. Are you alright? Are you breathing? Did he eviscerate you with his eyeballs?"

"Give the man some room, Ginny," Ron said. "He's been through a shock."

"I'm fine," Harry wheezed as Ron patted him on the back. "Not dead yet."

By the time lunch hour ended, news of Harry's interaction had spread throughout the entire building.

"The betting pool is out of control," Pansy told him when she came by. "Odds are either you'll get murdered in an untraceable way, or murdered outright in the middle of the office to serve as an example for the rest of us. Current numbers are skewing towards the latter."

Harry tugged weakly at his shirt collar, wishing not for the first time that he had chosen almost any other company to work for.

"Riddle should be back soon," Pansy added. "If I were you, I would…" She paused. "Honestly? I'm not sure what advice to give you. If you survive the week, I'll buy you a drink, how's that? And if you don't survive… well, I'll buy you a whole bottle."

"Sure," Harry said. The promise of pity alcohol was better than nothing.

Pansy left, and Harry checked the time on his phone. The official end of Riddle's lunch hour was nigh, and Riddle was never late, so he would be returning soon.

When Riddle did step back into the office, his arms were laden with a large cardboard box, and on top of the box was a stack of folders. Where had he gone? Did the man even take a lunch hour, or did he simply spew paperwork wherever he went?

Harry busied himself with looking busy, though he kept close watch on Riddle out of the corner of his eye. As Riddle made his way across the room, a sheet of paper slipped out of one of his folders and onto the floor.

Possessed by the spirit of politeness that his mother had trained into him, Harry's legs carried him over to the paper, which he picked up, and then he followed Riddle to his office door.

"You dropped this," Harry's mouth said.

Riddle peered at him, glaring. Ron had once described Riddle's eyes as 'sunless, soulless pits of despair'. But at this distance, they only looked to be a very dark brown.

The sheet of paper was snatched out of Harry's hand, and then the door was shut in his face.

Well. That could have gone much worse.

VI. cheer

Riddle left at the end of the day at five sharp.

Ron and Ginny let out simultaneous whoops of joy, spinning around in their office chairs. And Hermione was smiling, her hair unleashed from its usual restrained ponytail.

"You're a saviour, Harry, honestly." Ron slipped an arm around Harry's shoulder and gave him a shake. "It's only Monday! We're usually here till, what, seven? And now I can go home and have a nap before dinner!"

Harry still wasn't sure exactly what it was that he'd done. "But all I did was say hello? And pick up that piece of paper?" Riddle hadn't even said thank you.

"Don't jinx it!" Ginny said. "Riddle's somehow in a good mood, and I am not about to anger the gods by questioning their mysterious ways."

"If you're all free, then let's go for dinner and drinks," Hermione said, sounding more carefree and reckless than Harry had ever heard her. "Drinks are my treat."

"It's a Monday," Ron said, scandalized. "Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

"Very funny," Hermione said, but she was still smiling. "Are you coming or not?"

"We haven't done drinks like this since Quirrell was our boss," Ron added mournfully.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Quirrell never did anything around here, Ron."

Ginny went to fetch their friends from the other departments, and then they headed down into the lot as a group. Only once they got there, Harry noticed that Riddle's car was still parked. And Riddle was in his Lexus, in the driver's seat, hand draped over the steering wheel as he gazed off into the distance, the strangest look on his face.

Harry didn't realize that he'd stopped moving until Pansy walked into him with a yelp.

"Sorry," Harry said. "Wasn't paying attention."

"Riddle's still here!" Ginny said in a whisper, jerking her head in the direction of Riddle's car. "Everyone scatter! We'll meet at the Hog's Head."

Harry followed Ron and Ginny to Ginny's car so they could carpool like they usually did, only he couldn't help but feel bad that they were all going for drinks while Riddle sat there by himself, oblivious to the fact that his staff were overjoyed by his absence.

Or maybe not so oblivious, Harry thought sympathetically. Because surely Riddle knew the kind of feelings his behaviour inspired.

This thought stuck in Harry's brain all evening, leaving him spaced out while his coworkers socialized. They tried to include him in their conversations, but once it became clear that he couldn't string more than three coherent words together, they let him be.

At the end of the evening, everyone filed out in good cheer except for Harry, who was still lost in his own head. Ron and Ginny gave him a lift home, depositing Harry on the doorstep of his building, and waved an enthusiastic goodbye.

Harry ran through the motions of trudging up to his flat, changing into comfortable clothes, and plopping down onto his bed to regard his ceiling fan with heavy contemplation.

Had the kindness really worked? Harry's parents had raised him on solid foundations—you never knew what someone else was going though, and kindness was goodness. Even the meanest, grumpiest person could be going through a hard time.

Only Riddle seemed to be going through a hard time, well, all the time.

Harry had been hopeful that being nice would invoke some level of change, but today's results had left him flummoxed.

Although, since a small amount of kindness had gone such a long way, Harry was confident that after continued effort, Riddle might even lighten up completely. That was a nice thought. And then, maybe someday in the future, he could even join them all for drinks.