Chapter 10: Imagine Having Morals; Can't Relate

"They've been in there a while," Hermione mused. "What on earth do you think they're talking about?"

"Getting down and dirty," Ginny replied automatically, and was promptly rewarded with a wadded-up ball of paper tossed in her general direction.

"Not everything is about sex."

"But it could be! And you don't know, maybe Riddle's finally succeeded and he's snogging the living daylights out of Harry right this second."

Hermione went quiet, likely imagining said scenario in excruciating detail. Then she said in a whisper, "Do you think so?"

Ginny snickered. "One can hope."

"Harry's so shy," mused Hermione. "Riddle took him out to lunch last week, and that still wasn't enough."

"That was with our help, too!" Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, then scooted her chair over to Hermione's cubicle so they could talk face to face. "Honestly. Men. They're so hopeless."

Hermione nodded in solemn agreement, then turned her attention to the closed door of Harry's office. "If Riddle does wind up needing Harry's address, what do you think will happen?"

Ginny was used to being asked this; she prided herself on her ability to accurately predict outcomes when it came to drama in the office. In addition to that, she was also excellent at spinning a raunchy tale.

"Riddle's very thorough. He'll take his time researching the area, staking it out, getting other opinions. Then he'll narrow his options down. Personally? I'm hoping for a grocery meetcute. Wouldn't that be the best?" Ginny leant back in her chair. "Harry with his buggy full of sad microwaveable meals and pasta. It'll be easy for Riddle to whisk him away."

"Does Harry eat microwavable meals?"

Ginny waved a dismissive hand. "He's a bachelor. He must have them."

Hermione quirked her lips in concession. "So then what happens? How does Riddle convince him?"

Ginny grinned, then spoke in an affected posh accent, "Oh, you know. He sways his hips and pouts, makes a comment on Harry's deplorable food choices and insinuates that if they were dating, there would be gourmet meals on a weekly basis."

"Riddle cooks gourmet meals?" Hermione said skeptically.

"Have you seen what he brings to work? It's not expensive gourmet, but the combinations are things you only see in cooking shows on the telly. And he goes to that restaurant up the block that Ron says is 'rabbit food'. Riddle's got particular tastes."

"I still find it hard to imagine Riddle cooking for Harry," Hermione admitted.

"Fine! Picture this." Ginny held her hands up and spread them out, fingers splayed, to symbolize the magic of what she was about to describe. "Riddle standing in Harry's kitchen, cute white apron tied on over a casual jumper and denim jeans. The sizzle of meat on a pan. Fragrant scents of rosemary and lemon wafting through the air. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms—"

"That's—" Hermione cut off, flustered. "Who thinks about Riddle like that?"

"Harry is sitting at the table a short distance away, positively drooling over the hot younger man who is serving looks in his apartment flat."

"Please," Hermione began, her entire face now scrunched in disgust, "please never use the words 'hot younger man' to refer to Riddle ever again."

"Am I wrong?"

"You are horrible."

"I think Quirrell's been framed," Harry said.

Tom permitted himself three seconds of utter shock. Shock that he allowed to flit across his face because Harry would be expecting it. "Framed?"

"I was reviewing the work we did yesterday," Harry said, "and some of it just doesn't add up."

Count on Draco not doing his job to be what unearthed Tom's manipulations. Absolutely preposterous. If only Draco worked this hard at his actual job, then he would be more suited for Slytherin.

"And so you think this was a setup? To what end?" Tom struggled to rein his impulses in, to maintain the correct inflection and facial expression.

"I'm not sure yet. What was Quirrell like, as your manager? The general impression I've gotten so far wasn't very positive." Harry pressed his lips into a flat line.

"He never did anything around here, if that's what people were implying. We'd have been better left to our own devices than led by that incompetent lout."

"So people didn't like him much?"

Tom thought it over. What would the best response be? If Harry believed that many people disliked Quirrell, then there was more reason to believe the man had been framed. Tom decided it was in his own interests to tell the truth.

"No one hated him. He was a figurehead—nothing more, nothing less. So long as he never interfered, most of us were content to go on with our work. The lack of leadership was a detriment to overall productivity, but it was neither harmful nor a reason for dislike. For lazier workers, it was even a benefit."

"I see." Harry sighed and moved to his desk, collapsing into his chair. "Maybe I should just pass this along to head office. I'm honestly not even sure about what I'm looking at. Accounting was never my strong suit in university. I think the professor hated me."

"I could take a look, if you like."

Harry pondered that, then said, "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Tom. I think I would get in trouble for doing that."

"I helped you discover the error, didn't I?" Tom insisted. "You said so yourself that you're uncertain. If you let me look, I can confirm for you if there is an error or not."

"I—I'll think about it."

Why had Harry called him here, if not to ask for help? Tom sat down across from Harry and braced his forearms on the table. "You don't have to carry this burden on your own. I understand it must be very stressful for you. I'd like to help as much as I can."

"I can handle it, really, I just needed to vent, I suppose. And I do trust you, for what it's worth." Harry smiled wanly. "I'd show you if I could."

"I would never tell," Tom assured him. "You can trust me, Harry. The well-being of this company matters to me. I only wish to see it succeed."

Harry's smile widened at that into a more genuine version of itself. "I can tell. Not enough people are loyal to their workplaces these days. I think it's one of my favourite things about this branch. I can tell that everyone gets along, even if there are hiccups from time to time. Everyone here is like family."

A family. Tom didn't think of his coworkers like family. They were tolerable and productive when they put the effort in. They were an excellent team when the correct motivations were in place.

"The environment here is very close knit," Tom agreed.

"Yeah, which is great." Harry leant back in his chair. "I'd hate to see everyone moved around because of something like this."

"Moved?"

Harry shifted, distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, it was bad enough with the scandal surrounding Quirrell. If this gets any bigger, they might dismantle this entire location. Shuffle people around and give it a fresh start."

Tom didn't want that. The hierarchy was established here; he knew what to say and do to get the results he wanted. If he was moved elsewhere, he would have to begin again, and by that point it would be easier to take up Lucius' offer of a more lucrative job.

"It won't come to that," Tom said with confidence.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and adjusted the set of his glasses. "I hope not."

Tom went back to his desk and began to dig for information. Since Harry refused to share what he had discovered, Tom would find it himself. Tom had access to most of the files they had looked at yesterday, and what he did not have access to, he would get Draco to pull for him.

Although Tom was irritated at this development, he was begrudgingly impressed that Harry had caught him out.

It took Tom approximately half an hour to locate the appropriate, available files and make copies of them to take home. Then he visited the accounting department to strongarm Draco into handing over the rest. Draco was unaware of what Tom had done to Quirrell; he was simply an unlucky moron with a penchant for ruining Tom's plans.

However, that knowledge did nothing to lessen the severity of Tom's request. Tom gave Draco a list of the files he required and told Draco to keep quiet if he valued his life and his job, precisely in that order.

Draco would keep his mouth shut, Tom believed, unless a larger and scarier threat came along and frightened him. That meant this was not a foolproof plan, but there was nothing illegal about Tom asking for file access. If Harry found out, Tom would say that he had been trying to help—which he was, in a way. He was helping himself, and he was helping Harry. A reshuffle would tank this branch's numbers even more; something that looked poor on any manager's portfolio regardless of the extenuating circumstances.

An hour later, Draco came by with an unmarked manilla folder, which he deposited onto Tom's desk. Files secured, Tom went about the rest of his work day as usual. He planned to take the files home and look them over there. So his afternoon was uneventful, and by the time five o'clock arrived, Tom was eager and ready to leave.

His drive home was filled with impatience and irritation at poor drivers. Tom arrived at his flat, set his work things aside, and reheated one of his pre-cooked meals in the microwave. Quick and easy nourishment while he poured over the accounting files, looking for mistakes.

Tom was hopeful that the mistake was a genuine one, something unrelated to himself. In that case, he would point it out to Harry and be lauded as a workplace hero.

If there was something Tom had missed, then he would need to consider his course of action more carefully. With a problem as complex as this, there were many variables to account for. His own security, first of all. Not to mention Harry's role in all this, precarious as it was. Lastly, the security and good fortune of the branch and the firm.

While Tom ate his dinner, he went over the files. Then he went over them again. It took some time, but he located the discrepancy that must have been the cause of Harry's suspicions. Unfortunately, said discrepancy did not bode well for Tom. On a surface level, this error would not be traced back to him—Tom was too clever for such a simple mistake to catch him wrong footed. But if Harry continued to dig, to look for answers, the truth might come to light.

Tom was uncertain if this situation could have been prevented. If he had not courted Harry to begin with, this small error would have gone unnoticed, buried underneath piles and piles of paperwork, discernible only to the keenest of eyes. It was unlikely that his plan would have gone up in flames if he had left well enough alone and stuck to his original plan of sabotaging the new manager.

Although, part of why his first plan had worked was because no one cared enough about Quirrell to argue in his favour. Quirrell's performance at this branch was abysmal enough that it made sense for him to try and cheat the firm out of a few extra thousand. Not to mention that the man had less than stellar side hobbies that did not look appropriate on paper.

By all means, it was supposed to be an open-and-shut case. Quirrell would do community service, pay a large fine, and be on his merry way—a way that did not impede Tom's path of success.

Tom rubbed at his temples, noting that he now had a headache. His relationship with Harry had just grown more complex. Even when Harry consented to a relationship, his sense of morality might prevent him from allowing Tom to get away with such a crime.

This posed a serious problem. Tom could fast track his plans to woo Harry in the hopes that securing the man's loyalty would give him time to cover his tracks, or at least convince Harry to let this go. Harry might be persuaded if he felt personal attachment to Tom. Harry was already fond of him, attracted to him, and appreciative of his talent and efforts.

Tom fingered the staple that pinched together one of the thick stacks of accounting files. All his plans, in fact, hinged on Harry's reaction. This was frustrating. Harry was too decent, too kind, too upright to do anything less than what his internal moral compass told him. If he felt Tom was in the wrong, he would do what it took to right the injustice.

Such tenacity was admirable, if misplaced. The corporate world was not a friendly place. Tom had clawed his way into his current position by virtue of his ambition and charm—even that had only gotten him so far.

Therefore, to win Harry to his side, Tom would have to convince Harry that he was in the right. That the actions he had taken were correct and justified, if not by the letter of the law, then by the moral compass that existed in Harry's heart. If Tom could not convince Harry that Quirrell was guilty of the crime, then he would have to convince Harry that Quirrell had deserved it.

Tom closed the top of the manilla folder and leant back in his chair with a sigh. Though he had always prided himself on his persuasive abilities, this could definitely prove to be quite the challenge.

A/N:

so much plot, such wow. also look at me, possibly finishing this story? who am i