partially inspired by a prompt made by Darci in the TRoR discord server, and written for the background tomarrymort fest! the unofficial ship name for tom riddle snr and james potter is jom, as coined by Sanya

tags: AU - Modern Setting, AU - Non-Magical, Single Parents, Bachelor Auction, Humor, Rivals to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Himbo James Potter

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Like Father, Like Son

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Every other Sunday afternoon, James dropped his son off at Riddle Manor. He didn't exactly like making the long drive up to that part of town, but Lily had already put her foot down about the constant sleepovers, and James wanted to be seen as the 'cool' parent, even if it meant he lost most of his Sunday with Harry half of the time.

Besides, James empathized with his son's predicament. Once upon a time, he and Sirius had practically lived in each other's pockets. Sirius had often spent entire weekends over at James' house. They would play video games all night long and clear out the pantry of snack foods.

James was now an adult, a parent himself, but that didn't mean he'd forgotten about being young and wanting to spend all your time with your best friend.

If Lily didn't understand that, then maybe she didn't understand Harry as well as she thought she did! And that was a very nice thought that made James feel slightly better about their divorce, amicable though it had been, and perhaps even a little smug.

Tom was a nice boy, anyhow. Nice grades, nice manners. Polite to a fault. It wasn't Tom that James had an issue with. No, that honour was reserved for Tom's father.

Tom's father, who was also named Tom—a fact that irritated James for reasons he could not quite place. James had given his name to his own son as a middle name, but there was just something so... so... stupid about naming your son entirely after yourself. It was selfish. It was the sort of thing a rich pompous asshole would do.

Which wasn't to say that James did not have money. His family had money. He came from money. Once Harry graduated high school, he'd be given a great car, a car just as nice as the one that the younger Tom drove.

Riddle was just lucky. He was lucky to have a well-adjusted son who hadn't turned into a spoiled brat that only cared about flashing money in people's faces. Because that was what happened when you gave your teenage son a car that cost as much as an average man's yearly salary. They turned into spoiled brats.

Unless they were Tom. Tom was alright because he was Harry's friend. There were exceptions for these sorts of things, exceptional people like Sirius, and James was determined not to blind himself to good people out of preconceived prejudiced notions like others often did.

So every other Sunday afternoon, James would drive all the way up to Riddle Manor and drop Harry off for his sleepover with Tom. That was what good fathers did, they encouraged healthy bonds between good male friends.

"You know," James said as they turned into the massive driveway bracketed by expensive statues and exotic flowers, "you haven't spent the night at Ron's in a while." He liked Ron's father. Arthur was friendly and knew how to crack a decent joke.

Harry expelled a huff of air. "I told you already. Every time I go over, Ron's mum tries to feed me. I don't want to impose on them, y'know? They don't, you know..." He frowned. "They don't have a lot to go around."

James made a face. "I give you plenty of pocket money—"

"They don't want it," Harry insisted. "Besides, I see Ron all the time at school. We have a lot of classes together. Tom's the one in all the advanced streams."

"But Ron's your best mate, isn't he?"

Harry shuffled in his seat, reaching for the seat belt. "I can have more than one. You have Sirius and Remus."

James didn't have a response for that. They were both his best mates, but…

"I see Tom," Harry said eagerly, shoving the car door open and climbing out. "I need my bag," he added, when James failed to move.

"Right."

Harry hauled his bag out of the boot and came back around to the driver's side window. "Are you coming?" he asked.

With a heavy sigh, James unclipped his seat belt and exited the vehicle.

Tom was on the front steps, waiting for them. He took Harry's bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"Your dad home?" James asked, trying to sound casual about it.

"Yes," Tom said, polite as you please. He glanced at Harry, who was smiling, then back at James. "Would you like to come in?"

"I should probably be headed out," James said, gesturing over his shoulder. "Left the car running and everything."

Harry strode back to the car, flopped his body across the passenger's seat, and turned the engine off. Then he wrenched the key out of the ignition and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.

"Not anymore," he said cheerfully.

James glared at his son. "Give me my keys."

"No."

"Give me my keys," James repeated, "or you'll be in big trouble."

Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring the very serious threat, and entered the house.

"He's in trouble," James said to Tom.

Tom shrugged one shoulder and gestured for James to head inside.

James caught up to Harry easily enough. His disobedient son was sprawled on his favoured armchair in the lavish sitting room.

"You are in trouble," James told him.

"You're a baby," Harry retorted.

Tom dropped Harry's bag by the coffee table, then settled himself on the armrest of Harry's chair. "Will you be staying for tea?"

"No," James said. To Harry, he added, "This is kidnapping."

"Have fun explaining that to the police," Harry said. "Or to Mum."

James was very unhappy. He was even more unhappy when Riddle entered the room and examined the panorama of Harry, James, and Tom gathered together in his little rich person's living space.

"Hello, Harry," said Riddle, after his inspection of them was apparently complete. "Hello, Mr Potter." A smile flickered across his face as he made his way further into the sitting room so that he was standing at the opposite end of the coffee table from James.

"Mr Riddle," James said unwillingly, a bland smile of his own plastered on his face. "I was just telling Tom here that I would love to stay for tea, but I'm afraid I must be on my way. Very important appointment."

"Of course," Riddle demurred, folding his hands in front of him. "We wouldn't want to keep you, would we?" He turned to the boys, who had gone curiously quiet. "It's always a pleasure to have Harry with us for an evening, when you are otherwise occupied with these... important appointments."

Oh, how James dearly wished to be twenty years younger and able to excuse punching someone in the face as a folly of youth.

"Dad doesn't mean that," Harry said. "He just doesn't want to impose."

James could not shoot Harry a death stare while Riddle was around. He could not do anything other than pretend that everything was fine. Acknowledging that things were not fine would mean losing, and James refused to lose to Riddle.

"I'm perfectly capable of imposing myself when I want to," James said, holding out a hand. "Now, if you could return my keys, Harry, I'll be on my way, and I'll see you next Friday."

Harry pouted. "But I'd really like it if you stayed. Tom and I were going to plan that charity thing—"

"Charity auction," Tom corrected, nudging Harry's shoulder with his elbow.

"Charity auction," Harry continued, "and I wanted to get some more opinions."

"We shouldn't pester your father if he has prior engagements," Riddle said in a chiding tone that might have been warm and fatherly if not for the fact that James hated him and thought a good kick in the balls would much improve the pitch and volume of Riddle's voice.

"That's right," James said brightly. "So as much as I'd love to stay—"

"Of course, I am available to assist you boys with planning this little charity auction of yours," Riddle added, stepping closer to the armchair and even going as far as to set a hand on Harry's head and ruffle his hair. "I've seen dozens of similar events through from start to finish. You'll have all of my expertise at your disposal, just say the word."

"Oh, uh, we just wanted some help brainstorming," Harry began awkwardly. "You really don't need to do all that..." He glanced at Tom with a half-pleading expression that James didn't quite understand.

Tom added, "You're very busy, Father, we wouldn't want to pester you either—"

"Nonsense," James said loudly. "There's nothing more important than your school events, isn't that what I always say, Harry? How important it is for us parents to be involved all the time? Not only when we feel like it?"

Harry stared at him, looking vaguely horrified. Even Tom—stoic, polite Tom—had a faint grimace on his face.

James felt it was only fair that Harry suffered a little as payback for earlier, so he continued on, "It's not a long appointment. I'll be back in time for dinner and we can all plan together, how about that?"

"Wonderful," Riddle said, clapping his hands together. His eyes were gleaming with what James could only assume was pure evil. Cleverly disguised evil, but evil nonetheless. "I very much look forward to hearing your ideas, Mr Potter."

"Please," James said, sticking a hand out, "call me James."

"Only if you call me Tom," said Riddle, a benevolent smile gracing his lips as he gave James' hand a firm shake. James squeezed a bit harder than necessary before he let go and took a half step back to replace the necessary distance between them.

"But that's confusing, sir," Harry said, and though there was a hint of petulance in the words, the foremost emotion was clearly resignation. "That's what I've been trying to avoid!"

"Well," James said in a jovial tone, "perhaps Tom should have thought a little harder before naming his son after himself!" He tacked on a little laugh at the end to make his statement a joke, then added, "Or maybe we can call him 'Old Tom', hm?"

"I'm sure you boys are clever enough to sort yourselves out," Riddle said, seemingly unfazed by James' insult. "The name Tom has been in our family for generations, after all."

"Yes, sure," Tom said, standing up and smoothing his trousers out at the same time. "I've got a new game I want to show Harry. In my room. May we be excused?"

"Yes," Harry added quickly. "May we?"

"Hug before you go?" James asked, spreading his arms wide. Harry was at an age where he was sometimes too old for hugs, sometimes not. But here in this manor, in front of that man, Harry was going to be a hugger.

Harry obediently stomped over and flung his arms around James' shoulders. "See you, Dad," he muttered, then spun around and hustled after Tom towards the stairs.

"My son has never played so many video games in his life before he met your son," Riddle said in a tone that should have been accusing but somehow wasn't.

Well, no. James was pretty sure it was accusing. Just because it sounded friendly did not mean it wasn't accusing.

"Harry doesn't play that often," James said, folding his arms over his chest. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he plays more now because he plays with your son."

"Balderdash."

"That's not a word."

Riddle fixed him with a look so stuffed with condescension it could have been served as turkey dinner for at least six people. "Don't you have an appointment to attend to, James?"

"Yes, I do." James tilted his head in the haughty way that Sirius had taught him. "Thank you for the reminder, Tom."

"We dine at eight sharp."

"Noted."

They gazed at each other for a moment longer, unwilling to lose the battle of wills that a staring contest presented. Then James spun on his heel and left the manor.

It was only once he was back on the front steps and facing his car that he remembered Harry still had his keys.

"Fuck."

After driving to the nearest liquor store for their most expensive bottle of wine, James parked his car in the lot and spent the next half hour brainstorming charity auction ideas.

As a Potter, he had plenty of connections. If it came down to networking, he was sure he could wrangle more gifts and favours than Riddle could. Being rich didn't make you likeable, after all, and James was very likeable. Everyone liked him!

So Riddle could donate as much money as he wanted and it wouldn't matter. No amount of money would be as impressive as people handing over expensive and valuable things because they thought James Potter was a really cool guy.

Satisfied there was no way he could possibly lose this battle, James started his car and drove back to Riddle Manor. Then, after thinking about it some more, he made another detour to pick up a new video game for Harry.

It would be something for the boys to play together, and if Tom didn't have the right console for it, then James would head right back out and buy them the console, too. Just to show that he, unlike others, put thought into what his son liked to do.

Armed with wine and the latest FIFA video game, James rang the doorbell and waited for someone to let him in.

This time, it was not Tom who opened the door. It was one of the servants. James handed the wine off and ignored their polite suggestion that he wait in the sitting room. Instead, he went upstairs to deliver his gift.

The door to Tom's bedroom was shut, so James knocked and said, "Harry? Tom? I'm back and I've brought you something!"

There was a very muffled shout followed by some banging noises. "Hold on!" Harry shouted. "One second!"

Then, after another long pause, the door opened just enough for Harry to edge his way half into the hall. "What is it?" he asked with a huff. "Tom and I were kind of in the middle of stuff. Game stuff."

"I got you this!" James said, holding out the game. "I thought you could play it tonight with Tom."

Harry glanced down at the FIFA game. "Wow, that's... wow. Thanks, Dad!" He took it and gave it a gentle shake. "This is great, really. We'll have lots of fun."

Tom appeared in the crack between the door and the door frame. He nudged Harry into the hall to make room for the both of them, then said, "Mr Potter—"

"I've told you to call me James."

"James," Tom amended. "We weren't expecting you back so soon."

"Couldn't stay away," James joked. He reached out to ruffle Harry's hair only to find it was a bit sweaty. "You boys have been holed up in here the whole time?"

"Yep," Harry said, nodding. "Yep."

"I brought wine for dinner," James said, beaming. "Nothing flashy, you know, but it's rude to show up empty handed." To Tom, he added, "Now, I'm not sure how your father feels about drinking, but I'm not opposed to letting Harry have a taste from time to time, so long as I'm around and I know he's responsible about it!"

"Of course," Tom said, smiling. Really, such a polite boy. His cheeks were even a little pinker than usual. "I'm sure you'll find my father feels the same way."

That was disappointing to hear. James had been hoping to be the cool, rule-breaking dad. "Ah, well, I don't suppose it's time for dinner just yet?" He squinted at his watch. "Maybe I could join you boys for a game or two—"

"Oh, no," Harry said quickly. "We've just wrapped up, you see. So we could come talk to you!"

Tom slung an arm around Harry's waist and gave him a friendly jostle. "Harry cares very much about the time he gets to spend with you. He wants to make sure he gives you his full attention."

Harry shot Tom a glare, but James only thought it was sweet. "That's very kind of you to say, Tom. I know it's not very hip to hang out with your dad these days."

"Mhmm," Harry said. "But, um, it's nice that you let me come over to Tom's all the time. Even though you don't like his dad."

James grimaced, glancing at Tom, but Tom didn't seem bothered by the comment. Maybe he and Harry had already spoken about it.

"I appreciate the time you take out of your busy schedule to drop Harry off," Tom said, still smiling, arm still wrapped snugly around Harry's waist. "Our friendship is very important to me."

"Absolutely," James said, eager to latch onto the compliment. "I understand how important it is to have good friends in your life."

Harry coughed. "Maybe we should go down and wait for dinner?" he suggested.

"Fantastic," James said, clapping his hands together. "I have some great ideas for your charity auction that I want to share with you both."

Harry nodded. "I just, uh, need to use the bathroom first."

"I can show you where it is," Tom said immediately, dropping Harry's waist and reaching for his shoulder instead.

"Don't you know where the bathroom is?" James asked skeptically.

"I do," Harry said, head bobbing up and down, "I do, but the bathroom is, er, broken—"

"The one in my room isn't working quite right at the moment," Tom said smoothly. "So I'll have to show him another one. And this house is so big, you know—"

"So easy to get lost in," Harry added with a self-deprecating laugh.

Tom shot him an exasperated look, like Harry was testing his patience, then turned back to James.

"We'll meet you downstairs," he said firmly.

Well, alright. James pointed a finger at Harry. "You owe me a game, then! And I'm not one to forget."

"Yep," Harry said. "Owe you one."

James waggled his finger a bit to emphasize the gravitas of the debt owed, then returned to the sitting room to wait.

Dinner was stuffed chicken breast that apparently did not pair with the wine that James had bought. James suspected Riddle of ordering his cook to change the menu specifically just to spite him, but unfortunately there was no way of proving it.

"So Tom and I were thinking," Harry said as he poked at his chicken, "we might do a date auction."

"A date auction?" repeated Riddle. His eyes slid to his son for a moment, but Tom only shrugged.

"Yeah!" Harry nodded. "We thought it would be a fun way to raise the money and give back to local businesses. We can auction off bachelors!"

"Bachelors?" James asked.

"Yes!" Harry said as he reached for another piece helping of string beans. "It'll be perfect for Valentine's Day."

"I am not sure how romantic it is to be auctioned off," Riddle said, setting his fork delicately on the side of his plate. "Who would want to do this?"

"I will," James said immediately. "It sounds like plenty of fun!"

"Um," Harry began, "actually, Dad, Tom and I were thinking—"

"I want to help with this," James insisted. "It'll be fun!" A chance to flaunt his good looks, wealth, and general superiority.

Harry whined. "Dad, I'm not going to auction you off at my school! That's too weird!"

"But you're always telling me I need to get out more!"

"Not like this," Harry protested, waving his fork around. "I mean like, go to wherever it is that single dads hang out and meet single moms."

Riddle's eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be considering his next words very carefully. "What would you be offering for these… bachelor auctions?"

"I would take the winner out for an expensive dinner," James said easily. "I can get a reservation anywhere in the city. I'm sure it won't be too difficult to find one that's locally owned."

"That is not exactly an unusual date," Riddle said, reaching for his glass of wine. "I would have expected a little more thought than that."

James bristled. "I know how to plan a date."

"I am sure you do," Riddle said, seeming unbothered, "but this is for charity. If you truly want to be generous," he continued, "then you will make it special. Something that no one else can offer."

"Like what?" James asked, narrowing his eyes. It wasn't as if Riddle was offering himself up as a date. "What, exactly, should I be doing on this special date?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something," Riddle said, flashing one of his usual smarmy smiles. "I have every faith in you."

The conversation quickly moved on after that, leaving James alone to stew in his irritation. He would prove Riddle wrong and plan the best date there ever was. Let them see who the real winner was once James bagged the highest auction price for the best date of all time.

When James met Sirius for drinks later that week, the first thing, predictably, out of Sirius' mouth was, "You've got a date?"

"I will be going on a date," James said, "for charity."

Sirius grinned, gripping him by the shoulder and giving him a shake. "That's great news! Fantastic news! Who's the lucky bloke?"

"Why are you assuming it's a bloke?" James said grumpily. Just because he had an ex-wife, it didn't mean he was scared off of women forever.

"I mean," Sirius said, "I'm seeing a bloke, Harry's seeing a bloke—"

That brought him up short. "Harry's seeing a bloke?"

"He's into blokes," Sirius corrected. "Anyway, makes sense you'd reel in one for yourself."

"You're seeing Snivellus," James reminded him. "I'd hardly call him a bloke."

"That's right." Sirius snickered. "He's such a nerd he's at least a bloke and a half."

James groaned and sat back in his chair. "That's enough out of you. I don't want to hear about it."

Sirius sat back in his chair, smiling broadly. "Fine. But just so you know, I'm really glad you're going on a date. It'll be good for you to put yourself back out there, you know?"

So was James, actually. It had been a while since he'd had any kind of a social life, and he was looking forward to the idea of meeting someone new. "Yeah," he said. "I think I am, too."

"It's a little weird that you'll be selling yourself off to the highest bidder," Sirius said with a shrug, "but it's for a good cause." He ordered a second drink, and as soon as it arrived, he took a long sip and then looked at James over the rim. "What was it for again?"

"Hmm?"

"The charity. What's it for?"

James thought back to that afternoon at Riddle's. "I… don't remember," he admitted.

Sirius scoffed at him. "Sounds like you better figure that out first, then."

"It's a charity," James said dismissively. "What matters is that I have the most impressive date. I'm accepting ideas for that, by the way."

"Go-kart racing," Sirius suggested. "Fly to Tokyo for sushi. Nude pottery classes."

"I'm not asking why you have that last one in there," James told him.

"Well, fine," Sirius said with a frown, folding his arms over his chest. "Because I'm not telling."

"Dad? What are you doing?"

James repressed the urge to hunch over his laptop screen and instead slowly pivoted to stare at his teenage son. "I am working on a slideshow for my date."

Harry craned his neck in an attempt to glance over James' shoulder. "A slideshow?"

"Think of it as an elevator pitch," James said eagerly. "Five minutes on why you should pick James Potter as your auction date!"

Harry pressed his lips together in a line. "Do you want me to look it over for you after you're done?"

"That won't be necessary," James said in a stern voice. "I know you won't believe me, but let me tell you, Harry—back in the day, your father was quite the catch!"

Harry made a gagging noise. "If you're going to embarrass me in front of the entire school, I think I have the right to know."

"It'll be great," James insisted. "Have some faith in your old man!"

"Old," Harry repeated, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Fine. Don't complain if I end up laughing at you later, then. You've made it fair game."

James was beginning to get offended. "I have the perfect date planned."

"Just don't tell me how much you're spending on it," Harry said with a sigh, "and I won't be forced to tell Mum that you're ruining my charity project by wasting money on one-upping Tom's dad again."

"It's for charity," James grumbled. "I'm doing this for charity!"

"So far the only other adult who has volunteered for this is Malfoy's dad," Harry said, glaring. "Malfoy's dad. Kids at school are calling this a DILF auction!"

"You know, that's not a bad idea," James mused. "Maybe I can put that in my slideshow."

Harry rubbed his face with both hands. "If this fails, you're going to donate all the money we need for our goal, or I'm never speaking to you ever again."

James was definitely offended now. "Just you wait and see," he said, jabbing a finger in Harry's direction. "I'm going to fetch the highest bachelor price that Britain has ever seen!"

Harry groaned. "Yeah, and I'm not going to be able to show my face at school after this."

"Don't be silly, Harry. It's not so bad! And by the way," James said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone, "will Tom's father be coming? Or does his charity not extend past opening his mouth to expel some big, fancy words?"

Harry stared at him for a moment, then shook his head then walked away.

"Spoilsport!" James called after him. Once he was sure that Harry was gone, he turned back to his slideshow. Now he had to add the word 'DILF' somewhere… but where?

In the days and weeks leading up to the bachelor auction, James avoided Riddle. Whenever Harry confronted him about this, James would say it was because he didn't want the bastard stealing his date idea.

"Tom's dad hasn't signed up to be a bachelor," Harry would point out.

"Yet," James would say. There was no way Riddle would sit out, not when such a lucrative victory was up for grabs. The title of most eligible DILF bachelor was nothing to scoff at.

But then the auction day arrived, and Riddle still had not applied.

When James pestered his son for information, Harry only rolled his eyes.

"He's in the audience, Dad. I hardly think he's going to come up to me or Tom and demand to be included now."

"Then he must be planning something else," James muttered. "Some dirty trick to humiliate me."

Harry rolled his eyes again, with even more emphasis than before. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound ridiculous."

"Men like Riddle are threats to be taken seriously," James scolded him. "Just because Tom is a nice boy doesn't mean his father is."

"Tom? Nice?" Harry snickered for a second, then his expression sobered. "Just try not to be too weird on stage, alright? McGonagall told me you were in here testing the projector without permission yesterday."

"I had permission," James said defensively.

"Asking Mr. Hagrid for permission doesn't count as permission."

"Does too."

Harry sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

That was when Riddle came swanning into view. He looked James up and down, a cursory glance that grated on James' nerves.

"Tom," James greeted him bluntly.

"James. You're dressed well for the occasion," Riddle said.

James forced a polite smile. That sounded suspiciously like a compliment, which meant it was a trap.

"Thank you," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I wanted to look my best, especially considering the cause."

"Of course." Riddle sniffed. "I would hate to think I was contributing to a charity that allowed its participants to look like slobs."

James gritted his teeth. He knew Riddle was trying to get a rise out of him, but he refused to take the bait.

"I think you'll find that all the bachelors are quite presentable," he said in a frosty tone. "And I'm sure the ladies in attendance will appreciate the effort."

"Yes, well..." Riddle shrugged. "I suppose I should take my seat. I wouldn't want to miss the fun."

"Oh, I think you'll enjoy it," James said. "I know I will."

Riddle's lips quirked upward in a smirk, but he didn't say anything else. He simply turned and walked away.

James watched him go, feeling both satisfaction and trepidation. He was glad he'd gotten the last word in, but he still didn't trust Riddle. The man was up to something, he just knew it.

The bachelor auction began soon after Riddle took his seat. James was one of the first up on stage, and he tried his best to look both charming and aloof. It had been a long time since he'd had to address a crowd this large, let alone one with a hated enemy seated in the back row.

"Welcome, everyone," James began. "I'm here today to talk to you about my perfect first date, and why you should pick me as your auction bachelor."

He clicked the remote in his hand, and the first slide of his presentation appeared on the screen behind him.

"First and foremost," he continued, "I believe that a perfect first date should be something that is memorable. It should be something that you can look back on and smile about."

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

"So I want to share a bit about myself. The kind of person I am, and the kind of person I think I get along with. No smoke screen, no trying to be someone I'm not. Just me."

James clicked to the next screen. He was pleased to hear a few laughs as people read through the description, which read 'Handsome wealthy single father with a great sense of humour whose son made him take out 'DILF' from this description'.

"As you can see, I'm a pretty simple guy. I like spending time with my family and friends, going on adventures, and just generally having a good time."

He grinned at the crowd and was rewarded with a loud wolf-whistle from Sirius, who was in the audience and wearing a fake moustache for unfathomable reasons.

"And that's the kind of person I'd like to share my perfect first date with. Someone who is down-to-earth, fun-loving, and doesn't take themselves too seriously."

James clicked to the next slide. "Now," he said, "I know this itinerary is over the top. But that is also the kind of person I am. I want to make this memorable for anyone who picks me. Even someone who maybe isn't interested in the same things I am. If what you're looking for is a ridiculously expensive date, then I'm still your guy!"

More laughter.

"But if you're looking for something a bit more low-key, then I think we could definitely work something out. Maybe do away with the helicopter bits."

James smiled. He was feeling pretty good now. He had the crowd in the palm of his hand, and he knew it.

"So, to sum up, if you're looking for a perfect first date, pick me. I'll make sure it's one you'll never forget."

He clicked the remote one last time to his 'thank you' slide, then ended the presentation. The audience erupted into applause, and James took a bow before making his way to his seat.

Lucius Malfoy was the next to present, and James tuned out his sycophantic ramblings about himself. In his opinion, Malfoy was just an exhibitionist. He was all talk and no action.

When the final presentation was done and it was finally time for the bidding to begin, James felt his heart beat a little faster. He was sure he'd get a good price for his date, but his nerves were creeping up on him.

Suddenly, he wished he hadn't begged the boys to let him go last. He'd originally wanted to be the big finale. What a terrible choice. Now he had to sit through everyone else, knowing that if he failed, he would look that much more of a fool.

"Everything alright, Dad?"

James swung around to look at his son. "Right as rain. What's up?"

Harry shot him an odd look. "Well, I came here to tell you that Hermione got us an actual celebrity in the audience, and we're all pretty sure he's going to bid on you because your date is the only one with a cruise ship and a private helicopter."

None of those words made any sense together. "What?"

"His name is Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Who?"

"He's a celebrity," Harry said hastily. "Anyway, I don't know that much about him, but Hermione's like, in love with him or something. She says it's only intellectual, but I have no idea what that means and I don't want to." He shook his head. "What I came here to say is that if you don't want to go on a date with this guy, Sirius is willing to spend lots of money and pretend to be your date."

"Which one is he?"

"He's in a bright purple suit jacket. Tom thinks he's only here for publicity."

James considered it. Even if this celebrity was only here for the PR, what did it matter? This was all for charity. If James did bag this celebrity, then Riddle would be forced to concede that James was an extremely attractive date.

"Tell Sirius that I'm fine with it," James said with a firm nod.

Harry shot him a dubious look. "Alright, if you say so."

As it turned out, James should not have gotten his hopes up about Lockhart.

The man proceeded to drop several hundred pounds on a date with Lucius Malfoy. Clearly there was something wrong with him. James had dodged a bullet by going last.

However, Malfoy's sale posed a new problem. Now that Lockhart was out of the equation, James was left with the very real fear that he would be outclassed by Malfoy of all people. That would be humiliating, almost as humiliating as losing to Riddle.

"You're up next," Harry said, popping up out of nowhere and seizing him by the arm. "Please try not to embarrass me any more than you already have."

"Wait," James said, "wait—"

Harry was already hauling him towards the stage. "Smile, good posture, try not to look like you want to kill Tom's father with hate beams coming out of your eyes."

"I do not—" James shut his mouth and plastered a grin on his face as Harry shoved him onto the stage.

The announcer—Lee Jordan—immediately began his sales pitch on James' eligibility.

"And here's our next handsome hopeful," Lee said. "Let's see what kind of treasures are hidden under James Potter's suit jacket!"

James glanced out over the crowd. There was a sea of unfamiliar faces, almost all of them women, mostly young and attractive. To calm his nerves, he tried to pick out the women he knew.

There was Hermione, of course, sitting beside Ron and gripping his arm so tightly that James was sure it was leaving bruises. James tried to find someone else, except his vision seemed to be going a bit blurry. Probably best to get on with it.

As he shook his suit jacket off, James did his best to make it look as though he was just having a good time, as he'd done so many times before in his youth. He flexed his arms and turned in a circle to show off his physique, and the crowd cheered their approval.

God. Harry was going to kill him.

"And what do we have under that shirt?" Lee asked in a bright voice.

James grinned and shook his head. "Take me to dinner first," he said, and the crowd laughed.

"Oh, come on!" Lee said. "Let's have a look at those muscles!"

"Fine," James said, and tugged his shirt off over his head. He wasn't as fit as he used to be, but he could be a good sport about the softness around his stomach.

The crowd went wild. James felt himself blush, but he kept on smiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry cover his face with his hands.

"And what do we have underneath those trousers?" Lee asked next, raising a brow.

"That's enough," James said sternly, wagging a finger at him. "We've got to save something for the first date, don't we?"

Yeah, Harry was definitely going to kill him.

"Fair point! Let's start the bidding at fifty pounds for a night without Mr Potter's trousers," Lee said cheerfully. "Do I see fifty pounds?"

Paddles started flying. James tried to scan the crowd for Riddle. He didn't know if he'd get another chance to look around without attracting attention, and he wanted to make sure he knew where the enemy was sitting.

"A hundred pounds!"

"A hundred to the gentleman on the left!" Lee exclaimed. "Do I hear one ten?"

James' eyes flew to the latest bidder only to find that it was Riddle starting directly at him.

James was sweating now, his heart racing a thousand kilometres a minute. Why was Riddle bidding on him? To make a fool out of him?

A fresh bidding war broke out, and the price quickly hit two hundred pounds as several people battled for the top bid.

"Two hundred and fifty pounds from the lovely lady in forest green! Do I hear three hundred?" Lee asked, and as he spoke, James saw Riddle raise his paddle again.

"Three hundred to the gentleman on the left once more—"

"Four hundred!" Sirius shouted from the back row. He was still wearing the fake moustache and looked absolutely ridiculous.

The crowd went silent. James was sure he had stopped breathing.

"Four hundred twenty-five!" Riddle said loudly.

"Four hundred fifty!" Sirius called out again.

"Five hundred pounds!" Riddle called, also pulling to his feet, and the crowd gasped.

"Five hundred and fifty!"

"Six hundred pounds!" Riddle snapped, turning red.

Sirius jammed his paddle into the air and waved it around. "Six hundred fifty pounds!"

"Seven hundred pounds!" Riddle was now looking at Sirius with a gaze that could only be described as murderous.

"Seven hundred fifty pounds!" Sirius shouted back, his voice cracking.

"Eight hundred pounds!" Riddle called.

Sirius shot James a worried look, and that was all the warning James got before Lee finally interjected.

"Eight hundred pounds going once!" Lee called.

Oh.

"And twice!" Lee continued. "And sold! Sold to the gentleman in the handsome charcoal suit! Your name, sir—?"

Oh no.

"Tom Riddle," said the smarmiest, smuggest son-of-a-bitch on the face of the planet. "Senior," he added, almost as an afterthought.

This was the smarmy, smug bastard that James was now obligated to go on a date with.

"Sold to Tom Riddle!" Lee announced, banging his wooden gavel against the podium. "Hey, maybe the two of you can go on a double date with your sons!"

There was a pause, followed by the ear-splitting screech of feedback as Lee's mic was viciously yanked out of his hand and hauled out of sight.

"Oops," Lee said at normal volume. He shot a fearful glance towards stage left, where someone James could not see was standing. "And now, a brief intermission while I… go get my microphone."

Lee scrambled off the stage, leaving James in the awkward position of taking his own departure. He snatched up his shirt and suit jacket from the floor then fled in the opposite direction. If he never made eye contact with Riddle again, it would be too soon.

Several long and painful minutes later, Lee went back on stage to finish closing the auction. Harry was nowhere in sight, and James was getting more anxious by the minute.

Riddle had bid on him. Riddle had bid on him and won.

What was Riddle going to do? Maybe his plan was to mock and critique their date the entire way through. But James was no coward. He couldn't back down now. He refused to let Riddle get the best of him.

If that man wanted a date, then by god, James was going to deliver one.

As Lee thanked everyone for coming, Sirius came sneaking backstage, still wearing his terrible fake moustache.

"Why on earth are you wearing that thing?" James demanded. "Why?"

"It's my disguise," Sirius said, straight faced. "It was my duty as your best friend to make you seem desirable by increasing your market value through lies and deceit."

"With a fake moustache?!"

"It adds character!" Sirius said defensively, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "And Snape said it's terrible, so that's how I know I look great. He wouldn't know a good look if it slapped him on the honker."

James rubbed a hand over his face. "When will the two of you start using first names? Seriously."

"Never," Sirius said. "His first name is stupid. Anyway, I swear I tried to outbid Riddle, I really did, but I'm not made of money—"

"You're richer than I am," James said irritably.

"Well," Sirius said with a huff, "if I'm being honest, I wasn't sure if you actually wanted me to outbid him."

James felt his mouth fall open. "When have I ever given you the impression that I wanted to go on a date with that—with that rat?"

"I dunno, he's a bit of a looker, isn't he?"

"I'm never talking to you again," James said. "Starting now."

James stayed after the show was over to help the boys clean up. It was mostly an excuse for him to avoid going outside of the gymnasium, which was where certain evil men in charcoal suits might be loitering around, waiting to attack him with snide comments.

"Tom and I are fine," Harry kept saying. "There are enough of us to put away all the equipment."

But James refused to budge. He knew the cruel fate that awaited him and was in no hurry to greet it.

Eventually, however, all the other students went home, leaving James with only Harry and Tom to shield him from Riddle.

"I'm afraid you have to leave," Tom said with a contrite expression. "The headmaster expects Harry and I to lock up."

James resisted an urge to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. "Of course," he said, "I'll just go start the car, why don't I—"

"We still have to count the money," Harry interjected. "From the ticket sales. And put it in the safe. So you can't be here for that."

"How long will that take?" James asked slowly.

"Um," Harry said. He glanced at Tom. "I'm not sure, it's a lot of money—"

"At least thirty minutes," Tom said in a firm voice. "But if you've somewhere to be, I'm sure my father wouldn't mind driving Harry home."

"No, no," James said. The last thing he needed was to give Riddle another win. "I can wait. I'll just go… wait. In the lot."

"Awesome," Harry said, bracing both hands on James' left arm and shoving him towards the door. "We won't be long. Thirty minutes or so, promise!"

From over Harry's shoulder, Tom waved goodbye. He looked more cheerful than usual. It must have been because of all the money they'd raised.

In the lot outside the school, there were only two cars left. One belonged to James, and the other belonged to Riddle. Riddle's car was an Aston Martin, just like Malfoy's, which meant it was tacky garbage.

After spotting James, Riddle emerged from his vehicle, smoothing the lapels of his jacket as he shut and settled against the driver's side door.

"You!" James said, suddenly infuriated. What right did Riddle have to look so damn composed? James took several long strides in Riddle's direction and jabbed his finger in a threatening manner. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"Me?" Riddle said, a polite expression of confusion fluttering across his face. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific than that, James. I don't seem to recall playing anything. In fact, I do believe I'm paying eight hundred pounds for the pleasure of your company."

"You are pathetic," James said, drawing himself to his full height and coming to an indignant halt a pace away from Riddle and his stupid tasteless Aston Martin. "You'd do anything to try and beat me! You want to beat me so badly it makes you look stupid."

The left side of Riddle's mouth twitched. "Is that so?"

"Yes," James snapped. "Everything is a game to you! You are always trying to make yourself look like the better father. Not to mention your plan to make me look like a fool at the auction—"

"By securing your place as the highest earning bachelor tonight?" Riddle drawled. "Or by choosing you as my date?"

"You don't want me as a date," James said angrily, "you just want an excuse to mock me!" He swore he could feel his blood pressure rising the longer they stared at each other. "Well, I'm not having it. I'm not letting you win. I'll buy myself out. Whatever it takes!" Harry would understand, he wouldn't make his own father go through with this… this farce.

Riddle scoffed. "If you truly believe I would spend eight hundred pounds on an evening with you because I wasn't interested, then you're even more of a fool than I thought you were."

"You're not—" James said, flustered. "What?"

Riddle reached out to finger the collar of James' shirt. "I find you very interesting, James Potter."

"You do?" James asked, feeling a little off balance as Riddle's gaze dropped to his mouth.

"Yes," Riddle said, his voice low and intimate. "I like the way you think. I like the way you challenge me. I like the way you try to win, even when you know you're going to lose."

"I…" James swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I don't lose."

"We'll see about that," Riddle said, a dangerous glint in his eye. His hand trailed along James' collar and settled on the back of his neck. "I think you'll find that I am a very generous winner."

James swallowed again, his heart pounding in his chest. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Riddle had moved closer, so close that he could feel the other man's body heat. "You? Generous?" he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "As if."

"Would you like a demonstration?" Riddle asked wryly. His free hand slipped around James' waist and pulled him in close, binding them chest to chest.

James licked his lips, his eyes flicking up to meet Riddle's. He was so close, so very close, and James knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would not have the willpower to stop Riddle from doing whatever it was he wanted to do.

Still, he refused to lose. If this was a new game, James was not going to lie down and accept defeat.

Figuratively speaking.

"Sure," James said, injecting a note of confidence into his voice. "Show me what you've got, you—"

To his great surprise, Riddle kissed him.

James froze, his mind awhirl. He could feel Riddle's lips, soft and warm, moving against his own, and the sensation was electric. It shot through him like a bolt of lightning, igniting something inside of him that had been quiet ever since the divorce.

Without thinking, James reached for Riddle's shoulders and shoved him against the side of the car. Riddle made a noise of displeasure as his back met the glass, and tugged at the fistful of James' hair he was currently holding captive.

"Watch it," Riddle snapped breathlessly. "You'll scratch the paint."

"Shut up," James said, and then he was kissing Riddle again, pressing their bodies flush together. Riddle was warm and solid and smelled faintly of citrus.

It was only when Riddle started getting handsy that James tore himself back long enough to say, "Wait, wait, not here."

Riddle made a disgruntled sound. "Let's head inside, then."

"Inside?" James repeated, incredulous. "Might I remind you that our kids are still inside that school?"

Riddle raised a brow at him. "It's a thirty minute drive to the nearest house, which is mine, so unless you'd like to do this in my car—"

If the boys came out early, they would see both cars parked in the lot. James bit down on his lower lip. Harry had said he and Tom would be at least thirty minutes. So maybe it was alright.

"Fine," James snapped. He shot a wary glance around the empty lot. "But we'd better not be seen. And it'd better be quick."

"Not my usual, being quick, but I suppose I can make an exception for you," Riddle remarked, seizing James by the arm and hauling him back towards the school. "There's a supply closet this way," he added, infuriatingly composed for someone who had just been snogged and groped in a parking lot. "No one will find us there."

"I know that," James said. "I went to school here too, you know!" Still, he allowed himself to be pulled inside. He felt giddy, like a teenager again, sneaking around the school with another boy and trying not to get caught.

Unfortunately for them both, when they tried the door to the first supply closet, it was locked.

"There's another one by the gymnasium," Riddle said confidently. He dragged James around another corner, scanning the halls as they blew past several more doors. James was too wired on adrenaline to complain about the manhandling. The sooner they were somewhere enclosed, the sooner some clothes could come off.

The next door they tried, one that led to a smaller classroom with the windows shut, was also locked.

"I've waited too long to be foiled by a damn locked door," Riddle muttered under his breath.

"What do you mean you've waited?" James demanded. "You only bid on me tonight!"

"Don't think about it," Riddle said distractedly. "It will only hurt your head."

They reached the gym, which was still unlocked. Riddle shoved the door open and took in the sight of the empty room.

"The boys said they'd be counting money for the safe," James said hesitantly as they stepped inside.

"That'll be at the front office," Riddle said, his hand resting against the small of James' back and stroking gently up his spine. "I'm sure they won't be back here for a while."

"Right," James said, momentarily distracted by the renewed physical contact.

Riddle led them to the supply closet and reached for the door handle. "After you," he said, then pulled it open.

Someone shrieked. It was not James, and it certainly wasn't Riddle.

Inside the supply closet were both of their sons, together, in a rather compromising position.

"Dad?" Harry yelped. "Shit, fuck, ouch, fuck!" He would have toppled to the floor if not for Tom's half-naked body very clearly pinning him against the side shelf.

"Tom?" said Riddle, folding his arms over his chest and toeing the door the rest of the way open with his foot. "Care to explain what is going on here?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tom snapped. His face was bright red and his curls were plastered to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat. It was the first time that James had ever heard him swear. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"We were, uh," Harry babbled. "Um, we were—"

"Not another word from either of you," James said. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. His son and Riddle's son, together? Tom had always been such a polite boy, too. "What is this lying and sneaking around? I expected better from both of you."

Tom only scoffed and shot his father another nasty glare.

Riddle retrieved his car keys from his pocket and threw them at his son. "Tom, zip up your trousers and wait for me in the car. Harry's father and I will clean up the mess you've made here."

"Fucking hell," Tom said, still glaring even as he put his clothing back to rights. "I can't fucking believe you! See if I ever do anything to h—"

"Language," Riddle said, in a stone-cold tone that brooked no argument.

James pulled out his own car keys and passed them to Harry. "You heard him. Both of you go wait in the car. Separate cars. You don't want to know what will happen if I catch you doing otherwise."

Harry fled right away, far too embarrassed to argue, but Tom kicked the door frame on his way out, still muttering curse words under his breath.

Once both boys were gone, James turned back to Riddle.

"Did you know what those two were up to?" James demanded, eyeing the… shelf… where his son, his own flesh and blood, had been nearly deflowered by Riddle's scheming, no-good hellspawn.

"Of course not," Riddle said smoothly. "Tom will be punished for his transgressions against your son, so you needn't worry about that happening again any time soon." He crowded James further into the closet, then shut the door behind them. "Now, where were we?"

James spluttered. "You can't possibly think we're still going to do this now!"

"Aren't we?" Riddle countered, laying a hand on James' chest and nudging him toward the very shelf that Harry had been braced against not five minutes earlier.

"No," James said, but the word was unfortunately unsteady.

"No?" Riddle asked, stepping closer. The hand on James' chest trailed down towards the waistband of his trousers.

"Er," James said, rapidly losing his train of thought as Riddle tapped a gentle finger on the top of his belt buckle. "Maybe a quick one," he conceded.

As Riddle smiled and leaned in, James had just enough time to think that if Harry ever found out about this, he was a dead man. Then Riddle was pressing him back against the shelf and kissing him in earnest, and he stopped thinking about anything at all.

Several weeks later, it was six in the morning when a sleek black Aston Martin pulled into the front lot of the Potter home.

"This better not be anything serious," Harry said as he watched James fuss over his hair for the dozenth time. It was just too weird watching his own dad get ready for a date with Tom's dad.

"Why not?" James asked, sweeping his fingers through his bangs as he tried to set the loose curls just right.

"Because if you marry him, Tom and I will be step brothers."

"Maybe that's a good thing." James fixed Harry with a grim look. He had not yet forgiven Tom for feeling Harry up in the supply closet. For the time being, Harry was only allowed to see Tom at school or on supervised weekend outings.

"No," Harry said hotly, smacking James' arm. "It's not! It's weird."

"Mhmm." An impatient car horn sounded from outside, startling them both. "Don't wait up," James said cheerfully, straightening and heading for the door.

"That's supposed to be my line," Harry complained, following after him. "You're an old man. You're not supposed to be out so late."

James whirled around and roped Harry into a farewell hug. "Old men are allowed a little fun too, you know."

Harry sniffed in a haughty way that Tom sometimes used when making fun of Malfoy. "I know." He sighed. "I do hope you have fun. Even if it's with Tom's dad." He made a gagging noise. "Don't tell me about it later, okay?"

"I will tell you every last detail," James said solemnly, then cracked a grin when Harry scowled in response. "Fine. How about this? I'll keep you on a need-to-know basis so long as you promise to keep a secret for me."

"What secret?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Do not, under any circumstances, tell Tom or his father that I've booked a couples skydiving session for this afternoon."

Harry opened his mouth. Then he closed it. "You know what?" Harry finally said. "Your secret's safe with me. And with Tom, even. I don't think he's very happy with his dad after, um, you know." After being cockblocked.

"Yes," James said slowly. "I can understand why." Then he narrowed his eyes. "He better not be coming over here without my permission."

Harry shook his head.

"And you're not going over to his?"

"I still don't have a car," Harry reminded him.

"Well, alright." James kissed Harry's forehead. "I'll be home before you wake up. Probably."

Harry pulled another face. "Gross. Go have your old man fun before I change my mind about it being allowed."

James grinned, clearly unrepentant, and whistled all the way to the door. Parents were gross. Harry did not want to think about his dad being romantic or having sex with anyone. Life was so unfair.

Once the Aston Martin was finally out of sight, Harry sent a text to Tom.

- they're gone

- Excellent. I'm parked at a petrol station ten minutes out. I'll be there shortly to pick you up

- i still can't believe your dad is ok w this. wasn't he mad abt the supply closet shit

- I told you already, he owes me a very big favour.

- whatever. u still haven't given me an explanation btw

- And if you want him to stay in my debt so I can keep coming over to see you, then you won't be hearing one

- rude

.

END.