Kudosed, Bookmarked, Subscribed

by m a q u i r a

By day, Harry works as a lowly assistant to his boss: the controlling, unrelenting Tom Riddle. By night, he lives, breathes, and writes fanfiction. And when he's not writing, he's obsessing over the work of his favorite Ao3 author: Lord Voldemort . So, of course, it's only a matter of time before Harry's caught reading Voldemort's fanfiction during work… by his boss.

4. Chapter 4

Harry's jaw dropped.

It was an invitation to join The Inner Circle.

Lord_Voldemort_'s exclusive Discord server.

Harry's fingers hovered over the keyboard while he tried to think of a new pseudonym.

"Alright… okay…" he muttered to himself. "Something elegant. Something impressive. "

Ron snorted, still looking over Harry's shoulder as he jokingly suggested, "Scabbers," and a couple of other names that had Harry staring back at his roommate in disbelief.

"Are you trying to name me or a pet?"

Ron's mouth quirked once in good humor. "Oh, come on, I actually liked the name Hugo."

As they continued to discuss possible Discord pseudonyms, Harry's mind began to wander.

An excited buzz had been threatening to overwhelm him since he'd first read clicked on the Discord invitation link. He was thrilled and nervous and happy, hell, he was getting the opportunity to interact with Voldemort, and yet…

R.A.B.'s mysterious message played in his mind once more.

"If anyone asks, I never invited you. I strongly recommend using an entirely new username."

Harry's mouth twitched in the ghost of a frown.

R.A.B. seemed to imply that his presence as lightning_boi might somehow displease some of Voldemort's fans. Which was… ridiculous! Completely and utterly unfounded.

Although Harry had no clue what the environment of Voldemort's Discord server would be like, and he didn't wish to stick out like a sore thumb or incriminate himself in any way…

He did want to gain Voldemort's attention.

In case you already haven't, a small voice whispered within him .

Harry swallowed dryly, stomach churning with anticipation. He wondered just how Voldemort was taking all of this LightningVolt hype. Was he pleased? Amused?

He frowned, his thoughts taking a darker turn.

Or was Voldemort disinterested? Disgusted or annoyed, perhaps?

"Hey, wait," Ron said abruptly, distracting Harry from his downward spiral. "What about that fake name you used for Tinder once?"

Harry paused in contemplation. "Hadrian Evans?" A mash-up of a poshier version of his own first name and his mother's maiden last name.

That… could work.

He logged in, now wearing a new pseud.

And was immediately pinged.

Inner Circle: #welcome

Nagini [Bot]: Hello Hadrian_Evans, and welcome to The Inner Circle. This server tracks and discusses Lord_Voldemort_'s fanfiction. Please check out the #rules channel for more information. Enjoy ~

Harry stared. He re-read the bot's impersonal message, inanely searching for any hint of Voldemort in it.

When nothing happened, he scrolled down the sidebar, checking out some of the other channels on the server.

Harry bit his lower lip cautiously, uncertainty beginning to build up within him. Because, oh man, #trash-talking and #trolling? Some of these channels seemed rather… unfriendly.

But before he could navigate to any of them, a flood of several pings vibrated from his laptop, within the same #welcome channel.

Ra_beast_an: Oh? Fresh meat…

Rodolphusss: Bella_Tricks, if you're up to a little hazing ;)

Bella_Tricks: Hehehehehehe. It would be my pleasure , hubby.

Bella_Tricks: Hadrian_Evans, darling. How are you?

Harry startled as he read his own name on the screen. He didn't know what to make of this, of them . But when he turned around to ask Ron, his redheaded friend was already asleep.

He turned back to face his laptop as it emitted another ping.

And then another, and another.

Bella_Tricks: Oh, shy? Come on out, we don't bite. Not really.

Bella_Tricks: Little itty bitty Evans… come out, come out wherever you are!

Bella_Tricks: Hadrian_Evans

Bella_Tricks: Hadrian_Evans

Bella_Tricks: Hadrian_Evans

Harry exited out of the tab, his heart pounding furiously, fingers trembling over the keys.

What … what had just happened?

That hadn't just been uncomfortable. It had been terrifying. He'd been singled out, called out, harassed.

Fresh meat?

We don't bite?

What did they fancy themselves, sharks? Trolls?

Well, Harry pursed his lips as he navigated back to Discord with newfound determination. Troll-infested waters wouldn't be stopping him from potentially meeting the… ahem… Volt to his LightningVolt.

(Really, Harry? Really? muttered a small, cringing inner voice.)

Harry clicked back onto The Inner Circle server and scrolled fiercely back to #welcome, typing in a response.

Hadrian_Evans: hey

He remained tense, awaiting the unavoidable ping that greeted him seconds later.

Bella_Tricks: Hadrian, darling! You finally came ;))))))

Harry shuddered, put off by her enthusiasm for some indefinable reason.

When he didn't respond after a few seconds, he received another ping.

Bella_Tricks: Hide and seek, Hadrian? Hehehe, tricks are for kids, silly.

Harry blinked. Okay, this woman was seeming more and more crazy by the second.

Hadrian_Evans: uh yeah, I

Hadrian_Evans: I was overwhelmed

Bella_Tricks: Well, we can't have that! Let me introduce you ~ to my party people ~ in the cluuuuub

Against all odds, Harry found himself relaxing at the familiar reference, his mouth twitching into a smile.

Hadrian_Evans: Jennifer Lopez?

Bella_Tricks: So you have good taste! Lovely, lovely…

Bella_Tricks is typing, read the Discord.

Harry leaned back, waiting.

And then, to his utmost horror—

Bella_Tricks: Narcissus_Flower SmolDragon aww nephykins your new pseud

Bella_Tricks: Mr. Always *eye roll* change your pseud moron, you sound like a pad ad

Bella_Tricks: Fartemius_Slouch Luscious_M YOLOhov Thunderous_Thor Runaway_Regulus FenrirLeers KarkarofficiallyDead

Bella_Tricks: Everyone! Meet Hadrian_Evans, our latest member!

Mr. Always: You forgot Peter.

Bella_Tricks: Oh, did I?

Bella_Tricks:

Mr. Always:

Mr. Always: *sigh*

Mr. Always: quietUnsuspectingRat

. . .

And so that was how Harry was introduced to Voldemort's most loyal fans. Throughout the week, he explored the other channels of The Inner Circle server.

He quickly learned that these fans were absolutely nothing like his friends in the Chamber of Secrets.

Inner Circle: #trash-talk

SmolDragon: Have any of you seen that new Jarvolo fanfiction posted by HeadGirl? The Scientists AU?

Mr. Always: I bookmarked it, actually.

SmolDragon: Honestly the author's such an insufferable know-it-all. Like, if you know so much about chemistry, just go write a research paper.

Henchman1: yeah she shoold just go write a paper

SmolDragon:

Henchman1: wut?

SmolDragon: … Since when are you on this server, Vincent?

SmolDragon: I mean

SmolDragon: I didn't know you could read

Henchman1: well, I learnd how to read the othre day, you see

Henchman1: in fckin preskool

Mr. Always: It appears he's learned sarcasm as well.

Mr. Always: Still working on learning how to write, unfortunately.

SmolDragon: Still, at least he's more tolerable than HeadGirl… and not to mention, she's got the most ridiculous name too—

Harry gritted his teeth as his hand curled into a fist beneath his work desk, restraining the urge to tear into SmolDragon right there and then.

While Hermione edited many fictional works for a living, she was quite sensitive and shy about her own writing. She had never posted fanfiction until joining the Chamber of Secrets server… where her writing was showered with the positivity and praises it deserved in #snippets.

If this dumbass Dragon said a word against her works outside of this server…god help him…

Then, later that week:

Inner Circle: #trolling

YOLOhov: Why the fuck does that Quidditch AU posted by Forge and Gred have so many kudos? It sucks.

Fartemius_Slouch: Ikr? So cliched and and the writing style is way too casual for my tastes…

YOLOhov: Oh yeah, I even commented, "Literal Cringe" and "Your writing sucks" on the fic. Hopefully that'll teach him to stop posting such nonsense.

Harry nearly exited out of the Discord server right there and then, his blood boiling with fury.

Put simply, the environment of The Inner Circle was incredibly toxic, filled with the worst kinds of trolls.

The users on it constantly bullied each other, interrogating each other about their stats on Ao3 and Tumblr. They frequently trashed on others' fics. In fact, Harry learned that most of them were the main trolls that the otherwise free-flowing, friendly Jarvolo fandom had been dealing with.

The worst part was that Lord_Voldemort_ hadn't been active on the server at all since Harry had joined. He had even searched up Voldemort's username on the server, only to find no past comments from him.

How?

Apparently (according to some of the fans), Voldemort had recently grown paranoid about everything he'd posted on the server… which had resulted in a large-scale wipe out of all the channels on the day Harry coincidentally happened to join.

And no one dared to tag Voldemort in anything, ever, because that was against the #rules. He was evidently a very busy man in real life.

So for the rest of the week, Harry was trapped, wavering between wanting to quit the server immediately and sweetly awaiting, craving the moment Voldemort decided to speak…

Because surely Lord_Voledmort_, with his eloquent words and enthralling character-building, was nothing like his horrible, crude Inner Circle.

As it happened, the rest of The Inner Circle seemed to share Harry's sentiments on Voldemort's disappearance.

Bella_Tricks: hmm I'm bored.

Bella_Tricks: The Dark Lord hasn't been on here in foreverrr

Bella_Tricks: Rudolphusss Hubby play Hunting Mudbloods with me

Rodolphusss: Ah, Bella, I was just getting to a really good torture scene in No Glory …

Bella_Tricks: … Darling Hubby.

Rodolphusss: Ofc ofc

Harry shook his head in exasperation, leaning further onto his work desk. The more he learned about Voldemort's most loyal fans, the more he didn't want to know.

Bella_Tricks had a nasty habit of talking sweetly when she was at her most vicious. SmolDragon was just a cruel, whiny brat. Rodolphusss and Ra_beast_an were bloodthirsty hounds, and Luscious_M was way too obsessed with showing off how much better he was than everyone else to make proper conversation—

"Harry," Hermione called from the next cubicle. Harry turned his head, only to see his bushy-haired friend leaning back in her chair to see him.

She sighed exasperatedly, peeking around in other neighboring cubicles before quietly saying, "Still obsessed with Voldemort's new server?"

Harry swiped his Discord application off and dejectedly muttered, "No. "

At the beginning of the week, he had been thrilled about joining The Inner Circle. Nervous, caught off-guard by the overwhelming introduction, but still buzzing with excitement and ready to spill—the motherfucking—tea about how he'd been admitted to Voldemort's exclusive server to all of his Jarvolo buddies.

But now, Harry wasn't sure if there was anything he really wanted to spill. The horrors of the new server were something he'd been internalizing, and the only two people who knew anything The Inner Circle were Ron (by circumstance) and Hermione—

"Good," Hermione said brusquely, distracting Harry from his derailing thoughts. "Because lunch break is over and you had better get back to work."

Right. Work. Harry scowled.

Work this week hadn't been too hot either.

Riddle had been in a terrible mood lately. He'd been even more of a hardass than usual, cracking down on Harry constantly and spitting remarks that would have probably sent anyone else crying to the restroom.

He didn't let Harry go home until very late (even when he actually finished his work on time, the bastard), which had resulted in Harry feeling quite unsafe on the way home (because public transportation past eleven in Seattle was terrifying).

And so there he was, seated at a public transportation station near two obnoxiously loud, scary-looking guys, waiting for the last bus before midnight… when the inevitable happened.

The Inner Circle: #trash-talk

Thunderous_Thor: I assume you've all heard the talk about LightningVolt.

Harry's heart stuttered.

Mr. Always: Obviously.

Bella_Tricks: Ohoh, I was just waiting for someone to bring that up

Thunderous_Thor: It's so stooooopid

Henchman1: riddikulus

Mr. Always: Pitiful.

Henchman1: nice one professor

Mr. Always: …Goyle, I was referring to your spelling abilities. | 1 angry react

Bella_Tricks: LightningVolt! Ha! The concept is laughable. The thought that someone so undeserving would be "Internet shipped" with our beloved Lord… ha.

Ra_beast_an: What's the other guy's full pseud anyways? Lightning _boy ?

Bella_Tricks: Certainly not man enough for our Lord… let alone woman enough. ;)

Harry's jaw dropped in indignation, his fingers itching to type back a response. Because Lord_Voldemort_ was literally writing a male slash Office AU at the moment—

No, another part of him, more sly, whispered. Wait. See what the witch has to say…

Bella_Tricks: I stalked lightning's profile and stories the other day.

Bella_Tricks: First of all, he writes in first person.

Exclamations of disgust met her statement, and Harry fought back the urge to flinch at each of them.

Bella_Tricks: Ikr! And then the storyline of all his fanfiction is so mainstream! The main character (usually James) is always hopelessly in love with someone "way out of his league" and seems to have some sort of self-confidence issues.

Bella_Tricks: Always complaining… "Marvolo's an asshole but he's also hot and rich, thus I will continue to pine from afar."

Bella_Tricks: Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Most likely a reflection of the author's pathetic self.

Harry stopped reading, closing his eyes for a moment to keep himself together.

Yes, so he projected.

So fucking what?

Bella_Tricks: And—oh, you have got to see the way he begs for comments at the end of his chapters.

Bella_Tricks: From the end of boss from hell:

[img:

lightning_boi: Hey guys! Really hope you liked it and remember to leave comments! Seriously, your comments are everything to me, they give me joy and LIFE. 333 ]

YOLOhov: Give him life? More like get a life.

Discord: Thor has high-fived YOLOhov.

Bella_Tricks: Honestly, he's like an animal begging for love and affection. Disgusting, pitiful. Does he not get enough attention IRL?

Rodolphusss: Did his parents not love him enough?

Harry's fingers shook across the screen as he let out a shuddering breath.

What did they know of his parents? Nothing, absolutely nothing—

Thunderous_Thor: dirty whore attention-seeker

Harry stared numbly at his phone screen, helpless to do anything but continue to read.

Luscious_M: I suppose most of you haven't seen lightning_boi's author's note after Chapter 11 of Chained?

Luscious_M: For context—He considered changing the main ship of his story (a risky, incestuous one, mind you) to a more popular one just to make his fans happier.

[img:

lightning_boi: I know boy-who-lived x godfather isn't a ship that everyone likes, and I'm starting to realize that I've been really selfish about writing this when others feel uncomfortable.

lightning_boi: I'm really sorry about that. Should I change the ship? Be sure to comment below and let me know what you think.

lightning_boi: Your opinion means so much to me. 3333 ]

SmolDragon: Ha. How weak can a person be? To have zero confidence in themselves and their ability to sustain the original ship? To beg for approval from random people online?

Thunderous_Thor: And who uses "3333" anyways?

Fartemius_Slouch: lightning_boi really is an inadequate little shit.

Bella_Tricks: Unworthy of our Lord's attentions.

Rodolphusss: yeah he should quit writing fanfiction, fckin faggot

Ra_beast_an: mong

By this point, Harry was holding back tears at the bus stop.

His limbs were shaking and his fingers felt so heavy, his eyes were leaking leaking. He tried to clench his other hand over his mouth, as if it would stop the loud hiccups that were jumping out of his throat, but it only made it harder for him to breathe —

"Fine. Fine. " Harry whispered angrily, inanely to himself, his fingers still shaking over the screen as he began to type. "Have it your way."

Hadrian_Evans: I'm lightning_boi. Good fucking bye. | [ Send ]

He typed it out and read over it a couple of times. But before Harry could press send—

Bella_Tricks: Though, of course, I think we are all aware of whose opinion we really want to hear on this issue… Lord_Voldemort_

Harry's wet eyes widened. Did she just…?

The accompanying silence on the Discord was a testament of how shocking Bella_Tricks's actions had been.

She had just broken the #1 rule in #rules… and tagged Lord_Voldemort_.

Lord_Voldemort_ is now online.

Harry's heart began to pound.

Lord_Voldemort_: You

Lord_Voldemort_: Dare…

There was a tense silence throughout the entire server, and it was clear that Voldemort was taking the time to read through the past conversation. Harry shivered, accepting a handkerchief from one of the scary-looking guys at the same stop as him.

Harry waited and waited, his body growing more and more tense. A breeze had begun to pick up, causing him to shiver and curl into himself on the bench.

At least it wasn't raining—

Ping.

Lord_Voldemort: lightning_boi holds no importance to me. You may as well stop wasting time debasing him.

Harry stared.

He pressed send.

He quit the server.

. . .

Harry didn't touch Discord for a week. He didn't write fanfiction.

( Happy, Rodolphusss?)

He was more productive at the office than he had been the entire year. And he was absolutely miserable.

"Harry," Riddle barked as he rounded the corner, nearly making him jump. "Reschedule all of tomorrow's meetings for the following Thursday."

"On it, sir," Harry replied without a backward glance, only pausing once he'd pulled up Riddle's calendar on his phone. "Er, including the one-on-one meeting with the CEO?"

Riddle's expression grew sour and long-suffering.

"Especially that one," he responded tersely, before waving a hand carelessly. "No need to call—just send the customary rescheduling email."

Harry hummed in assent, inwardly wincing because, Riddle, this is why people don't like you. Not to mention, some of the people he had been scheduled to meet with were quite influential…

"And when you're done, re-pack and return all of the interns' laptops to IT."

Harry nodded without a word of complaint, even as he spotted the pile of forty-ish laptops that had been placed in the corner of his cubicle. He estimated that it would take at least an hour and a half to re-pack them all, and that assigning them to the new incoming interns would take even longer.

It was already seven in the evening, but that was quite irrelevant to him. What was he going to do when he reached home anyways? Read fanfiction?

Ha, never fucking again!

(That was also a lie, given that he'd been addicted to fanfiction since his teen years, but denial made him feel a lot cooler at the moment.)

As absorbed as he was in his dreary atmosphere of thoughts, Harry didn't realize someone was standing inside of his cubicle until he heard the sound of an exhale just a couple of feet away from him.

Startling a little, Harry swiveled around in his chair.

Riddle was still here.

He was leaning against the opposite wall, looking around Harry's cubicle with a mixture of boredom and blatant displeasure. His mouth was slightly open, glistening, showing a hint of the canines that hadn't hesitated to bite out insults all week.

With one glance at him, muscled arms crossed and his head tilted lazily to the side, any passerby would conclude the man to be relaxed.

But the glint in his eyes said otherwise. It was asking for trouble.

"... Yes? " Harry intoned, too tired to wonder what his boss was up to now. It was easy enough to guess, knowing the man…

"Clean up your workspace. It's a pigsty, almost as bad as your hair."

Ah. Harry almost wanted to roll his eyes at the monotony of it. There we go. Asshole boss had decided to take out his assholery trash on this fine Thursday evening, and the chosen garbage bin? Yours truly.

But unlike every other time, Harry decided not to rise to the bait.

He swiveled around, turning his back on Riddle.

"Got it, sir," Harry said quietly, returning to work diligently. A small, vindictive spark of pleasure filled him when his boss finally left, his urge to bully his poor PA no doubt left unfulfilled.

But once Riddle had taken leave and the office was quiet once more, the warm sensation vanished quickly. And Harry's earlier dreary emptiness returned with a vengeance, somewhat stronger than before.

. . .

Friday was a disaster.

As expected, the customary, polite rescheduling emails that Harry had sent out yesterday night had not gone down well with some of the clients.

Harry ran a hair through his stressed locks, further messing them up. "Look, ma'am—"

"NO!" screeched the woman's high-pitched voice. "I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR SUPERIOR RIGHT NOW !"

At that point, Harry held the phone away from his ears, grimacing across his cubicle to Hermione. She was looking back at him, her concerned look making it clear that she could very well hear the woman's shrill voice from twenty feet away.

Harry muted the phone (through which the woman was still talking, she never seemed to shut up ) and looked at Hermione helplessly, wordlessly asking for advice as he always did.

Hermione shook her head, shrugging "At this point, you have no choice but to just go to Riddle."

Harry stared at her in disbelief as he was unmuting the phone, miming out an emphatic, Seriously?

She frowned. "Well, unfortunately, she is one of our more important authors." She held out her fingers, as if ticking off reasons. "And more than that, she has connections. "

Hermione looked at Harry meaningfully. "You know, the type that could really drag a whole company down with a snap of their fingers."

Moments later, Harry was dragging his sorry, reluctant ass to Riddle's office.

For once, Riddle didn't make a fuss, seeming to understand just who was on the phone as soon as Harry had entered with a pained look on his face. He held out his hand in his usual, nonvocal, caveman way. Give.

"Hello, ma'am. Tom Riddle speaking."

Riddle tilted in his head while on the phone, staring at Harry in a ' Get out' sort of way.

Harry, resolutely, raised an eyebrow and decided to stay. That was his phone, after all.

Riddle turned away from him, evidently deciding to ignore him. And as he did, he seemed to change entirely—his demeanor lightened into something almost human, his usually stern mouth softening into an almost… strangely seductive smile. His eyebrows relaxed, his whole posture relaxed—

And then a low, rich chuckle vibrated from his throat, deep and enthralling. "Of course, Miss. Smith—alright, Hepzibah, if you insist."

Harry stared at his boss with a severely disgusted expression.

Tom Riddle, Executive Vice President… professional suck-up?

What a fake-ass hoe.

It seemed he'd relied on more than his white-boy privilege, good looks, and intelligence to get far in life.

Riddle muted the phone temporarily, shooting Harry an impatient look.

"Might as well make yourself useful and hold the phone to my ear as I pull up her information," he said, gesturing towards his laptop.

And that was how Harry ended up holding the phone to his boss's ear, his arm tilted at the most awkward angle. Every time Tom swiveled without a care in the world, Harry was forced to jump around to avoid his feet getting obliterated by the wheels, or his stomach being jabbed by the armrest, or god forbid, any part of his body make contact with Riddle's.

His hand must have been at an awkward angle against Riddle's ear though, because Riddle tsked irritably and suddenly grasped Harry's wrists forcefully.

The next moment, Riddle yanked the phone so that it fell parallel against the side of his face. Harry's wrist was bent upwards at an impossible angle that had him nearly yelping in pain.

As he was gritting his teeth to avoid doing precisely that, Harry vindictively pressed speaker.

High-pitched, squealing giggles emerged from Harry's phone at ten times the usual volume, causing his boss to flinch back in an almost comical way, his mouth twisting into a scowl and his eyes squeezing shut in displeasure.

Riddle quickly corrected the volume, flashing an irate look at his personal assistant as Harry stifled a laugh… which, of course, didn't go unnoticed.

Riddle narrowed his eyes further until they were nothing darkened slits. His charming smile now had a blatantly strained look to it, and the dark, positively evil look in his eyes only made it creepier.

He was glaring at Harry, but Harry only smirked back at him, taunting him.

What could he possibly do? Riddle was too focused on kissing up to a client's ass anyways—

Without warning, Riddle swiveled his chair in the opposite direction to grab something from one of his drawers, conveniently stomach-butting Harry with the top of his chair.

And then Harry was hissing in pain, stumbling, his phone-hand straying from Riddle's ear as he tried to maintain his balance—

An arm wrapped around Harry's lower back, catching him and shoving him down onto Riddle's lap. They were chest-to-chest. Harry's legs were on either side of Riddle's hips, instinctively tightening around Riddle's hips to prevent himself from falling off.

Wh-what?

All of Harry's breath left him in one shocked exhale as his gaze landed on the face mere inches away from him… completely serious, focused, and still speaking to Hepzibah Smith like there was nothing he'd rather do.

"I see," Riddle said carefully, hair falling in front of his eyes as he tilted his head forward in concentration, his fingers scrolling down the calendar on his laptop screen. "Is there no way you can finish the final installment of Lost Artifacts before the end of June?"

Harry shifted once, subconsciously attempting to get comfortable. But then Riddle's hand trailed up his leg and squeezed his upper thigh tightly, his burgundy eyes flashing with the same warning.

Don't move.

Harry froze. He didn't dare to breathe. His heart was pounding so loudly, he was certain Riddle could hear it.

His mind had finally caught up to his body and gone on overdrive, scrambling his senses. Because Riddle's fresh, citrusy cologne was permeating his senses once more. And the only thing he could feel was his hand, still there, resting on Harry's leg like that was a perfectly normal thing to do to one's subordinate.

Harry's legs tightened further around Riddle's in nervousness. And then his heart dropped completely, fell through the center of the earth, because damn, had Riddle always been this solid?

"Of course, of course…" Riddle smiled warmly, which was simply too out of character for Harry's mind to process, let alone appreciate. "As always, Hepizibah, you have a way of," his eyes fell upon Harry, "... charming people that is simply unparalleled. We shall continue with this your way, then."

Lies. Clearly, Hepzibah had already succumbed to thinking that what Riddle had wanted had been her desire all along.

But Harry hadn't been focusing on these little political details.

He was still stuck on the way Riddle's eyes had fallen on him as he'd talked about charming people, unwittingly captivating both Hepzibah and Harry in one go. And now Harry couldn't get over that low voice vibrating right underneath him, so close he could feel it. And that rare, warm smile, and the way Riddle smelled—uhh—

Harry was losing his mind.

It was like he'd fallen under a spell. He had no idea what he was doing. But suddenly, Harry was placing his hand against Riddle's firm, firm chest and leaning forward, his shoulders touching Riddle's biceps as placed his head against Riddle's collar and breathed in his delectable scent.

"An-and…" Riddle stuttered, before quickly recovering. His voice was deeper, rougher the next second. "Apologies, Hepzibah. A moment, please."

He muted the phone (which he'd snatched away at some point) and glared at Harry. "What the fuck do you think you're —"

Riddle paused at the utterly glazed look on Harry's face.

Harry's eyes were fluttering shut in pleasure as he felt Riddle's low voice rumble beneath him, dangerously attractive and comforting all at once. He sighed, pressing his forehead to the nook of Riddle's shoulders before exhaling against his neck.

"I'm afraid I'll have to call you back," Riddle was telling Hepzibah now. His voice was strange and distant, a far cry from the friendly warmth he'd greeted her with.

And yet, it held a rough undertone of seductive warmth that made Harry shudder and sink further into Riddle's chest, tightening his legs on Riddle's waist and hooking them around the back of his boss's chair.

"Yes I will. Good bye, Miss Smith," Riddle said firmly, distantly, accidentally slipping back into formalities with her.

And then the phone was shut off.

Silence hung between them, tense and heated.

"Harry," Riddle said, quietly, his voice too calm and controlled to be genuine. "Get off."

That perfect facade… oh. It made Harry want to test his patience and shatter it to pieces.

" Why? " Harry murmured challengingly, lost and flustered and beyond reason. He breathed in, digging his nose into side of Riddle's neck until he decided that breathing him in wasn't enough. No, Harry needed to taste —

He bit down lightly at the junction between Riddle's neck and jawline, reveling in the addictive saltiness of his skin. He licked, nearly groaning at the soft velvety texture beneath his tongue, at the fluttering pulse he wanted to capture as his own.

A shudder rippled through Riddle's body as it tensed, giving away all pretense of calm collectedness. And then moments later, Harry had been lifted from Riddle's lap and slammed back against a cool, wooden desk, his legs hitched upon Riddle's shoulders as the man leaned down over him.

Darkened, heated eyes gleamed down at him, elegant black curls falling over them as Riddle placed his thick arms on either side of Harry.

"Harry…" Riddle's low voice rumbled, "Do you know what you're even asking for?"

In response, Harry tightened his legs around Riddle's neck, bringing his boss's face down to his hips. And then there was a sound outside of the door, and—

Harry snapped out of his daydream.

Riddle was staring at Harry with an incredulous look on his face as he held Harry's wrist, which had been at an awkward angle the entire time Harry had stood next to him.

"The phone call is over. Move away already."

Harry stared at his boss, utterly mortified. Daydreaming in front of his boss? He'd clearly reached a new low.

He jerked away quickly, his face turning redder by the second. As he did so, his butt painfully hit the corner of Riddle's desk, causing him to topple over onto the desk as his legs kicked in the air... vaguely in Riddle's direction.

"Harry! " Riddle growled, holding his arms out in front of him. "What the hell —"

The door opened.

"Oh my," said a cool, amused voice. "Am I interrupting something? I did knock, but no one responded..."

Riddle was in the corner of his own office, his arms still braced above him as though Harry had been kicking at him—

Oh.

Which he had.

Slowly, still sitting on Riddle's desk (upon which the papers were now spread out haphazardly, yikes), Harry turned back to face the man who had dared to enter Tom Riddle's office without permission.

And his jaw dropped.

Because the man who stood at the entrance, all lean limbs leaning against the door sill and soft amusement glittering from clear blue eyes, was the kind of person who radiated authority.

There was a steel determination in the way his arms were crossed, the way his thin lips fell into a line sharper than Harry's jaw. His hair was peppered with silver, perhaps one of the few indications that he was quite a bit older than Harry.

"Well, Tom," the older man murmured softly, his voice dripping with mirth, "I don't think I've ever seen your desk quite this messy."

And then the man looked at Harry, and though he never lost his calm smile, his eyebrows raised a little. "And you must be his lovely personal assistant?"

Harry's mind, already a bit scrambled from nearly kissing his boss… oh wait. He did do that. He'd bitten down on him too, holy shit, holy shit—

"Personal assistant, yes." Harry laughed nervously, not even daring to look at Riddle now. How embarrassing—meeting someone like this right before his imminent dismissal. "Lovely? You're mistaken there."

The older man laughed, and it was a very pretty laugh. The kind that made you feel like you'd said something endearing, that he was charmed.

And then he was walking forward, stepping into Riddle's office like it was something he did every day.

"The pleasure is all mine," the older man said, holding out a hand for Harry to shake. He paused, glancing between Riddle and Harry once more as if attempting to gauge the situation that had occurred before his entrance.

He leaned down, whispering loudly and conspiratorially. "And if Tom fires you, don't worry—I'll just re-hire you." He winked, before tilting his head in question. "Or just make him hire you again? Whichever you prefer, darling."

Harry felt his cheeks flush. He didn't know whether to be insulted that this much, much older man had called him a pet name… or to feel flattered, like he was itching to do so.

Because oh my, what an absolute charmer. And with those looks to boot—

Wait.

Wait.

"Or just make him hire you again?"

Who was this man?

Harry turned back around, only to see a positively seething Tom Riddle staring back at the man.

"Flirting with men—employees— almost thirty years your junior?" Riddle intoned with disgust.

The older man's mouth quirked upward in amusement. "Like father, like son…. I suppose." He looked between Harry and Tom once more. "If I'm reading this correctly."

Harry's stomach dropped in instantaneous horror.

Father? Son?

No way. Not unless the older man was...

Riddle tensed, crossing his arms. It was the first time Harry had ever seen his boss look so defensive. "What are you doing here, sir?"

Tom Riddle Sr., CEO and chairman of the board of Morsmordre, spread his arms out besides himself. "Do I need a reason to visit you, son?"

Riddle clenched his jaw visibly. " Do not call me that, " he snarled, bleeding poison with every word that fell from his tongue.

Thomas continued to smile in that calm, collected way of his. "Then what should I call you? My employee ?" He gave a small chuckle at that, before growing much more serious. "At any rate, I don't think canceling your meeting with me was very wise, hmm?"

Riddle rolled his eyes. "I never claimed to preach wisdom. Perhaps that is why you promoted Dumbledore to COO instead of your own heir?" His eyes turned cold as he gave a frosty, returning smile of his own.

And in that moment, Harry saw the resemblance between them at its strongest.

The CEO was like a silver fox edition of Tom Riddle Jr., albeit a lot calmer. But the handsomeness, the charm, the big dick energy and sheer amount of dickery… oh, man. They were clearly very much related.

"Forgive his manners," Thomas said lightly, tossing a faint smile in Harry's direction. He was surprised the CEO still remembered he was still here. Hell, Harry had forgotten that he was here. "He was raised in an orphanage."

Harry's eyes widened. An orphanage ?

Then he shook his head, because surely—that had been a joke, right?

Riddle hissed at that, straightening up to his full height and stalking forward until he was toe-to-toe with his father.

"Just tell me what it is you came for and leave."

Harry tutted inwardly, feeling distinctly like he was watching some kind of soap opera. Riddle was definitely being disrespectful towards his father, but the CEO was also provoking him. He didn't know whose side he was even on at this point.

Meanwhile, Thomas had straightened up in response, not one to be outdone, Harry supposed. Really, in some matters, the Riddle men were quite predictable…

"I'd like you to travel back to England and personally meet with E. L. Thames." Thomas held out a folder to Riddle. "Here are her manuscripts for the sequel she's been writing—"

Riddle looked personally offended, holding the folder daintily by the tips of his fingers. "I don't even know who that is —"

"She's the author of Fifty Shades of Purple, " Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You know—one of our top bestsellers from the fictional publishing departments."

Ah. No wonder Riddle hadn't recognized the author— he avoided the fictional departments like the plague.

Riddle narrowed his eyes at his father. "What I don't understand is, why are you sending me? I am not an editor—I'm the Vice President of this company, formerly head of Technology and Product Development. This isn't anywhere near my fields of expertise—"

Harry stared.

Was Riddle insane ?

Meetinga bestselling author, any bestselling author, was an opportunity Harry would die for, and Riddle was giving it up ?

Thomas chuckled softly. "Have you forgotten your very first job at this company?" He crossed his arms leisurely. "A fresh, green intern at the age of eighteen—and your first job here was as the intern of the retired, former Chief Editor Gellert Grindelwald."

The CEO looked Tom in the eye, his features growing serious. "Have you forgotten your passion for editing? For words?"

For words? Harry wondered at that. Riddle, who barely spoke at times except to bark out one-word orders like an illiterate caveman… had once enjoyed editing?

"Have you forgotten how it felt… becoming the Chief Editor of the S & F Department? Working directly with J. K. Roaring to edit the James Evans series, the leading fantasy book series to this date?"

Harry froze.

What?

WHAT?

Forget that Riddle had once been hired for his dream job. He'd personally edited J. K. Roaring's work? Forget that—Riddle knew J. K. Roaring personally ?

Harry looked at Riddle incredulously, attempting to gauge the truth from his expression. But the man was as emotionless as a brick wall, the lines of his face wiped smooth.

"I am above all of that now," he uttered simply.

"You cannot be above something you love."

"Then it is no longer something I lo— enjoy! " Riddle seethed, his hand thrusting forward as if to clutch at the other man's collar before stopping itself.

Or rather, before it was stopped by another hand… resting upon his clenched fist.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees as Thomas Riddle Sr. finally lost his charming smile, straightening up until he was eye-to-eye with his biological son.

"It seems you are mistaken, Junior." His blue eyes darkened chillingly, seeming to suck the warmth from Riddle's office.

"I am not asking you as your father. I am telling you as the CEO of this company." Thomas Sr.'s hand tightened on Riddle's fist. "You will be going on that trip."

He let go of Riddle's fist unceremoniously, turning on his heel as he walked back towards the door.

"The plane tickets are already booked, car reservations have already been made. Everything is ready for you two—even the Manor and all of the household staff have been prepped—"

"The Manor." Riddle spat poisonously. "I will not step a foot inside that place. I shall make my own hotel reservations—"

He paused, thinking.

"... Sir. 'For you two '? " Riddle demanded. He glanced sideways at Harry for the first time since his father had entered. "I travel alone. As always."

"Not this time," Thomas replied smoothly. "You'll be training Harry on how to be a professional editor, fit to edit at Morsmordre." He winked at him. "The boy's been after that position for over a year, now."

"Since when do you know so much about my personal assistant?" Riddle questioned quietly, dangerously.

"Since I realized you hadn't fired your current one for over a year." Thomas smirked, looking at Harry more closely. "I'll admit, I was curious. I did my research and looked over your portfolio, Harry Potter."

He glanced back at Riddle. "And despite lacking credentials, the boy's work… he has potential."

One minute, Harry was shaking in fear of being caught in a compromising position by the CEO. The next? He was all the way up on cloud ninety-nine, trying to resist the urge to preen just because the CEO had complimented his editing work.

Harry barely paid attention as the Vice President and CEO finished up their conversation, Thomas Sr. leaving quickly soon after. He was too caught up in all of the details—the fact that Riddle had personally edited J. K. Roaring's books? Unbelievable.

Illiterate caveman had the audacity to be some sort of prodigy at the one thing Harry had prided himself in. Editing and writing. Because of course he had to be, to have worked with Roaring of all authors.

And now, even more unbelievably—the CEO was giving him the chance to train under Riddle for his favorite job ever?

This was insane—

"Pack your bags tonight. Be at the airport by four o'clock sharp."

Harry blinked. Huh?

His brain caught up with the present, and Harry jolted out of his trance.

"Wait—we're headed to the U.K. tomorrow ?" he asked disbelievingly.

Riddle shot him a look of pure annoyance, his eyebrows furrowed upwards. "Were you not listening?"

"Well… uh… it got a bit personal in between—"

"The meeting with E. L. Thames is Monday morning," Riddle interrupted, as if he hadn't heard Harry. "And I have some… unfinished business to attend to, prior to that."

Unfinished business?

Before Harry could ask for specifics that his boss would undoubtedly refuse to answer, Riddle was already by the door of his own office, slipping on that top hat of his that always made Harry cringe on the inside.

Ugh, didn't those go out of fashion roughly fifty decades ago? A man who wore top-notch brands like Twilfit and Tatting's had to know that much.

"Lock my office on the way out," his boss said without a backwards glance.

And then without warning, Riddle was suddenly gone, leaving Harry and his questions behind.

It seemed he was always fated to have unfinished business with the man.

. . .

Maybe Harry really was slow. But between all the things that had happened today, from meeting the CEO to learning about Riddle's tumultuous relationship with him, it took a while for the fact that he was going to motherfucking London to really hit him.

"RON!" Harry yelled, running upstairs with a fresh load of laundry. "DID YOU SEE THE EXTRA PACK OF TOOTHBRUSHES FROM COSTCO?"

"HUH? I CAN'T HEAR YOU," yelled Ron, his volume barely overpowering the sounds of raucous cheering and football from the television that had been on all night .

"OI! TURN DOWN THE TV," Harry yelled back at the top of his lungs as he straight-up dumped his clean laundry into the open suitcase. Stuffing his Ziplock of toiletries into the front pocket, Harry slammed the top of his suitcase shut before painstakingly zipping it shut.

He dragged it down the stairs, unceremoniously dropping it near the front entrance, and clapped his hands together.

"THANKS FOR YOUR HELP, MATE!" Harry called out sarcastically.

"Anytime," Ron said at a normal tone, a mere few feet behind him.

Harry spun around in surprise. "Oh, good. Help me with the luggage, will you?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "And who's going to be helping you with it when I'm gone."

"... Riddle?" Harry offered weakly.

Ron snorted, lifting one of Harry's suitcases with a hand. "I'm pretty sure it's going to be the other way around, but sure. I'll let you dream on a bit longer."

Harry exhaled as he lifted his other bag into the back of the car. "Well, I'll have you know. He's actually quite capable of being a gentleman when he wants too…"

Ron raised his eyebrows as Harry got his head out of the boot. "Are you really defending him?"

Harry was ashamed to say that he had to think about that before responding.

"No! " He crossed his arms as he situated himself in the front seat of their van. "Just pointing out that despite his ability to act half-way decent, Riddle still can't bother with any manners when it comes to his personal assistant."

He reached back to grab his phone from the front pocket of his backpack. "You know, a wise man," his godfather, Sirius Black, actually, "once said— 'If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.'"

Ron's eyebrows crept up his forehead in amusement. "Did you just acknowledge yourself as Riddle's inferior?"

Harry's eye began to twitch in a manner it had never done so before.

"Ron," he said simply. "I am on the verge of suing you for blasphemy. You have the right to remain silent."

Ron smirked but fell quiet anyways as he began to focus on driving Harry to Sea-Tac Airport. In the comfortable silence that followed, Harry yawned sleepily and he unlocked his phone to scroll aimlessly through Discord, checking out all of the servers and posts he'd been tagged in.

He hadn't opened Discord for two weeks, ever since he'd left Lord_Voldemort_'s server. But now more than ever, he wished he'd stayed a little longer… if only to tie up all loose ends.

The way he'd left the server in the first place—announcing his author's pseud out of the blue, not waiting for any replies—had definitely been dramatic . And it had felt satisfying enough soon after.

But he still had so many questions. There were so many things Harry wished he wasn't curious about but was anyways.

Like Voldemort.

What did he think of LightningVolt? What had Voldemort said as soon as Harry had left?

Even now, part of him felt tempted to contact the author and end their correspondence on a more definitive note. His fingers hovered above the screen, as if thinking of what to type for him… but it was pointless anyways. It wasn't like Harry had saved Voldemort's Discord ID…

Ping!

Harry's eyes widened as he glanced at his screen, nearly dropping the phone.

He'd just received a direct message.

From Lord_Voldemort_.