Has it really been half a year? That's crazy! Time really flew by in quarantine hahaha... ha... anyways. So, um—
(I'm so sorry y'all.)
— special thanks to my beta Luxis because she's such an extremely talented writer and always makes the fic better. Hope you enjoy this very spicyyyy chapter ;)))
Harry ran.
With Riddle blocking the doorway, he had no choice but to jump out of the broken window.
Harry landed in a bush, tripping over its roots and falling flat on his face. But adrenaline kept him going. He scrambled to his feet and continued running blindly through the forest behind the Manor, unable to see much at the dead of night until, eventually, he stumbled into a dimly-lit clearing.
No, a graveyard. The Riddle family graveyard.
Panting heavily, Harry picked a random headstone and hid behind it, removing his glasses to wipe stray droplets from them. He shoved them back on and closed his eyes, praying Riddle would go back inside.
No such luck. Footsteps crackled against fallen leaves as his presence steadily grew nearer.
"Playing hide-and-seek, Harry?" said a soft, cold voice. "You cannot hide from me… certainly not in my own estate."
Harry remained ducked, hating the way his heart pounded when Riddle pronounced his name, caressing the vowels on his tongue.
A headstone was violently kicked down twenty feet from where Harry hid.
Harry's breath caught. If that had been his, he would have been crushed.
What was Riddle thinking? Was he trying to kill Harry?
"Come out, Harry," A dark chuckle sounded, low and decadent and far more evil than Harry remembered. "It will be quick . . . it might even be painless… I would not know… I have never been fired…"
Harry clasped a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle a sharp intake as Riddle laughed cruelly at his own words. Was it just him, or did the man seem a bit unhinged—?
He jolted as another headstone was kicked down beside him, and Harry's terror mutated into the desperate fury of a cornered animal. He stood up and twisted around, only to find Riddle's face mere inches from his own… that dark, polished dress shoe perched readily on the edge of the gravestone Harry had been hiding behind.
The taller man had lost his coat at some point, leaving him in a soaked, white shirt with the top three buttons undone, the wet material of his top clinging to his broad form.
Burgundy eyes bored down into his own, droplets framing the tips of his eyelashes.
"Hello, Harry."
Harry flinched back a few steps, gritting his teeth in response.
"Nice of you to finally come back," he responded. "Pity your timing sucks ass."
A low, rich laugh sounded from the man, catching Harry off-guard. Two weeks without Riddle and Harry had forgotten how captivating the charismatic man could be.
"On the contrary, it seems my timing couldn't have been better."
Riddle's cold smile finally fell, forest shadows darkening in tandem.
"Now, tell me, Harry. Did you enjoy reading my notes?" Fury filled Riddle's low voice, but more surprising was the faint, foreign undertone of self-disgust. "Did you enjoy seeing how hopelessly invested I was in a series that wasn't even mine? Or was it merely my diary you read?"
"I read everything," Harry said defiantly, maintaining eye contact. "And maybe I wouldn't have if you hadn't left me in your estate for weeks."
Riddle sneered. "If it had been my choice at all, you wouldn't even be here with me right now."
Right, because Riddle Sr. had been the one to force Harry to come along with Riddle. God, it seemed as if that day in the office had happened years ago.
"And if it were my choice at all," Harry retorted, "I wouldn't be your personal assistant." He paused dramatically, before narrowing his eyes in his boss's direction. "Oh wait… I guess it is. "
Riddle's face was wiped blank, leaving it utterly unreadable.
Despite threatening to fire Harry all the time, he'd never actually done so. It had reached the point of normalcy for Riddle to toss the threat around.
But Harry… he had never threatened to quit before.
Not until today.
"Giving up?" Riddle asked quietly, his face still carefully devoid of expression. "How unfortunate. Persistence was one of the few traits I admired about you—"
"I quit," Harry whispered fiercely.
Riddle's eyes widened. "You…"
He cut himself off, falling eerily quiet and turning his head sideway. As if he wanted to hide something.
Harry swallowed nervously, a strange feeling of guilt beginning to settle in. But then he remembered every transgression and misbehaviour he'd had to deal with, and that guilt slowly melted away as he gained the courage to speak.
"I quit," he repeated shakily, before shaking his head and saying it more firmly. "I mean it, Riddle. I quit, I'm done with you—"
Harry's breath stuttered as a large hand grasped his wet neck, pulling him closer.
And then he stopped breathing altogether.
Riddle's face was twisted viciously, his expression so harsh it could barely be called human. His jaw was pulsating, his pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared black.
He looked… feral.
"Say that again," Riddle growled furiously, his thumb swiping along Harry's neck in a possessive, threatening way that sent chills down his spine.
Harry opened his mouth… only for his throat to close on him, dryness creeping down his lungs.
"Go on, " Riddle dared him in a calmer voice, at odds with the bestial glint in his eyes . "Can't say it? Cat got your tongue?"
Harry's blood began to boil at the familiar tone of challenge. He shoved himself away from Riddle's grasp and stared up at him determinedly, invigorated by the water droplets he felt dripping down his own face.
"I. quit."
They glared at each other, soaking wet and shivering in the cold air. Harry was panting, waiting for Riddle to say something… anything.
"How dare you , " Riddle whispered raggedly, with such venom and fury that it couldn't have been anything but genuine. "You're mine. "
Harry's breath caught, another thrill traveling down his spine at the words even as cold, indignant fury began to settle into his bones. But before he could retort, Riddle's face came even closer to Harry's, his venomous voice turning poisonously sweet.
"You're sorely mistaken if you think you'll ever be anything but my…"
That same hand grasped the back of Harry's neck, pulling hard on his dark, curling locks. And this time, Harry couldn't help the gasp that escaped his mouth as his own head tipped back.
"Little…"
Fingers traveled across the delicate skin of his neck once more, and Harry could feel his heartbeat pulsing rapidly beneath them as Riddle's lips grazed Harry's ear to breathe one last word.
"Bitch. "
Harry's mind blanked at the word, mind-numbing heat curling inexplicably at the pit of his stomach.
Then, as the meaning of everything Riddle had just said crashed down onto him, Harry's anger returned… his mind clearer than ever.
He tore himself away and bitch-slapped Riddle right across his stupid face.
A hand immediately fisted itself into the front of his shirt, lifting Harry from the ground. Harry's eyes widened as he struggled against the fist near his collar, his hands pulling at the arm in front of him. But nothing and no one could prevent Riddle from raising him, his furious eyes and forehead now mere inches from Harry's.
Harry stopped struggling. Putting his arms on Riddle's shoulders and legs around the other man's thighs, he brought himself closer to the man and shifted all his weight to his left side… bringing them both down to the ground.
Thud.
Suddenly, Riddle was on his back, flecks of wet mud splashed across his perfect cheekbones. And Harry was sitting right on top of his thighs, in the perfect position to toss a few punches at him—
A hand closed around Harry's fists before they could come down a third time.
Harry was slammed onto his back, one large hand holding his wrists above his head. Riddle's taunting face hovered above him, mud splattered across his left cheek and rain droplets dripping from his dark lashes.
Harry blinked dazedly. God, why did Riddle look so…
"Still quitting?" Riddle murmured quietly, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes, " Harry breathed, unsure of what exactly he was responding to. He just knew that it had been the right thing to say, because when Riddle's face once again twisted into something darker, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing into darkened, focused slits… it sent that familiar chill down Harry's spine and—
That was when Harry realized he was no longer simply scared.
Still pinned down by his wrists, he bucked his hips against Riddle in an effort to get away. But the older man merely chuckled before pressing down firmly on Harry, squashing all his efforts.
Harry wiggled more frantically, panicked at the thought of his former boss finding out that he was… that he was…
"Get off me," Harry spat hissingly. "Off, now, "
"Or what?" Riddle hissed back, "You'll quit? You'll leave me?"
Harry bucked again, panic overtaking his actions as he repeated himself. Unfortunately, doing that only seemed to worsen his current state. "Get off me! Please. "
Riddle froze at Harry's last word. Then he smirked, jeering. "Maybe if you keep begging— "
"I said please , Riddle! Please, " Harry sputtered incoherently, unable to imagine what Riddle would do if he found out about his situation. " Ughhh, fuck you, pleeeeease," he ended with a moan, equal parts frantic and uncontrollably aroused. He squeezed his eyes shut and thrusted his hips upward once more, trying to buck him off one last time—
"Stop moving, you— Oh. "
The grip on Harry's wrists suddenly slackened.
Harry opened his eyes to see bewildered burgundy eyes traveling down towards the obvious tent in Harry's trousers.
Riddle stared at it for an uncomfortably long time, his mouth slightly open in an expression of such obvious surprise. When he eventually looked back up, Harry flinched, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to even out his breathing and not— think — about anything—
"Bloody hell ," Riddle breathed out, his consonants ever so slightly crisper in a way that reminded Harry just how British the man was. "You're… "
Harry gritted his teeth. "Don't say it—"
"... hard ."
"I fucking told you not to say it !" Harry yelled, opening his eyes and shoving Riddle away from him, scrambling back and away on all fours. A red flush of embarrassment worked its way from his ears down to the rest of him, causing his erection to rapidly die, and all Harry could feel was the burning sensation of shame traveling through him and—
Why the hell was Riddle still staring?
Harry cleared his throat obnoxiously, and Riddle quickly looked away. The older man quickly stood to his feet and faced the other direction, and despite the darkness around them, a faint red blush was visible at the back of Riddle's neck.
Harry blinked uncomprehendingly at the sight of it. The man had done all manner of things to him, said all sorts of things — but now that he'd seen Harry's hard-on, he was being all… bashful? It made zero sense.
"Well, since you understand my — er, situation — why don't you head back before I report you for sexual harassment?" he sniped.
Riddle made a choking sound of dissent in the back of his throat. "Report me? You're the one being all — improper. "
Harry scoffed in disbelief. "Are you forgetting the fact that we just rolled in the mud throwing punches at each other—"
Riddle spun around, arms folded and dark eyes piercing him. "You punched me. I didn't exactly reciprocate."
Harry opened his mouth to reply…
And closed it as the realization that Riddle was right struck him like a blow. Because it was obvious that Riddle had been holding back, merely attempting to restrain Harry, and that thought only made him even more enraged .
And now Riddle was staring back at him, his perfect face slightly marred by the bloody lip that Harry had put there, and oh, why did that give him so much satisfaction?
"Why…?" Harry breathed out in equal parts confusion and unexplainable rage. "Why didn't you fight back?"
Riddle smirked, taking a step forward so that he towered over Harry. "Isn't it obvious?" His voice dropped an octave, dripping with utter smugness. "If I even laid a hand on you, I'd crush you."
That lit something in him.
"Bet," Harry murmured darkly, enraged by the older man's sheer arrogance, by the way he so obviously belittled Harry just as he'd been doing since the moment they'd met.
He threw himself onto Riddle, knocking them both to the ground again as he began to toss punches at Riddle's face. And this time, Riddle made no motion to pin Harry's wrists away from him, instead taking the punches with that arrogant, crooked smile of his. As if Harry's punches didn't even matter.
Harry gave up and squeezed his hands at the junction of Riddle's neck and shoulders, still sitting on the man's stomach. "Why won't you fight back! "
Riddle grinned slowly, one half of his face completely bruised. "Choking me, now?"
Harry pulled back his arm to throw another punch… only to pause at the odd, broken stream of laughter that fell from Riddle's bloodied lips.
"Would it surprise you if I said I felt I deserved it?" Riddle murmured, looking at Harry through swollen, half-shut eyes.
When Harry remained silent in shock, Riddle gave another laugh — a breathy, mirthless chuckle, completely devoid of energy. It was somewhere along the lines of sarcastic and self-deprecating, though Harry failed to process such a sound coming from him.
"Because I do," Riddle said, his voice quieter than ever. "I know more than anyone how I've treated you. Swearing at you, threatening to fire you and now, threatening you if you leave."
Harry had continued to remain quiet, his breath hitched in anticipation. But upon hearing Riddle's acknowledgement of his own misbehavior, he couldn't help but wonder…
"Then why'd you do it?" Harry asked, lowering his poised, clenched hand as he frowned. "Why on earth do you treat me like this?"
Riddle stared at him, as if caught off guard by the question. Then, after a few moments, the older man turned his head to the side and stared pointedly away.
"I acted out simply because I am afraid," he responded, his voice quieter than ever. "Afraid to lose…"
Harry stared at him, his mouth dry.
"... a good employee," Riddle finished evenly, looking back at Harry.
Harry blinked slowly, his heart sinking. "Right."
They glanced at each other once before simultaneously looking away, staying in silence. At some point, Harry cleared his throat and awkwardly removed himself from Riddle, moving to sit beside the man.
Riddle sat up, but otherwise stayed where he was.
Then he began to speak, his tone careful. "I'm also afraid because you have a lot of potentially harmful information about me. Enough to ruin my reputation, should you like…" Riddle pursed his mouth, closing his eyes in distress. "And I think you have a lot of motivation to do so, given how I treat you."
Harry stared at Riddle with surprise, trying to absorb the fact that Riddle had essentially just apologized (in his own way) and admitted weakness to him. It was true that Riddle was semi-famous, given that he was an executive at a large publishing company. Leaking his fanfiction identity would be troublesome for someone like him.
He put a firm hand on Riddle's shoulder, staring at him determinedly after Riddle's eyes opened again.
"I'd never reveal your fanfiction identity to the public like that. That would be such a dick move. Besides," Harry paused, shuddering at the thought of his relatives finding out that he wrote gay porn. "And as a fanfiction writer myself, I understand how damaging that could be."
Riddle stared back at him, his face unreadable save for the slight flicker of amusement in his eyes when Harry mentioned himself being a fanfiction writer.
An odd sensation of foreboding prickled at the back of Harry's neck.
"Oh, right. Your pen name is Lord Voldemort as well, isn't it?" Riddle asked slyly, and rather gleefully.
Harry froze, his tongue caught in his throat.
"Well, that's my pen name. On the website where I write."
Then at once, he felt as if his whole face had been lit on fire.
"Oh shit," Harry blurted out, putting his hands on top of his face, covering it. "Oh shit. I… umm…. errr…"
Harry found himself blanking, unable to find the right words as a flurry of memories hit him—all the multiple times he'd dared to tell Riddle he was Lord Voldemort—
"No," Harry heard himself say faintly. "That's my pseud, remember? I am Lord Voldemort."
A fresh wave of embarrassment hit him like a truck, mind-numbing and excruciating.
"Fuck, fuck. Fuuuuuuuuu—"
Harry contemplated throwing himself back into the mud and curling into a ball. He stared at the mud wistfully, watching a snail crawl over a rock. Perhaps he'd be better off as a rock in his next life, because he sure was dumb as rocks —
"It's fine," Riddle said, waving a hand nonchalantly, ignorant of Harry's crisis. "I thought it was quite hilarious."
Harry looked up to find Riddle grinning at him… and watched with interest as Riddle's mouth softened, his expression growing rather thoughtful.
"Well, as compensation, tell me what you think of my stories."
Harry's eyes widened.
"Oh! Well, I love them, of course. I'm a huge fan, as you know because I'm—" Harry cut himself off, glancing carefully at Riddle for a split-second. Did Riddle not know Harry was lightning_boi?
Riddle raised an eyebrow in askance, as if to say, Continue.
Of course he didn't, Harry realized with a jolt.
"Right, um. I love all of your stories, especially Haunted. " Harry bit his lip, smiling a bit. "I couldn't believe it when you killed both James and Marvolo, especially because you wrote it."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Riddle asked, craning his neck to the side to stretch it out.
He stared at his boss's neck, remembering the distressed, messy handwriting he'd seen in the margins of the seventh book transcript. "Despite desperately wanting Lord Marvolo to survive in canon, you had no problem killing him off in your own work." He shook his head. "It just doesn't make sense."
There was a silence.
"It was the first fanfiction I ever wrote," Riddle began quietly. "I wrote it when I was… angry. The incident with the seventh book was still pretty recent at the time."
"What incident?" Harry asked.
Riddle sighed.
And then he began to speak.
He talked about his relationship with J. K. Roaring, how they'd first met, how he'd partly been the inspiration behind the main villain.
He told him everything, and Harry listened with awe.
"Amazing," Harry said softly. "So that's why you wrote that alternate eighth book ending. For what it's worth, I think the Fallen Lord is a fantastic concept."
Riddle's mouth softened. "Well… thank you. I appreciate that."
Their eyes met again. And this time, instead of being awkward, there was a welcoming feeling of warmth that accompanied their eye contact.
"What did you think of Green-Eyed Monster ?" Riddle asked out of the blue.
Harry blinked. "Oh, your other work?" Immediate warmth bloomed at the thought of the fluffy rom-com. "Ooooh, I love it! Marvolo is so dreamy hehe, but," Harry paused, "You really make James seem like some kind of shameless tease and—" Harry cut off the train of thought at Riddle's odd expression, finishing up quickly. "Anyways, Marvolo's great."
Riddle was still staring at him oddly.
"I… see," He said eventually with amusement. "So you don't like James?"
"I just think he's a little out of character," Harry explained, waving his hand. "I mean, there's no way canon-James, let alone any normal human being, would possibly be that clumsy—"
Riddle snorted loudly, interrupting him, and Harry glanced suspiciously at him. "What?"
"Would you consider yourself a normal human being?" Riddle asked him lightly, humor inexplicably heavy in his voice.
Harry was confused. What was Riddle doing, asking off-topic questions? They were talking about fanfiction. "Uh, yes? Anyways, that elevator scene was pretty great. Super steamy." He didn't really know how to go into details without being super awkward, so he just held up a thumbs-up and said, "Good job, boss."
Riddle bit his lip as if to hide a grin, and Harry, feeling even more embarrassed, decided to shut up. In fact, it was about time they headed back. Harry felt ready for a nice, hot bath. Or shower. Preferably both.
He began to stand up, only for a hand to grip his arm, keeping him in place.
Burgundy eyes stared at Harry, still framed by long, dewy eyelashes. And astonishingly enough, they seemed concerned.
"Your forehead…" Riddle frowned, reaching out to graze it with a finger that came back slightly bloody.
"Oh," Harry responded intelligently. Not wonder he'd been feeling a bit… woozy. He must have bumped his head against a gravestone or something. A random thought came to him out of nowhere, an inside joke of sorts. "Lol."
Riddle stared at Harry, looking even more alarmed. Evidently, his boss wasn't familiar with social media acronyms.
"Pardon?"
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken," Harry replied solemnly.
Riddle snorted again, before quickly putting a hand over his mouth and looking at Harry more seriously. "You'd better not have a concussion from hitting your head on all those gravestones." When Harry rolled his eyes in response, Riddle's mouth quirked upwards. "At any rate, it seems you really do enjoy quoting James Evans. "
"Not as much as you enjoy quoting yourself," Harry quipped back.
Riddle blinked. "What do you mean?"
Harry made his voice go high-pitched. " You're mine. " He raised an eyebrow at Riddle. "Seriously, that was straight out of Green-Eyed Monster. Step it up, Voldy. And that wasn't even the only line," Harry scrunched up his face and made his voice even higher. " You're sorely mistaken if you think you'll ever be anything but my… little… "
A hand slapped itself over Harry's mouth before he could finish the dialogue.
Riddle was staring at Harry, his mouth slightly ajar… and his cheeks bright red. Fire hydrant red.
"That's enough," Riddle said, his voice sounding strangled. "Maybe I should fire you."
And then, within a few more seconds, Riddle had completely backed away from Harry. He was on his feet, looking way and casually brushing off his clothes as if he'd only gotten a few leaves on it and not the whole damn forest.
And then he turned back to look at Harry with the oddest expression on his face.
"... Voldy ?" Riddle asked eventually, sounding positively scandalized.
Harry burst into laughter.
. . .
Despite the fact that they'd more or less made up back in the forest (somehow), Harry soon realized that they hadn't discussed everything.
Like the fact that Harry was lightning_boi.
[30 minutes ago]
Lord_Voldemort_: Good evening.
Harry had been sitting on his bed, staring at his phone screen for the last thirty minutes and wondering how on earth to respond. Should he really just reveal himself as lightning_boi? Or would that just… complicate things.
With one last sigh, he swiped out of Discord and threw his phone away from him (still on the mattress, of course) and resumed towel-drying his hair. He had no idea how to approach this situation. As it was, his mind was already buzzing from a series of other realizations — not just all the big revelations like, the fact that his boss was the Lord Voldemort, but also little details.
Like the fact that Tom Riddle could really blush.
Because now that Harry thought about it, he'd definitely seen that blush earlier, weeks ago. It had been back when Harry had been caught reading Lord Voldem— Riddle's fanfiction during work hours, which had ended with him making up some shitty excuse about his pen name being Lord_Voldemort_—
"Gaaaahhhh !" Harry launched himself onto his bed and yelled into his pillow, clutching it to himself in utter embarrassment. What had Riddle been thinking at the time? No, what had he been thinking? No matter how much he thought about it, the embarrassment never seemed to fade.
And so that was how Harry spent the next half hour — recalling embarrassing moments with his boss — when he heard a firm knock at his door.
"Harry?" called Riddle. The, 'May I come in' was implied, though from Riddle, it was more like, 'I'm coming in, prepare yourself.'
"Prepare yourself," Marvolo murmured into James's ear.
Harry shook his head. Now that he'd realized Voldemort was Riddle, he couldn't help but recall dialogues from his boss's fics and compare them to the way Riddle spoke to him.
"... Harry. " Riddle repeated, impatience clear in his voice.
Harry quickly cleared his throat. "Y-yes, come in."
Without a pause, Riddle swept into the room in all his COO glory. It was as if mud had never touched this man; he was suited to perfection, his hair combed with not a strand out of place. And to top it all off, he was sporting a flawless five o'clock shadow.
The bruises on his face, however, were far from healing.
He was also carrying a first-aid kit. And kneeling on the ground next to Harry, and taking Harry's arm and—
"Hold up," Harry said, his ears inexplicably burning red-hot. " I'm not the one who's injured here."
Riddle quirked an eyebrow at him. "The bruises along your knuckles say otherwise."
Harry blinked in astonishment. "Yeah, and I got those from punching you. I think the more pressing concern are your bruises, which—"
Harry stopped, horror finally settling in.
Oh my god.
He'd just… he'd physically assaulted his boss.
"Am I in trouble?" Harry whispered.
Some of his horror must have been evident, because Riddle took his hands and raised his eyebrows at him, forcing Harry to look back at him.
"Harry, listen. You're not in trouble and I won't be firing you anytime soon. As far as anyone else knows, these are bruises I got from falling down a staircase."
Harry stared at his boss in anguish. "That's completely unbelievable."
Riddle squeezed his hands lightly. "And it doesn't matter. They'll have no choice but to believe it."
Harry nodded.
"Good," Riddle said firmly, swiping his thumb calmingly over the back of Harry's hand. "You can breathe now."
Harry nodded again.
"I said, breathe. "
Harry let out a breath he'd been holding and breathed, swallowing air frantically. He looked back at Riddle, his vision a little clearer than before. "How did you know…?"
"That you have anxiety?" Riddle finished quietly, raising his eyebrows at him. "I picked up on it when we were stuck in that elevator. The signs are pretty obvious, I'm surprised I didn't realize before."
Harry tilted his head, observing his boss. The man had been strangely subdued since they'd gotten back from the forest, and at this moment, he even seemed a little guilt-stricken.
"It's not a big deal," Harry replied slowly, ignoring the way his stomach flipped as he watched Riddle rub a disinfectant on his reddened knuckles. "But I'm glad you're treating me as a human being with emotions rather than an object now."
Harry pursed his lips immediately, eyes wide. He hadn't meant to say all of that.
Riddle's eyes shot up to his, piercing and dark.
"I may have been harsh with you, but I have never treated you like an object ."
Harry's eyes widened further, "Oh? Do you not remember the way you played with me in the elevator—"
Riddle stood up, towering above him, "I care about you."
Harry stood to his feet as well, his indignant face mere inches from Riddle's. "No, you're attracted to me."
Riddle opened his mouth before slamming it shut, staring at Harry. His mouth opened slightly, and Harry stared at it intently, breathing hard and waiting for words to come out.
Eventually, the older man swallowed, licking his bottom lip before speaking.
"I am."
Harry let out a breath in one big whoosh , his stomach fluttering.
"I am," Riddle repeated, his voice growing colder. "You'd have to be blind not to have noticed how attracted I am to you. Though, given it's you ," he spat the last word with vitriol, "I'm not surprised it took you so long."
Harry found himself recoiling at Riddle's sudden frostiness, hitting the back of his legs against the bed and falling back. He held himself up, propped on his arms. But Riddle came forward in response, placing a hand near Harry's side as he leaned in.
"And besides, what the bloody hell am I supposed to do about it?" Riddle spat, his eyes darkening further as his pupils dilated. "Fuck you? My employee?"
Harry's heart jumped at his words and proximity.
"See what I mean?" Harry whispered fiercely. "You don't respect me."
Riddle leaned back, standing straight as he looked away in annoyance. "I respect you more than I respect most people."
"Then I guess you have little respect for anyone," Harry muttered, sitting up at the edge of his bed.
Riddle looked sharply back, his eyes flashing heatedly with irritation and something that Harry now recognized as pure lust . "Do you enjoy being such a smartass?"
"Do you enjoy being such a big dick?" he retorted.
Harry immediately regretted his words as Riddle smirked suggestively. "Watch your mouth, Harry."
"Or what?" Harry taunted, unable to help himself.
Riddle abruptly kneeled before Harry once again, his eyes nearly level with Harry's. He stared into Harry's eyes for so long that Harry, who'd stopped breathing again, began to feel faint.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Riddle murmured quietly, before taking Harry's right hand and gently pressing on a band-aid Harry hadn't even noticed the man had been carrying.
Riddle used his thumb to smooth out the band-aid one last time before letting go of Harry's hand and standing up. He looked at Harry one last time.
"Given that you're attracted to me as well, I suppose it won't be long before you're begging me to fuck you."
And with those words, Riddle swept away from the room, leaving a thoroughly shocked, indignant, and embarrassed Harry in his wake.
. . .
Harry was sitting at a desk in his guest bedroom, going over the paperwork Riddle had assigned to him now that he was back at the Manor.
Not like that meant they were talking.
Nope. Harry was rigidly avoiding the man except for when he had to. He couldn't tell if all their 'talks' had made their relationship better or worse. Sometimes, Harry wondered if those moments of vulnerability in the forest had even happened…
"Would it surprise you if I said I felt I deserved it?" Riddle murmured, looking at Harry through swollen, half-shut eyes.
Harry swallowed at the memory; it seemed more likely to have come straight out of a dream. Perhaps the only positive thing to come out of all their conversations was that he now knew the sexual tension between them had not just been in his imagination.
So it was on this fine, summer evening in Little Hangleton that Harry received yet another text from Riddle's online counterpart.
Lord_Voldemort_: How interesting.
Harry clenched his hand into a tight fist, wondering why on earth Riddle was flirting with random people online when he'd admitted to being attracted to him, Harry . It was strange, being jealous of his own online counterpart.
It's just that… Riddle's online actions seemed so disloyal . Not like they were together or ever would be, Harry wasn't expecting a thing. But— ugh.
Oh well. Maybe Harry should just respond at this point.
lightning_boi: What's interesting?
Harry set his phone aside, but the response was almost immediate.
Lord_Voldemort_: That you've begun to ignore me after claiming to be my biggest fan.
Harry bit his lip, smiling. It was definitely easy to believe this man was Riddle.
Time to play with the man a bit.
lightning_boi: I've just been busy, don't be so sad! I know you missed me :'(
Lord_Voldemort_: Actually, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier — about the 'For Harry' author's note I left on my Office AU. While it wasn't about you, I should have been less cruel when rejecting that notion.
Harry tilted his head, remembering the embarrassing moment he'd experienced.
lightning_boi: Oh, no problem. I'm sure whoever it was ab| [Send]
Harry froze his typing mid-sentence.
Wait.
If Voldemort was Riddle, did that mean… Green-Eyed Monster … actually was about him?
Harry shook his head. No, it couldn't be. There's no way… no way Riddle would be that much of a romantic. And yet, he found himself swiping out of discord and logging into Ao3, looking up Green-Eyed Monster and re-reading it…
And there he was again, my personal assistant… walking into his cubicle with his third button undone. He looked like he'd had a rough night — my doing, I suppose — but was there really any excuse to show up at work looking like that?
He hadn't even gotten to his cubicle before he was stopped by yet another employee for a quick chat. Ah, yes. Mr. Popular and Sociable. His messy black hair and ruffled appearance did nothing to deter people from approaching him.
Though that wasn't a surprise, either. He was handsome, pretty enough to give some of the women at work a run for their money. And the person currently talking to him was one of his many girlfriends, Henny Ganger.
Harry stopped reading.
Henny Ganger.
He held a hand to his mouth, trying to suppress laughter.
That certainly wasn't the name of any James Evans characters, as far as Harry was aware of. However, it did sound uncannily like Hermione Granger.
And if that was true, then James… James had to be Harry. Which meant that Riddle thought Harry was pretty?
Harry blushed.
Then his eyes widened.
If James was him, then did it mean that all of those lollipop-licking scenes and other sexual tension scenes were about him?
Harry slammed his phone face-down on the table and put his face in his other hand, trying to calm down. He tried not to think about the fact that he potentially knew some of Riddle's sexual fantasies — even though Riddle had yet to write an actual sex scene in his Office AU — because, wow, the fact that Riddle had written them and the fact that they were about Harry —
It was driving him nuts.
Lord_Voldemort_: ?
Harry realized he hadn't responded yet.
lightning_boi: Hey! No problem, I understand. I was also wrong for jumping to conclusions and accusing you of finding out my identity.
lightning_boi: How's writing going?
This time, Harry had to wait a few minutes before receiving another ping.
Lord_Voldemort_: Pretty slow lately.
Lord_Voldemort_: To be honest, I should be working right now… but I'm actually trying to write the next chapter of Green-Eyed Monster.
Harry's eyes widened as he read the second message.
lightning_boi: Need a beta? I could read over what you've written so far and give you my reactions.
Harry sent the message and leaned back in his chair, thinking. Riddle also hadn't left his room much in the past few days… which meant he was somewhere in this manor, writing fanfiction at this very moment.
He grinned, an evil plan forming in his head.
Perhaps it was time he paid his boss a visit. Harry wanted to see the look on Riddle's face when he entered. He wanted to see whether Riddle x-ed out of any tabs or lowered his laptop screen the way Harry had done so countless times in the past.
Would karma work in his favor?
Getting up from his swivel chair, Harry peeked in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair a few times until it looked good enough. He was dressed up nicely, even had his third button done up and everything.
Then, without a backward glance, he opened the door and started down the hallway with a confidence he didn't quite feel.
It took Harry a few minutes to realize he was utterly lost.
Lord_Voldemort_: Hmm… I would like that, actually.
Harry read the message and froze in his tracks, wondering if he should make his way back to his room and get back onto his laptop. He turned his head in different directions, unsure of where he'd come from in the first place.
He needed to stall for time.
lightning_boi: Awesome! I'll just use the bathroom. Share a link with me?
Lord_Voldemort_: What's your gmail? It would be easier if I directly shared the doc with you.
Harry frowned. His gmail was a little too revealing. He wasn't sure he could simply give it out—
"Are you lost, wittle Hawwy?" said a sly, female voice.
Harry jumped at the sudden sound, turning his head to face his least favorite Riddle Manor maid.
"Oh, hey Bellatrix," Harry replied calmly. "Where are you headed?"
The tall, dark haired woman raised one judgemental eyebrow at him. Sheesh, why did Riddles and their staff enjoy belittling him so much?
"I was just on my way to inform Master Riddle of the arrival of an important…" Bellatrix's face twisted with disgust, "... guest. "
Harry's own eyebrows raised in response. "A guest?" He hadn't even realized someone had arrived, the Manor was so large. He cleared his throat. "Well, if you're headed to Riddle, I'll just come with you."
Bellatrix smirked knowingly. "Of course. Though I must warn you, the news I bring isn't going to put him in the best mood."
With those ominous words, Bellatrix spun on her heel and began to walk. Harry followed her, his curiosity about the guest growing by the second. He couldn't really imagine Riddle having friends, so perhaps it was family? But Riddle didn't have any other family besides his father, did he?
Lord_Voldemort_: Or don't.
Harry cringed at the message, stuck on how to respond but not really having time to think of anything better to say. It seemed that they'd already arrived at the correct door.
As Bellatrix opened it, Harry glimpsed his first vision of his boss in a few days… and held back laughter.
Riddle's top half was as pristine as usual. But his legs, from what was visible underneath the desk he sat at, were outfitted in fashionable emoji pajamas. And he was wearing fuzzy pink socks to top it all off.
It seemed Harry wasn't the only one surprised by the view.
"Master!" Bellatrix gasped. "You—you— get dressed! "
Riddle rubbed his eyes, and Harry realized the man hadn't shaved for a few days either. Not that it mattered; stubble actually suited him. A lot.
"What are you doing here?" Riddle asked quietly, placing a protective hand on his laptop and, to Harry's amusement, lowering the screen slightly. "I told you not to disturb me today." His eyes flickered from his maid to Harry, narrowing slightly. "And what are you doing here?"
When Harry stayed silent, realizing he actually had zero excuses for being here other than to walk in on Riddle writing fanfiction, Bellatrix spoke up.
"Sir, your stepmother is waiting downstairs."
Riddle froze for a moment, as if he'd been stopped in time.
Then everything was a blur.
Riddle stood up from his desk abruptly, closing his laptop and pushing his chair in on habit. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked a little stressed.
"Step-monster? Since when?" Riddle said agitatedly. He stalked towards his made bed, where pressed trousers had been laid out, and pulled down his pajamas in one swift motion to reveal tiny black boxers.
Harry squeaked in surprise, but Bellatrix seemed completely unperturbed.
"Since a few minutes ago. The woman didn't even give any prior notice," Bellatrix said primly. Harry was still quietly staring at a half-naked Riddle from behind her. In fact, his eyes wouldn't stop straying towards that extra-large Amazon package.
"Great, " Riddle said sarcastically, pulling up the trousers as he walked towards a closet and took out a pair of shoes. "Her usual mode of communication. Surprise attack."
Their conversation finally registered as Riddle's boxers disappeared beneath pressed trousers.
"Wait a second," Harry said slowly, "Riddle Sr. is married ? To whom? "
"To me," said an unfamiliar voice.
Three heads spun towards the opened door at once.
A tall, pretty woman was leaning against the door sill, her arms crossed. She had flaming red hair and intimidatingly fierce green eyes, and her outfit was completely black from her elegant, V-neck top down to her stilettos.
She was smirking in that annoyingly infuriating Riddle way, despite not even being a Riddle from birth.
"Good afternoon, Tom."
Riddle's jaw pulsed once before he deigned to respond.
"Good afternoon, Lily."
DELETED FOREST SCENE:
"Is that—?"
"My pants got wet in the rain" Harry whispered unconvincingly.
"...Right," Riddle said, like he hadn't just felt Harry coming in his pants.
Lol. Anyways. Thanks for reading! Sorry again for the wait and I hope everyone is staying safe!