It'd been a week since the whole ordeal.

Harry had an initial worry of the possible aftermath; ranging from Tom spilling the beans, a greater risk to the Statue of Secrecy-and Harry's job-or a harsh punishment for not doing his job and obliviating Tom when he had the opportunity. This was one disadvantage to working his way onward to being an official auror. Hunting down Voldemort's horcruxes or otherwise getting through the numerous attempts on his life at the end of every school year had been relatively easy; after all, there had not been official guidelines and procedures to go through like there was now. Everything needed to be precise, everything had its own special moment and some of those moments didn't always go with what Harry thought. However, his thoughts didn't necessarily matter at this point; he was a mere trainee surrounded by full fledged professionals. He didn't want to give Hodges any more reason to hold a grudge against him, especially if that came from giving his opinion on something he should've kept to himself.

He told a quick lie to Kingsley, admittedly because he knew the man would believe him, thinking there was no reason why he wouldn't be telling the truth, that he got around to obliviating Tom. Hodges didn't believe a word of it and said as much, but Kingsley gave him a mild scold, insisting that Harry was trustworthy and he needed to see that.

Ron heard about it, Hodges' scolding, and thought it was bloody brilliant. He had a good laugh over it at lunch one afternoon. They'd been sitting the lunchroom at the Ministry, all three of them at a table in the back. Ron hadn't been apart of the training group to handle that case so he didn't know about it at first, not until Harry mentioned it to him. Hermione grilled him about whether or not he actually did obliviate Tom. Harry didn't know she could possibly tell, but something had made her-rightfully, technically-suspicious.

"Well?" She prompted. The disapproval was clear. Harry took a bite of his food to stall, chewing more than he needed to. His silence was all she needed to confirm her theory. "Harry!" She whispered furiously. "What were you thinking? Do you know how risky that is? You could-"

"Get kicked out of the program," Harry finished for her. "I know, Hermione."

"They wouldn't do that," Ron said and nudged him. "Like they would kick the Boy-Who-Lived out. That's practically suicide. It'll be worse than when Fudge was in office."

"Still," Hermione frowned. "I can't believe you lied to Kingsley, too. If word gets out, this could reflect badly on him for defending you. He could be accused of favoritism and rigging the system for your benefit."

"He won't," Harry shook his head. "Look, it's not like I plan on doing this every other weekend. Tom won't tell anyone."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione was astounded. "You don't even know him."

Ron got a quizzical look to him. He turned to Harry. "Why didn't you obliviate him, mate?"

Hermione's look was pointed.

Harry swallowed, licking his lips. His gaze was downward, away from their eyes. "I don't know."

"There had to be a reason," Hermione said.

"You'd think I'm mad," Harry sighed.

"No, we wouldn't," Hermione said soothingly.

"Depends on what it is."

"Ron!"

"Only joking," Ron said. "No, really, mate. What is it?"

"It was just a feeling," Harry admitted. "I dunno. I felt like I could trust him. That's mad, isn't it?"

His two friends glanced at each other. Ron's face practically pleaded to Hermione for help but she was just as caught off guard as he was. Her mouth opened twice, then closed. Finally, she said,

"It's a bit surprising."

"Surprising?" Harry repeated.

"Well, yes. You've been closed off since the war ended, since you and Ginny broke up. I wouldn't have expected you to trust someone so easily."

"It's not a big deal," Harry said. "He wanted to remember. Wouldn't you, if you were in his spot?"

She didn't answer his question. "Just be careful," She advised. "I don't want to hear you've gotten yourself into more trouble."

"Merlin, Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes at her. "You're not his mum."

"I'm concerned!" She took one of Ron's chips and flung it at him.

"You don't have to be," Harry told her. "I probably won't see him again, anyway."

/

He should have known he'd be wrong.

Harry took a visit to a bakery in London. It was a small business and had been there for years. He'd walked by it before and as a child, watched enviously as Dudley scarfed down delicious looking pastries.

It also happened to be the same bakery that wasn't too far away from the crime scene but it didn't matter to him. Not at first. Gradually, he'd forgotten about the encounter and shoved it to the back of his mind when nothing occurred as a consequence.

He received his food and thanked the cashier kindly. Just as he was turning around, he heard a deep voice from behind and came face to face with the last person he expected to.

Tom Riddle.

The muggle from last week's Death Eater attack.

There he was again, all dressed up in a sharp business suit. Not one hair was out of place, not a single wrinkle. Everything was impeccable. So unlike how Harry looked; he'd changed out of his auror training uniform and wore a sloppy t-shirt with faded jeans and scuffed up trainers. His own hair was wild as it naturally was and he self consciously ran a hand through it.

"Well," Tom Riddle said, eyes roving over him. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Right," Harry said with an awkward hold on his pastry. "Err, yeah."

Diagon Alley had added more shops within the past few months but Harry had avoided going through there as much as he could. It was somewhat difficult to do so without getting recognized and needlessly thanked. It was far easier to hide in the muggle world. He was able to eat in peace there or take a brisk walk without being stopped.

"Aren't you working?" Tom said. "Or do you get days off?"

"We do, but I'm just on break," Harry explained.

"I see," Tom hummed.

"Yeah," Harry leaned back on his heels. He was terrible at this small talk, really, especially given how there was nothing to go off of. At least last time he had something. "Are you working?"

"I am," Tom nodded. "I happen to be on break as well."

"Oh. Well, I won't keep you, then," Harry started to move away but Tom spoke up.

"I don't have to be back for forty five minutes."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. Was that an invitation of some sorts that he was supposed to understand?

Tom cleared his throat. "I'd like for us to sit down and have a chat."

"Together?" Harry gawked.

"Yes," Tom quirked an eyebrow. "I have questions I want you to answer."

"You mean-?" Harry screwed up his face in some way of trying to hint at magic without actually saying it.

"Yes," Tom said, his voice slightly dry.

"Oh. Well, I suppose," Harry said carefully. He supposed it really wouldn't hurt. If Tom was willing to keep the secret then what harm could this be?

But it's illegal, came a voice that sounded suspiciously like Hermione.

Harry exhaled. Technically, it was. And it was probably not a good idea. He should just decline and tell Tom he had to be off somewhere.

But that didn't come out of his mouth.

"I'll wait for you, then."

That inner Hermione voice was screaming now.

He stepped aside so Tom could order; a black coffee and a bran muffin. Not the most appetizing and yet Harry wasn't surprised in the least. He expected the other man to at least add some creamer or sugar or anything to lighten it up but no, as soon as he received it, he took a drink and seemed pleased.

Whatever floats his boat, Harry thought.

"So, are you ready now?" He asked.

"Yes," Tom said and gestured towards one of the empty booths. "I thought we would stay here."

"Well, you thought wrong," Harry said. "We can't."

"Do you have a better place in mind?"

Harry thought it over. "Yeah, ever been to the park on Evergreen?"

"No," Tom said. "I've seen it, though."

"Well, come on," Harry said, using his elbow to open the door. "It's not too far.

/

It was a nice day out. The sun was shining, birds chirped and hardly a cloud in the sky. The temperature wasn't too bad either, given it was July. It was relatively mild and for that, Harry was grateful. He'd had to investigate another crime earlier that morning, unrelated to the one last week, and standing out there in his auror robes would've been unpleasant had it been hotter.

They sat on a bench, turned slightly to face each other. Their drinks were set down but they still held onto their pastries. Harry made sure to cast a privacy charm over them so no one else was bound to hear their conversation.

"So," Harry started, "you said you had questions?"

"Yes," Tom said with an air of someone who knew what he wanted. "And you're going to tell me the truth."

"We'll see."

"No, you will be."

"Who has the wand here, Riddle?"

Tom sniffed. "And?"

"What do you mean 'and'?" Harry demanded. "I could turn you to dust if I wanted to."

Well, he didn't know per se if there was an actual spell for that but Tom didn't know so he'd go with it.

"It's really not as impressive as you think it is."

Right. Like Harry somehow missed the way Tom looked around at the Ministry as he absorbed in the new environment. He wasn't stupid.

"Right."

"You're certainly in good spirits today," Tom remarked wryly. "What, another bad day with your boss?"

"No."

"Are you always like this, then?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No."

"You're full of answers today," Tom said before biting into his bran muffin.

"That's disgusting."

"It's healthy," Tom shot back. "And not full of sugar."

"Don't tell me you're one of those health nuts?" Harry wrinkled his nose.

Tom snorted. "Hardly."

"Then," Harry tore off a piece of his delicious cinnamon roll and extended his hand, "try some of this."

"No," Tom pushed his hand away.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to," Tom told him primly.

"Then get something different next time."

"I've never gotten anything different."

Harry stared. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Merlin," He muttered.

"Merlin?" Tom repeated, confused.

"This is worse."

"What is?"

"You're boring," Harry shook his head.

"So? Perhaps I prefer it."

"Somehow I'm not surprised."

"I don't care."

"I think you do," Harry grinned. "And-" He dropped the piece of cinnamon roll onto Tom's hand, causing the other man to let out a noise of irritation, "I think you should try this."

"I don't want to."

"Just do it," Harry insisted. "Don't be boring."

"Don't be childish."

"Is that a challenge?" Harry snickered. "Come on, don't avoid it."

"I'm not avoiding it!"

"I dunno," Harry drawled. "Looks to me like you are."

"Then get new glasses," Tom took a pause and looked closer at them. "Yours are atrocious."

"I've had these for years."

"I can tell."

"No more stalling," Harry announced. "Eat it."

"For the love of-fine," Tom took a ridiculously tiny bite.

"Well?" Harry waited for a response. "How is it?"

"It's...alright," Tom said.

"Careful, tone down the enthusiasm."

"Tone down the sarcasm," Tom retorted.

"I'll consider it," Harry said. "No promises, though."

He knew he heard Tom mutter something along the lines of imprudent brat.

"You're impossible."

"Is that a compliment?" Harry said with a grin.

"You wish."

Harry laughed. He didn't know how, but this was one of the most easy, relaxing conversations he'd had in a long time. And with a man he hardly knew, that was the kicker.

"I'm surprised you suggested coming here," Tom changed the subject and took a drink of his coffee which was probably lukewarm by now.

"Why's that?"

"People might hear."

"I put a privacy charm up," Harry told him. "We'll be fine."

Tom looked interested. "Is there a charm for everything?"

"Most things."

"How fascinating," Tom murmured. "What else can you do?"

"You make me sound like a dog doing tricks."

"Of course not, darling," Tom said smoothly. Harry shook his head at the nickname. "I could think up a much better image if you'd like."

"I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," Tom smirked.

"So, your questions?"

"Ahh, yes," Tom said. "My first one has nothing to do with magic. I'm merely...curious."

"Right," Harry said slowly. "Well, what is it?"

"I'd like to know how old you are. You look a bit young to be involved in law enforcement," Tom said.

That was a safe, simple question.

"Nineteen."

"I see," Tom peered at him.

'And?"

"And what?"

"How old are you? It's only fair you answer some of mine," Harry said.

"Quite right," Tom said with a curled lip. "I'm twenty-six."

So Harry had been right with his initial assessment that Tom had looked older than him. It was almost hard to believe the man was nearly thirty. He definitely didn't look like he was.

"Next question."

Tom was silent for a moment, pondering. "How did you get that scar?"

Harry's hand immediately went up to feel his infamous lightning bolt scar. He wasn't about to give his life story to a complete stranger.

"There's a story behind it," Tom said with a wide smile.

"What-"

"You're stalling," Tom pointed out. "You must not want to talk about it. I'm assuming you have a secret you don't want getting out."

"Something like that," Harry said stiffly.

"You can tell me, I won't say a word."

"It's none of your business."

"But you're supposed to be truthful with me," Tom said.

"I don't have to tell you everything."

Tom tisked. "It really isn't polite to take back your word."

"It's probably not polite to be nosy either."

The grin was back on Tom's face. His white teeth were showing, all sharp like a shark's. "So feisty today. It's got me all hot and bothered."

Harry was unimpressed. "You're an idiot."

"Are you trying to talk dirty to me?" Tom purred.

"Don't make me throw this tea on you," Harry threatened.

"Hmm, dirty talk and foreplay. I underestimated how sexually deprived you are."

"What?" Harry glared at him.

"Oh, hush. It isn't that difficult to see."

"You're ridiculous."

"Ouch. Going straight for the heart, aren't you, darling?"

"I'm not your darling," Harry scowled. "And if you're not going to ask me anything else, I'm leaving."

"Oh, hang on," Tom rolled his eyes and dropped the act. "I was merely having a bit of fun with you."

"Right. Fun."

"Perhaps if you weren't so wound up, you would see that."

"I'm wound up?"

"Must I repeat myself? Yes."

Harry scoffed.

"Listen, I still have questions for you," Tom said seriously.

"Fine. but nothing personal," Harry said after a moment.

"How was I supposed to know asking about your scar was personal?" Tom said incredulously.

"Common sense?" Harry tried.

"You're not amusing."

"I wasn't trying to be."

Tom shifted to make himself more comfortable. Harry was starting to feel an ache in his back. The bench wasn't the best place for this. "Do you have a spellbook?"

"Err, we have books, yes but not like you're thinking. We don't need them all the time. Just for school. We usually know a lot of spells by the time we graduate."

"You have a school?" Tom seemed eager to know. "A magic school?"

"Yeah," Harry stretched his legs out.

"And they teach you all sorts of spells?"

"Not just spells," Harry said. "We had potions, too. And Cares of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes. Stuff like that."

Tom looked like he was awestruck. Harry could remember feeling the same.

"There's a few others like Divination," he let out a sigh at that one.

"Not your favorite class?"

"It's stupid," Harry rolled his eyes. "It's supposed to be about predicting the future but it's all a bunch of bollocks."

"Your teacher is a fraud then?" Tom surmised.

Harry was suddenly reminded about Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Somewhat, yeah. Barmy, too."

"I had a few of those, myself," Tom said. "Barmy ones, anyway."

Harry sideways glanced at him. "Where did you go to secondary school at?"

"Kingstons."

"Oh," Harry had thought perhaps he might have gone to Stonewell but now that seemed like a farfetched idea.

"Where did you go?"

"For magic or primary school?" Harry clarified. "I didn't go to a muggle secondary school."

"Either."

"St. Gregory's for primary. The rest of the time I was at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Tom looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or not. "What kind of a name is that?"

Harry shrugged. "Anything else?' he said.

"Can you fly?"

"On a broom, yeah," Harry got a smile on his face just thinking of it.

"You don't have a spell for it?"

"Not yet, we don't."

"I see," Tom said slowly. "So you actually fly on brooms?"

By the way he was looking, Harry deduced that Tom didn't seem fond of the idea. "Sounds dangerous."

"Eh, not like you think."

"Really?" Tom didn't believe him. "A thin broomstick is keeping you from falling to your death and that's not dangerous?"

"Are you scared of heights?" Harry had a thought and said suddenly.

Tom scowled. "I am not scared. That's absurd."

"But you're not fond of them."

"Only reckless people are."

Harry extended his hand. "Hello, I'm Harry Potter, a reckless person."

"Hilarious," Tom said dryly. "I'm almost tempted to tell you to switch careers and take up stand up comedy."

"I admire your confidence in me," Harry grinned.

Tom scoffed quietly.

Harry's eyes wandered down to the watch that used to belong to Fabian Prewett. He should be heading back now. He sighed. He didn't really want to, if he was being honest.

"You have to leave," Tom was watching him.

"Unfortunately," Harry stood to his feet.

"I should be going as well," Tom agreed. Was it Harry's imagination or was he disappointed? "I've a lot of work to do."

"What do you do?" Harry wondered.

"I'm a CEO."

"Oh," Harry didn't necessarily know what that entailed, only that it was one of those high end jobs. "That's nice."

"Just nice?" Tom was the slightest bit offended. It amused Harry. "I work at one of the most well known companies in England."

Harry motioned for him to continue.

"You've had to have heard of Eureka."

Harry's mind went blank. "Err, no?"

"What?" Tom couldn't believe it. "You've got to be joking."

"No," Harry raised his eyebrows. "What's so great about it?"

"Investing in small businesses, investing in ideas," Tom said in a voice that was probably supposed to sound superior.

"Oh," Harry repeated. "That's nice."

Tom let out a noise of exasperation.