Chapter 10.

"Get me a gun," he asked Martinez.

"What? Why?" Pike asked with a confused frown, the cigarette hanging limply from his hand.

"How do you kill a magical genius like Riddle? Either a cheap shot or you make damn sure he can't use his magic. And if Riddle can't use his magic, I sure as hell won't be able to use mine either. And I'm not trained for a physical fight." In this body went unsaid. "When I punched Charlie I felt like I needed to be hospitalized with a morphine drip for two days."

Pike rolled his eyes at his dramatics but Martinez nodded seriously and passed him his gun.

As soon as they returned to the party Harry glued himself to Riddle's side with renewed determination. He provides Riddle with drinks and food when needed and when not he made himself disappear in the background. Or at least, he tried. People still came to talk to him, especially the group from lunch. Harry found that odd but they had been a friendly bunch. Harry had forgotten almost all the names of his seatmates, but the man that had been sitting to his right and had not spoken a word with him approached him and not Riddle. Harry sent the man a confused look and looked in Riddle's direction in case the man was looking for Riddle.

"Mr. Potter," the man greeted. Harry smiled nervously. Fuck. More casual interactions for him to fuck up. "What do you think about the proposal?" Now he's really fucked.

Harry saw Riddle's eyes briefly go from him to the man and continue with the conversation he was having but with a small frown and tense shoulders. Harry imagined his future apartment with a fully functioning kitchen before opening his mouth.

"I'm a hundred percent behind it."

Riddle's frown disappeared like magic and his shoulders relaxed.

"Do you believe it has a fair distribution of responsibilities?"

Maybe a balcony? Even a small one would be incredible.

"Anything, in particular, you are concerned about?" Harry deflected. Morning coffee on his own balcony. The man responded with a series of clauses Harry had no hope of ever deciphering but he nodded along anyway.

"I understand your concerns, but don't you believe the future benefits would balance the temporary inequality?" Harry insisted, crossing his fingers that this proposal had any redeemable qualities. From what he had heard around the room, everyone thought it was trash and this was only a show to pretend they were considering it. The man hemmed and hawed but eventually admitted that there would be some benefits in the future but he was not willing to back the project in its current form.

"Can you write a counterproposal? As long as it's reasonable, I'll personally bring it to Mr. Riddle and advocate in favor of it."

When the man left Harry breathed out and relaxed. Riddle briefly squeezed his shoulder as he passed by. Yes, even Harry was impressed with his bullshiting abilities...which he will enjoy in his new high-pressure shower with hot water and good quality soap. Riddle changed groups and directed Harry with a hand between his shoulders to a man in particular while he went to talk to the Australian Prime Minister.

The man was both tall and broad with a well-trimmed, full beard. Harry only reached the man's shoulders and he was average height. "Harry Potter, nice to meet you," Harry greeted. The bear-like man nodded, grunted, and kept nursing his drink in apathy.

Harry stood beside the man in awkward silence for a few minutes as he wracked his brain for something to talk about (that wasn't the proposal he knew nothing about). Come on, Potter. Think. He could have a television. He could come from work and watch movies. They could do game nights in his new apartment! When he saw the plastic wristband with the logo of Pike's favorite band he almost deflated in relief.

Small talk topic!

"You going to the concert?" Harry asked, nodding at the wristband when the man looked at Harry in confusion.

"You know them?" the man asked with a skeptical glance. The man turned to look at him. Progress.

Harry nodded. "They are my best friend's favorite band. We are going to the concert they are having this weekend."

"I'd love to go but," the man grimaced, "I don't blend very well with muggles." That was weird. The man was big but not particularly strange looking.

"You should," Harry insisted, "I heard it's their last concert."

"WHAT?"

Harry had the man's entire attention (and the attention of everyone nearby that had been startled by the man's exclamation).

"They have fifteen more concerts this year," the man rebuffed in anger. "And a world tour next year. They are stopping in Australia next July. I already asked for vacation for the entire month."

"No, man. This will be the last one. Insider information. The band is breaking up after."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. But who knows? They might work things out and stay together." This was another reality. Things might turn different here. Pike wasn't willing to take that chance.

The man mulled on that, "Did you buy your tickets yet?"

"Not yet," Harry responded. He had only just confirmed to Pike he was going. His poor thesis.

"How are you buying them?"

"Online."

"Is that with the com-pu-ters?"

Pureblood.

His apartment could be on top of a cafe? He could go downstairs and buy coffee and pastries in the mornings.

"Yeah. But you can buy them in person in Ticketmaster too."

"Is that a man that is Master of the Tickets or where muggles buy stuff?" he asked for clarification.

Harry scratched his forehead with the hand that still had his untouched champagne. He chanced a look at Riddle to make sure the man was still alive, he was, and that no one was trying to kill him, they were not.

"You know what..." This was a bad decision. But he was feeling sorry for the dude, "How about we buy yours when we buy ours. We are staying at a hotel for the weekend. The room has two beds, if you don't mind sharing a bed you can stay with us and we can dress you up so you don't stand out?" Harry offered tentatively, wanting to help but also hoping the man would say no. Pike was going to kill him.

"Why don't you just rent the whole floor?" he asked in confusion.

Ah.

Rich Pureblood.

Harry laughed at the man's genuine confusion. Only a rare breed of old money did not even know how to pretend normal "...because we are only three people and one room is fine."

"To clarify, we are not accepting this ridiculous proposal for a concert," the man said angrily but Harry could tell he was wavering. A part of him was considering it.

"But you are staying in the country until you decide, right?"

The bear-like man that Harry still didn't know the name nodded slowly.

Harry's smile turned mischievous. "Then wait until Monday to say no."

The man laughed. "I like you. Harry was it?"

Harry nodded, then asked, "What's your name?"

"You don't know?" the man asked with surprise.

Fuck. Again? Another person he should know about? And what was it about these people's egos? Like everyone and their dog should know them. Fuck them. But that apartment...

"emm. Sorry?" Harry apologized sheepishly. "I'm just a new assistant and a last-minute addition."

Which reminded him...ceilings that did not leak when the upstairs apartment flushed their toilet.

"Hey, my boss is also a friend," stretching the word a bit there, "and he is going to the concert. I don't know if that will be awkward for you...?" Even if it was, Harry did not care. He was giving Riddle an entire weekend to convince this man to support the proposal. That had to be enough, right? And Pike was already going to kill him, might as well.

The man frowned. "Who's your boss?"

"Riddle."

"Riddle knows about the band?" Mr. Bear said with a mocking smile.

Harry did not blame him. Chances were that Riddle had never heard of the band or was in any way interested in going to a concert that was 80% drugs, 10% good music, 5% more drugs but blue, and 5% dancing high (see drugs).

The man called Riddle over and Harry started worrying if this was something Riddle even wanted. He looked at Riddle in panic and felt the man graze through his surface thoughts. Harry took the foreign (familiar) magic and pulled at it... Inadvertently creating a mental link (that shouldn't have been that easy to do...fuck... he had just wanted a more stable connection).

In the space of a blink of an eye, Riddle had the entire conversation and relevant knowledge of the plan. Harry could just about feel the unadulterated glee on the other side and that calmed his worries about this impromptu plan. He had no desire to search Riddle's pitch black ocean of thoughts but some things reached him anyway. Ew, Riddle thought in pictures. Harry's never-ending monologue is the only reason he was sane. He could bitch with himself.

"Secretary of Defense Alexander Walker," Riddle greeted politely, thankfully giving Harry a name and a title. He likely saw that Harry had no idea who he was talking with. "Harry," he said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "How can I help you, Mr. Walker?"

Walker looked at Harry and his eyes said 'the gig is up, last chance to back out of that ridiculous lie.' Harry stared back indifferently. 'Your funeral,' the bear shrugged with a bit of malice in his eyes. "I'm told you are going to a concert this weekend...?" Mr. Walker asked with no shortage of skepticism.

Riddle turned to Harry with a playful grin, "Harry, are you telling people of our weekend plans?"

It was Harry's turn to turn on the acting. Bashfully he said to Riddle, "I hope you don't mind, but I invited Mr. Walker. He's a fan and we heard this is probably their last concert." Harry ignored the mirth-pride-joy-green eyes that just about touched his senses.

"Not at all. We will be happy to host you, Alexander."

Uff, informal. Bold.

The mirth swelled like a balloon. Harry pushed it back. Stay in your head, Riddle. It's crowded here already with me, myself, and I, and my friends Childhood Trauma, Mid-life crisis, and Fear of Never Being Loved.

"I don't want to offend Mr. Riddle but it does not seem like your scene."

Since Riddle could only "hear" (see? Since Riddle only thought in images?) his superficial thoughts, Harry helpfully provided memories about Pike talking about the band. With this Riddle was able to regurgitate facts about the best album, the most underrated song, and what he thought on their atypical use of bells in their last album. It was funny to see Riddle talk passionately about this occult muggle rock band as if they were the Beatles.

The Secretary of Defense did not share the same opinions but he was listening intently and hotly arguing his points and that was a victory according to Riddle's stray thoughts. Mission Accomplished, Harry detangled his mind from Riddle's resisting one. He 'shooed' a few stranglers back. Seconds later he felt the full connection strong and healthy. He threw all of his impatience to Riddle's side. Finally, Riddle cut the connection. He still felt as if Riddle was just a hairbreadth away and the feeling never quite left.

Mrs. Ito and her party left with them at the end of lunch to see Harry's old office (which Harry forgotten he had offered; Riddle had not been happy). They left the group when it seemed obvious they had no intention of leaving Harry's office any time soon. Thankfully the spell was still working as intended with only minimal sass. Lucius had Mrs. Ito and her party sign some documents that Harry did not care to see closely. The rest of the day went by with only small tries at Riddle's life. It felt like they were testing the waters. Searching for weaknesses almost methodically.

At six the workday was finally over but as tired as he was he had to make sure Riddle survived the night and having a strong suspicion on who it was...he had his work cut out for him. They had Scrimgeour, Fudge, and Dolores Umbridge detained as suspects but they were refusing to talk and there wasn't solid evidence linking them to trying to kill Riddle. Even if one or all of them had tried once or twice to kill Riddle due to the impending trial, Harry did not think they were the masterminds behind. They were more akin to opportunistic feeders. Taking advantage of the chaos and confusion to rid themselves of their biggest political enemy. Or at least that was Harry's assessment. He could be letting old ghosts dictate his feelings.

Harry left for the floo with Riddle. He had promised the man dinner.

(Walking up a clean, quiet street with trees and kids playing. Opening a door, putting his keys on a key holder, opening the fridge for a beer, dropping on the couch after a long day, and turning the TV on to watch re-runs.) He had not known how much he missed having a normal, functioning apartment until he let himself dream of the possibility. Now he was obsessed.

As expected from bodyguards, Black and Lestrange followed them to the floo. Black's face did a few acrobatics as he processed the information that Harry was going too. From surprise to suspicious, to sour. Bellatrix did not seem to care (or had already processed their unusual relationship). The moment the floo dropped him on Riddle's living room he went straight for the kitchen and the wine he knew was waiting for him in the fridge.

Riddle might be evil, but he balanced it out with being thoughtful. How terrifying that attention to detail must be when Riddle was your enemy. Harry had no intention of finding out. Riddle entered the kitchen and reclined against the wall near the door to watch him find the wine glasses. Black and Lestrange did not join them. And if that wasn't a clue, Riddle's blank face and tense shoulders spelled it out for him. Harry was already annoyed and the conversation hadn't started. Pre-annoyed? Ready to be annoyed?

"So. Care to tell me about today?"

"What about today?" He distracted himself by opening the bottle manually instead of using his wand to relieve some of his annoyance.

"You cured a relatively rare disease in the span of a lunch and casually handed it out like that was not our biggest leverage."

Harry took a long sip before opening his mouth hoping for a calm answer. Hardwood floors, Harry. Think of the hardwood floors. "I'm flattered that you think I can make up a cure on the spot, Riddle," he said sarcastically. It did not work.

"It is not as if I know what you are capable of because you hide in the shadows. For all I know, you ARE capable of inventing a bloody cure, writing it on a napkin, and passing it like candy," Riddle fumed and walked closer to the kitchen bar putting both of his hands flat on the counter.

Harry watched the hands for a moment and his eyes went up to Riddle's eyes. He wondered if it was on purpose. If Riddle was deliberately showing him his unarmed hands. He studied Riddle's eyes and figured that yeah, it was.

"I'm not hiding," Harry snapped with irritation. Riddle looked at him in exasperation. "I'm not! It's not hiding if there is no one looking. The simple fact is that no one is looking at what the dropout, loser Harry Potter is up to." And I'm fine with that.

"You were purposely making it out to look like there was nothing to see!" Riddle almost shouted. Harry looked at the door to the living room in worry.

"There is nothing to see," Harry hissed. "I have been working on my Masters and doing a job that kept the lights on like every goddammed person."

"And the adaptive spell? Did you just stumble into it too? Did another person invent it and you just happened to remember it?"

And that mocking tone of voice made Harry want to poke his eyes out.

"Well, that was different," Harry defended. "I had the time and motivation to work on it, didn't I? Is not like anyone enjoys doing mindless work."

Riddle passed his hand over his hair messing up the perfect coif in irritation. "Harry I'm not sure if you are a delusional genius or just plain delusional."

Harry breathed deeply and calmed himself. "Look, you are making it more complicated than it needs to be. I have the occasional brilliant idea which I follow up with hard work. I also have no trouble asking for help from actual smart people." Harry pointed at Riddle with his overfilled wine glass. "Case in point."

"I don't understand, Harry. I really don't. You could have everything you ever wanted. Fame and fortune. Your parents would regret ever casting you out. But you decided to work in the Communications Department and live in a death trap. I only met you by chance. Because that day you decided to look for a second longer."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed in annoyance, "I'm trying to move."

Riddle did not let him change the subject. "Help me understand. Please."

Harry sighed and opened the fridge. "What are we having for dinner?"

"Salmon."

Harry was glad he was facing the fridge so that Riddle did not see his grossed-out expression. Cafeteria fish had put him off any type of fish. He dutifully took out the fresh salmon from the fridge and started taking out what they needed for dinner.

Harry decided to humor Riddle's question. Not even sure why he wanted Riddle to understand. "Do you remember those plays at middle school where you could be anything? The protagonist, antagonist, side-kick maybe?"

Riddle nodded slowly as if he was unsure of where Harry was heading.

"Well, I chose to be backstage crew. Or a tree if a really needed to be on stage. Villager C, the one that has no lines or even a name and is just there to make the stage full, you know?"

"But why?"

"We got one life, Riddle. And it goes by fast. I want to live a life that is doing what I want and not what other people want or expect. Yes, I could be doing more. I'm not that obtuse. But I don't want to. You know what I want? I want to finish my damn Masters before they add a new required class and go travel the world and see what's out there. I don't want stress, or pressure, or judgments."

"You are wasting your life," Riddle roared.

"Well, no one asked your opinion," Harry snapped. "You can sit with my parents and bitch about my life choices and have the same kind of relationship they have with me or you can back the fuck up and let me live my life."

They starred for a few seconds before Riddle sighed in defeat and grabbed a pan. Harry turned to look at the knock on the door. Black peaked in. "Can we come in now? It's not safe for you to be alone right now, sir."

Harry snorted at the irony and felt Riddle's mind brush his. He broke away immediately.

"Leave," Riddle snapped in anger. Black immediately closed the door and Riddle made a privacy bubble.

"Why does it feel so easy to reach your mind? It's like there was always this back door and now that I know it I can access it without even looking into your eyes. I'm pretty sure we don't even have to be in the same room."

"Hell if I know," Harry lied easily as he prepared the ingredients by hand.

"Why aren't you using wandless magic?"

"I don't know Riddle. It might be because a killer is after you and the chances they are watching us right now is high and maybe I don't want to give them more information they can use to plan, huh?"

Riddle walked around the island until he was beside Harry. "I'm sorry I said that. Don't be mad at me."

Harry stared unseeingly at the stove. "Are you really sorry?"

"I am." Riddle looked at the floor. "I can empathize with your parents. It is not something I ever thought to say. You have a lot of potential that you are not interested in pursuing. But…look how well that turned out for them. I don't want to push you away."

Harry mulled on that. "How are you going to make it up to me?"

Riddle looked from the floor to Harry with a calculating look. "What do you want?"

"Either you out of my brain permanently or your credit card." Harry had never seen anyone take out their credit card as fast.

"You are paying for this weekend and I don't want limits," Harry warned. He could at least make it up to Pike.

Riddle smiled and handed his credit card without hesitation. Harry plucked it out of his hand and put it in his wallet.

"Are we good?"

"Yeah."

"You still look irritated."

Harry sighed. "It'll pass. Just tired...and hungry... and pissed at you. I did not need this fight after this long ass day."

And the mind link was a stressful reminder of a past he'd rather forget. Pike was going to kill him. He unleashed a spell on this world that had no business being here for a few more decades. His thesis was unfinished and the clock was ticking. He had a few more assassination attempts to intercept and he was SO TIRED. God, he wanted to nap.

Riddle opened the fridge and rummaged until he found green grapes.

"I have it on good authority that they help," Riddle said as he offered the bag. Harry punched Riddle's shoulder (still a bit pissed), smiled, and accepted the bag. Riddle might not be perfect (far from it), but he listened.

Not long after, Riddle let Bellatrix and Regulus in the kitchen where they sat on the kitchen table and watched them cook. Harry concentrated on what he was doing and carefully avoided any use of wandless magic (harder than it looks). The pan sizzled as he caramelized the onions. He added the salmon and turned down the heat and covered it. He checked the mashed potatoes while he waited and added more salt.

"Did you really disable the bomb?" Riddle asked quietly as he checks the vegetables.

"The most useful skill that you'll never need."

"Almost never," Riddle corrected.

Harry felt it before he saw it. It felt like a current through his nervous system as the antiapparation ward wrapped around them. He stilled and slowly turned the stove off.

"What's wrong?" Riddle asked with a frown at the still raw salmon.

"Do you have your wand?" Harry asked in a low whisper as took out his own. As always, the threat of violence caused something to switch in his brain and a deadly sort of calm to descend. His focus sharpened and the noise was turned down. He didn't hear the conversation the others were having as he focused his attention on what was coming.

Harry breathed deeply and when the windows and doors exploded and people flooded in he let it out carefully. His hands shook with adrenaline but he carefully leaned back against the stove and did nothing as the fight started. This wasn't his fight. He wasn't an Auror. And Riddle, Black, and Lestrange were more than enough.

He watched the fight from his post against the stove. Riddle stepped in front of him and diverted spells that went Harry's way. Harry only watched. It was difficult. He wanted to fight and it tested his patience to stand back and do nothing. Six assailants against three might seem uneven but the fight was over fast without Harry raising a finger. Riddle was...like a tank. Deadly and unbreachable. Three fell like flies in seconds. His form perfect. His magic... breathtaking.

And no.

No, he was not attracted to Riddle killing in cold blood.

He was not.

Ew, right?

Right.

Those drops of blood on Riddle's face were not captivating him. Especially not the one on his neck that is slowly rolling down and staining his white shirt. And that smile. Like a hunter savoring the thrill of a good hunt. That show of strength was not sexy. Not at all. Harry is disgusted at the violence. Or when Riddle used his body as a shield when a spell went in Harry's direction. Normal people don't find that arousing.

He takes out his phone to check if he still has his Mind Healer's number. Oh good, he has it. He should make an emergency appointment.

He makes the mistake of looking up from his phone. Riddle was taking his shirt off and using it to wipe the blood from his face. Harry bits his lower lip as his eyes go slowly from the sharp V of his hips, perfectly defined abs, pecs, and shoulders.

He needs Jesus is what he needs. A priest to pray over his soul. Harry lowers his face and puts it between his arms and closes his eyes.

"You good Harry?" Riddle asked as he came over and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry did his best to not let his eyes stray over the man's clavicles.

"Yeah," he croaked, not sounding good at all.