A/N:
prompted by DesertWaterfall on the CoS discord server:
Office AU where Harry is the oblivious boss and Tom is his pining assistant.
this is basically gonna be 'the office tribute' but in reverse. tom sets out to seduce his hapless boss without any encouragement necessary :)
No Encouragement Necessary
Chapter 1: Harry Potter, Manager
"Riddle. Riddle, hello?"
Slowly, slowly, Tom pivoted in his chair to stare at his unwelcome visitor.
"I did hear you the first time," Tom said, "and I chose, quite deliberately, to ignore you."
Granger's ruthless nosiness was undeterered by Tom's scathing glare. "They said Quirrell's being fired for embezzlement!"
"I'm aware."
"And," Granger added, "we're getting a new replacement in two weeks. Two weeks! I'm in the middle of preparing my proposal for the new ERP system, and now I have no idea if it'll be approved—"
Tom tried to tune her nattering out, but then she got offended that he wasn't listening to him. Luckily for him that still worked, because despite her ensuing lecture on rudeness, she did get fed up enough to leave.
Once she was gone, Tom clicked over to his email. Still nothing new. Frustrated, Tom closed the window entirely. His jaw clenched, and it took him a moment to physically unclench it and relax his fists where they were balled up on his desk.
"I can hear your angst from here," said girl-Weasley through the wall of the cubicle. "Try to tone it down a little."
Tom picked up a pencil and deliberately snapped it in half.
"Dramatic," said girl-Weasley.
Tom would have repeated the process, only he didn't make a habit of keeping more than one pencil around. Pens were much neater. So instead he smacked his fist against the wall.
"Some of us are trying to work," Tom said crossly. "Go and bother your brother."
Girl-Weasley blew a loud raspberry but thankfully fell silent, and Tom went back to work.
By the end of the day, there was still no email from Smith. Tom was at the end of his rope already after a tedious day of dealing with imbeciles over the phone, and so he was not in the mood to talk to Smith.
The problem was that Tom needed answers now, and his only other alternative was making the two hour drive to head office for a proper confrontation.
So with no choices left to him, Tom waited until the office was empty and called Smith up.
"Zach Smith speaking."
"Smith, this is Riddle," Tom said sharply. "What the hell is going on? What's this I hear about a replacement? You told me that if I brought you evidence of embezzlement I would get promoted."
Silence.
Then Smith said, "Listen, Riddle, it's a bit more complicated than that. I wouldn't expect you to understand what goes on here at head office—"
"Complicated?" Tom hissed. "What part of our agreement failed to pass into your thick skull? I could have you fired for this, Smith. One call and you'll be done for. I have all the evidence I need."
"You wouldn't," Smith said, voice crackling with static, "I'd take you down with me."
Tom allowed himself an indulgent smile, knowing that Smith couldn't see it. "You say that as if I haven't covered my tracks. Your word against mine, Smith. Who do you think they'll believe?"
Smith was quiet for a long while, and then he said in a rush, "Okay, fine. The truth is, there's nothing I can do, alright? McLaggen railroaded me on this, that smarmy bastard. There's a new guy coming in two weeks and there was nothing I could do about it—"
Tom slammed his phone back onto the receiver with a sharp crack and let out an inarticulate noise of rage. This was what happened when he drafted incompetents to do his bidding. Failure upon failure.
What was the point of getting Quirrell fired if some other moron was just going to take his place? This was getting absurd; Tom hadn't slaved away in this blasted company to remain a bloody assistant forever.
Tom would have to run a hatchet job on the new manager and take the information to head office himself. There would be no escape this time, and success would be his.
Precisely two weeks later, everyone was gathered in Meeting Room A. Tom hung back, seating himself at the back of the room, waiting to pass judgement on whoever corporate had seen fit to saddle them with.
"Hey, everyone! My name is Harry Potter, and I'll be your new manager."
Skinny tie, rumpled black hair, and a wide, lopsided smile. Glasses that sat crooked on the bridge of the nose. Bright green eyes and a lanky build.
If not for the fact that Harry Potter was standing at the front of the room, Tom would have pegged him as an office temp.
"You can all call me Harry, alright? None of those stuffy formalities."
There was a murmur of agreement. Harry gazed at the crowd with warmth, his eyes touching upon each person in the room as he continued to speak.
"Now I know I've got a lot to learn, a lot of names to commit to memory, but I'm really looking forward to getting to know everyone," Harry said, his eyes sparkling with unbridled enthusiasm. "But a bit about myself, um, I play rugby on the weekends with my mates. I like to draw, even though I'm terrible at it. I can cook, mostly against my will, but my real specialty is things I can heat in a microwave."
That got a laugh out of most of the gathered employees. Harry beamed in response, rocking back on his heels, and Tom was transfixed by the movement of it. Harry genuinely seemed delighted to be here.
"And if anyone has any questions at all," Harry said, a warm flush spreading across his dimpled cheeks, "now is the time to ask."
Then Harry's eyes, beautiful and wide and vibrant, at last settled on Tom.
Tom smiled in response, unthinkingly so, because Harry was simply perfect, a wonder from head to toe, and Tom needed to have him.
Granger stuck her hand straight into the air to claim the first question, dragging Harry's attention away. A multitude of thoughts were racing through Tom's mind as he listened absently to the ensuing open floor.
His original plan would no longer do. This new situation required an entirely different approach. Harry could not be removed from his position like Quirrell has been, because Tom wanted Harry to stay.
"He's rather young to be a manager, isn't he?" Granger said pensively. "Harry, I mean. But he does seem very nice, even if he is inexperienced."
Granger and girl-Weasley were lurking by the water cooler and gossiping. Tom was watching them, pretending to ignore them, but really he was interested in what they thought.
"A damn sight nicer than Quirrel," said girl-Weasley, smirking. "I saw him lift a whole box of printer paper this morning because Parkinson asked him to. Bless his sweet little heart. I wonder if he's inexperienced in other ways." She winked, and Granger squawked quietly in protest, blushing.
Tom stomped back over to his desk, now disgruntled. Their new manager wasn't someone to be ogled, for Christ's sake. Not to mention there were more important things to be done than standing around chattering.
Settling into his chair, Tom stretched his arms out once, ready to do some actual work.
"Hey!"
Tom spun around, prepared to deliver a scathing line about productivity in the workplace, only to be met with Harry Potter's gorgeous, smiling face.
"Hello," Tom said, cautious.
"I just wanted to come by and introduce myself personally," Harry said, sticking out his hand. "It's very nice to meet you—?"
"Tom Riddle."
"Tom," repeated Harry. "Very nice to meet you, Tom. You were Quirrell's assistant as well, is that right?"
Tom took Harry's hand in his and gave it a solid shake. Warm, dry palm with a fairly-firm grasp. The confidence could be worked on a little, but Harry's earnestness more than made up for it.
"Yes, I was. It's nice to meet you," Tom repeated. "I think we're all very excited to have you here."
Harry laughed, self-deprecating, the sound of it so natural that it could not possibly have been forced. "I sure hope so!" Harry said, shaking his head. "I'd hate to work in a building where all my employees think I'm some raving tyrant."
Tom offered his best eager expression, lounging back in his chair so that Harry's eyes dropped to the long line of his legs. Mmm. That was definitely interest that Tom was seeing.
"Oh, you shouldn't worry about that, Harry," Tom said, smug. "I have the most wonderful feeling that you'll fit in perfectly."