Chapter 3: Meet and Greet and Not-So-Discreet

Tom knocked on Harry's office door.

"Come in!" Harry was seated at his desk, tie tugged loose, hair even more rumpled than usual. "Hey, Tom. Have a seat. What can I do for you?"

Harry never gave anyone less than his full attention. It was something Tom liked about him. Harry would stop whatever he was doing whenever anyone came by to talk, and he was unfailingly polite every time.

Tom sat down and smoothed his tie down. "This won't take long, Harry. I just wanted to talk to you about my place at the company."

"Oh? What did you want to talk about?"

"Well," Tom began, placing his clasped hands delicately on the edge of Harry's desk. "It's rather difficult to talk about some of it, so perhaps I'll spare you all the sordid details." He sighed, dropping his eyes, then glanced at Harry from beneath his lashes.

Harry's brows pulled together. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But is there some problem going on here at work?"

"No, no," Tom said quickly. "Nothing like that. I was referring to—well, it's not that important. It's just, you see, I've been with this company for seven years now. I started in sales, actually."

"Oh, yes. I did know that." Harry snapped his fingers. "Best sales person for three years running! And you were a new hire. Tom M. Riddle. I knew your name sounded familiar, so I made a point to look it up."

Tom canted his head to the side, smiling. "I'm flattered you thought to remember me at all, Harry."

"Ah, I did." Harry gave a nervous chuckle. "But then they moved you to analytics, is that right?"

"I have a penchant for finding patterns," Tom said. "Not many people like fiddling with data like I do. They fail to take in the larger picture."

"From what I've seen, you do a great job," Harry said. "And you were an assistant on top of that! You know, I used to work in analytics. Not in this branch, obviously. But I worked under a few different managers before I was promoted to management."

McGonagall and Moody. Tom had done his research on Harry's history with the company. "Very impressive," Tom agreed.

"It's not, really," Harry said, waving it off. "We're not here to talk about me! I'm sorry for interrupting. What were you saying before?"

Perfect. Tom leant in, loosened his shoulders considerably, and applied a look of innocence to his features. "I just worry, with my background being what it is, that my place in this company isn't taken very seriously. Especially because I was Quirrell's assistant. I think I could do better here if I had the position to do so—"

Tom paused, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. "I don't mean to insinuate that you don't deserve your position, Harry. Because I respect you very much. I won't insult your intelligence by suggesting otherwise. But I do know our branch does not perform as well as the others."

"That's not your fault," Harry said, sounding alarmed. "What happened to this branch was because of gross misconduct! And we may not know each other very well yet, Tom, but I can assure you that I really do want our branch to succeed."

"I trust you," Tom said, nodding. "I can tell you're a good person, Harry."

Harry smiled, shifting forwards, intent on reassuring Tom of invisible anxieties. "Maybe Quirrell took you for granted, but I don't plan to do that. Once I've got my bearings here, then I promise there will be some changes. Good changes."

"Good changes," Tom repeated.

"Everyone will be treated fairly," Harry said firmly. "Does this make you feel better? I want you to feel like your work here has purpose."

"It does. You're a wonderful listener," Tom said earnestly. "I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me."

"Honestly, I'm really glad you feel comfortable enough to share these concerns with me," Harry said. "So thank you for that. It's always a bit bumpy when you suddenly have to start taking orders from someone new."

"Oh, I don't feel that way at all with you," Tom said, lowering his voice. "I'm very comfortable in your presence, Harry."

"Ah. That's nice to hear." Harry blinked, fidgeting in place. "Is that everything, then?"

"I should think so." Tom stood up, body angled slightly over Harry's desk. "Thank you again for listening to me." And then he placed a careful hand on Harry's, squeezing once.

Harry's face flared with colour as Tom withdrew. "You're welcome," Harry squeaked.

Tom licked his lips, holding Harry's gaze. "What did you end up doing with those flowers?"

"They're at my flat," Harry said. "I put them in a vase."

Tom purred inwardly with satisfaction as he imagined his gift on display in Harry's home. "How lovely. And did you ever find out who had sent them?"

"No," said Harry. "I didn't."

Tom made a non-committal sound. "I expect you have your fair share of suitors."

"Not really." Then Harry blanched, frowning. "I mean, that's not really pertinent."

"I'm sorry," Tom said. "I didn't mean to pry." Was it not pertinent because Harry already had a significant other?

"It's fine," Harry said automatically. "Don't worry about it."

"Not a problem," Tom said. "Consider it forgotten."

Harry paused, then said, "So is that all?"

Hmm. Tom didn't particularly want to leave just yet, but he didn't have any valid reason to stay. "Did you want some coffee? I was just about to go make myself a cup."

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Harry said. "Colin already brought me a cup this morning."

Ah, yes. Colin the intern. Tom thought Colin was immensely irritating, but since everyone else got on with him, it would be difficult to get him fired.

Tom offered Harry a pleasant smile. "Not to worry, Harry. I think you and I will have an excellent time not only bringing this branch up to par, but also well above the average."

Harry's face lit up again. "Yes, exactly. Absolutely we will. Thanks, Tom."

Tom gazed fondly at Harry, at the shine in his eyes and the gentleness of his grin. "You are very welcome."

After leaving Harry's office, Tom scanned the office space for the intern. Nowhere in sight. Useless. What was the point in an intern who was never around? Tom walked over to Granger's desk and rapped on the side wall to get her attention.

"Granger," Tom said. "Where's the intern?"

"You mean Colin?" Granger asked, derisive. "He has a name, Riddle. You could try and use it."

"Where is he?" Tom repeated.

Granger at last pulled away from her desk and turned to look at him. "I think Malfoy sent him out for his dry cleaning." Her gaze was stony as they held eye contact, and then she went back to doing her work.

Draco was an idiot. Unfortunately, Tom could not say so in front of Granger. Lucius wouldn't like that, and Draco was his ally in the office. Even if the only suitable position he was really good for was 'henchman', Tom wasn't going to alienate him. It was important for them to maintain a united front in public.

"Fine," Tom said. "Tell him I want to see him when he's back."

"I'm not your secretary. Tell him yourself." If Granger had not been the professional sort, Tom suspected that she might have flipped him the bird.

"Intern!"

Creevy startled, neatly losing grip of the coffee tray he was holding. "Yes, sir? Mr. Riddle, sir?"

"Care to explain where you've been?" Tom demanded. It had been over an hour since his conversation with Granger. He would have to move all his plans until tomorrow because of this delay.

Creevy adjusted his hold on the coffee tray, hands trembling with nerves. "Um. Draco had me pick up his dry-cleaning? And then he asked me to get coffee for marketing. There was a line at the shop, and then—"

"Enough," Tom said, irate. "I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses."

Creevy's mouth snapped shut.

Tom rubbed at his temple and took a calming breath. "I have some questions for you. Get rid of all that coffee to whoever it belongs to and meet me in Room B."

"Will do!" Creevy saluted, which meant he was only holding the tray with one hand, which meant that it came perilously close to tipping over for the second time.

"Just get it done," Tom said wearily. He had less than fond memories of hot coffee spilling all over his trousers, and he did not feel like reliving them.

"Yes, sir," Creevy said, making haste to leave.

It was a wonder anyone in this damn office got anything done when workers like Creevy were slashing the average productivity rates in half by simply existing. If Tom was head of this office, their branch would have been performing in the high positives.

Fine. It was fine. Harry was open-minded and willing to listen; Tom had already insinuated himself as a trusted confidant. No doubt Harry would take his suggestions seriously and implement them. The branch would succeed under their joint leadership, and then Tom could move up in that way, because Harry was honest, and he would never try and steal all the glory for himself. In fact, Tom could imagine Harry going out of his way to put in a good word about him to corporate at head office.

That was a nice thought. Head office wasn't too far away. Even if Tom did have to relocate, it would only be an hour's drive to get there. And if he decided to keep Harry around, then they could spend weekends together. Or he could convince Harry to take another job that was closer, so that they both could move into one flat.

From what Tom had researched, Harry was well-educated and had been at this company for nearly fifteen years. Harry's talents were being wasted here in management. He could do much better in a position with more independence and creative freedom.

"Tom? Hello?"

Tom blinked, pulled from his reverie. Girl-Weasley was waving her hand dangerously close to his face.

"God. I've been trying to get your attention for an entire minute now. Care to tell me why Colin says you're hogging Meeting Room B? You know that's the only small room with a working projector. I need it to practice my presentation—"

"Take it," Tom said, smacking her hand away. "I'll move to Room C."

"No, you—what? Huh?" Girl-Weasley stared at him, then said slowly, "Sure. Thanks, Riddle."

She walked away, glancing back at him over her shoulder a few times, and Tom had the distinct feeling he was being judged, only he didn't know why.

A/N:

tom, darling, please get your head out of the clouds. i am BEGGING. you haven't won your man just yet lskdjgksj stop fantasizing, it's embarrassing.

next up: harry jams the photocopier :)