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Harry Potter time travelled by accident. Which was not a phenomenal thing to happen to him because Harry was just on his way to see his third child be born. It was going to be a spectacular sight and he was so thrilled and Ginny was actually bearing through the pregnancy without so much pain the previous two had garnered that Harry, too, was beyond joyful.
So, by opening his front door (instead of apparating or flooing) he was transported to 1947.
Tom fucking Riddle was looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. He was wearing pyjamas and was eating what Harry could only call a very sad excuse for a sandwich. It didn’t take him much time to figure out that this was during that time when he was a piss-poor retail employee. Because Lord Voldemort wouldn’t be caught dead in such a small and bare apartment.
A fledgling dark lord stared at him and leisurely ate his sandwich, either not seeing Harry as a threat or seeing his life as some big, futile cosmic joke. Harry had seen what retail did to people.
The eye bags under Tom Riddle’s red eyes were prominent and his will to live was nowhere to be found.
Harry Potter knew that what he did next was not at all what he wanted to do, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
In between taking gasps of air he found himself aimed at by a yew wand that Harry had seen appear suddenly. The speed of a sane-ish-er Tom Riddle was actually terrifying to behold. In his other hand he still held that sad, sad cheese sandwich and gnawed on it with the same deliberation Socrates had drunk hemlock poison.
’’Listen.’’
’’No, you listen.’’ Tom Riddle said, barely audibly because his mouth was full. He stood up from his bed and waved the yew wand that killed his parents at Harry menacingly. ’’If you’re here to replace me I think you need more information than what that fucking arsehole’s told you.’’
’’Wot?’’ Harry asked, but before he could clarify he was a time traveller Riddle was speaking over him in waves of turbulent emotion overflowing with stress.
’’Burke! Does not ! Pay! Overtime! He says that he D O E S! But he doesn’t!’’ Tom Riddle laughed, wheezed with sarcastic glee. He kept looking upward as if praying to some deity to cut him some slack. Alas, life had simply thrown at him Harry.
Tom Riddle wasn’t even making eye contact half of the time. He kept venting to Harry, grabbing him by the front of his robes and shouting: ’’I’m going to kill that Smith woman. You’ll learn about her, soon. She’s the absolute worst. We close at ten in the evening LADY! TEN! Why are you entering the shop at two to ten! WHY do people DO this?!’’ His tone turned hysteric and Harry Potter was beyond amused by this entire spectacle unfolding in front of him. Then his voice mimicked an old woman’s: ’’Oh I’m just looking !’’
Harry Potter had to remind himself that this was Lord Voldemort. Because he felt like he ought to buy this bloke a pint.
’’Fucking cunts!’’ Tom Riddle exclaimed. He spoke to Harry then, wholly seriously and with the intention to teach and prepare mentally: ’’So instead of 10 – instead of an in inhumane ten hour shift – working from 12 to 10 every day except Sunday because I don’t know? They saw it from the Christian muggles and it’s a thing now? I don’t understand how this world is structured, honestly. I just know that I work twelve hours every day.’’ Tom Riddle sneered. ’’Every day!’’ He slowly leaned on Harry Potter, maybe not even realising that he was doing so, but he was and Harry Potter was beyond frightened of the fact that Tom Riddle was so exhausted to be doing this. ’’He makes you come in on Sundays to do inventory.... I can’t live like this. Good luck. He takes from your pay as easily as Dumbledore takes points from Slytherin.’’ Harry couldn’t believe that Dumbledore was the then era’s Snape.... Ouch.
’’Um. Yeah. I’m actually a time traveller.’’
’’Burke won’t mind. He just likes obedient and cheap work force.’’
Harry Potter felt so sad for Tom Riddle honestly.
He just kind of awkwardly hugged the young man and told him: ’’Hey, hey. Everything’s gonna be all right.’’
’’I just want to go abroad to Albania and not think about things.’’ Tom Riddle shook his head. ’’A lot of things are happening simultaneously and Hogwarts didn’t prepare me for this.’’
’’Yeah, Hogwarts doesn’t really do much for character building.’’ Harry gently, soothingly patted Tom Riddle.
Then standing like that, embraced together, for a few minutes of blissful ignorance turned sour when Tom Riddle seemed to finally activate his brain: ’’Wait, what the fuck you mean you’re a time traveller?’’
And Harry Potter, for the meme of it all, decided to tell Tom Riddle everything .
He told him about the horcruxes rotting his brain, about how very deranged he was, how ugly (this seemed to strike a nerve with the handsome young man the most), how he was an absolute failure, how he was kind of a running joke in his social circles now, etc.
Tom Riddle just stared. His mouth wasn’t slacked jawed because he was usually in control of his emotions. But retail seemed to have broken him so he kind of let it make a sad ‘o’ shape.
’’My theory is that it’s your job here that tips you over.’’ Harry tentatively shared his new theory. Tom Riddle, murderer of three, could be contained to such a number if only he got away from this stressful environment as fast as he could.
’’Your theory’s not wrong.’’ Tom, I’ve been fantasizing about killing Hepzibah Smith in heinous ways, Riddle slowly said.
’’Do you really feel like becoming a dark lord, Tom?’’
Tom, I just want to sleep, Riddle shrugged slowly. ’’I could forego my plans if you took me on some expensive cruise.’’
’’Like a Caribbean cruise?’’
’’I’ve never had a tan.’’ Tom Riddle wistfully said. Harry Potter had to consider that Tom Riddle would look very nice with a tan. Even Harry himself would, and had. Oh this sounded like a lovely idea. He’d absolutely run himself ragged with getting Albus and James to behave, whilst also trying to help Ginny in any way she needed, and with auror duty on top of it all...
’’That’s...manageable...’’ Harry thought about going to Gringotts, pricking his fingers with a needle, claiming the Potter fortune rightfully, and just absconding with Tom Riddle abroad.
So, they did.
Harry Potter paid for everything Tom Riddle ever desired (a lot of absurdly expensive food was ordered (Tom liked lobster but found caviar a waste of good money and slaughter of future fish), so many trips were had, Harry Potter bought so many ancient tomes) and Tom Riddle’s sole job was not to become a dark lord.
It was during their third trip through Europe when Tom asked Harry if he missed his life. Harry admitted that ’yes’ he missed it, but that this was nice, too.
’’Do you just miss it because you haven’t got a wife?’’
’’Er,’’ Harry confessed sheepishly, staring pointedly at the Eiffel tower and avoiding making eye contact with legilimens Tom Riddle, ’’I think I just miss having someone to hold.’’
It was March and Tom Riddle pushed his freezing hands on Harry’s neck, hissing at him: ’’My hands are cold. My circulation’s horrid. Hold me, Harry.’’
’’You’re terrible.’’ Harry laughed, but obliged. He took hold of Tom’s hands and gently planted a kiss on each one. Tom blushed, but he blamed it on the cold and his skin being sensitive. He pulled Tom closer and when the shorter man obliged Harry kissed him.
Tom smiled.
Then enriched the romantic evening by saying: ’’I can’t believe if I’d stayed just a single day more at that job I would have turned into a mad dictator.’’ A pause. ''I can't believe Abraxas Malfoy was right about me only needing to become some sort of glorified companion to a wealthy man to truly find my worth. You know, if you hadn't come that day I would have most likely taken his offer up.'' Then. Again. As Tom Riddle was coming to terms with his life's choices. ''I'm happy it's you.''
’’Not all heroes wear capes.’’ Harry Potter snorted and praised himself sarcastically.
Tom smiled, shook his head, and kissed Harry again, as if wanting to taste this life over and over and over again until he was certain that he wasn’t dreaming and that he actually did have something good going for him. Fuck you, Burke!