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Chapter Text

Harry James Potter was having a very stressful day.

He was currently trying to catch a train back to Godric’s Hollow from Chudleigh where the Chudley Cannons had just won their home game against Appleby Arrows - though it was a close match that had ended with Harry breaking his fall (snitch in hand) with his face. A broken jaw and nose was all the damage done thankfully and nothing a bit of magic couldn’t fix, but still nasty business to mend.

If broken bones was all that Harry had to worry about he would count himself lucky, but no, the reasons for his stress and his trip to Godric’s Hollow was quite a bit more problematic.

His wife was pregnant.

Which would be joyous news if it weren’t for the fact that he had not seen his wife in the months he had been on tour with the Cannons, let alone had. . . well, it wasn’t joyous news.

To add insult to injury, Harry found out Myrtle was pregnant along with the rest of the Wizarding World, in the Daily Prophet under the headline of QUIDDITCH STAR’S WIFE EXPECTING THEIR FIRST CHILD.

He stopped suddenly, nearly sending the old lady behind him careening to avoid hitting him with her cart, as he realized that while he had been caught up in own problems he had succeeded at creating another one. He was on the wrong platform for his train.

Pulling a complete one-eighty and sprinting past the glaring old lady, Harry made a mad dash down the stairs, frantically weaving himself through the crowd, thankful that he had decided to shrink his trunk earlier. He made his way onto the platform just in time to duck through the compartment doors before they closed.

Slumping against the closed door to catch his breath, Harry gave a mental sigh of relief.

Admittedly, he would rather avoid the hassle of muggle transportation and simply apparate or portkey home, but Harry preferred it in this case since it gave him a bit more time to gather his Gryffindor courage for his confrontation with Myrtle. Perhaps he could even bunk up with Hermione and Ron for the night.

When the ticket master gave him a look, Harry decided he’d had enough time to catch his breath and grinned apologetically at the man before heading toward the dining car with the thought of getting a quick bite to eat. His stomach rumbled in appreciation of the idea.  

Opening the dining car door, Harry noticed few open seats and headed toward one that was directly across from a young gentleman reading a newspaper.

While taking his seat Harry’s foot nudged slightly against the stranger’s, leaving behind a slight scuff mark.

“Excuse me,” Harry said, an immediate and unthinking phrase dictated to be said due to the social obligations of having to acknowledge when you bump into someone.

“Quite alright,” the gentleman responded with a companionable smile, his dark eyes following the offending limb up to meet Harry’s emerald ones. His head tilted and the smile turned quizzical.

“I beg your pardon, but aren’t you Harry Potter?”

Apparently today was just not his day. Of course he wouldn’t be the only wizard in the world to use muggle transportation. Two wizards walk into a train compartment. . . Harry almost snorted at the ridiculousness that was his life.

Humoring the man, Harry nodded and then started searching his pockets nonsensically to make it seem as though he was busy. Maybe if he just didn’t further engage him. . .

“Oh, of course. I was dragged out by some of my acquaintances to see your first professional match against the Holyhead Harpies, there was quite a bit of ruckus about you after that game. Of course, your success in the professional field of Quidditch is no surprise really, you were always a natural in the air.” The man stood up and came to sit next to Harry on his side of the compartment, setting his paper down on the table while gracefully extending his hand. “Tom Riddle. We went to Hogwarts together; I was two years below you in school.”

Harry blinked down at the extended limb while his mind processed just what was being said before giving it a quick shake.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this, but I don’t remember you.”

“No, I do not suppose you would; Slytherins and Gryffindors do not usually mingle amongst each other,” Riddle said matter-of-factly, his dark eyes staring intently at Harry as the corners of his lips quirked up.

“Oh.” Well that made sense; Harry would feel rather bad if Riddle was simply an old classmate he had forgotten. Still, feeling awkward with the line of conversation and how he was being looked at, Harry tried to avoid looking back at Riddle and instead focused on the newspaper, which he found was the Daily Prophet, that his new companion had been reading.

Harry’s heart stuttered to a halt when he noticed the article title of the front paper story.

“Er-sorry, may I see that?” Harry asked, awkwardly gesturing towards it.

Riddle glanced down to the paper before looking back up piercingly at Harry and shrugging. “Be my guest.”

As he got further into the article, he did not register the calculating look directed his way as his hands began to shake slightly where they were gripping the sides of the paper, the material becoming balled up in his fingers.

HARRY POTTER: NOT A FATHER AFTER ALL?

Recently an article was published in our esteemed newspaper welcoming Quidditch star Harry Potter to the new status of being an expecting father.

However, inside sources point to the fact that Mr. Potter’s baby may not be his after all.

“Harry has been on tour for months,” an insider source said,“He hasn’t once left on break to go home and visit his wife.”

Being only a month or so along, how then did Mrs. Potter become pregnant? A question I myself was dying to know as I asked family friends about the situation. . .

“Harry.” A commanding yet gentle voice broke through his panic and his head whipped up, his eyes wild. Riddle stared at him critically, considering, before he proceeded to say, “Perhaps it would be best if you accompanied me back to my private compartment.”

It said a lot about Harry’s current mental state that he simply nodded in agreement and allowed himself to be steered by a hand on his shoulder towards the door of the train car. He vaguely heard Riddle mention to an attendant that he would like a dinner for two and a bottle of wine delivered to his compartment before they exited the dining car.

He tuned back out mentally, his thoughts frenzied, until a hand at the small of his back lightly pushed him forward, being to his attention that they had reached Riddle’s compartment.

Harry peaked back over his shoulder where Riddle was lurking right behind him expectantly. Exhaling deeply, he turned toward and stepped into the compartment and sprawled onto the bench on one side with Riddle shutting the door and following suit in sitting across from him.

Both settled, the pair simply stared at one another, Harry’s eyes rather confused and questioning while Riddle’s betrayed nothing of what was going on in his mind.

Harry found himself beginning to speak but stopping several times as he tried to find the right words.

“Why. . .?”

“I figured you did not want to be a public spectacle. Was I incorrect in that assumption?” Riddle asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow as he tilted his head towards Harry.

“No- but- you didn’t have to-”

“No, I did not have to, but seeing as how we are now sitting across from one another, it stands to reason that I did. Do not worry too much about the why, you’ll only end up hurting your pretty little head,” Riddle said teasingly while settling into his bench.

He had not realized up until this point how rigid Riddle had been outside of this compartment. Seeing him so relaxed now made Riddle seem like a different person. The scene was shattered, though, as a knock came on the door which opened to reveal a trolley full of food. Riddle was tense and proper once more as the server began to set the dishes and glasses on the table in between the two men.

“Thank you,” Riddle said courteously to the man, though he hardly spared him a second glance after his meal had been placed in front of him.

Harry repeated the sentiments, but was sure to smile at the man even though he didn’t really feel like it. Turning back to his meal, he noticed that Riddle had poured him a large glass of red wine.

Bemused, he lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side.

“If I didn’t know any better Mr. Riddle, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk,” Harry joked.

“It seems you do know better, Mr. Potter. How odd.”

Harry gave Riddle’s smirking visage a rather unimpressed look.“Alcohol fixes nothing.”

Riddle’s smirk merely lengthened at that, and he raised an eyebrow challengingly.

Well, Harry was never one to back down from a challenge.

___

They were finished with their dinner and over halfway through their second bottle of wine before the conversation turned back to the reason behind Harry’s flight to Riddle’s compartment. Though, it was not in the way one would expect.

“Would you like to hear one of my ideas for the perfect murder?” Riddle asked happily, out of the blue. “Want to hear about the poison in the tea delivered by a trustworthy house elf or the cursed object that slowly poisons the wearer?”

Harry blinked stupidly before responding with a bemused look on his face.

“Neither one, Mr. Riddle. I may be an old fashioned kind of guy, but last I’d heard murder was illegal.”

Harry jumped a bit as Riddle brought his fist down on the table. “What is a life to two wizards? Some people are better off dead. Like your wife and my father for instance.”

At the mention of his wife whom he had quite happily forgotten until now, Harry tensed up, but Riddle just plowed on.

“That reminds me of a wonderful idea I had once, ah! This is truly the perfect murder. So, Harry.” Riddle’s full attention was on him now as he leaned forward on the table and continued, a hungry look in his usually calm eyes. “Say you want to get rid of your wife.”

“That’s a morbid thought,” Harry replied, more calmly than he felt, his heart hammering away in his chest as a small part of his brain screamed at him.

“Oh, it’s all quite hypothetical.” Riddle waved his hand back and forth as if to shoo away Harry’s fears. “Let’s say you had a very good reason.”

“Um, no, no let’s-”

“No, no, let’s say,” Riddle mocked. “You’d be afraid to kill her, you’d know why. You’d get caught, after all they would have you for motive and there are always those pesky little watchers that will see right through you.” Riddle’s eyes practically burned as an animalistic anger overtook his features. Of course, the expression was gone again before Harry could catch up with the conversation, replaced by a rather smug one. “Ah, but now here is my idea.”

“I am afraid my stop is coming up here real soon, Mr. Riddle,” Harry jumped in real quick, trying to gain control of the conversation.

“Please, call me Tom,” Riddle said with a congenial smile. “It’s so simple, Harry. Two gentlemen meet accidentally, like you and I, no connection between them at all and never having spoken to each other before. Each one has someone that they would like to get rid of. Your wife, my father. So, they swap murders.”

Riddle paused looking proud of himself and the two spent a moment in silence before Harry caught on that he was suppose to comment on the matter.

“Swap murders,” he stated in disbelief before chuckling, it was not as though Riddle was serious after all, and the idea was quite ingenious in a, er, murderous kinda way.

“Yes, one wizard does the other wizards murder, that way nothing ties them to the crime.”

“Why would you want someone to murder your father in the first place?” Harry asked, and immediately wished he hadn’t as Riddle’s features twisted inhumanly.

“My father is a perfect waste of space that does not even deserve to lick a house elf’s feet, let alone have been married to my mother. He married her and abandoned her to die when she was pregnant with me only to come back after she had passed to collect me out of obligation. And yet he has the impudence to insult the magic that flows through my veins and act as if I am a burden that must be bared.” Riddles breath came out heavy as his fists clenched. “I hate him.”

“Okay,” Harry said breathlessly under the sheer weight of Riddle’s hatred, simply agreeing to get Riddle to stop talking about it. Though perhaps he should have not said anything as now Riddle’s attention had snapped back to him as if he had forgotten about his presence.

His emotions drained neatly, leaving behind a blank mask observing Harry - who twitched uncomfortably under the quizzical gaze but did not look away. A heavy feeling settled over the compartment that Harry couldn’t quite identify.

After several minutes, a grin spread across Riddle’s face.

“Okay.”

And everything snapped into place with that one word; the heavy feeling abating and settling into something more defined.

A horn blared, alerting passengers to the upcoming stop and making Harry jump slightly. Spell broken, he quickly looked toward the window, gesturing uselessly.

“Well, this is me.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Riddle said softly, his dark eyes still devouring Harry. “It was nice meeting you, Harry.”

“You as well, thank you, Tom, for, well, you know,” he said with a smile as he got up and patted down his suit, stumbling slightly as he headed towards the compartment door. Harry turned back as he crossed through the frame, lifting his hand in a half-hearted wave that Riddle returned before he shut the door, blocking out the undecipherable expression on Riddle’s face as he hurried down the hallway and out onto the platform.

Man, he hoped Hermione and Ron had some sobriety potions at their house.

___

Riddle settled back into his seat smirking smugly at the newspaper left lying on the train compartment’s table.

His the hand that has been resting by his side came up and slid the paper in question off the table, holding it between his fingers as his other hand came up to gently caressing the picture of one Harry Potter smiling happily and waving.

A twisted yet sincere smile appeared on Riddle lips before disappearing with a self assured nod of his head as he folded the paper and stood up to get his things in order, smoothing out his facial expression along with his suit before departing from the train as well.

Chapter Text

In his youth, Harry had found out the hard way that attempting to apparate while drunk was never a good idea. The memory of splinched limbs prompted him to wave down a taxi as soon as he was out of the train station, considering himself lucky that his friends had decided to buy a house in the non-magical part of town near Godric’s Hollow. It had been their hope that one day their future children would play together and that the close distance would help for the arrangement of play dates.

He visibly choked up at the thought and immediately tried to recompose himself as his taxi turned onto Hermione and Ron’s street.

Paying his fare after stumbling out of the taxi, Harry made his way up the sidewalk and to the front door before ringing the doorbell. It was not long before soft familiar steps were heard and the door opened to reveal the bushy hair of Hermione Granger-Weasley.

“Hiya, ‘Mione. Don’t suppose you have a sobriety potion I can have and a couch I can crash on for the night?” he chirped, trying to lighten the mood.

Taking in the appearance of the man before her Hermione sighed, “Oh, Harry,” before guiding him in a hug and dragging him into the house and towards the kitchen. Harry sat himself down on one of the benches that lined the island countertop in the middle of the kitchen while Hermione darted back out of the room to fetch one of her potions from her lab.

Ron, who was apparently in the middle of cooking dinner, took one look at him before ducking down to open a drawer and retrieving a bag. His seeker reflexes kicked in as Ron threw a potato towards him from the bag before setting a number of potatoes on the counter and extending a peeler to him. Harry took the offered tool before starting in on his first potato in silence until Hermione returned, setting the sobriety potion in front of him which he gladly downed in one go.

Harry made a face at the bitter taste, but appreciated the immediate effects the potion had for the headache he hadn’t even noticed he had till it was gone.

“Harry. . .” Hermione started before trailing off. “How much should we trust what the papers have been saying?”

He shifted in his seat awkwardly before sighing and setting down the potato he had been working on.“You know ‘Mione, for once the rag is actually pretty accurate.”

Hermione simply nodded, considering. Ron said nothing, though the potato that he had been peeling was a little more cut into than the rest he had done, as if more pressure had been applied to it.

“What are you going to do.” She asked, the exact question that Harry had been asking himself.

“I- I don’t know.”

Hermione hmmed. “Well what do you want out of the situation. A divorce? To work past it and raise the child together? Or would the fact that its not yours be a deal breaker?”

“I guess I really just want to know why, you know? Why she cheated on me. A-and I really wouldn’t mind raising the kid, even though it isn’t mine. I have always wanted a family, you know that.” That was true enough, though this was not exactly how he had expected to have one. The why was the biggest question burning in his mind right now though.

“That is a question left up to Myrtle to answer. So, you know what questions you want answered and a possibility of the future you want. All that is left is actually talking to her and knowing no matter what the outcome that you will always have people in your corner,” Hermione said with a smile leaning forward on the counter next to him. Everything always sounded more logical when broken down by Hermione, and Harry couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face.

“Yeah, I suppose I will.”

The rest of the preparations for dinner where relatively quiet, with some direction of what to do from Ron every now and then.

Harry was still partially full from his meal on the train, but he still took a small portion at dinner.

“Not much of an appetite there, mate?” Ron asked with a shared look with his wife. A weak appetite was a sure sign of heartbreak in his books.

“No, I ate on the train ride over here.”

“As well as having plenty to drink as well apparently,” came Hermione’s disapproving retort, though Harry didn’t take much offense from it since it was obvious she was just worried about him.

“Yeah.” There was no disagreeing with that, he could hardly remember what all Riddle - Tom - and he had talked about with all he had drank.

The rest of dinner went off without much fanfare as the trio caught up with what had been going on in each other’s lives, besides the obvious. Hermione was apparently working on a new piece of legislature that would help educate muggleborns about their magic at a younger age. She said it was still in the works, but Harry was sure that she would be able to push it though remembering her campaign for S.P.E.W. during their Hogwarts years. Ron, on the other hand, was quite content to let his wife blaze the trails while he stayed at home and took care of the house, though he had come up with a new recipe a week or so ago.

Let it be known that while Hermione’s talent for comforting lay with her words, Ron’s lay with his cooking and it wasn’t long after dinner before Harry had a plate of treacle tarts on the table before him.

Harry sent Ron an appreciative smile before nibbling on the corner of one.

Maybe everything would be better in the morning.

__

Everything was not better in the morning.

Harry’s wake up call came in the shape of a rather wide eyed Hermione flanked by two Aurors who had apparently been sent to find him. The rest of the morning was a rush as he hurried to get dressed and was then side-along apparated to the Ministry.

After checking in at the front desk, and receiving a name tag that stated that he was a “suspect”, Harry was led to the Auror Department and into a small room by his two escorts and then left alone without a word. Staring at the door that was no doubt locked, Harry wandered over to the table in the middle of the room that had a chair on either side and took a seat facing the door. It felt like hours before anybody came, though afterwards Harry wished that they simply would have let him stay alone and clueless in that room for the rest of his life. As it happened though, two Aurors entered the room after a time and introduced themselves.

“Hello, Mr. Potter. I am Auror Scrimgeour and this is my associate, Auror Tonks. Are you aware that you wife was murdered in your home last night?” came the rather blunt announcement as the man stood across the table from him, while his partner stayed in the corner near the door.

“N-no, what? W-what do you mean that Myrtle has been murdered?” Harry stuttered out in shock, his eyes darting back and forth between the two people in front of him searching for any signs that was they were saying was a lie. “You’re not serious are you?”

“We are sorry, Mr. Potter, for your loss.” Auror Tonks said softly. She is definitely the good cop in this situation, he thought hysterically.

“Due to the current situation, you must understand that you are one of our only current suspects at the moment,” Scrimgeour said, his face quite grim and his gaze never wavering as he stared at Harry.

“You think I murdered her.”

“We don’t know who murdered her, but it stands to reason that you may have, yes,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That is why we brought you in today, Mr. Potter. We need your statement under Veritaserum as to you location last night and other such information. Now, you may refuse the Veritaserum, but you understand how that would paint you rather guilty.”

“I accept the questioning under Veritaserum, Auror Scrimgeour.” Harry answered back, his eyes cold.

“Excellent, Auror Tonks.” He nodded towards her and she stumbled from her corner, withdrawing a vial with a stopper from her pocket. Drawing out the correct dosage, she gestured for Harry to open his mouth before putting three drops on his tongue.

The questions started out quite standard.

“What is your name?”

“Harry James Potter.”

“When were you born?”

“July 31, 1980.”

“Mr. Potter do you have an alibi for your location between the times of 6:30 and 9:30 yesterday evening?”

“Yes, I was at the Granger-Weasleys. I arrived there at about five.”

All pretense was dropped after that.

“Did you murder your wife?”

“No.”

A look was shared between the two Aurors before the older one nodded for the younger to administered the antidote before she left the room.

“Thank you for your cooperation in this situation, Mr. Potter. I hope you don’t mind staying for a few more questions? Is there anyone you know that would want to hurt your wife?”

“No, of course not Auror Scrimgeour. Not anyone I can think of.” Harry answered truthfully, though there was something ticking the back of his mind, a half formed memory that he just couldn’t get to surface. His eyebrows furrowed.

Scrimgeour was distracted from his questioning when another Auror entered the room, whispering something in his ear that he nodded to before the woman exited and he turned his attentions back to Harry.

“Well, Mr. Potter, I see no reason to hold you any longer, but if there is anything that pops up, please alert us. I am afraid this is a rather high profile case and that the media has already caught wind of it. As they are currently waiting outside the Auror Department to hound you, I offer my private floo for your use.”

Harry nodded blankly at the Auror, following him out of the interrogation room and to his private office.

Grabbing a handful of floo powder, Harry hesitated for a moment for speaking.

“I know you can't say much about the case, but you said my wife was murdered in our home. H-how- where-?”

Scrimgeour looked at him in an indecipherable way before his eyes shone a bit in pity. “We are not sure how she died. It is almost as if her heart simply stopped beating, but it doesn't look like the Killing Curse. We do know that she was killed in the bathroom on your first floor though. A young man that was planning to meet her that evening found her there.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding his thanks at Scrimgeour and turning to floo home.

Chapter Text

Myrtle was murdered here.

That very thought, no matter how hurt and angry he had been with her, made Harry want to fall to his knees. He stepped into his house from the fireplace while releasing a shaky breath to steady himself.

It was only after he was no longer standing in the ashes of his fireplace that he allowed himself to break down, his back hitting the wall as he slid to the ground.

Merlin, how had his world come falling down on top of him so fast?

Perhaps he was an idiot, but even after everything, Harry had still had hope that his wife’s pregnancy had simply been from a one night stand that didn’t matter and that they could work past it.

No matter if the child was not his, Harry would have loved it and raised it regardless of that fact.

Now though he would never get the chance to confront his wife, to raise a child with her - hell, even to divorce her if that was what she wanted.

His eyes refused to continue to shed tears after a while, simply aching instead as he stared blindly into space before pushing himself up off the floor and continuing on down the hallway towards the bathroom.

It looked far too innocent for all that had happened there. No blood, nothing in disarray. The Aurors had told him as much, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of how wrong it all was. As if there was something he was forgetting.

Harry was pulled out of his melancholy state by the sound of knocking. The image of all the reporters that had apparently awaited him outside the Aurors office immediately sprung to mind and he was half tempted to ignore it, especially given the time of night. However, the thought that it might be Ron or Hermione made him drag his feet to the eyehole to check.

To his surprise the sight that greeted him was neither the familiar faces of his friends nor a camera toting reporter. It took Harry a second before his brain registered the familiar form of one Tom Riddle with whom he had shared a train car. It took a few more before he decided to open his door to him.

“Harry, I am sorry about the time of my visit, but may I come in?” Riddle said with a small smile as he stood on Harry’s door step at nearly one in the morning as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Harry did not even want to know how Riddle knew where he lived.

The ordeals of the day left Harry numb and he didn’t reply, which Riddle took as all the invitation he needed as he nodded his head before making his way past Harry and into his living room.

Blinking away his stupor Harry closed the door and turned in time to see that Riddle had made himself comfortable in the armchair that was placed in the center of the room. It was as if by placing himself there Riddle was demanding all the attention of the room, even though there was only Harry present.   

“What are you doing here at this time of night, Mr. Riddl- sorry, Tom?” Harry corrected himself as Riddle sent him a sharp look.

“Well, you don’t seem very pleased to see me, Harry.” Harry would have thought that he had insulted Riddle if it weren’t for the amused look that had been shot his way along with the remark.

Harry was preparing to tell Riddle that no, in fact he wasn’t pleased to see him because he had been through a rather rough day and if he could please just let him sleep--

The next moment all thoughts left him as he spotted a glint of light reflecting off  of Riddle’s hand.

“T-Tom, why are you wearing Myrtle’s wedding ring?” Harry stammered out his eyes wide as they stared unblinkingly at it, the whispers of suspicion that had been at the back of his mind since seeing Riddle on his porch becoming a roar.

“Hmm?” Riddle hummed drawing a finger across the surface of the mentioned ring on his pinky finger before saying, “I suppose I liked the design of it. Sadly it didn’t fit on my ring finger since Mrs. Potter had such slim fingers.”

The blasé tone incensed Harry and his next question was fueled with anger. “Why do you have it?”

“Ah, that.” Riddle observed Harry’s defensive stance and enraged face all the while smiling like an amused child at a fluffed up hissing kitten. “I have always had this thing for collecting little treasures from my achievements. And one’s first murder is quite the achievement, wouldn’t you say?”

“No! No I would not say! How could you- why would you-”

“Why, Harry, are you telling me you’ve completely forgotten about our plans? About our oath?” Now it did sound as though Harry had insulted the other man. Riddle raised himself up from the armchair in a fluid motion, stalking across the room in a way that had Harry back pedaling to get away from him.

His escape was ruined when his back hit the wall and Riddle stood directly in front of him, too close for it to be comfortable, even if he wasn’t looking at him in the way he was.

“What oath?” Harry whispered confusedly, eyes wide. The situation he had found himself in was a bit too unrealistic and his thoughts were scrambled by a simmering rage that was kept back by panic and, though he loath to admit it, fear for the man in front of him.

“The one we made on the train, my dear. Where we agreed to swap murders, your wife and my father.” Tom leaned forward with murderous excitement shining in his eyes, taking away what little space between them there had been between the two. His voice had matched Harry’s in volume as if not to scare him any further, though the excitement behind his words did nothing to calm him. “And seeing as how I have taken care of my end of the bargain, all that is left now is your lot.”

The Harry’s eyes widened at the statement and what exactly it meant, his heart pounding and his breath coming out in ragged little breaths.

Riddle leaned away again, returning some of Harry’s personal space while still keeping him pinned before continuing.

“Now, don’t worry about planning anything. I already have everything ready for you and-”

“No! No, I never agreed to this. I had nothing to do with this, and the Aurors will believe me.” He was outright snarling now, his anger having overcome his fear. A bit of spit landed on Riddle’s face from his yelling. Served the bastard right.

“Harry if you go to the police now, you’ll be doing nothing but turning yourself in as an accessory.” Riddle deadpanned, his features dark. Riddle gave a put out sigh when all Harry did was glare at him.

“The way the Aurors will see it we planned it together, even made an oath.” He explained patiently, the picture of reason. If reason was a murdering psychopath.

“You keep saying that: oath. When in the bloody hell did we make an oath? Cause I for one do not remember doing that.” He felt like he was grasping at a floaty in the middle of a hurricane, but the one thing he was sure of in this mad situation was that he had never made such an oath.

“Magic is all about intention, my dear. It senses our desires, our wishes and makes them so. We both agreed, remember? Okay, okay.” Riddle’s voice had a mocking lit to it had the end.

Harry paled as a broken memory laced with alcohol came back to him.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

Riddle stared at him in consideration.

“We will continue our plans, Harry, but perhaps this is a bad time. I’ll come back again at a later date when you are a little more put together.” The man in front of him murmured before completely stepping out of Harry’s personal space and making his way back to the front hallway. Harry did nothing but follow the mans path with his eyes. Before fully exiting the house Riddle turned to look back over his shoulder, smirking slightly when they met gazes.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

And just like that, Harry was left standing in the middle of his living room alone and feeling like his world had been shattered for the second time that day.

Chapter Text

Tom Marvolo Riddle was, as far as appearances, a model citizen working his way up in the Ministry. He had started as an intern for one of the lower Departments straight out of Hogwarts and had slowly worked his way up to being the Minister’s secretary. If rumors were to be believed he had worked his way from rags to riches with nothing but pure ambition and hard work.

What rumors leave out are the mysterious resignations, back alley alliances, and cutthroat politics that followed Riddle into whatever Department he worked in.

“Report.”

“Granger-Weasley is currently pushing to get her bill to go through, and from the appearances of the vote currently she will be successful. How would you like for us to proceed?” Lucius said, his head held high even as he reported to a man over twenty years younger to him.

Tom didn’t look up from his paperwork as he answered. “Allow for it to go through, but make sure to push for adding certain clauses, such as the withdrawing of the magical child from the premises should there be signs of abuse and the such. Also make sure that along with being introduced to our world that they are introduced to our customs. With a muggleborn pushing this law and the legislation currently overrun with Light wizards we are more likely to try to control the field by piggy backing off the bill and adding our own politics to it than by trying to deny it. For now.”

“Of course, my lord.” Lucius Malfoy bowed slightly before exiting the office.

Tom smirked as he watched him leave. It had taken him years, but he had finally trained his older pets, the patriarchs of the families he had courted to his side in school. He knew he would with time, of course, but the surge of power he felt at their obedience still always served to excited him.

His original plan had been to completely change his name, earning his power under an alias.

An idiotic childhood plan.

No, Tom Riddle would take his filthy father’s name and reshape it to his designs in another manner, by making sure no one would even remember where the name came from and what it represented: his impure blood. He would force the Wizarding World to acknowledge him despite their prejudices and he would rule them in time.

That didn’t mean of course that his filthy father would get to keep his life, but that matter would also take care of itself. His thoughts turned to the man with whom he had tricked into making an oath and he smirked as he set down his quill.

It had been two days since he had visited Harry in his home to remind him of the oath he had unwittingly made, but the look of pure terror and confusion on the man’s face still clung to his thoughts.

So lovely, it was quite a distraction from work.

Harry Potter was the only weakness Tom Marvolo Riddle allowed himself.

It was a weakness that he honestly did not notice until it was too late. By the time it had been noticed his attachment to the older boy had grown into something uncontrollable and dark. Much like himself.

The first sense of affection came after Potter had stood up for him against some of his own Gryffindor classmates who had decided to target the first-year Slytherin outcast. He knew that the older boy wasn’t truly doing it for him, that he simply had a hero complex that demanded he stand up for anyone he thought needed help, a truly pathetic trait, yet the affection he felt still lingered along with a bit of hope.

A hope he had not felt since his father, had come to the orphanage that he had called home for six years and adopted him, only to be squashed when he discovered the act was done simply out of self preservation to save face. It was the type of hope that came with the thought of finally having someone, friend, father, brother, someone who would be there and who would care.

“You okay there?” The boy with the kind green eyes asked, offering Tom a hand up off the ground. His hands, Tom noticed, were slightly calloused and rough but felt comfortable in his own. The feeling was gone too quickly as the other boy retracted his hand as soon as Tom was on his feet.

“. . .Yes.”

“That’s good.” He nodded, glancing awkwardly down the hall before returning his his gaze to Tom. Realizing the younger was not going to say much more than that as he clutched a book that looked amusingly big for him to his chest and stared, Harry rearranged the strap of his bag on his shoulder and made his move to leave.

“Well, try to avoid wandering alone, alright? And if those guys ever bother you again tell someone.”

Watching him leave with his blank eyes, it was not until Harry had rounded the corner and was out of sight that Tom whispered under his breath.

“Thank you.”

The older boys did try to bully him again, and sadly for them they suffered from a rather nasty accident that landed them in the infirmary all the way through their O.W.L.s. They did not even think to bother him after that.

He did not speak to Potter again after that incident.

Yet the damned emotions simply did not go away.

Seeking to catch even glimpses of Potter he attended every Quidditch game, knowing that even if the lion was not in the sky he would be in the crowds watching. But the real treat was when he was flying. Harry was an attractive wizard, but when he flew he was a force of nature, unpredictable and beautiful in the chaos he brought to the field.

After proving himself and gaining power and connections within his own house, Tom thought his feelings for Harry would slowly drift into memory. Who needed hopes and dreams when they had power, after all? But the connections and followers he had gained merely made gaining access to information about the Potters that much more simple. When he asked (ordered) Draco Malfoy to lend him his family’s lineage journals, more specifically those containing the Potter’s bloodline, he knew the other assumed that he was simply looking to see whether or not Potter was worthy of recruiting into his following.

He instead had found something much more interesting, the fact that he and the older boy were more connected than he originally thought with them being related several generations back through the Peverell brothers. His younger self had been convinced that must have been what originally drew him to Harry; the undeniable feeling of kin.

The search for information did not end there, though he kept his search private not wanting to risk revealing his hand to his ever so loyal followers. Tom made sure to keep tabs on the older boy even after they had both left Hogwarts with Harry pursuing his career (recruited by the Chudley Cannons right out of Hogwarts), making many visits to St. Mungos (his Harry had always been one for getting injured and it seemed his professional career showed no change there), and getting married (Miss Myrtle Moana, average magical skills and grades, Ravenclaw, Hogwarts sweetheart, pathetic).

Tom destroyed his office after learning about Harry’s upcoming marriage. That was also when he realized that the affections he had previously put down for being familial were not so. It seemed he would have to rework what plans he had for Harry Potter.

Tom Riddle was an obsessive man and there is a thing about obsession: it outlives everything.

Even love.

Chapter Text

The last two days had been gone by in a whirlwind of murmured apologies and well wishes from friends and family alongside the hounding of reporters that Harry had been lucky enough to avoid. For now.

But avoiding his problems (most specifically Riddle) was not going to work forever, and thus Harry had found himself searching for a way out of his supposed Unbreakable Vow.

Originally he had planned on going to Hermione and Ron for help. Between Hermione’s brain power and Ron’s encouragement and unique view on things, the Golden Trio would figure it out.

“Shit, mate.” Ron said when Harry stumbled through the floo.

Whether he was referring to the escalation of Harry’s cheating situation to a murder situation, Harry’s own disheveled appearance, or both was left unsaid.

He had partially come to the Granger-Weasley household for their help and support. Their home was also a way of escaping the constant knocking and flurry of owls that had started as soon as the sun had risen.

After a stressful and sleepless night of wondering just how anything that was happening was even real, the reassertion that it was in fact just that was not welcome.

Shit indeed.

It was this moment that Hermione decided to join them and he received his second Hermione Hug ™  of the past twenty-four hours that was joined by the other half of the Granger-Weasley duo. Standing sandwiched between the two, Harry allowed himself to relax for the first time since this whole mess had started.

“How are you holding up, Har?” Hermione asked  into Harry’s shoulder.

His hands gripped the material of the back of Hermione’s jumper and his eyes prickled, though no tears sprung forth.

“About as shittily as could be expected.” Harry jokingly answered.

“That well, huh?” Ron joked back, keeping with the quasi cheerful mood Harry had set. A dry choked laugh worked its way up his throat as he bitterly smiled.

“Yeah.”

The conversation stopped there and the three of them simply held each other as if they were trying to keep Harry together with their synchronized breathing.

This is why he had come here, for the support and understanding of his friends. Hopefully they would be just as supporting and understanding once they knew the truth of Myrtle’s murder.

“Listen I-” He began only to be interrupted by a frenzied knock sounding from the front door.

Both Hermione and Ron automatically stiffened.

“Aren’t you going to go get that?” Harry questioned, his brows furrowing.

Ron frowned, his eyes going to the corner of the room as he shifted his weight.

“Nah, its probably just the muggle post.”

The knocking persisted, growing louder and more frequent until a call joined in, the same one Harry had been hearing this morning at his own door.

“Mr. and Mrs. Granger-Weasley, this is Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet and we were just wondering if you’d mind giving us a quote about the atrocity-”

“They’ve been hounding you too.”

“Harry, its fine.” Hermione said, looking nervously over at Ron. “We’ll just ignore them and put a silencing charm on the door and-”

“They’ve been hounding you because of me.” Harry cut her off, pulling away from the double embrace.

“Excuse you, Harry Potter, but reporters have been bothering this family ever since I joined the political circus. Just because in this particular event it is your name they are interested in smearing across the pages does not mean that this is your fault.” She reprimanded, her hands going to her hips as they dropped from his shoulders.

“What she said.” Ron agreed, frowning slightly towards the direction of the door. “You can’t control the actions of others anyhow.”

Despite their reassurances though, Harry knew then that he couldn’t drag them into this. Into the madness that would delve into far more than crazed reporters after a scoop to the sordid oath that Riddle had forced upon him. Not more than he already had just by being their friend.

“Of course not. Thanks guys.” He replied lightly as he smiled and looked down instead of continuing the explanation he had prepared. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances as he did, not completely convinced that all was well.

“No problem, mate.”

“We’ll always be here in your corner. Should you need us.”

“Well, right now I just need to forget the rest of the world exists for a bit, yeah?” Harry said with more cheer than he actually felt.

“That is something we can definitely help you with.” Hermione smiled as she wordlessly flicked her wand in the direction of Skeeter’s nasally voice, silencing the house once more.

The Trio had spend the rest of the morning avoiding all mention of the outside world as Ron and Harry played chess while Hermione watched them from her reading chair, smiling every now and again when one of the boys exclaimed over a move. At least until it was time to go that is.

“Thank you guys. I really needed this.”

“Absolutely no problem, Har. Our floo is open to you at any time.” Hermione said with a smile as she reached for the floo powder resting on the mantle. As she did Ron blinked a few times, quizzically, before he spoke.

“One question though, what were you going to say before the knocking started?”

Harry stood frozen, having forgotten in his time there what he had originally come for and the situation he was currently tied up in.

“Nothing major. I was just going to say how thankful I am to have you two.”

Not giving the pair any time to ask further questions, Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder before stepping into the fireplace with his next destination already in mind. The deal he had found himself in was surely dark in nature, and there was only one place he knew that would have the information he needed.

“Number 12 Grimmauld Place.”

Which is what had led him to hiding out in his godfather's library for the past couple of days as he scavenged for anything related to oaths, bonds, and deals. All the while letting his family and friends believe that he was searching for a way to catch Myrtle's murderer, which in a way was partly true.

“Do you need anything, prongslet? Water, tea, firewhiskey?”

“No thanks, Uncle Sirius. I just need to focus.” Harry mumbled, not taking his eyes off the tome he was currently skimming for the key phrases that would hopefully get him out of the mess he had unknowingly made.

"You sure about that? Firewhiskey can be pretty eye-opening. Back at Hogwarts-" 

"Sirius, I'm fine." Harry snapped, only to immediately regret it as Sirius' face fell. "Sorry, it's just that I haven't found anything helpful in the past two days and. . ."

"A lot has happened, Harry. Things that my "forever childishness" as Remus so fondly puts it won't help in remedying. I know. But not taking a mental health break or something here isn't doing you any favours either." Sirius walked across the room from where he had been standing in the doorway, the comforting weight of his hand resting on Harry's shoulder. "Which is why as the head of this house I am officially banishing you from this room for the next twenty-four hours."

Harry jolted at the words, going into a slight panic as Sirius collected up the books Harry had been reading and carelessly set them down on the end of a shelf. He moved to follow and retrieve them once again only to find his godfather's arm wrapping around his shoulders and escorting him in the opposite direction.

"What, Sirius no you don't understand I have to-"

"Get out of this dark and mangy place and get some sunlight. Maybe fly around. You're team is having an open practice tomorrow I hear, I'm sure that'll help calm your nerves down." Sirius said cheerfully as he guided Harry to the floo. "So, scram, prongslet."

He held up the floo powder jar for Harry's use and the two stared at each other before he tilted his head like the dog animagus he was before grinning and suggesting, "Unless you want to use my motorcycle instead?"

Harry quickly grabbed a handful of powder and stepped into the fireplace.

"No, no, that's all right I'll just go now." 

Sirius chuckled a bit before turning grim.

"I'm serious though, Harry. You need to get some rest and sunlight. You're killing yourself here."

"I know you're serious, Uncle Sirius." Harry joked, drawing a small smile from his godfather before he flooed away to his home. 

Too bad his godfather didn't know it wasn't himself he was worried about killing.

Chapter Text

Harry was the last of his team mates to walk into the changing room for the scrimmage that day. To assuage his godfather’s worries Harry had planned on asking to be included in the game only to be denied his request due to being emotionally compromised.

That plan had ended up not working out in his favour.

It had turned out the alternate seeker suffered from extreme anxiety when crowds were involved. The coach had been more than eager to have him back on the pitch.

He pulled on his Quidditch robes as his teammates scattered about around him casually sneaking glances his way when they thought he wouldn’t notice. Each time their eyes met the back of his head his shoulders tensed just a bit more.

Why had Sirius thought this would be a good idea?

“Come on, Potter! Let’s get moving!”

“Give me a second!” Harry yelled back as he secured the buckle of his boot. Grabbing his broom he darted out of the changing room, colliding with another body.

“Excuse me-”“I’m so sorry-” They both started.

Harry blinked.

“Ginny?”

The disheveled red-head whom he had crashed into just moments before broke out into a grin before hugging him.

“Harry! How are you?” She pulled back suddenly her eyes widening realizing what exactly she had asked. “I mean, despite everything. That is to say-Geeze, sorry. You’re probably here so you don’t have to think about it. And now I’m making you think about it. Ignore everything I just said.”

“It’s fine, Ginny.” He shook his head, officially clearing away the awkward atmosphere that had begun to settle around them. “I didn’t know we were scrimmaging with the Holyhead Harpies. How’s all that going?”

“Training’s hell. We travel all over the world on what seems to be a weekly basis. My teammate’s are disgusting.” She listed off before grinning. “I love it.”

He gave a startled laugh to her response, one of the first real ones he had experienced in awhile.

“Sounds like the Quidditch life.”

Ginny leaned back on her heels, balancing herself with her broom.

“Yeah, though mum’s still not entirely happy about the whole traveling constantly thing especially with the empty nest and all, but she’s getting used to it.”

“It probably helps that the nest isn’t looking like it’ll stay empty for much longer.” Harry said. “What with all the different Weasley pairs settling down and Fleur in her second trimester.”

“Grandchildren, grandchildren galore.” Ginny joked back. “Mum will love that.”

She bit her lip, shifting the weight of her broom as she did so before speaking again.

“Listen, the game’s about to start, but do you want to continue catching up afterwards? Maybe go to Florean’s or something for old time’s sake? Just do something. . .”

“Normal. I could definitely use some normal with everything lately.” Harry finished with a grin that made Ginny blush, and though he didn’t notice someone else did.

The two did not register it as the hallway became just a bit darker, the shadows flickering around their feet.

“Great! I’ll meet you outside the entrance after the game then?” Ginny asked, already moving towards her team’s side of the pitch.

“Sure, see you then. Good luck out there.”

She laughed, “I’d tell you the same thing, but you’ve always seemed to be made of liquid luck on the pitch.” She laughed, and with a wink disappeared out of sight. Harry smiled softly to himself.

Maybe Sirius had a point after all.

He headed towards his teammate’s side of the pitch just in time to hear the beginning of their captain’s game speech. The captain nodded his head at him before continuing.

“Alright, remember that this is just a friendly game, so I don’t want to see any foul moves out there. But that doesn’t mean we can afford to lose either, we got a pretty big crowd out there. So Wilkes and Mumford if you need to aim the bludgers just a wee bit too close to someone’s head feel free. Now let’s clip these Harpies’ wings!”

The team headed out onto the field with a roar and was met with an answering noise from the crowd that had come to watch the scrimmage. It was much larger than the normal crowd for scrimmages like this and seeing as how many of the audience members were holding notepads or cameras it was rather obvious as to what exactly they were there for.

Settling into a spot in the air above the other players Harry began to scan the field for the snitch, keeping mindful of the eyes that were settled upon him.

The game went slowly as the snitch was nowhere to be found for the majority of the first half, only flickered into sight to be lost once again as he and Ginny dove after it.

Halfway through the game it streaked across Harry’s vision and he immediately followed only to stop suddenly.

Harry’s vision froze as the snitch swung around to his left side and disappeared out of sight again as Ginny hurdled after it.

Riddle.

Riddle was in the crowd.

Their eyes met across the pitch and Riddle tilted his head to the side before smirking slightly at Harry and gesturing to the left side of the pitch.

His senses immediately returned to him just in time to avoid a bludger that had been sent his way. Coming out of his defensive roll Harry studiously did not look back into the crowd. Ginny gave him a worried look from her new lookout position, having apparently lost sight of the snitch in the time Harry had zoned out. He sent a reassuring smile her way before settling into a new position himself.

The burning feel of eyes watching him settled heavily on his mind and halfway through the game he snuck a peek at the crowd once more only to have a shiver go up his spine at the sight that awaited him. As everyone else’s gaze was following the action on the field, even those of the nosy reporters who were obviously there to get a scoop on his life, Riddle’s gaze remained on Harry himself.

It was making it rather hard to focus on finding the snitch.

Harry was suddenly furious.

Riddle had murdered his wife, tricked him into an Unbreakable Vow, and now was invading the his only sanctuary.

It was this anger that led Harry to catch the snitch, winning his team the game, and march off the pitch to the changing rooms where he shoved his limbs into his regular robes. Robotically accepting his teammate’s congratulations and denying invitations to go out for drinks afterwards, he marched out into the most abandoned part of the hallway and waited.

Riddle was a bastard, but he was also a predictable bastard. Harry knew he wouldn’t  be able to pass up an opportunity to get him alone in a dark corner and ramble on about how it was Harry’s turn to fulfill his end of the deal.

Fuck him.

It seemed ridiculous that Quidditch of all things was what finally made him snap, but it was honestly something that had been coming for a long time and had only been held back by fear at this point.

But Harry was pissed and tired of feeling helpless in this situation. It was well over time to confront Riddle.

Even if he wasn’t completely prepared to do so.

Chapter Text

It was always a pleasure being able to see Harry fly, even as distracted as he was today by Tom’s own presence. The very sight of him in the air served to create a heavy feeling in Tom’s chest, leaving him breathless. Admittedly, just Harry himself was able to excite more emotion than Tom was used to feeling.

The twisted elation Tom felt from Harry’s prone figure awaiting him took even himself by surprise though.

How sophomoric he was being lately. A side effect of having the one person he had been obsessed with for years nearly within  his grasp surely. Somewhere Tom would make sure he stayed thereafter, Oath or no Oath.

That Harry was already waiting for him without having to shove him up against a wall was progress in itself. Tom had thought for sure he would have to corner Harry after the match for them to have their conversation. It seemed everything was progressing faster than he had originally thought.

Good, Tom thought, he is already starting to accept that this is a situation he can not run away from. Tom had known this would eventually be his Chosen One’s reaction. It was so very Gryffindor of him. Something that would have to be taught out of him eventually, but for the moment was incredibly useful.

He cast a notice me not charm and silencio. The following conversation was better unheard by any passerby or nosy reporter.

“Hello, Harry.”

Tom’s casual greeting caused Harry to jump, his wild green eyes whipping around.

It seemed despite expecting confrontation Harry was still off balance. Time to tip him over.

“Riddle.” Harry spat, his eyes tracking Tom’s movements as he came to lean against the wall across from him, casually crossing his arms as if this was a simple chat between friends.

“Have you thought much more on my business proposition?” Tom inquired, keeping his tone light.

The green-eyed man across from him narrowed his eyes, his features twisting. How very lovely.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a proposition. That would imply that you’re giving me a choice.”

Tom gave a surprised chuckle. There was the spitfire he so enjoyed from his Gryffindor counterpart. 

“So you’ve accepted that you really don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“I said you’re not giving me one. Not that I won’t make my own.”

He really was adorable like this. All determined and furious. Tom’s mouth quirked up.

“Clever, crafty man, do you really think you can continue to try to break an Unbreakable Vow?”

“Or die trying.” Came the quiet reply. A cold flash of fury crossed his chest. Oh, that would not do at all.

“Precisely, you will die trying. Which believe it or not is something I would rather not occur.” Tom stoneley replied.

“Yes, because your concern for my well being is such a big thing I’ve noticed about you. How could I possibly think you’d want me dead?” Harry mocked, a confused frown settling on his face.

“Now Harry,” He straighten himself up to his full height, sauntering towards Harry who cringed but stood his ground as Riddle came well within his personal space. “When have I ever showed any interest in your death? My father’s, yes I admit that is something I want. Your useless wife’s? Definately. But yours?” He smiled lightly, lifting his hand to cup Harry’s cheek and tilt the shorter man’s head up. “Never.”

“You make it sound as if you expect me to live forever.” Harry croaked, clearly trying not to focus on the tender yet murderous gaze of the younger man.

“In time.”

“Humans aren’t meant to live forever, Riddle.” He said quietly. Tom’s grip on his face tightened before releasing him entirely.

“Muggles and weaklings aren’t meant to live at all. Wizards like us though, we are meant to be eternal. To carry on while all else around us wilts and dies, creating, leading, and destroying new civilizations as time progresses. We are the past, present, and future of this world.” Tom wildly gestured to the hall at large with his free hand, becoming so impassioned in his speech that he paid no mind to how the man in front of him pressed himself farther into the wall away from him.

“You’re mad.” Harry whispered in shock.

“That is what many would label me as.” Tom said without care. Harry didn’t understand yet, but he would with time. He would see to it, but first to get his Chosen One to split his soul as he had. “I digress. As I have said before, all plans are set in place where you are really doing none of the heavy work what-so-ever. All you have do you is show up.”

“And murder someone.”

“A muggle.”

“A person. Who no more deserves to die than anyone else no matter what you think of his not having magic!”

“He deserves to die more than any!” Tom roared, enraged that Harry was dismissing all he had told him about the man who was his father. “It is due to his negligence that my mother is dead, abandoning her when he found out what she was! Only to retrieve his child out of duty when the town discovered what he had done! Are those the actions of an innocent man, Harry?”

Tom was left heaving as Harry stood frozen, obviously attempting to think of a way to respond that would not end in physical confrontation. Though it seemed he was well prepared should confrontation be his only way out, Tom noted as he saw Harry slip his hand into his pocket to grip his wand.

“Riddle-Tom, what you’re father did was wrong. But justice is not meant to be served through vigilante actions.”

“Oh, I want revenge, Harry.” Tom whispered, leaning in so that his lips were touching Harry’s ear and enjoying the way it made the older man shiver slightly. “Not justice.”

Harry gulped, an action that Tom observed with fascination as he repositioned himself so that their faces were inches apart.

“And I can’t help you with that. Will you release me from the bond?”

Maroon eyes met emerald.

“No.”

“Then we really have nothing else to talk about, Riddle.”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Yes.”

Tom leaned back away from Harry once more, retreating back to his wall.

“Well, I suppose there is no reason to converse on the matter anymore for the moment then. I’m sure you have other matters you need to attend to.”

Harry looked at him suspiciously before taking his out and briskly walking away from Tom, his wand clutched in his hand as if he expected to be attacked from behind at any moment.

Tom experienced  a strong sense of deja vu as he watched Harry stiffly round the corner. He smirked.

“See you in a bit, darling.”

Walking in the opposite direction, Tom was just in time for the next part of his plan as he saw a figure emerge from the dressing rooms.

Purposefully jostling their shoulder as he walked by to send their bag careening to the floor he rearranged his mask to one of apology while she scurried to collect the contents of her bag that had scattered across the floor.

“I am so very sorry.”

Tom followed suit, picking up some of the items and offering them to her.

“Ugh, it’s fine. You know, this is the second time today I’ve run into someone. I really hope I’m not making this a habit.” The red-head said with a smile as she looked up at whom she had run into, blushing slightly at the smiling mask she was greeted with.  

“I’m sure they must have been so blinded by the beauty in front of them that they lost control of their motor skills.”

“I’m not really-that is to say-I, thank you.” She stammered, scratching behind her ear lightly. Looking at her watch she jumped. “Shoot.”

Tom tilted his head to the side questionly.

“Late for something?”

“I’m meeting up with a friend of mine.”

“Lucky guy.” He said jovially, straightening himself back to his full height. She followed suit, immediately shaking her head to his observation.

“It’s not like that, Harry and I are just friends.”

“Harry? As in Harry Potter? Well, I’ll be.” Tom chortled.

She stiffened.

“I’m not offering any quotes if that’s what you’re looking for. And off the record, I’ll hex you if you try to follow or harass us.” The woman snapped, her posture becoming defensive.

“No, no. Sorry, I guess I must seem pretty reporter-ish.” He conceded, holding out his hand that was taken suspiciously. “Tom Riddle, I was actually just going to meet up with Harry at the entrance as well. He told me he was going out with a friend to do something normal with everything that's been going on and invited me along to introduce us.” He grinned as he saw her slowly begin to accept his cover story, her posture softening.

“You must be Ginny then.”

Chapter Text

Harry attempted to catch his breath as he leaned against the wall next to the entrance of the arena’s underground. He had set into a run as soon as he was out of Riddle’s sight, not wanting to tempt fate by staying near him too long. The way that he had let Harry go at all after all his insisting, well, Harry couldn’t help but think that it was too easy.

“Harry!” He looked towards the voice, smiling when he saw Ginny waving at him from down the hallway. The smile froze on his face when he spotted the smirking figure behind her.

“I hope you don’t mind but I picked up a friend of yours that you were apparently going to introduce me to.” Riddle quirked an eyebrow at him over Ginny’s shoulder while she gave Harry a quizzical look that said they could ditch him if his story turned out to be a lie.

Merlin bless Ginny Weasley.

“Actually--”

“He was a little worried about us meeting,” The two Quidditch players turned to Riddle. He threw on a consoling look before continuing.  “And with the way those close to him have been targeted lately I can certainly understand the need for concern.”

Harry tensed at the thinly veiled threat.

“Yeah,” He croaked out, “I just want to be able to keep you safe.”

He looked down at his feet, unable to bear Riddle’s mask and was surprised when Ginny pulled him into a hug.

“Harry, you know we can take care of ourselves. You don’t need to protect us.”

“I’ll always be there to protect my friends.” He declared, looking Riddle dead in the eye over Ginny’s shoulder. All that he got in response was another smirk and quirked eyebrow.

“Shall we?” Riddle taunted over Ginny’s head.

----

“We’ll have your orders out shortly.” The waiter said with a slight nod of their head as Riddle waved them off.

Riddle had dragged them to a restaurant far above the par of what either of them would have chosen. Harry didn’t even want to begin to try to pronounce the name. The bastard even insisted on paying when the Quidditch players had remarked on the prices the restaurant boasted, or rather didn’t boast. You always knew you had to worry when the menu didn’t display the prices. Harry had been sure they would not even be able to get through the door with their pre-game sweat and gear, but was surprised when they were immediately escorted to a private booth as soon as Riddle had dropped his name.

“So, how do you two know each other anyways?” Ginny asked, leaning on her elbows and looking between the two males while attempting to fill the silence that had come over the table. Harry had made sure to sit in the middle of the booth, keeping the Ginny separated from the smirking bastard next to him.

“Harry here saved me from some bullies my first year at Hogwarts. They never bothered me again after that.” Riddle smiled but there was a shade of darkness to it that could be easily overlooked if one was not already aware of the nature of Tom Riddle.

Harry sat frozen at Riddle’s declaration. They had met before? How could he not remember this? Or was Riddle simply making up a convincing story as to why they knew each other. And what could he possibly achieve with this whole charade?

Ginny scrunched her nose as she batted away a bug buzzing its way around her head that had found its way into the building, “Sounds about right, he’s always had a hero complex.”

“He was certainly my hero from then on. With my hero-worship of him it was a surprise that he even agreed to date me, however briefly and secretively it was. I’m sure Harry’s told you all about that though.”

Harry sat ramprod. Well, that answered that question at least, Riddle was lying. Somehow knowing that was not reassuring at all. His stomach rolled as Ginny gave him an inquisitive glance.

“No, no he hasn’t.” Ginny cautioned.

Riddle flinched, his eyes widening as he adapted an apologetic look. He swung his head around to face Harry.

“Sorry, darling, I didn’t know you hadn’t told her.” Riddle apologized, then turned to address Ginny with a secretive smile. “But I don’t think you’ll have to worry about her telling anyone, you should have seen the way she nearly hexed me when she thought I was a reporter early.”

“Yes, I would have loved to have seen that.” Harry muttered bitterly under his breath, imaging Riddle having the chip on his shoulder hexed off.

“He’s right, Harry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Harry glanced at Ginny who had an encouraging smile on her face.“But why didn’t you ever mention it?”

“Slytherin Gryffindor politics are rather complicated. I’m sure you remember the incident where Blaise Zambini and Lavender Brown dated briefly.” Riddle responded with sad shrug. Ginny flinched, probably remembering how Zambini had been found hanging upside down from the Great Hall, stripped down to his underwear with the word “honorary Gryffindor” hexed across his skin in boils. The couple had broken up shortly after.

“Still, it’s terrible that you felt the need to hide it even from your friends, Harry. Were you ashamed of me?” Riddle entreated, a pout making its way onto his face that looked incredibly out of place.

Harry gave a mock smiled back. “It had completely slipped my mind actually. It was so brief, almost as if we had never dated in the first place.”

Riddle’s laughed in amusement at Harry’s quip. “Forgetful but not ashamed,”  Harry glared at Riddle’s obvious amusement only to be met with another secretive smile. A shiver went down his spine at the look and Harry wondered once again what it was Riddle was trying to achieve here. “Good to know.”

“I’m glad you two managed to stay friends.” Ginny chirped over the battle of wills taking place in front of her, stealing a look at the two men before taking a sip of her water to cover a smile.

“Yes, friends.” Riddle affirmed, his eyes still piercing Harry.

Their food then arrived and the rest of the meal passed in tense awkwardness, at least for him. Ginny and Riddle seemed to have hit it off as they prattled to one another, trading embarrassing stories about Harry. Which Riddle seemed to know far more about than Harry was comfortable with.

“So there he is sitting in the middle of Madam Puffingkins alone with this chicken eating off his plate and the only thing he says is: check, please.”

Ginny burst out in laughter, wiping a tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye as Harry sat glumly, slowly sinking down into his chair.

He perked back up as Riddle cast a Tempus, showing how late in the evening it was getting.

“Well, I’m sure with all the excitement you two have had today you’re about ready to drop right out of your chairs.” Riddle clucked and waved down their waiter to pay. The three exited the restaurant shortly thereafter.

“Good game today, Ginny. Can’t wait to face off against you for real in the next tournament.” Harry pulled her into a hug, blocking her from Riddle’s sight with his body. He certainly had not forgotten the threat that had led to this situation and was reluctant to let her go.

“We’ll kick you butt next time just you wait and see, Harry Potter.” Ginny said as she pulled away from the embrace.

“You can certainly try.” He goaded. She snorted and punched him in the arm before turning to Riddle.

“It's been lovely meeting you, Tom. Have a good rest of your evening, I’m sure you boys have a lot to catch up on.” Ginny winked as she twirled towards the apparation point. Riddle sent a charming smile and wave her direction.

“Until next time, dear Ginny.”

The two men watched as she apparated away. Few people were left in the Alley due to the time of night, and those who were present moved quickly and kept their heads down. There was a type of privacy that drifted through the summer air and settled over the area in which Harry and Riddle occupied.

“Lovely woman, it really is such a shame.”

He stayed staring at the spot Ginny had just habitated, but he could feel it as Riddle’s eyes came to rest upon him.

“What do you want, Riddle?” He queried tiredly as he returned Riddle’s gaze. Riddle tilted his head, his expression blank.

“You ask that so often, and yet you always avoid whatever it is I answer. And so you’re avoidance has led us here.” His eyes glinted and he twirled his wand with his fingers.“This is my final request, and do believe me when I say I have been more than patient with you.”

“And if I refuse this time?”

“Then you’ll slowly find yourself lacking in friends. Its such a shame, after Ginevra got the point that you were not available she was such an excellent source of information.” Riddle said as he gazed up at the stars patiently, as if Harry had all the time in the world to respond with his answer.

Time slowed down as the two wizards stood there, the only witness to their conversation being the night sky.

He still had a choice. He could still try to break the Unbreakable Vow. Could tell his friends and have them protect themselves. Could tell the Auror’s and takedown both himself and Riddle.

It really wasn’t much of a choice at all.

Harry swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

The first true expression of the evening spread across Riddle’s lips and it caused his palms to tingle as his entire being screamed at him to run. “Excellent.”

Chapter Text

Riddle really does have everything planned out, Harry thought bitterly as he sat in the foyer of his home staring at the gun clenched in his hand.

A muggle murder weapon for a “muggle” murder.

As long as there were no magical signatures present the Aurors would have no interest in the crime scene. It would simply look as if Riddle Sr. were murdered in his own bed during a common muggle robbery. No one would even think to question otherwise.

Riddle had given Harry a key to the front door of his father’s manor in Little Hangleton so he would be able to get in without making any noise that would wake his target. From there he was suppose to climb up the main stairs, avoiding the fifth one that was “prone to horrid squeaking”, and find his way to the second bedroom in the corridor on the right. The Riddle Sr. went to bed every evening at 9:30 after taking a nightcap to help him sleep so by 10 he would be dead to the world. And then, according to Riddle, it would be his responsibility to make sure the old man stayed that way. Every detail was perfectly planned.

Too perfectly planned.

It made Harry wonder why Riddle would go so completely out of his way to have someone else murder his father in the first place. Obviously he himself wasn’t against killing in any way shape or form, so why bother binding someone else in an Oath? And in particular why some wizard he met on a muggle train?

Nothing Riddle did seemed to add up.

Harry picked up that days Daily Prophet and flipped to what Hermione had so lovingly named the trash section, also known as the gossip column, to reread the article he had come across earlier.

LOVE IN THE AIR AFTER DESPAIR?

After the murder of the late Myrtle Potter it seems Harry Potter has rekindled an old flame to help him through the grief.

Yesterday evening I was lucky enough to be privy the sight of star seekers Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter sitting down to a meal. So these two who dated during Hogwarts are getting back together you ask? No, the true flame has sparked elsewhere and it is a doozy.

It seems Mr. Potter has his secrets, which this reporter was lucky enough to find out from the third person dining with the Quidditch stars: Under Secretary to the Minister Tom Riddle.

That’s right, readers, Potter and Riddle had a secret romance during their Hogwarts days that has remained hidden for all these years only to surface in Potter’s time of need.

Riddle has his work cut out for him in mending Potter’s broken heart, but with how charming and considerate the man is I have no doubt in his ability to do so. How will this relationship develop into the future is something I myself am certainly excited to witness, dear readers.

For now, we here at the Daily Prophet wish the happy couple the best of luck in this time of grieving.

Rita Skeeter

Riddle must have known that they were being watched at that restaurant. Or he had leaked the information himself.

All Harry knew was that with the amount of pull that Riddle seemed to possess if he hadn’t wanted this article to hit the press it wouldn’t of. That meant that for some reason the Slytherin wanted it to appear as if they were in a relationship. Which completely went against his original plan for “the perfect murder” where two strangers who were unconnected killed each others targets.

There was so much more going on than Harry had originally conceived, so caught up in the Oath he had been captured in that he hadn’t even thought of why Riddle had wanted to catch him in the first place. He was truly above his head in every conceivable way and there was no time to even attempt to tread water back to the surface.

9:15 p.m.

It was time to leave.

Riddle had advised him to take muggle transportation to get to Little Hangleton. Specifically though he had advised him to take the train. Harry couldn’t help but snort at the irony at the time. Something that did not go unnoticed by Riddle as he himself had smirked at the shared joke while stroking the skin around his left pinky finger. The motion had immediately sucked any and all amusement out of the situation.  

Harry glanced down the hall as he moved towards the front door. The bathroom was still pristine from the Auror’s clean up. He hadn’t entered it since that night and even looking at it as he did now stirred up the emotions that he had mostly hidden under anger and a type of melancholy for his situation.

Now though it was also stirring up something else.

A plan started to form and with it doubt, but also something Harry hadn’t experienced in awhile. Hope.

As the idea more fully formed in his mind he grabbed his coat off its hook next to the door to hide the gun under and hurried for the door.

Harry didn’t notice, but as he stepped out into the night his fireplace started acting up whirling in place as if waiting for something. The embers were left to flicker alone in the darkness as he made his way down the street, extinguishing themselves when the connection was not received. 

----

“It’s just odd is all. I’m sure we would have noticed if he was sneaking off to meet some secret boyfriend.”

“I don’t know, ‘Mione. Our teenage years were odd. Maybe ‘extra Quidditch practice’ during seventh year was code? Still, to get together with a slimy snake . . .”

“Shove it, Ron. He was really nice when I met him, Slytherin or no. Harry looked really uncomfortable the the entire evening though.”

“Like ‘ah man, two of my ex’s are talking to each other’ uncomfortable? Or ‘I really don’t like this creep next to me’ uncomfortable?”

“He was definitely not happy that Tom and I were getting along so well. Maybe he’s uncertain how they’re relationship is going to develop now?”

“You’ve been reading Skeeter’s work haven’t you?”

“And what if I have?”

“Anything that woman prints is absolute garbage. And she always misspells my name whenever she writes anything about my work. I’m pretty sure she does it on purpose.”

“It kinda odd isn’t it. That Tom would come back into Harry’s life just after. . .”

“He is allowed to find support from where ever he needs it. And if Tom Riddle just happens to be the support he needs then that is none of our business.”

“But what could someone he hasn’t talked to in years help him with that we can’t?”

. . .

“Harry would tell us if something was wrong, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

The key fit perfectly into the door.

Logically speaking Harry knew that it would, but the thought had run through his mind on the train ride about how comical it would be if he had to go back to Riddle, shrugging in a “what can you do” manner as he handed him back the key that wouldn’t fit into the door. Or if Riddle Sr. had inexplicably gotten guard dogs, or if the train had suddenly stopped working on its way to Riddle Manor, or if anything really.

But daydreams wouldn’t help him right now, and so he climbed his way up the main staircase, making sure to count them as he went up so he could avoid the one that squeaked. At the top he turned down the hallway to Riddle Sr.’s room.

The door opened without a single noise and in the corner sat a bed where the prone figure of Riddle Sr. slept.

A gulp worked its way down his throat.

Everything would be fine. As long as his plan went smoothly he would be free of Riddle and his Oath. After all the word death held more than one meaning, and the Oath and Magic itself was all about intent. Riddle Sr.’s death would simply be one of dropping off the face of the planet and hiding away where his son would never be able to find him. This would work.

He approached the bed where the figure was lying slowly lifting his hands and mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do, remembering the speech he had prepared for when Riddle Sr. woke up to a strange man in his room.

“Mr. Riddle. Mr. Riddle, wake up.”

His brow furrowed. He had been told that Riddle Sr. slept like the dead but this was a little ridiculous. Maybe as well as telling him that his son was planning to kill him he should also tell him to lay off the nightcaps.

“Mr. Riddle?” Harry tried again, laying a hand on the sleeping man’s shoulder to shake him.

He gasped as his wrist was caught in a death grip that was then used to pull him onto the bed. As he attempted to get back up the weight of the body above him moved to pin him down, straddling his hips and catching his hands.

“I’m afraid my father was called away on important business.” Riddle deadpanned. Harry’s efforts to dislodge himself halted as he stared up into Riddle’s impassive face. The shadows of the room shifting across his face as the air grew muggy from the magic filling it. “I tried to firecall you but you didn’t answer. I see now that my call probably would not have made much of an impact anyways to your plans.”

“Just like how if I’d have followed your instructions you wouldn’t have strayed from yours.” Harry spat back, gritting his teeth and frowning. “Whatever they are. Even after your father’s dead, what does it solve?”

“Revenge resolves a lot of personal matters.” Riddle sneered, his mask coming out of place before he replaced it once more and continued on, composed.  “If that is not enough of a reason for you then I suppose you can also call my father a loose string that needs to be cut from my past in order for me to continue on with my future.”

“And if I did kill your father isn’t that exactly what I would be? A loose fucking string for you to cut!” Harry snarled into Riddle’s face. He knew he was purposefully riling the man above him, but he couldn’t help it even as he watched Riddle’s mask decompose into something quite deadly. Harry braced himself for the backlash that was sure to come.

He wasn’t expecting Riddle to start laughing.

Especially when it wasn’t the type of laugh one would expect to come from someone like Riddle. It was high-pitched, unrestrained, and just a bit scratchy, as if he wasn’t used to using his vocal cords in such a manner, and as it went on his cheeks became flushed.

Harry stared wide eyed and frozen, even as Riddle collapsed down on him as if trying to hide his amusement in Harry’s shoulder.

He lifted himself back up to tower over the older man once more with a grin that was all teeth.

“Oh, Harry, you are far too amusing of a thread to simply cut off. Of course with your hot headedness you’ll need to be tied down, but never cut.” Riddle said with a patronizing smirk.

That did nothing to reassure him. A sudden icy chill of clarity when up his spine as one of his questions was answered.

“You don’t plan on letting me go. You never planned on letting me go, even after I had fulfilled my end of the Oath.” He croaked. Riddle simply smiled a sickly sweet smile.

“Finally catching up I see. Yet still so far away from understanding.”

“Damn right I don’t understand! You say that to make the perfect murder work the two people involved need to be completed unrelated and then you go and say we dated! What could that possibly achieve? Linking us together so that whatever it is you have planned for me in the future doesn’t seem as odd? And then you act as though you hate muggles, yet you spend your time riding muggle trains on what just so happens to be the same day I do and randomly pick me as the perfect murder partner. Which with how fucking meticulous and controlling you’ve shown to be I find really doubtful. Any random stranger would have done fine if this was simply revenge: why me!” Harry’s volume slowly rose as his frustration and confusion increased, only to break as he weakly asked,  “Why me?”

Riddle’s features softened above him as he freed one of his own hands, slowly caressing Harry’s wrist as he transferred it to his other hand before combing the now free appendage through Harry’s untamable hair and sighing. Harry’s eyes widened as Riddle pressed their foreheads together and watched in concern as Riddle closed his eyes and sighed again with a small smile adorning his lips.

“You really don’t know how perfect you are do you, Harry?” He said softly, his hot breath ghosting across Harry’s face.

Riddle came up again, an odd look on his face as he hovered over him, the two men simply staring at each other as the seconds passed.

Then hand that had been distractedly stroking his hair came to settle on his cheek and Riddle leaned in again. Harry panicked as he realised with what purpose: he was going to kiss him. The man who had manipulated him, murdered his wife, and threatened his friends was going to kiss him.

“Please don’t.” Harry whimpered a little hysterically, shutting his eyes tight. The magic that had been swirling around the room came to a halt and he was surprised to note when the dreaded kiss did not come that so had Riddle.

He peaked an eye open and went a little crossed eyed looking up at the younger man. Riddle had come to a halt nose to nose with Harry a small frown on his face. Riddle’s attempt at his usual mask was cracked (as it had been for nearly the entire evening) and in his eyes Harry could see conflicting emotions that he quite couldn’t identify.

Riddle pulled away and tilted his head to the side. “Not yet then.”

“Harry?”

Both of them whipped their heads towards the feminine voice that drifted through the door from the floor below. Harry tensed as he realized who it was. Hermione.

“It seems you were followed.”

“Mate where are you?” And Ron.

Harry’s breath sped up as he watched Riddle’s face contort itself, all the anger that had been originally hidden from Harry’s betrayal redirecting itself towards the witch and wizard downstairs.

“Perfect.”

Chapter Text

“No-Mmph.” Ron, ‘Mione, run! His warning was silenced by a murmur and wave of Riddle’s wand. The silencing spell was followed by a body bind that left Harry immobile and let Riddle slide off his hips with a disappointed sigh.  

Sweat trickled down Harry’s brow as he struggled against Riddle’s magic bonds. Riddle meanwhile looked completely unconcerned as he sauntered towards the door, sticking his head out and tilting his head in the direction of Ron and Hermione’s voices. The reptilian stare that then rounded back to Harry only served to renew his struggle.

The echoing voices of his friends were drawing nearer. Surely they would find the room any second now.

“Shall we go say hello to our uninvited guests? They did come all this way to disturb us in the middle of the night after all. It would be rude to not at least give them a warm welcome.” A charitable grin stretched across Riddle’s lips.“That and there are promises to be kept, love. You do remember what I promised you, don’t you?”

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Hermione. Ron. No. This was all his fault-why had they followed him-did they suspect-but how could they possibly know-but now that they were here-the things that Riddle would do to them-Riddle.

As his mind careened out of control his vision began to sway in a way that served to steady his breathing that had started to come out in short huffs and gasps, bringing him back to the situation.

“Sh, sh, sh, sh. It’s fine, love.” Harry continued to shakily gasp for air, quivering despite the spell that locked his limbs in place. His control began to come back to him as he was drawn out of his thoughts, though as soon as he registered the position he was in it took all his will not to lose himself again. Somehow Riddle had manhandled his prone form into lying against his chest, his arms looped around Harry’s middle, stroking his chest though the material of his t-shirt. The mock lovers embrace did not escape Harry’s notice, especially considering Riddle’s actions this evening. “I know you probably don’t feel up to visiting right now. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Just relax.”

He tensed as Riddle withdrew one of his hands from his chest and he felt a wand poking into his crown followed by a whispered, “Imperio.”

A misty fog fell over his thoughts making his head feel fuzzy, as if he were flying so far up in the air that the oxygen around him wasn’t enough for him to fully catch his breath.

Tell me you love me.

Harry’s brow furrowed.

Why would he do that? The emotions Riddle inspired in him were as far from love as possible.

You can’t win, Harry. Just say it.

But he didn’t want to. Sure Riddle made his palms sweat (in fear), and his heart race (in anticipation of what he would possibly do next), but he would never classify what he felt as-

“I love you.”

How lovely that is to hear. I think you’re more than prepared to greet your friends now.

The feeling in his limbs returned to him as a hand grabbed his, gently drawing him along.

But I don’t want to meet our guests. I don’t-

His feet moved across the floor behind Riddle, following the hallway down to where the sound of a hushed conversation was taking place.

I just don’t feel right about this, ‘Mione. What if we were wrong and nothing weird is going one. A male voice roughly whispered.

But there is something going on. A woman hissed back. The argument was familiar. As if he had heard it before. You saw the way that Harry was acting when we were following him. And I have a-  

A gut feeling, I know. But you’re gut is making us trespass right now!

Harry’s feet came to a halt and his hand was released.

Yes, it is. Care to explain? The voice that was in his mind addressed the other two.

There you are, mate. We got you message saying you needed someone to come pick you up but nobody answered the door. The red-headed male seemed tense. And angry. Why was he angry? His eyes seemed to be locked on Harry’s own for some reason.

Harry called you then.

They could hear the voice too. Did they feel as compelled to follow it as Harry did?

Yes. And we’ll just be taking him home now.

Home. Yes. He wanted to go home. Why couldn’t he just go home?

I’m afraid I can’t allow that.-Oh.-He’s right where he needs to be.

By the voice’s side. A smile appeared on his face. As long as he was with his voice everything would be fine. Yes it-wouldn’t- would.

You slimy snake bastard!

The angry red haired voice hit the wall, crumbling to the floor.

Only one spell and already tuckered out. Shame. Hopefully you'll last longer.

You monster! What have you done to Harry?

What had he done to Harry? The woman asked good questions. Harry was still Harry just. Fuzzier. And with someone else there as well. Always there-can’t escape.

Nothing, really. Yet. But that will all come in time. For now.

She was screaming. Why was she screaming? I don’t like it. No. Make it stop.

It didn’t stop. The screaming went on endlessly echoing through the foggy recesses of his mind.

Then there was silence. A sigh.

Harry always boasted that you were the brightest witch of your age. Of course I suppose that was Hogwarts. Real life is so different from school isn’t it?

The brunette’s eyes looked to him, glazed over in pain as they were. Tears were streaming down the side of her cheeks, mixing with blood from cuts that were scattered across her body.

Time to end your visit , I’m afraid.-Not right-You’re lucky you were so close to him. I’ll make it painless. Quick.-Hermione-Harry’s already been through quite an ordeal this evening.-Ron- Avada Kedavra-No.

“No!”

He screamed, pushing past Riddle and jumping in front of the sickly green beam of light that shot out towards Hermione’s broken body.

The last sight he saw before the curse hit was the look of absolute horror on Riddle’s face.

He smiled.

I win.

Chapter Text

Waking up was unexpected.

And a very slow process.

It began with a long corridor, with voices drifting in from behind the closed doors as he walked along.

Male.

-

“Tell us as soon as he wakes up for questioning.”

-

Female.

-

“Do you really think it’s possible that he survived the-”

“There’s no way that he could have lied under Ministry Vertiserium.”

-

Unfamiliar.

-

“If you could please just let me by, I am with the Ministry-”

“Get out, Skeeter.”

-

Familiar.

-

“Riddle’s been convicted. You’re safe to wake up any day.”

-

“Please wake up, Harry.”

-

They were very jarring, each in their own way, and served to remind him that this inbetween wasn’t real. The voices weren’t what woke him up though, it was the surging foreign emotions.

At the very end of the corridor there was a large ornate door that these bouts of emotions seemed to radiate from. The wood was green and carved with swirling figures that Harry could not identify from where he stood-walked-ran- in the corridor. And despite all his curiosity, he couldn’t bring himself to approach the door. The pure feeling of how wrong and alien it was kept him at a distance.

But the emotions still found him despite this.

They were rather basic and unexplained: anger, despair, happiness, impatience, confusion. And then one day the most potent of all the emotions so far wrapped itself around him, choking him with its sheer thrill.

It was this emotion that that finally jolted Harry completely out of his endless corridor and into one of the side entryways, back into the light of the patient’s ward of St. Mungos.

Hermione was the first to notice his blinking confusion.

“Harry!”

Ron was then jolted awake from where he had been lightly snoring at her exclamation.

“Harry, you’re awake! Is there anything you need? Food? You haven’t eaten in over a week.”

“Water, please.” Harry rasped, massaging his throat with one hand.

Ron rushed to grab the glass sitting at his bedside as Hermione helped him sit up so that Ron could lift it to his friend’s lips. “There you go.”

He took the glass and gulped down several small mouthfuls before handing it back to the red head.

“Thanks.”

The couple nodded before sitting down in their respective chairs that looked like they had been inhabited for days on end with blankets and pillows stacked on them.

“We’re so glad you’re awake. Sirius and Remus are in the caf right now if you want us to go get them?” Hermione said, gesturing half-heartedly towards the door, obviously not wanting to leave just yet.

“Later, how are you?” Harry responded, his eyes searching for any signs of the torture session he remembered them enduring through the haze of the Imperius Curse.

“Shit, mate. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“What happened?” Harry asked in confusion. He had been asleep for far too long if everything was “fine” now.

“You survived a Killing Curse, Harry.” Ron deadpanned.

He blinked stupidly.

“I. That’s impossible. I know I jumped in front of it but must’ve missed both Hermione and me.”

Hermione shook her head.

“It hit you, I saw it. You collapsed right in front of me, you stupid martyr idiot.” She whispered vehemently.

“How-how am I even alive?” He managed to stutter out.

“Nobody knows. I think Riddle tried to recall the curse.” Hermione said, nibbling on her bottom lip like she did when she was trying to work out a particularly difficult problem. “As soon as you collapsed, so did he. And then there was this strange magical backlash.”

This new piece of information was something to consider. What exactly had happened? Had Riddle really-

Harry’s eye’s widened.

“Riddle!” He shouted, jolting up off the mattress only to be pushed back down by his friends.

“He was captured by the Aurors and given a trial under Veritaserium. Oh, Harry.”

He looked away from them, ashamed of what they now must know about him, about how he kept everything a secret.

“You must be livid I didn’t tell you about the Oath. I was just trying to keep you safe.” Harry said, imploring his friends to understand why he did what he did, even if they didn’t agree with it.

“Its much bigger than a dubious Oath.” He looked back to Hermione. Her face was stony and there was an angry glint in her eyes.

“Slimy bastard manipulated everyone.” Ron sneered. They then proceeded to tell him about the entire trial. Of how before Riddle was put under Veritaserium many Ministry officials and high standing  citizens tried to vouch for Riddle’s character. That after the truth serium was administered Riddle explained how he had slipped Myrtle a love potion that had started her affair, how he had followed Harry that day on the train, and all his plans after that. It was quite the scandal, with everything manipulated down to the last detail.  

At the end of the trial Riddle had been sentenced to life in Azkaban by a majority vote.

“It’s finally over then.” Harry sighed in relief, sinking down into his hospital bed.

His friends shared a look and he once again experienced the feeling of being absolutely thrilled. A heavy feeling set in his gut.

“Harry. . .” Ron started out, only to trail off and glance to Hermione to articulate what he could not.

“Riddle escaped earlier today. He was broken out of Azkaban by some hooded figures.”

His head suddenly had a shooting pain go through it. He moved a hand up to massage his temple and felt the outline of a wound on his forehead. Tracing it from top to bottom it felt like a jagged line.

“They left behind a marker though, a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Nobody knows who the heck they are though. Harry? Harry!”

His head was really hurting now. Harry shut his eyes tight. A hot liquid was making its way down his face as the foreign emotions pushed themselves through his mind once more, only to go completely silent.

The pain was gone.

He opened his eyes to reveal the corridor that he had inhabited while unconscious. Harry’s shoulders set back as he stared down the green door, sure that it was its fault he was here once more.

A knock came followed by a chuckle, both of which echoed throughout his mind’s corridor.

Oh, Harry. Open up, love. Riddle’s voice sounded.

Harry backed away slowly, shaking his head as he did so.

“No. No! Just go away! I beat you!” He screamed back, hands tightened into fists ready to fight on the off chance Riddle found his way through the door.

You didn’t beat me. We are the past, present, and future of this world, darling. There was a finality to Riddle’s words, as if he truly believed that this was the only possibly ending for either of them.

You can’t beat destiny.