Chapter Text
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Twenty years of age.
College student majoring in Psychology at the top of his class.
Works at a small coffee shop in London.
These things could be used to describe him, yes. Yet ask another and they may give something different if asked to define him. Tom, however, considered himself more than just petty titles, he worked for and deserved more. This was what he told himself each and every day, and if it stopped him from displacing his fellow peers then so be it. He would-
“Are you going to take my order?”
Tom glanced up from his spot at the front register of Borgin and Burkes. An odd name, yet people swarmed in regularly which meant more money for him, so who was he to disagree?
In front of him stood a man his age, maybe even slightly older. He was shorter than Tom, with wild black hair and disturbingly green eyes. He wore what was probably meant to be a casual outfit, yet Tom was positive it would cost more than his entire paycheck.
“Of course, what may I get you, Sir?”
The man smirked, “Hm, I believe that I’ll settle for a mocha latte, if you will.”
Tom nodded, turning to make the drink. He was slightly eager to serve someone with money. Money meant power, which was exactly what Tom wanted. He wanted to escape this shop, escape this town perhaps, to become great.
“Here you are, sir.”
The man nodded before moving over to let the line through, but instead of leaving like Tom thought he would, the raven haired man sat on a stool by the counter. Tom was a bit surprised but went on with business as usual.
Finally, the store became less busy, leaving Tom to collect empty cups and clean the front counter. Tom jerked and looked toward the stool, suddenly remembering the man. He still sat there, his laptop out, typing furiously.
Tom wasn’t sure what to say until the Stanger spoke, looking curiously at Tom.
“I’m surprised how popular this place if, even with the shady buildings surrounding it,”
Small talk? Tom could work with that.
“Yes, I suppose so. Yet it pays, so I make due.”
“Ah, college student I presume?”
Tom nodded, a bit wary. “Yes actually.” He finished wiping the counter and threw the rag in the sink, more interested in speaking with the stranger.
“I see.”
Both were quiet momentarily, that is, until Tom opened his mouth.
“I’m majoring in psychology.”
“Ah, study of the mind, hm?” the way the man spoke seemed as if this news was unsurprising, and as if he was already thinking about how to use it.
Smart man, Tom thought to himself.
“Indeed, I find it,” he paused, unsure if to go on, “fascinating.”
The man nodded and finished his drink, soon after he closed his laptop. Tom took the cup and threw it in the rubbish bin, watching as the stranger stood and walked towards the door, only stopping when he was in front of it. He turned and smiled charmingly at Tom.
“Well, I’ll have to come back and chat with you again later, yet now I have important business to take care of. I’ll be seeing you, Tom.” With that he was gone.
It wasn’t until he was heading out that night did Tom realize one crucial piece of information. He had never given the stranger his name. A shiver ran up his spine as he contemplated what that small fact meant for him and his future. And better yet, why did the stranger know of him?
-
Harry smirked as he entered his black car, motioning the driver to go. His confrontation had gone well. And the look on the younger man’s face when he let it slip that he was interested in psychology. Priceless.
He was a bit skeptical when Hermione mentioned the college student to him. After all, not just every person could fill in the particular roles that working for and with Harry would require. Yet Tom has patience and wasn’t subtle enough for Harry to not notice his need for being noticed. Perhaps he thought the shorter of the two was the son of some rich business owner, poor lad.
The car stopped and Harry smirked as he exited the car, heading straight for the tall building in front of him. Suddenly his phone beeped and he glanced down at it. A message from Hermione, why was he not surprised?
‘Mr. Potter, I would ask you to please hurry, you have a guest from one of the neighboring businesses who wishes to speak with you.’
Soon he reached his office, stepping inside without haste. He was in business mode now, reading to deal with whoever stood in the meeting room that was connected to this one. Upon entering the room, Harry found himself in front of a familiar sight.
“Hello, Mr. Potter,” said a familiar blond.
“Greetings, Mr. Malfoy, you look fine as always.”
“Oh, cut the shit Harry. You have been ignoring your duties, ignoring me!” he wailed dramatically. Honestly, you let a man in your bedroom once and it seems that you are married.
“I wasn’t ignoring you, I simply decided not to reply, that’s not anything out of the ordinary I don’t believe.”
The blond huffed before walking up to Harry, looking as if he owned the other man.
“Your so cruel to me,” suddenly he changed completely, the same calculating look in his eyes that was often found in Harry’s own,” I heard that you actually decided to go meet that brat. The hell are you thinking?”
Harry walked to the window, looking out at the night sky.
“I want something new, something different from the life we currently live.”
Draco came up behind him, wrapping slender arms around his waist. A soft whisper met his ear.
“I don’t support this.”
“I know.”
“I see.”
No more words were spoken, no more were needed.