Encourage. Endorse. Enable.

Harry, patting Tom's head: Fortunately, mine's an actual living being and is actively seeking out blood for those who wronged me. Right, Riddle?

~~

Tom’s hand landed beside Harry’s head, cornering him.

“Riddle…” Harry muttered, “what a pleasant surprise.” He eyed his arm before following his gaze. They were the same height.

“Go out with me,” Tom said for the fifth time. He’d been persisting all week.

“You’ve never had an interest in me during our time in Hogwarts, why now? It’s been, what, seven years?” Maybe sixteen-year-old Harry would’ve been over the moon, but now, not so much. Tom had never looked his way, never smiled, never even had a proper conversation other than a simple greeting. It was all in the past.

“A mistake I terribly regret.” He leaned close. His finger playfully twirling a lock of Harry’s brown hair.

Harry huffed. “I have work to do.” He batted Tom’s hand away. “Find someone else to play with.” Every since they had started working together as aurors, Tom had been handsy and talkative. He ducked under his arm and strode down the hall.

What changed? Harry was still the same, even appeared the same. The only thing different was that he’s working a dangerous job where he could use all the magic he wanted. He had been training on various spells and also created a few of his own.

Harry halted as he heard Tom’s determined voice.

“I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

This time my boyfriend married (and it wasn't me)

Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

[Teen And Up Audiences | 2,745 words | one-shot]

If someone were to ask Harry and Ron how it all happened, they would tell that it started all in a bar.

“Tough case, mate…" Ron said, after a beat of silence. "Tell you what—if I weren’t straight and already married to Herrmione, I would propose to you the moment we graduated from Hogwarts. You are the best person I know, and this snake should show more appreciation that you had decided to date his sorry ass.”

They sat there for a while, silently sipping their drinks—each in their own thoughts. And that would be it.

Tom Riddle.

Harry blew a breath, his nails lightly scraping against the notebook he held in his hands as he squared his shoulders.

It didn't take long for Harry to stride across the room, he softly knocked against the wooden table to catch Riddle's attention, and it worked.

Riddle's hand stilled from whatever he was jotting down, and raised his head as a dark curl swept across his forehead. Grey eyes watched him expectantly.

He turned his head to the direction of the empty chair that was across from the Slytherin, "Is this seat taken?"

The boy considered him, staring straight at his form before extending his hand almost lazily to the seat, "be my guest."

Harry: *exists*

2012