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“I know what you're all about, and you won't be threatening me in my own office!”

Lucius Malfoy gripped his cane tighter as he leveled a cool look at the blustering walrus of a man in front of him. Vernon Dursley truly was a stupid man; if he knew what he “was all about”, then surely he realized this sort of behaviour was a very bad idea? “This is a simple business discussion, Mr. Dursley. I think you'll find the offer for your company most generous, generous enough to retire early and spend more time with your family.” And if the man wasn't smart enough to recognize the threat for what it was, well, Lucius could hardly help that, could he?

Sure enough, Dursley bristled, but for all the wrong reasons. “I've been building this company into what it is for nearly 20 years now, and I am not letting some shady upstart swoop in and take all the glory and profit for it! Nor will I let some back alley criminal scum sully the good name of Grunnings!”

Lucius couldn't help but stare incredulously at the man. No, stupid was too generous of a term for someone like this.

“I know you work for Riddle, and I know what he is. I am not letting some filthy mob rat walk all over me. Now get out, before I call the police!”

Lucius huffed a quiet sigh and stood. “Really, this is all quite aggressive. And unnecessary. If you change your mind, Mr. Dursley, give me a call.” He strode from the room and made his way to the waiting vehicle. He slid gracefully into the seat, and the driver shut the door behind him.

“Well? How did it go?”

The Lestrange brothers sat across from him in the back of a smallish limousine. “Poorly. For Mr. Dursley, before the week is out, I suspect.”

Rodolphus quirked a brow at him. “He said no? Boss is gonna want to talk him around before we do anything more permanent. Less waves made in the kiddie pool, the better.”

Lucius smirked. “A bit late for that, I'm afraid. And no, I didn't give anything away; the idiot was fool enough to spout on about how he knew all about our “affiliations” and threatened to involve the police.”

Rabastan stared at him, eyes wide. “He called you out for being part of the mob, threatened the police, and just...let you walk away? Was he dropped on his head or something?”

“Likely. All he did was threaten and bluster, with no actual hint of doing anything. From that conversation and the interactions I've seen between him and his employees, he's a man who's used to getting his way with a great deal of screaming and intimidation but no actual action. He probably thinks the threat is enough, and we'll darken his doorstep no more.”

Rodolphus chuckled. “Oh, the wife is just going to love meeting him.”

Lucius was right. The very next night, he found himself standing slightly away from the front doorstep of 4 Privet Drive, keeping lookout with the Lestrange brothers while Bella was working the lock.

“We're in.”

Lucius nodded. “No lights, no gunfire if you can help it. Quick slashes to the throats, take whatever looks remotely valuable. We're going with robbery gone wrong, Tom's orders.”

The Lestranges nodded and the four crept into the house proper. Lucius wrinkled his nose. Middle-class décor. Ugh.

Rabastan started towards the stairs. “Recon has the bedrooms on the second floor.”

Lucius stayed at the top of the staircase while his associates slunk into the first two rooms. The only sounds to be heard were soft footfalls, a pause, then surprised, gurgling protests. Lucius cocked an eyebrow as the three immediately joined him again, all of their hands shining with liquid red blood. “That was easy. This all there was?”

Rabastan nodded. “Wasn't able to get much info in 24 hours, but far as I know just him, the wife, and a kid. Some neighbor mentioned something about another teen they see outside occasionally, but since they only ever saw him workin' on the lawn or garden, I figure he was some kinda hired landscaper's kid or something.”

While they were talking, Bellatrix had narrowed her eyes and stalked to the end of the hall. “What the actual fuck?” She tugged experimentally at the padlock in front of her. “Lucius? Did we ever find out if Dursley himself was doing any kinda shady dealing?”

“Not that I ever found, why?”

She gestured at the door in front of her. “What kinda thing you think he could be hiding to put seven locks on a door?”

Lucius smirked. “Well, maybe he just made our job on making this look like a robbery easier and more profitable.” He stood behind Bellatrix and waited while she picked the locks they couldn't break. Once they got the door open, however, they both inhaled sharply. “Well, shit.”

The inside of the room was mostly bare. A huddle of old, broken toys were in one corner, a rickety desk was pushed up against the wall under the only window – that was covered in bars – and a lumpy, red-stained mattress was lying directly on the floor with nothing but a ratty blanket riddled in holes and equally stained in red.

Rabastan whistled lowly when he saw what they were staring at. “Human trafficking, do you think? Boss is gonna be all the more glad the pig's gutted, though probably disappointed he couldn't do it himself.”

Lucius nodded. The boss was many things – sadistic, selfish, thief, murderer – but he had zero tolerance for human trafficking. Last guy in their outfit that got the idea he could do it behind their backs still hadn't been found. None of the pieces had been, anyway.

“Well, leave this open then, let the police put the picture together themselves whenever they show up. Plan's still on: look for anything worth a pound not nailed down and bag it. Keep an eye out for any hidden rooms or tunnels though. If the bastard was in the trade, I doubt this was the only room used, especially with that window. Too much risk of someone looking up at the wrong time, and the bars are too obvious to think it'd never happen.”

They spread out, the brothers going back into the other bedrooms while Lucius and Bellatrix swept back downstairs, bagging tacky ornaments, electronics, and fine china as they went. It wasn't until they gathered back next to the stairs that they noticed they missed something.

“Hang on a tick,” Rabastan muttered. “There's more locks on that cupboard there. None of you'd checked that yet?” Sure enough, there was a door to a cupboard under the stairs that had another four locks on the outside.

Bellatrix grimaced. “Well, here's his hidey-hole then. Can't think of another reason for that many locks.” She started to work, and within a few minutes, the last lock gave with a crack. She yanked open the door, then gasped. “Lucius. Get boss on the phone. We got a complication.”

Lucius ducked his head to take a look, and froze. Curled up in the back of the cupboard space was a body.

Long, elegant fingers tapped rhythmically at a keyboard. Hard, deep brown eyes narrowed in agitation at the screen in front of them. Petal pink lips turned down into a slight frown.

A mobile sitting at his elbow rang. The fingers plucked it up, eyes examined the screen, then, a button pressed - “Lucius. Is it done?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly?” The smooth baritone slid into a hiss. “What do you mean, mostly?”

“We've had a complication. Found a body in a cupboard. Male, looks about 16, 17. Dursley apparently was dirtier than we thought, the hypocrite, but not finding enough evidence for details. Signs are pointing to trafficking, though.”

A sneer. “Good riddance all the more, then. Leave the body where the police will find it then, let them handle it.”

“Got it. Boys, get him out, put him in that room we found, Boss wants him out and obvious. Make sure t-” In the background, he heard a voice (Rabastan, he thought) yelp out “Shit!”, a thud, and a choked off shout.

“Lucius? What happened?!”

“The kid's alive, opened his eyes when we pulled him out of the cupboard. Rabastan, the idiot, dropped him. Jesus, he's in bad shape. Honestly don't think he's gonna last much longer without some help. What do you want us to do, Boss? Finish the job, or bring him with?”

He paused, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Send a picture.” He pulled the phone away, waiting. In seconds, a new message alert came up, and he pulled up the photo to see -

A boy lying in what looked to be a carpeted hallway. Over-sized clothing hung off of too-thin limbs, and Lucius wasn't wrong; the frail body was covered in bleeding cuts and scars and bruises. One cheek was swollen, the eye above it shut and bruised black, and a glint from the flash made it look like shards of glass were stuck in the skin around it. A mop of wild, black hair covered his forehead and brow, but the other eye was open and looking at the camera. A green green eye that, despite everything, seemed to burn with life.

Or fever. That many injuries, it was entirely possible. That didn't make the situation any less fascinating, though.

He smirked, and put the phone back up to his ear. “Bring him in.”

Tom Riddle stood at an observation window with Lucius and the Lestranges spread out around him. They watched on as the outfit's medic, Severus Snape, stitched wounds shut on the pale body lying on the room's single bed. “Other than this little hiccup, how did it go at the Dursley's?”

Lucius smirked. “Everything else went perfectly. Left dead in their beds, quick clean cuts to the throat, no gunfire or screams to rattle the neighbors. Made a pretty little haul from the property too for the cover. The son alone had enough electronics and other gadgets to make it worth being an actual robbery. The kid was obviously spoiled, and as large as his father.”

Bella sneered. “Yeah, he was spoiled rotten, while this kid looks like a good sneeze will stop his heart. I've always said suburbia is the scariest place in the world. Never know what's going on behind those perfectly painted little doors.”

Rabastan snorted. “Yeah, yeah, I was wrong to doubt you. If anyone here knows scary other than Boss, it's you.”

Tom cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing in reply to that. He turned to make his way to the stairs out of the basement infirmary. “Let me know when Severus is done, yes? It looks like this might take him a while and there are issues that require my attention.”

“Got it, Boss.”

Tom was just finishing reading a report from one of his men when the intercom buzzed. “Boss,” a deep voice muttered. “All done down here. Lucius said you wanted to know.”

Tom pressed the button to respond. “On my way.”

He swiftly left his desk and made his way through the halls, into the hidden stairwell leading to the underground safe house where the medical rooms were kept. Minutes later, he entered the room where Severus was standing at the end of the boy's bed, notating a few last minute additions to the chart.

Severus looked up. “He's as patched up as he's going to get. The boy is lucky there wasn't any internal bleeding. He had a few cracked ribs that will have to heal on their own as best as possible, but none broke fully. He does have a broken arm, leg, and clavicle though. Had to get a blood transfusion into him too; he almost bled to death from all of those lacerations. At this point, rest and nutrients are the best thing for him. They were well beyond starving him; how he lived this long, I'm honestly not sure.”

Tom nodded. “The others are still trying to dig up some info, find out who he is, see if he's got any relatives that will come poking around looking for him. School teachers or someone who will notice his absence.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “School teachers?”

“The kid is what, 16, 17?”

“No. I found this in his pocket when I stripped him to check for all of his injuries.” Severus pulled out an old, beaten wallet. “There was a student ID inside from a local secondary school, but it's old.” He handed the ID over. “Harry Potter, and going by the dates, I'd say about 20 years old.”

Tom's eyes widened. “20?” He took a closer look at the unconscious man. “Malnutrition stunted growth, I'm guessing, which suggests long-term abuse, more so than trafficking victim. Why was he still there if that's the case, though?”

Severus shook his head. “That'll be a question for him when he's awake, I'm afraid.”

Tom smirked. “One of many. I do love a good mystery, don't you?”

He snorted. “Of course, Boss. Don't we all?”

Tom waived the ID. “Anything else in the wallet?”

“An old library card. Nothing else.”

“I'll get this up to the Lestranges then, see if they can't get a few more hits with the info. Keep me updated.”

Tom leaned over Rabastan's shoulder, staring intently at the screen in front of them. “Found something?”

Rabastan snorted. “Probably as much as we're gonna. The kid seems to be the Dursley's dirty little secret.” He clicked through a couple of different screens, letting Tom read as he went. “Born to James and Lily Potter, who died about 19 years ago, car crash. Other driver was drunk and pulled a hit-and-run. Lily Potter was Petunia Dursley's sister, and some busybody lawyer of the Potter's got involved and somehow coerced the Dursley's into taking their nephew in.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and fought back a growl. “Let me guess. Dumbledore?”

“Got it in one. See, he was the executor of their will, and claimed the Potters wanted the sister to take him in. They probably still coulda talked their way out of it, but it would have been a pretty public display in his office, and, well, the Dursley's were the type to not want their good name tarnished any.”

“And then proceeded to take all of it out on their nephew, apparently.”

Rabastan sighed. “You're not wrong. Christ, I didn't even need help to carry him outta there, the kid weighed nothing. He was so cold from blood loss, I didn't even bother to check for a pulse or breath when we first found him. If there was anything in that will telling the Dursley's to take the kid, I doubt they would've if they could have seen what was in the future for him.” He plucked at an additional set of keys, changing the screen again. “After his parent's death, there's almost no information on him. Had to go to school, of course, but no records of jobs, extracurricular activities...hell, all of the yearbooks from his attendance have nothing more than the standard class photo, so I don't think he even had any friends. The only other thing we've got is that library card.”

Tom nodded. “I wouldn't be surprised if he used the library as an escape from the house when he could.”

“Yeah, you're probably right. Last use was almost three years ago though, so I'm guessing once he graduated he lost even that much. Jesus, I won't be surprised if the kid's beyond fucked up in the head, his life has been hell.”

Tom clapped a hand to Rabastan's shoulder. “I'll guess we'll just have to wait and see. Good work.”

A few days later, Tom was working in his office when there was a frantic knock at his door. “Enter.”

Lucius rushed in. “He's awake.”

Rather than waste time on the walk to the medical rooms, Tom tabbed his monitor over to the security feed. The boy was indeed propped up into a sitting position, speaking with Severus while the dour older man moved a flashlight across his eyes.

“Good,” came Severus' voice from the speaker. “Miraculously, you don't seem to have any brain damage.”

The boy snorted. “Sorry, didn't mean to laugh. Just as surprised as you are, is all.”

“Indeed. Tell me, how long were you in that cupboard before we found you?”

Potter shrugged. “Only a day, I think? Kinda hard to keep track of time when they lock me in there, but I'm used to it enough that I know what to listen for to keep track as much as I can. Vernon came home raging from work that day, and well – you can probably guess what his favourite solution for stress release was.”

Lucius' face fell. “God, he did all that to his own nephew because of the encounter with me?”

Tom turned to glare at him. “Not your fault. Dursley was a monster, and Potter's here now. It may not feel like it, but I think the kid will agree that in the long run we did him a massive favour.”

Lucius sighed. “Yes, you're right.” They turned back to the screen.

“Potter,” Severus continued. “I have a few questions, if you're willing to answer?”

Potter shrugged. “Sure, why not? I don't mind. I see that camera too, so whoever's on the other side is welcome to ask anything they wanna know, too.”

Lucius and Tom turned to look at each other, eyes wide, followed by a quick smirk from Tom. “He's sharp, I'll give him that.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Good to know. Now, how long have you lived at the Dursley's?” He planned on asking a question he knew the answer to first, to gauge on how honestly Potter was going to answer.

“Since I was a little over a year old.”

“When did the abuse start?”

“Honestly? I can't remember. As soon as I was old enough to physically do a chore, it became mine and mine alone. I was cleaning most of the house by the time I was 6, keeping up the lawn and garden by the time I was 7, and cooking all of their meals by the time I was 8. Even before that, well...I'm used to bruises and scrapes, if you get my meaning. That cupboard you all pulled me out of was my bedroom until I was around 12, when I just really couldn't fit anymore. That's when I got Dudley's second bedroom upstairs.”

“Second bedroom?”

“Yeah, he wasn't exactly gentle on his possessions so anything he broke but refused to actually throw away went in there. He never went back to use or try to fix any of it, mind, but he still kicked up an unholy fuss when I got moved in there. That night...well, it was bad enough that I would have preferred to stay in the cupboard. Petunia had to clean for herself a few days after that. They would still shove me back in the cupboard for a few days when they were really pissed off, though.”

Lucius was pale as he listened to all of this. “How is he so calm talking about this? How is he not a nervous broken wreck?”

Tom sighed. “Honestly? He's probably so used to it that he just sees it as normal. It's horrendous to you because you've lived a life of privilege, no offense my friend, whereas for him it was all he ever knew.” Tom zoomed in on Potter's face. “Still...I'm amazed as well. There's no sign of nervous ticks, no fear or uncertainty obvious in his expression. Like he's just having a nice little chat in a cafe or something. It'll be interesting to see if that temperament sticks or if he comes crashing down later when it all sets in properly.”

“From what I could find, Potter, you've been of age for a couple of years. Why were you still there? Why not just leave?” Severus' voice drew their attention back to the screen.

Potter shrugged. “And go where? I didn't have any family, Dudley made damn sure I didn't have any friends, I don't have any money, hell, even my clothes aren't mine, they're all cast-offs that Dudley couldn't wear anymore. I was always hungry too, so, yeah, I'd have died on the streets pretty quick. I had a plan, it was just...slow.”

“A plan?”

“Yeah, one of my many tasks was to clean Dudley's room. A daily one, mind you. It wasn't uncommon for him to have some loose change and the occasional note lying about, so I'd swipe what I could when it wasn't obvious. It should all still be in the loose floorboard in the bedroom I slept in.”

“Ah, I am not sure if accessing it will be...possible.” Severus paused. “Potter, do you know where you are? Who we are?”

He sighed. “Well, I have a pretty good guess. Not where we are, exactly, but what where we are is, and who you are. I don't think Vernon told anyone, but he did grumble a bit while he was ah – well, you know – about a Malfoy and Riddle. So, I'm guessing I'm in some headquarters or something for Riddle? He's a...mob boss? Is that the right term?”

Severus stiffened. “Close enough.”

Potter waived a hand at him. “Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything. Who would I tell? Hell, I still have the whole 'nowhere to go' issue. I mean, I'm at least guessing the immediate plan isn't to off me or else you wouldn't have wasted medical supplies on someone like me. But, you know...whatever you have to do, I guess. I'm not exactly in the position to ask any favors. Don't even really know what I would ask if I could.”

Severus looked just as off-put by that little speech as Tom felt. Well, I'd have been more worried if there wasn't some sign of mental trauma in there somewhere. Someone like me, he says. Well, crippling self image is a pretty minor leftover, all things considered.

“I don't know what the plan in the future, but for now, you're to stay here and recover.”

Potter nodded and laid back against the pillows again. “Thanks. I mean, really – thanks. Life with the Dursley's wasn't fun, but I didn't wanna die, you know? So I really appreciate it. I'm guessing,” he licked his lips, “I'm guessing that, since your people, or your boss' people, were there, and found me, and now I'm here...I'm guessing the Dursley's are dead?”

“They are. Does that bother you?”

Potter closed his eyes, and gave a tired smile. “I'm not vindictive by nature, I'd like to think, but...couldn't have happened to nicer people, I say.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes. Catching movement in the corner of his vision, he turned his head and saw a man in the armchair by his bedside. He was undoubtedly handsome, broad-shouldered but not stocky, trim and fit, with wavy dark brown hair, intense brown eyes, lips made for smirking, and long elegant fingers laid out over the end of the arm rests. He sat like a king on a throne, legs gracefully crossed at the knee and a proud tilt to his head. He was staring intently at him, and Harry had a feeling he'd been staring for a while.

“Good morning...?”

The man smirked (called it!). “Riddle. Tom Riddle.”

Harry nodded sagely. “Ah. I wondered if I'd meet you before, well, whatever happens to me happens. Harry Potter, nice to meet you. And, thanks. I understand you're the one who saved my life, ultimately.”

Tom nodded. “I was, Mr. Potter.”

“Just Harry is fine, Mr. Riddle. I'm not the formal type, and...to be honest, I can't remember the last time I had a chance to ask someone to call me Harry. So, you know...it'd be nice.”

Tom couldn't help but chuckle at his rambling. “Tom, then. You're not one of my lower crew, and you're not a rival, so you're right, no need for formality.” He tapped his fingers on the armrest. “And, I find myself at a bit of a loss on what to do with you. A background like yours, sadly, isn't particularly conducive to a successful placement in an organization like mine, I'm afraid.”

Harry chuckled. “No offense taken Tom, you're really not wrong. There's really not much I'm good at that would be useful to you. Honestly, you'd be well within your rights to chuck me out first chance you'd get. I'd understand, too, you know.”

Tom narrowed his gaze at him. “If I actually wanted to do that, you wouldn't be here in the first place. You're a mystery, and all good mysteries deserve to be solved.”

Harry sighed, and looked away, though not before Tom caught a flash of hurt pass over his face. “Well, I'm guessing you were listening on to my conversation with Severus, so...mystery solved.”

“Beg pardon?”

“That's all there really is to me. Dead parents, abusive relatives, cupboard and chores and a grade in school so low no uni would take me. Couldn't score higher than Dudley, see, or it meant more bruises, and Dudley was as dumb as they come. Nothing else to tell, sorry. Not a lot of opportunities to build an interesting story around a person locked in one room or another their whole life once you get past the initial shock factor, you know?”

Tom smirked and shook his head. “Oh, Harry, Harry. That doesn't mean there isn't a mystery to solve here.” He stood up and made his way to the door. “It just means you'll be solving it right along with all of the rest of us.”

Once Harry was healed enough to move around, Tom had him moved to his more private residence to finish recovering. His men still had access there, in fact it was the main place the crew would rest and recuperate between missions, or meet up for longer breaks and meals. Tom, in fact, counted on this fact; there was always at least one man or woman there, and he found he wanted Harry to meet everyone and not be lonely.

Before he had had him moved, Tom had gone down to speak with Harry every day since their first meeting. Harry had, at times, a wonderfully dry and sarcastic wit, and a penchant for dark humour that Tom truly appreciated. Conversation flowed easily between them, and while neither spoke on their pasts much – for obvious reasons – Tom's theory that Harry had used the library as an escape was proven when he demonstrated having an interesting amount of knowledge in a random assortment of topics, a byproduct of reading just to read and not go back to the Dursley's for a few more hours a day.

When he informed Harry that he was being moved into his main residence, he gave the excuse that he wanted him to be more comfortable to finish recovering faster, and that he would have the Lestranges' and Lucius pop in on occasion to see if all of that random knowledge would give him some use somewhere in the organization. Harry hadn't protested, and in fact looked delighted at the idea of being helpful in the slightest. Tom, however, had only said that to put his mind at ease; in truth, the main reason he'd moved Harry to his home is he hoped it was more secure, and that he would be more comfortable in general, and...

Well, at this point, Tom rather felt like Harry was his for some reason. Not that he was going to dwell on the thought long enough to figure out why.

Of course, the original plan was to start taking more of his evening meals at home instead of at his desk, in order to spend more time with Harry without raising any questions about it. Instead, a rival group run by Grindelwald had started getting ballsy, and Tom found himself shut in his office or out coordinating his men more than ever. Naturally, as soon as he had something at his home worth being there for for more than a moment, he didn't have the time to go.

He went a full month without seeing Harry before things were finally, finally starting to calm down. He still had a few reports to wrap up before he could even consider heading home, so he'd miss dinner anyway, but maybe in the morning...

He paused as he noticed several of his men walking down the hall by his door, all talking and laughing, followed by the scent of something heavenly. This had actually become a common occurrence; even with all of the trouble with Grindelwald, moral had never been higher, and seeing people walking around with food of some sort was more common than usual. A lot of the conversation seemed to be around the food, too. Maybe there was a new favourite restaurant?

His thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when Bella, Rabastan, and Rodolphus entered the study after a brief courtesy knock on the open door. They looked to be carrying tupperware containers.

“Boss,” Rabastan placed one of them in front of him, “thought you might be hungry.”

Tom lifted the lid to find a steaming serving of pasta. Linguini, a cream sauce, lightly seared tomatoes and shrimp, a wedge of lemon, a delicate layer of Parmesan cheese on the top...well, it certainly smelled good. Tom took a bite, and almost groaned. “Where did you get this?”

Bella grinned madly. “Never had anything better, right?!”

Tom took another bite. Jesus, she wasn't wrong. “Is this from whatever new restaurant everyone seems to be in love with all of a sudden?”

Rodolphus chuckled. “No restaurant. Harry.”

Tom's fork froze in midair. “Harry?”

“Yeah, he's been mostly recovered for a couple of weeks and apparently gets bored easily. Found the kitchen, made sure to check first to make sure no one was gonna pitch a fit or that'd it bother you if he used it, and went to town.”

Tom frowned, and recalled a very vague memory of someone asking something about using his kitchen. Well, at least he'd gotten permission, even if he was so busy he hadn't even really noticed what he was giving permission for.

“At first, it was snacks and smaller baked goods, things we could take out with us on the field,” Rodolphus continued. “It was pretty obvious we were all swamped, and he said he wanted to help the only way he could, giving us something to eat on the go, keep our energy up. Shit, I don't think most of us have touched a convenience store since he started. The boy's a fucking wizard in the kitchen. Of course, it wasn't too much longer that a few of us at a time would be at the manor in time for a meal, and naturally those were even fucking better, so he's always got something cooking or ready for one of us. Hell, once Avery walked in still spattered in blood, and Harry didn't even blink a fucking eye, just asked him to wash up before eating so he wouldn't get his cooking space dirty.”

Bella cackled. “He's an imp. I haven't had this much fun with a newbie in years.”

Rabastan nodded. “I know we haven't talked to you about this yet, Boss, but we were thinkin' of keeping him where he's at. He's good at it, and I haven't seen the men this happy in a while. If nothing else, he's damn useful for the moral boost.”

Rodolphus nodded. “Not just with food, either. He's a damn good listener too. This line of work comes with some pretty heavy shit sometimes, and I've lost count of how many times I've walked into the kitchen to see someone or another talking things out or getting a pep talk or some shit from the kid. For someone who grew up alone, he's damn good with people.” He nodded at the container in Tom's hand. “Been worried about you, too. Asked me to personally make sure you got that, keep your energy up. He knows there hasn't been time to visit, but said you needed to 'take care of yourself and not do the old man's job for him'.”

Tom stared at the mostly eaten pasta in front of him. “Excuse me.” He shot up out of the seat and made a line for the door. Those reports could wait a day.

As soon as he was out of range, Bella snickered and held a hand out to Rabastan, who sneered and plopped a few notes into it. Rodolphus shook his head. “One of these days you'll learn not to bet with her. Especially on something so predictable.”

“He's right, Rab. Boss' got it bad, not that I blame him.”

Harry hummed lightly as he focused, drizzling cherries in sauce over his just-completed cheesecake, when he heard footsteps enter the kitchen behind him. “Just one more second...” Finished, he straightened up. “Done! You're just in time-” he turned around. “Tom! It's good to see you! Did you get my package?”

Tom chuckled. “I did, thank you. It was exactly what I needed after all that's been going on.” He stepped closer. “I've heard you've kept yourself busy?”

Harry's eyes sparkled. “Yes! Thank you for letting me use your kitchen, this is a dream set-up. I've always loved cooking, and there's just so much I can do in one like this! Oh, look, so far-”

He kept rambling on, but Tom found himself losing focus on the words as he took in Harry's appearance. The last month had been good for him; he wasn't nearly as emaciated, and was dressed in clean, well fitted black slacks with a dark blue button down shirt that was well matched to his still-pale skin tone. A stained and already well used and loved apron covered his front. His cheeks were pink with happiness, his hair a wild mess (though Tom was fairly sure that was a near constant), and there was just so much life in those emerald eyes.

“-and so, I told Bella, that is exactly why waiting is important, I don't care how good it is. Anyway, sorry, I'm babbling, how are you? I know you've been busy, but I hope things are getting a little calmer since you're here.”

Tom chuckled again. Harry, apparently, was a chatterbox. In anyone else, he'd find that annoying, but in Harry...well, it was almost endearing.

And probably a by-product of his entire life so far spent alone. It took all of his control to keep the rage he felt at that realization off of his face. Either Harry could read him like an open book, or he was unsuccessful, because Harry's smile dropped and he looked worried.

“Er, Tom? I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

Tom waived away his apology. “No Harry, don't worry, it wasn't you. Just a sudden and unwelcome memory.” He gently grasped Harry's elbow and led him back to the island the cheesecake was sitting on. “Otherwise, yes, I'm fine. It has been busy, but everything is finally being handled, I believe.”

The smile was back (and, no, it was not doing something funny to his insides, thank-you-very-much). “Good! I know it's been stressful for everyone, so I've been trying to help out where I can.” Harry looked down at the cheesecake with a rueful smile. “It's not much, but...well, everyone needs a little happiness at least, and this is the only way I can do it, I think.”

Tom gave a soft smile of his own. “Don't sell yourself short. If what I've been seeing from the others is any indication, you've given more than just a little.”

Now, the beaming grin Harry gave for that? Absolutely did something funny to his insides.

“Thank you, really! Oh! And like I said, you're just in time. Cheesecake is just what is needed to celebrate a case of things-getting-handled.” Harry pulled out a silver butter knife and started carving into the creamy cake, and handed Tom an (overly large) slice.

Tom accepted the fork Harry handed him, took a bite, and -

Oh, god. He hadn't had sex this good, forget food. “Harry, this is amazing. No wonder the minions are all on cloud nine.”

Harry snickered. “Minions...”

Tom's original plan that evening was to finish those reports and maybe get a little extra sleep. Instead, they sat in his office, forgotten, as he and Harry bantered back and forth, eating cheesecake, late into the night.

Several figures stood around a table in a basement.

“I don't like this. It isn't like Grindelwald to back down, especially not to some upstart like Riddle.”

“Riddle's people are loyal to the point of fanaticism. I've known Gellert for decades, pushing people until they break has always been his major flaw. With Riddle's people mowing his down in coordinated attacks, and lack of encouragement from Gellert himself, it's no wonder his men are jumping ship faster than he can recruit. It's not impossible he'll even come to me for aid, at this rate.”

“Honestly, it's probably too late, even now. Riddle may still be young, next to you and Grindelwald, but he's already got a reputation of leaving no loose ends.”

“Peter? Anything we can use?”

A balding, twitchy, beady-eyed man stepped forward. “Well, I-I'm not sure, but...”

“Out with it already, rat!”

“I-I haven't found any holes in Riddle's personal security – he's always got at least 3 guards on him, usually 4. Lately, though, he's been spending more time at his manor. Used to be, he hardly left headquarters, where his office is. Now, he's back at the manor for the evening meal every day, stays all night – doesn't sleep in his office anymore – and holds most of his lunch meetings there too, if he can help it.” He handed over a stack of photos. “I don't get invited to those often, but the men can come and go otherwise. I managed to get these, but it's not much...”

An aged finger tapped on one of the photos. In the picture, Riddle was walking through his blooming garden, a young man at his side. “This one...I know him.”

“Harry Potter. Bella and the boys brought him back after a hit a few months ago, though no one told me what happened. Been living in Riddle's manor full time, as far as I can tell. Cooks for everyone. Nice to everyone, too.”

“Ah, Potter. I remember now. Got his parents with a fake will, donating everything to our cause. Placed the toddler with some relatives, I think, can't remember all that well.” A sigh. “Well, it was around 20 years ago, now, I think.”

Someone snorted. “Those wills of yours are genius, they are.”

“Useful, aren't they? No matter. Hmm...” He took a closer look at the photo, at the expressions on the two men's faces. Well, now. “Peter, you say the security stays tight on Riddle. Is it just as tight on the manor when he isn't there?”

“Uh, no, no I don't think so. There's cameras, of course, but not much in the way of guards unless Riddle's in. A lot of people coming and going, but mostly around meal times. W-why?”

“Because if we can't hit him directly, why, we just have to come at him from the side, after all.” The picture was placed onto the table, and a finger jabbed into the smiling face of Harry Potter.

Peter gulped.

Tom scrubbed a tired hand across his face. “Most of Grindelwald's goons are gone to ground, or dead. Do we know where the man is himself?”

Rabastan snickered. “Nice alliteration.” He ignored the glare he earned for that comment.

Rodolphus shrugged. “Not exactly, but thanks to Seamus', ah, expertise, he doesn't have too many holes left to hide in. Just the one in downtown London, and, ironically enough, Surrey.”

As if on cue, Harry pushed open the door to the meeting room, carrying a steaming tray with bowls of lunch for those in the meeting. “Hello! Sorry to interrupt, but I've brought some lunch; it's easier to think on a full stomach.”

Bella sighed in bliss as a savory beef stew with fresh baked rolls was placed in front of her. “Thanks, poppet. This is exactly what I needed.”

Tom side-eyed her. A pet name, not said in a mocking tone? Even her husband didn't always get that much out of her. And for some ridiculous reason, this made him want to glare.

That is, until a smiling Harry deposited his own lunch next to his folders in front of him. “Eat while it's hot, Tom. It'll only help, I promise.”

Tom brushed his hand over Harry's as he reached for his utensils. “Of course, Harry. Thank you.”

Harry smiled sweetly at him before leaving them to their meeting. Lucius and the Lestranges sneaked knowing glances at each other while Tom wasn't looking.

A few days later, Tom was shuffling through yet more reports at his desk when someone knocked at his door. “Enter.”

Lucius strode in, looking like the cat that got the canary. “Grindelwald is done.”

Tom's eyes widened, then narrowed in a malicious grin. “Excellent! Where was he hiding?”

“Surrey. Actually, it's odd...”

“What is?”

Lucius shifted. “We didn't catch him in the safe house itself. He was on his way back from somewhere...and when we found him, he was just a few streets over from Privet Drive.”

Something twisted a little in Tom's chest at that. It had to be a coincidence...right? He checked the time on his computer. “Lucius...lunch is in an hour anyway. Let's head to the manor for a bite, see if Harry's up to making a bit of a celebratory meal for everyone later, give everyone the rest of the day off for a bit of a party at the manor, yes?”

Lucius nodded. “Excellent idea, Boss. I'll get the car ready.”

Both men rushed from the office, fighting back the heavy foreboding feeling that had settled in their minds.

As soon as the driver pulled up to the manor, Tom didn't even wait for him to shut off the engine; he shot out of the door and up the staircase, stepping into the foyer. So far, everything looked normal. He had to fight to keep himself from dashing into the kitchen. He stepped through the archway, and -

Immediately it felt like ice water had replaced the blood in his veins.

Harry had obviously been in the middle of making some type of baked good. A flour bag was on its side, the contents spilled out over the counter and onto the floor. The eggs lay forgotten on the counter, with one dropped and cracked on the tile. A bowl of batter had been flung, upside down and oozing over the surfaces it had spattered over. And, on the wall behind the station, where Harry normally stood while working -

A small spatter, the unmistakable shade of blood.

Lucius ran in behind him, and his breath shuddered at the sight. “No...”

Tom snarled. “Do we have no one watching this place regularly?!” His fists were clenched at his side, shaking in his fury.

Lucius shook his head, a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Not unless you're here, Boss. That's changing now, though.”

Unable to stop himself, Tom slammed a fist into the wall. “Damn right it is! But too fucking late!”

“Boss? What's with all the shouting?”

The Lestranges ran into the room with them, eyes widening as they took in the seen. Bella's face went cold, colder than Tom had ever seen it. “Oh, someone is going to die today.”

Tom straightened, and forced the panic down. “They are, Bella. I'll see to it myself. Lucius!” He stalked from the room, his loyal crew at his back. “Get the CCTV up, I know we've got cameras on the property. We're going to track down these bastards. And when we find them? I want a fucking bloodbath.”

Brown eyes narrowed at the screen, waiting to pause the fast forward function. “There!”

While there were no cameras in the kitchen, there were many on the grounds. Somehow, they didn't see anyone go in, but on the way out, they caught a glimpse of a grizzled older man dragging away a clearly unconscious Harry, who was bleeding from a cut on his forehead.

“Moody. Bastard. Somehow I should have figured Dumbledore was behind this.” Tom slammed a fist into the desk. “Damn it! Where could he have taken him?!”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at the screen, and zoomed in. “Well, why don't we just ask?” He jabbed a finger at the screen. In the background, a nervous, balding man could just be seen at the edge of the image.

“Pettigrew.”

Peter Pettigrew was shoving clothing into a satchel. Damn it, he should have never taken that bribe, it didn't matter how rich it made him if he was dead...

He shrieked as his front door slammed open. He shivered as he watched the Lestranges stalk in. “Well, hello Peter. Going somewhere?”

Bellatrix snarled and sprang forward, digging her sharp nails into his shoulders as she slammed him against the wall. “Where the FUCK did they take him, rat?! Tell me, or I'll make you tell me!”

“O-o-o-order warehouse! T-t-the Grimmauld docks!”

A truly evil smile spread across Bellatrix's face, eyes wide, a manic glint to them. “There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Boys! Get 'im in the trunk! Boss will want to play after we've got our boy, I'm sure.”

Tom stood in front a decrepit looking warehouse, his most vicious and most loyal at his back. And Harry's loyal, he thought. The men and women behind him were considered ruthless, hardened criminals by the rest of the world. Harry never had anything less than a smile, a kind word, and good food for every single on of them. This was beyond personal, for all of them. Harry had brought a sense of peace and sunshine into their daily lives.

And Dumbledore was trying to take that from them. From Tom.

Tom waived his crew forward. Dumbledore's men were sure to be stationed in the main room, and his people would take care of them, no problem. His target was likely in a back room or office. Dumbledore was his, and if he had killed Harry, well...

The world would bleed.

Tom stalked forward, ignoring the shouts and gunfire around him, aiming for the steel door he could see in the back. A powerful kick sent it crashing open.

Harry was there, bound and sitting in a chair, looking at him with wide eyes, fear etched into his face. “Tom! Look out, it's a -”

Tom ducked just in time. A bullet whizzed just where his head was a second ago. When he straightened, Dumbledore had appeared behind Harry, a revolver in one hand.

“Tom, my boy. So glad you could make it.”

Tom seethed. “Let him go, now, old man. He has nothing to do with you, with any of this.”

“On the contrary.” Dumbledore pulled out a photo and tossed it at his feet. A photo of Harry, walking with Tom through the manor's gardens, lay there. “Even at my age there are times I am wrong, it seems. I thought you incapable of something as normal as caring for another human being, after all. Well, no matter.” He pulled Harry to his feet, dragging him with him to the door.

Tom growled at the sight of the rough ropes digging into Harry's flesh. Before he could lunge forward, Dumbledore raised the barrel of his gun to Harry's temple.

“Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn't, if you want Mr. Potter to live long enough to see the outside of this warehouse again.” He was now past Tom, and turned to drag Harry backwards, eyes never leaving Tom. “Well, I won't complain about being wrong this time. It does make you such an easy target, my boy.”

As the gun left his head and started to swing towards Tom, Harry took his chance. His arms were bound, but his legs were free; he swung a foot out, sweeping Dumbledore to the ground. He fell with a crash, dragging Harry with him. Harry's head bounced off of the concrete floor with a sickening crack.

“Harry!” Tom rushed forward, but Dumbledore was sneering, raising the gun at Harry, pulled the trigger, too late too late too late!...

Tom jumped the last bit of distance, catching the bullet in his shoulder with a grunt.

“TOM!”

He lay still. Footsteps, closer, closer. He gripped his gun in his hand, hidden under his body.

“Ah, and that's that. Don't worry Harry, you'll be joining him...”

Tom rolled over in a flash, no time to aim, fired...

“Oh.” Dumbledore raised a shaking hand to his chest. Blood spread out over his suit, right over his heart, before he crumpled to the ground.

Tom gripped his shoulder, panting, as he stared at the corpse. Shock kept him in place until a shivering voice reached him.

“Tom?...”

He turned abruptly, and was dismayed to find his eyes watering at the sight of Harry, still bound and trembling. “Harry! God, Harry!” Tom pulled out his knife and cut the ropes, and gathered Harry into his arms. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, are you alright?!”

“M'fine...Tom...not your fault...”

“Harry?” Tom pulled back the hand he had held the back of Harry's head in, fingers carded into those wild locks. The hand was coated in blood, a matching splotch on the ground where Harry fell.

“Fine, Tom...m'fine...”

“Harry!” He patted Harry's cheek, watching in fear as his eyes fluttered shut. “No! Stay awake! You can't sleep yet, stay awake!”

“It's...ok...”

Harry's vision went black.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was in a familiar room, in a familiar bed. He was back in the medical room at Tom's headquarters – wait, Tom -

“I'm here, Harry,” a voice said, a warm hand on his shoulder keeping him from sitting up.

Harry looked over, and Tom was sitting in a chair next to his bed, eyes warm. His left arm was in a sling, but otherwise, thank god, he looked okay. “Tom! I'm so sorry, you got hurt because of me-”

“No Harry, no.” Tom moved to sit on the bed beside him. “No, you got hurt because of me. I dragged you into this life, and you got hurt for it.”

Harry's eyes were swimming with tears. “No, it's not your fault. Tom, if the others hadn't gotten me out of Privet Drive, if you hadn't told them to bring me with them, I would have died then and there. You saved me, and nothing will change that.”

Tom brought his free hand up to Harry's cheek, and he was dismayed to see it was shaking. “When we saw that you were gone, that they took you...I've never been that terrified in my life.” Tom finally cupped his cheek, and oh, his heart sang as Harry nuzzled into the touch. “I don't fear anything, ever. But now...losing you? Losing the laughter and happiness you've brought to me, to my people? I could not live another day if that happened.”

Harry sighed. “Oh, Tom.” Harry brought one of his own hands up to lay over his. “Before, well, everything, I never feared dying. That day, where Lucius and the others found me...it wasn't the only time it came close. And I wasn't afraid of dying, because why would I be? I hadn't lived yet, not really, and there wasn't anything for me to leave behind.” He melted at the look of pain and rage and sorrow that crossed Tom's face. “But, in that warehouse...thinking that I was going to die, and that I'd never see you again, or the others, and that I was being used as bait in a trap that could get you hurt or worse, I've never felt fear like that before, either. Because now, I have something to lose. Now, I have something, someone, to live for.”

For the first time since he could remember, Tom cried. Harry shushed him, pulled him closer, and -

Their lips met, and they melted together, soft and sweet and filled with thoughts of mine.

In the security room for Tom's headquarters, a loud cheer resounded at the kiss as his men and women watched on, pleased that the inevitable had finally happened.

“No one's telling Boss or Harry we watched this.”

“Of course not Bella, we're not stupid.”

One Year Later

Harry stood in front of the fresh new building in front of him, grinning from ear to ear. His restaurant, his Emerald Place, had opened the week prior with resounding success. Warm arms wrapped around him from behind, and a soft chuckle vibrated against his back.

“It's perfect, love. Congratulations.”

Harry turned in the embrace and smiled up into the warm brown eyes of his partner. “It's all thanks to you, Tom.”

Tom shook his head. “It's all you, my darling. Money is nothing, next to your hard work, and your genius in the kitchen.”

Harry laughed brightly. “Together, then. We built this together. And speaking of kitchen, I believe everyone is waiting on us.”

He grabbed Tom's hand, pulling him through the restaurant into the back, into the private room always set aside for his and Tom's people – for his family.