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.