It was so cold that Harry regretted not using a warming charm in the first place. He was freezing.
Riddle, ever in his white shirt and black pants was standing a few steps ahead, gazing at the muggle tavern, not bothered at all by the cold temperature. Most dead people weren’t. The small village was covered in snow as it endlessly fell from the night sky. Harry normally didn’t mind such weather, but he would have preferred to just not at that moment.
“Are you sure this is the place?” he asked. “It looks…”
“Like a wreck for muggle scum to drink their minds off? That’s exactly what it is. And yes, Potter, of course I’m sure. “
Taking another look at the two-floor tavern, he sighed in annoyance.
“Fine. Let’s say I find this man there. What makes
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Besides, I wouldn’t want you to hide your pretty face,” taunted Riddle, starting to walk. ”Come now Potter, we do not have all night.”
Harry rolled his eyes, barely surpassing a smile hearing the other’s teasing words. It was a strange feeling for him. Realizing that not only did he found Riddle attractive, but also enjoyed his company. Before, Harry had never considered the possibility of being something other than enemies, but here he was, planning to pretty much abduct a man under Riddle’s guidance. Oh well, he’d done worse things than
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But it made sense. As Voldemort had explained three days ago, no one expected him to use his own name. Including Harry.
All color drained from the man’s face, expression changed into one of fear. Harry had his wand ready, in case Richard tried anything. His eyes meet Riddle’s one when he moved to stand behind the muggle, observing Harry.
“I…,” Richard whispered. “I know him. But, who are you and what is your relationship to the man?”
Using his real name was out of question.
“My name is Harry Riddle. Tom Riddle is my father.”
He watched Riddle’s face when he said the name. He expected anger, but his once enemy seem more surprised than anything. Harry himself didn’t know why he had chosen this name and this particular relationship, but he needed to convince Richard of his good intention. Besides, Riddle’s face had been worth it.
It seemed to work, as the man’s gaze carefully moved over his features, obviously comparing Harry’s looks to Riddle’s one. He knew they looked somehow alike, and he was going to play that card.
“Remind him of the package,” urged Riddle.
“He’s unable to come here himself, so, as his son I’m the one to retrieve the package.”
Riddle let out a small laugh, circling the table to stand right next to