Chapter Text
They were burning the damn cream puffs again.
"Get away from the pastry station, both of you! Alexander - just get the next batch of cream ready for piping. Stacy, if you mess up my caramel again, I'm kicking you out of the kitchen until I'm less annoyed."
Harry didn't normally snap at his trainee pastry chefs, but they were letting their nerves get the best of them tonight. There was a big important meeting in the club's private room that the owner had been talking about all week. Harry didn't ask about it, because the less he knew of this shady place and its various criminal activities the better. That he was forced to work in places like this was unfortunate, but to the gentler souls in the kitchen, it bordered on terrifying. Whoever was in the private room with the owner right now had the servers shaking each time they returned, and their fear was affecting his coworkers.
"Yes, Chef!" Was chorused by his trainees as they scrambled to do as he asked. Harry sighed and finished the pastries himself, hoping the rest of this night went by quickly so he could get out of these uncomfortable dress clothes under his Chef jacket.
"Chef could you..." one of the servers was trembling on the other side of his workstation, looking at him imploringly.
"Could you d-do the desert presentation tonight? You're much better at it! And I... I spilled some wine earlier during m-my service."
"Yes, fine." He answered shortly. The owner insisted on the food and drinks being served via levitation charms - he said it was barbaric to reach in front of the guests to serve them. As a result, when any of the servers got too twitchy, their magic would follow. Harry wasn't worried he'd have the same problem. He'd survived a lot worse than a mob boss, or whoever their VIP guest was. In the 5 years since Grindelwald was defeated, a dozen or so had popped up in Knockturn Alley. They didn't last long.
An hour and 200 cream puffs later, Harry was ready to take desert to the private room. The two domed platters floated behind him as he made his way to the heavy, silenced doors.
"Sorry Chef Harry, you can't go in like that. The boss insists anyone who enters tonight be in full formal."
The club manager looked apologetic but firm, so Harry grudgingly removed his jacket, exposing the long-sleeved black dress shirt underneath his corset vest. Yes, the owner of this damn club made them all wear corsets - men and women alike. Harry's was red and black, with diamond-like patterns and red laces in the back. He absolutely hated it. Trying to cook with the heavy brocade and boning pressing into his body was a nightmare, but the owner wanted it to look like a brothel in here, apparently.
He handed his jacket to the manager and flicked a hand irritably, opening the heavy doors with a bit of wandless magic. Wanting to get this over with quickly, he strode directly to the owner to await his cue, not bothering to look at any of the guests. A low whistle drew his glance for a moment, and his annoyance grew as he met the eyes of Amadeus, the owner's son. He'd been relentlessly harassing Harry since he first met the slimy perv last year. Harry now avoided letting Amadeus or anyone else see him without his Chef jacket on, and he HAD been pretty successful up until now.
The design of this room matched the rest of the club’s decor quite well - his trainee Stacy called it 'vampire chic'. Along with the gothic furniture, low lighting, and dark wallpaper in the VIP room, the owner had added a long table, which at a glance seemed to seat about a dozen men, including his employers. The owner showed only a moment of surprise at seeing Harry instead of one of the serving girls before donning a truly greasy smile and calling out to the room.
"Honored guests, for dessert I have quite a treat for you! Our head Chef will be doing a tableside presentation of his finest pastry creation. Chef Harry - please show our guests what great esteem we hold them in."
Harry spread his hands like a conductor, and the two platters behind him floated to his sides, the domes rising smoothly. Inside each were small bowls - one filled with caramel and the other with cream puffs. They had undetectable extension charms on them, so when he lifted his hands higher, dozens of cream puffs and a wave of caramel came swirling out in an elegant spiral. They soared over the heads of the guests and danced together mid-air, the caramel coating the pastries perfectly and descending to the center of the table where they stacked neatly in the shape of a winding serpent, triangular head pointing at the seat of honor where Harry assumed the VIP was.
A theatrical clap of his hands, and powdered sugar fell like snow upon the serpent before it began winding and slithering its way along the table. The guests made various sounds of admiration and a few even applauded his effortless display of wandless magic.
"Tonight, I have prepared for you my take on a croquembouche. Choux pastry puffs filled with spiced pumpkin cream and coated with apple cider caramel, topped with icing sugar. Enjoy."
Harry dipped into a sweeping bow and turned to leave when a posh voice cut through the room.
"One moment, Chef."
Harry turned back around to see that the man at the seat of honor was standing. His polite smile froze on his face as he met the man's eyes. He was horribly, distressingly beautiful.
"If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate if you'd serve me personally."
He gestured to the space next to him and sat back down, a small smirk at the corner of his lips. Harry looked at the owner and raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'do I have to?' which the brothel-loving man obviously nodded at in response. Repressing a sigh, he made his way over to the space indicated, not looking at any of the guests. This job paid pretty well, but he was definitely going to ask for a raise later.
"Father, I've never gotten personal service from Harry. I think it's fair to ask him to service me next - surely he has time."
Amadeus' oily voice was overtly suggestive, as was the way his eyes lingered on Harry's ass. His fists balled and he opened his mouth to tell the man where to shove it when that posh voice stopped him again.
"I'm afraid I may monopolize your Chef's time tonight, actually. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
The owner hastened to reassure his VIP that he could have Harry for the rest of the night (thanks boss, I'm not actually a prostitute) while Amadeus scowled. All he could think was that his luck had finally run out, as the beautiful man reached a hand towards him and said,
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry. My name is Tom Riddle."
Harry extended his hand, which the man turned and brought to his plush lips, kissing his knuckles. He swallowed thickly, hoping his voice would not waver.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Riddle."
Riddle's rich brown eyes had a distinctly red tint to them, and his lips lingered against Harry's skin for a moment too long to be proper. He seemed to be staring through Harry's green eyes, so he quickly averted them. When his hand was released, Harry gestured towards the sugared snake upon the table, and two perfect cream puffs separated from the body to drift onto the plate in front of Riddle. Unsure what to do now that he had served the man, he simply folded his arms behind his back and waited.
The other guests at the table had resumed talking, several taking their own portions of dessert or calling for more wine. Whether this was to drink or to harass the poor serving girls, Harry wasn't sure. Riddle never moved his eyes from Harry, not even to glance at the pastries on his plate. Instead, he slid his chair back quietly and patted his thigh, a devious and arrogant smile spreading over his face.
"Take a seat, Harry. You must be exhausted, overseeing that extensive meal in such a... restrictive uniform."
Harry contemplated pouring the man's wine out over his head, but the fact that he radiated power and danger stopped him. There were far too many of his coworkers in here, and he didn't think Riddle would mind harming them if he got upset enough. He understood now why his servers came back to the kitchen so shaken - as angelic as the man's features were, there was also something deeply unsettling about him. He was too still, as if he was preparing to strike.
Not seeing a way out of it, Harry sat across Tom Riddle's lap. He absolutely refused to blush at this, murmuring quietly;
"Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Riddle."
The cocky bastard inclined his head graciously and gestured to the cream puffs before wrapping an arm around his waist. The other he laid across Harry's knee, clearly not intending to pick the sweets up himself. Harry did NOT get paid enough for this.
Casting a quick glance around the room, it seemed like most of the guests were busy chatting or flirting with servers. The owner and his son were in a whispered conversation. He saw one man reach for his co-worker's breast as she cleaned up a spill, and Harry flicked a stinging hex at him as discreetly as possible before grabbing a cream puff. He turned back to Riddle to see he had an amused smirk on his handsome face. Well, he probably saw Harry's little hex, but at least he didn't seem to care.
He brought the pastry to the man's mouth, who took a small bite, eyes still riveted on Harry's. Until he chewed - and then his eyes flickered to the desert in Harry's hand. He tried to pull his hand away, but Riddle's lifted from his knee and seized Harry's wrist. He brought Harry's hand back to his mouth and wrapped his lips eagerly around the pastry and Harry's fingertips, groaning quietly.
"That is incredible. Truly delicious, Harry. It tastes like pumpkin juice." Riddle licked a bit of icing sugar from Harry's thumb, and his breath caught for a moment before allowing himself a small, true smile.
"Yes, that's exactly what I hoped for when I chose the ingredients! I favor nostalgic Wizarding flavors in my cooking, just presented in modern or trendy ways."
Riddle smiled at this, and his seemed to have a bit of genuine warmth in it too. Huh.
"May I have another? You should have one with me, as well."
Harry summoned another pastry and popped it into his mouth, eyes brightening happily as he noted that the textures and flavors had come together perfectly. He swallowed with a contented hum before grabbing the desert on Riddle's plate and bringing it to his mouth again. The man didn't give Harry a chance to pull away this time. His hand shot up to seize Harry's wrist and pushed the entire pastry in his mouth, eyes closing in pleasure. The Chef in Harry couldn't help but be extremely flattered by this.
That thought fled though as Riddle's eyes flickered open, spotted a string of caramel on his pointer and middle fingertips, and flipped his hand palm- up before sucking the digits into his warm mouth. Harry flinched backwards, but the arm around his waist tightened and the grip on his wrist was firm. The way Riddle's tongue swirled around the digits in his mouth was obscene, and Harry couldn't help the blush dusting his cheeks any longer.
Riddle's mouth opened, his hot breath tickling Harry's palm.
"You made this entire dinner tonight, Harry?"
Harry blinked, not expecting that question considering the heated gaze he was receiving.
"Yes, in a manner. I'm head Chef, so I design the menu and delegate my cooks to specific dishes and show them how I want each executed. I took over the entirety of desert tonight because I'm training new pastry Chefs. It's the most difficult job."
Riddle nodded, and a neat curl of his black hair slid across his forehead. Harry's mind was now spinning through possible menus for the following week, as he had the next couple of days off, so he absentmindedly smoothed the lock of hair back into place. His hand froze as he realized what he did, but Riddle's smile was wide and delighted.
"As incredibly lovely as you look in this, it must be quite uncomfortable." The devious man plucked at the laces at the back of his corset vest.
"I'm sure your boss wouldn't mind if you took it off now. Your work is over for the night, and I would rather see you at ease, Harry."
Harry snorted lightly before his mouth moved, unfortunately independent from his brain.
"Would you? You seem like the type to enjoy seeing people uncomfortable. My servers have all returned to the kitchen as if from battle."
Damnit, Harry. This is how you get yourself into the worst situations.
Riddle's charming smile froze, before turning sharper, colder.
"I'm afraid I can't take all of the credit for that. My.... companions don't always have the best manners."
He nodded towards the other guests at the table, who were openly jeering at one of the muggleborn servers as she was struggling with a nose-biting teacup one of them must have swapped in for a prank. Harry clenched his jaw but refocused on the viper whose lap he was still on.
"As for the rest... don't you think it's a bit early to be making assumptions about me, Harry? We just met, after all. You hardly know me. And I -"
He moved too swiftly for Harry to dodge, the hand that was holding his wrist wrapping around the back of his neck and yanking his head down towards his face.
"I don't know you nearly as well as I'd like to. I do intend to change that, however."
His words were a low hiss, both sensual and threatening. Harry wasn't intimidated though. He was cooperating with Mr. Handsy here because he didn't want to lose this job or risk harm coming to his servers. That would only cow him for so long.
"I don't need to know you to see past the polite little facade. This moment is the most genuine you've been with me, Mr. Riddle."
Harry pushed against the man's chest to get some space between them and turned to flick his hand at the few remaining cream puffs, summoning one and eating it delicately, no longer looking at Riddle. He could feel his stare on the side of his face as he glanced around and saw that the guests were getting more belligerent as they got more drunk, and the owner and his useless son weren't doing anything to intervene. Amadeus stared over at him, a pinched look to his face as he glanced from Harry to the man he was sitting on.
Well, time to intervene where his cowardly employers would not. Hopping up from Riddle's lap before he could be stopped, he spoke in a calm but ringing voice.
"Gentlemen, my servers need to assist with kitchen cleanup in about 10 minutes. If you need anything past that time, I will be available to serve you. Thank you."
Harry inclined his head in a bow and shot meaningful looks at the few girls remaining. They smiled gratefully at him, and a couple had to extract themselves from grasping hands, but the men allowed them to move about finishing their work with minimal grumbling. The owner looked like he might argue, but after seeing Harry's hard expression, his eyes glinting like cut emeralds, he snapped his mouth shut and merely returned to his wine.
Suddenly his hand was seized, and Riddle yanked Harry around to face him. He seemed to be upset that Harry's attention had strayed from him. He was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were distinctly angry - the red gleam he'd seen earlier was more pronounced.
"Harry..." He purred. "Before you go about doing all of that work, I DO believe you should be more comfortable. I will assist you."
It was not a question.
His hands hooked behind Harry's knees and pulled forward, causing him to collapse on Riddle's lap, one leg on each side of the man's thighs. Harry flushed immediately and sat up, so he was hovering over Riddle rather than straddling him and placed his hands on the top of the winged chair.
"Fine, take the damn corset off. I hate it anyway." He snapped crossly.
It's not like he'd be more exposed by taking it off - probably less so. The corset pushed his ass out and emphasized it obscenely in combination with the tight fitted dress pants that made up his uniform.
Tom Riddle grinned, apparently not bothered by Harry's rude response as long as he agreed. His hands slid slowly, deliberately, from Harry's knees, up his thighs, over his hips, and around his waist to reach the tight laces. The knot in back was tied simply - Harry loathed struggling out of the cursed thing every night. Riddle wound his fingers around the knot and pulled sharply, watching his waist with a fascinated gleam in his eyes as Harry sucked in a breath at the increased tightness.
Harry shot him a hateful glare, and Riddle's mouth twitched up at the sight of it before pulling slowly at the string securing the knot. There was a pop as it came undone, and Riddle began tugging at the laces to loosen them. With a sigh of relief, Harry unclasped the garment in the front and allowed Riddle to pull it down his arms. He gave Harry's torso a hungry look before flicking his hand and making the corset disappear.
The action froze Harry just as he was about to stand.
"You know I need that for work, right?" He asked irritably. This bastard was going to pay for a new one if he destroyed it. They were horribly expensive.
"It's merely in a pocket dimension, lovely. Stay just like that - you look perfect."
Harry blushed again as he took in their positions - His arms crossed over his chest made the tight dress shirt strain against the well-developed muscles in his torso. Riddle sat back contentedly, his legs spreading Harry's open on his lap and his hands gripping Harry's hips. Harry tried to lift himself up, but the hands on his hips tightened painfully and pushed him back down.
"Do you like this job, Harry? Are you happy working here?"
Again, with the strange questions.
"Happy enough, when I'm not being manhandled. The pay is good."
He gritted out. Was the pay good enough to continue dealing with this? He looked over his shoulder and saw most of the servers were making their way out of the room. Good. At least if he hexed Riddle's balls off, he couldn't take out his anger on them.
"Looks like I have other work to do. Please release me. Now."
Ok, he'd meant for that to come out more politely, but the man was really getting under his skin. Riddle merely slid his hands from his hips to wrap securely around his waist. His lips pressed together tightly before he calmed enough to speak.
"I don't take orders from anyone, Harry. I am a Lord. If you want to be released, you'll have to make a persuasive request. After all, your boss did say I could have you."
He smirked cruelly as Harry's outrage mounted and his fists shook.
"I don't care what he said" the green-eyed man spat. "I'm not a whore. You can't have me, and my job is certainly not worth enough to me to give myself to you or beg you for anything."
Riddle's eyes flashed completely red for a moment and Harry was immediately reaching for his wand when suddenly the last server froze on her way out of the door and fell to her knees, choking. Harry tried to jump up and go to her, but the arms around his waist tightened, the man beneath him unnaturally strong. Harry turned his head back to Riddle with a snarl and saw that he had an incredibly pleased look on his face.
"Is her life worth enough to you?"
Oh, this absolute -
"You absolute bastard." Harry hissed, struggling to pry the fingers around his waist off.
One of Riddle's fingers rose from his waist and made a jerking motion. A moment later, the server coughed, and a splatter of blood hit the floor. Nobody was fucking DOING anything! His useless employers were watching with shock and concern but at a look from Riddle, stayed firmly planted in their seats. The other men at the table seemed to know their psychopathic leader was doing this, because they either ignored the situation entirely or sent him brief glances of curiosity.
Harry took a deep breath to calm himself and think quickly. He could - no, he couldn't expose himself like that. Riddle was already far too interested in him. Would he really kill her just to make a point...? Of course, he would, especially if any of his damned little gang saw Harry rejecting him. He let out a slow breath and pushed his anger and disgust down into a little box and closed the lid as he closed his eyes.
Harry dipped his head slightly and opened his eyes, looking up at Riddle from beneath his lashes. His hands stopped trying to pry the long fingers from his waist and instead wrapped loosely around Riddle's shoulders. In the sweetest, coyest voice he could muster, he murmured quietly;
"I seem to have other tasks to complete before I can continue serving you. I would appreciate it if you allowed me to fulfill them, and I will return to serve your needs after if you still have want of me."
Harry was going to vomit when he got home tonight.
Riddle hummed, looking quite satisfied as the arms around him loosened and smoothed over his back, trailing dangerously low on his spine. His co-worker finally stopped coughing and choking, taking a deep ragged breath and stumbling to her feet. Harry kept his eyes on Riddle, waiting. Finally, he moved his hands to the armrests on the seat.
"I, very much, still have want of you. Return to me quickly, Harry."
The words were whispered lowly, with far too much smugness. Harry merely nodded while he bit his tongue. He removed himself from Riddle's lap with practiced calm and went to the server, escorting her out the door. When they were out of earshot, he whispered to inquire if she was alright and instructed her to get to the kitchen and tell everyone to leave immediately. He will handle cleanup himself tonight. She gave him a tight hug before walking briskly away, and Harry had a feeling this would be her last night working here. He didn't blame her at all.
Returning to the private room, he made quick work of clearing plates and summoning more wine. He rotated around the table just outside of arm length as Amadeus was definitely looking like he might pull a Riddle and yank him onto his lap. When Harry passed his seat, the man pushed his chair back and stood, and Harry's hand closed around his wand. He'd been quite clear with the owner about what would happen if his son kept bothering him. His magic rose, and he allowed a bit to bleed into his eyes in warning, making them glow like green embers.
Thankfully, Amadeus was a coward of unimpressive magic, because he quickly diverted paths to grab one of the floating bottles of wine and sat back down. Harry reined his power back in and resumed his work, ignoring the heavy gaze of Tom Riddle for now. A pale blonde man who was almost certainly a Malfoy waved him over, and Harry patiently explained some of the ingredients and methods he'd used in the entree course. Apparently, the man was quite impressed and wanted to inform his house elves how to make it.
"I doubt that will be necessary, Abraxas." Riddle suddenly commented. He lifted his empty wine glass towards Harry and gave him an expectant smile. Harry's teeth ground. Of course, he wouldn't be happy with having it refilled by a charm. Harry grabbed a bottle from behind him and went over to Riddle, filling the glass by hand while the pale man behind him questioned lightly,
"Why is that, my Lord?"
Harry stepped back and Riddle's eyes flicked to his servant before moving to the club owner.
"I find myself very pleased with how our meeting has gone today."
The owner swelled with relief and pride. Harry rolled his eyes.
"We will extend your business all of the protection you need, and you and your son are welcome to join our ranks or remain outside contacts."
Amadeus looked relieved at this, glancing with distaste at one man at the table that had rolled his sleeves, exposing a skull and snake tattoo.
"As for your side of the deal, I am willing to accept your offer - however, I will also be requesting the services of your head Chef. I will, of course, compensate you for his loss."
He nodded towards Abraxas, who threw Harry a delighted smile and pulled out a Gringotts bag. Harry was momentarily speechless with rage. He turned towards Riddle, ignoring anyone else in the room. The man had finally gotten what he wanted - Harry's undivided attention.
"I have no desire to change employers, Mr. Riddle. As flattered as I am by your interest - even if you offered me twice what I make here, it would not change my mind."
Riddle's grin was casual and unbothered before the owner suddenly interjected.
"Come now, Harry. Surely you can split your time between the club and Mr. Riddle's residence?"
Harry ignored the man. He didn't believe that would be the case at all.
"Ah, I'm afraid I don't share. I want him as my full-time, live-in personal Chef. As I said, you will be compensated until he can be replaced."
And there it was. Merlin, it was like he wasn't even in the room. He took a deep breath in, and the wine glasses shook upon the table from the amount of magic he was tightly leashing.
"Father, we can't just let Harry go. He's the best Chef we've ever had! It would hurt our business to replace him!"
Amadeus sounded, for once, like he actually was thinking about Harry's skills. There was an undeniably petulant tone to his words though, as he looked longingly over at him. Yuck.
The owner looked conflicted, his eyes darting about the room for long moments, before Riddle made the decision for him.
"Allow me to make this easier on you - I withdraw my request. This is now an order from your new Lord. You will find a new Head Chef for your business as I will be taking yours."
A brief glance at the other men at the table, and they were all suddenly standing, wands out. Harry couldn't take them all at once - not with Riddle in the mix. The chances that his employers would be killed in the crossfire was high too. Neither of them were very skilled Wizards. Words tasting like acid, Harry turned to Riddle and said shortly:
"I'll need to stop by my home to gather my things if I'm to be your live-in Chef."
Those crimson eyes flicked to his and gradually deepened to brown. A small but genuine smile grew across his lips before he inclined his head shallowly. He seemed to forget about the others in the room entirely, his focus on Harry heavy with pleasure at his agreement.
"Of course, Harry. We'll stop at your place on the way to mine."
He turned towards Harry's (former) boss and thanked the man for dinner before arranging a future meeting to go over details of their new arrangement. The owner stumbled through his responses, clearly not used to calling anyone - especially not someone as young as Tom Riddle - 'my Lord'.
"Come, my Harry. It's getting late." Riddle placed a proprietary hand on his lower back and began leading him out of the club, looking smug and victorious. Harry wondered at the consequences of poisoning the obnoxiously handsome snake.
On the one hand, it would be incredibly satisfying. Like a therapeutic exercise. It would also save the lives of all the people this monster was going to kill.
On the other, that would drastically change the course of the future - something Harry swore he wouldn't do when he landed in this time period two years ago. Sighing in resignation, he allowed the hand on his back to slip around his waist as the young Dark Lord leaned towards Harry to whisper silkily in his ear.
"You belong to Lord Voldemort now, my Harry."
Didn't he fucking always?