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It was April Fools’ Day. The Great Hall was bustling with life, students snickering to their friends. Everyone had a prank they wanted to pull today. Blearily, Harry ran his fingers through his hair. All he wanted was to go back to bed. 

Filch looked miserable, his face contorted as students exchanged packages from Zonko’s Joke Shop. In contrast, Dumbledore was beaming, wearing his best pair of magenta robes. 

Ron shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Fred and George are going to be nice to Filch today. They’re calling it their best prank ever.” 

“Why would they do that, though? Surely, Filch will appreciate them taking a break on today of all days?” Hermione chimed in, her form tense with disapproval. 

“That’s the thing,” Ron grinned, “he’s not going to think that they’ve miraculously decided to take a break. He’s going to be on edge all day, constantly waiting for their prank. By the end of the day, he’ll be balding from the stress of it!”

The three of them turned towards Fred and George, who were laughing to themselves in hushed tones. “Then again,” Ron shrugged, “knowing them, they might just pull a prank at the end of the day anyway. They could do cockroach fireworks like last year.”

Against his own will, Harry’s gaze drifted over to the Slytherin side of the Great Hall. 

He looked at Riddle. 

The two of them had been enemies since their very first year. There were very few people who saw past Riddle’s facade, and Harry was one of them. He had seen the way Riddle looked down upon those he deemed lesser. The way he helped other students while contempt shone in his eyes, his lips twitching. 

In essence, Riddle was a git. He was a lying, manipulative git. Recently, the man had taken to surrounding himself with his peers, each carefully selected. It was as if he was building his own personal cult. Not that he didn’t already have one. 

Harry grimaced. There were way too many people who loved Riddle for his liking. He was glad Hermione and Ron saw Riddle for his true self as he did.

What would Riddle do if Harry was nice to him, however? If Harry acted pleasantly towards Malfoy, the Slytherin would openly sneer at him, mock him. He would make fun of Harry for his sudden change of heart, but Riddle? What would Riddle do? 

He cared too much about his reputation to goad Harry openly. He wouldn’t want to be perceived as mean. Then, would Riddle smile at Harry warmly? Go along with the facade?

The idea was tempting. He could imagine the rage building in Riddle’s chest with every smile Harry sent his way. His eyes would darken with hate as he found himself unable to belittle him. He would have to grin and bear it; treat him as he does Slughorn. 

Of course, there was the option that Riddle would find some way to humiliate him back, but Harry was great at wiggling out of compromising positions. Riddle didn’t scare him, not one bit. Most importantly, Riddle would despise feeling powerless, unable to stop Harry’s behavior. 

He grinned to himself. Yes. Yes, he was liking this idea. Though, he did feel bad for effectively stealing the twins’ prank. Then again, it wasn’t as if anyone would be paying attention to Harry today. All eyes would be on them. 

Well, except for Riddle’s. Riddle would be fuming as Harry chatted amicably to him. 

This was going to be good. 

***

The trek to Potion’s class was a cautious one. Everywhere Harry looked, he could see some foul prank unfurling. Bats swooped down at unsuspecting students, coughing glitter onto their robes. A jungle was rapidly growing down the hallway approaching Professor Flitwick’s class. Lastly, he swore he saw a hippogriff made of ice race ahead of them. 

“Do you think we should bail on Defense later today?” Ron grimaced. “Snape is going to be in an awful mood. He’ll be worse than usual.” 

Hermione shook her head. “You can’t just not go to Defense! What about your grades, Ron? Professor Snape will surely dock you points for not going.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Filch. The caretaker’s foot was stuck in a wriggling puddle of green goo. No matter how hard Filch yanked his foot, the slime held on tight. It was as if it was alive. 

“Hello there, Filch—”

“Mind if we—”

“Help you out?” The twins grinned down at the caretaker, their eyes shining. 

Instantly, Filch paled. “I don’t need any help from you two troublemakers! Get out of here if you know what’s good for you! I’ll have you––”

“Why, Filch—”

“Dear, old Filch—”

“We just want to help you out!” In unison Fred and George wrapped their arms around Filch while the caretaker writhed, his eyes bulging. 

“Let me go, you little—” With a rough pull, Filch came free, crashing down to the ground painfully. 

“Ouch,” George winced, “sorry about that! We should have had a tighter grip on you!” 

Filch cursed silently under his breath, his face rapidly turning red. 

“Come on,” Hermione tugged on their sleeves, “we shouldn't stare! Unless we want Filch to turn his temper on us.” The three of them scurried away, their classmates just ahead of them. 

“Did you see Filch’s face?” Ron grinned. “He looked like a tomato! By the end of the day, he’ll be worn down. They’re going to destroy him!”

“He might even quit,” Harry grinned back. He imagined the same look on Riddle’s face, and his lips twitched into a smile. Laughing, they entered Potion’s class. The classroom looked the same as it always did; no pranks had been unleashed upon Slughorn’s sacred space. 

The Slytherins were on their side of the room, mingling quietly. Riddle sat with Avery, the air between them silent.

Harry morosely slapped Ron on the shoulder. “Alright, you’re on your own today.” He moved towards Riddle. 

“You, wait—you can’t just leave me! Harry!” Ron cried out, his voice thick with despair. 

Harry casually leaned over Riddle, resting his hand on the Slytherin’s desk. “Hey, Riddle,” he smiled, “do you want to be partners today?” 

Avery choked. “You want to what? With Riddle?” 

He could feel his body wanting to twitch, but he forced his smile wider. “I want to work with Riddle today. It’s good for us students to intermingle. We so rarely talk to those outside of our own houses.” 

He could feel Ron’s gaze on the back of his head. “Harry, why?”

“What do you say, Riddle?”

“How could you do this to me?”

Riddle smiled politely. “Why, of course, Harry. 

“Perfect,” he beamed. With a satisfied grin, he watched as Avery dejectedly packed his belongings away. Avery then had no choice but to join the only other student with no partner: Ron. 

The redhead sent him a spiteful glare. Harry shrugged. His best friend would understand his intentions with time. 

“Alright, students,” Slughorn bellowed, “today, we’ll be crafting a special potion. I always wait until after Valentine’s Day to teach it! Now, I must warn you, this potion is dangerous.” 

Slughorn’s features twisted into a stern look. “No samples can leave the classroom, understand? Anyone who takes their work outside of the classroom will receive detention.”

“Now, then!” He clapped his hands together. “The potion we will be brewing is Amortentia!” 

A collective gasp of excitement swept through the classroom. Slughorn preened, proud to be the cause of such joy. 

“Yes, yes,” he chuckled. “We’ll be brewing Amortentia. Now, who can tell me what Amortentia is? I imagine many of you already know.” 

Slughorn smiled as Hermione’s hand soared through the air, standing tall. “It’s the most powerful love potion in the world!” said Hermione. 

“Quite right! It can be recognized by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen.”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” said Hermione enthusiastically, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us.”

Slughorn nodded encouragingly and opened the lid to a gold-coloured cauldron. 

She breathed in sharply. “I can smell freshly mown grass, new parchment, and—” Hermione suddenly trailed off. Her cheeks flushed a vibrant red, and she sunk into her seat, embarrassed. 

Harry blinked. What? What had just happened? His eyes then widened as an array of seductive scents drifted by him. He could smell the sugary and thick scent of treacle tart. He could also smell the wood of his broomstick handle. The lemon-scented broomstick handle polish he used also wafted through the air. 

He breathed in deeply. There was something else as well. He couldn’t tell what it was. It smelled like clean linen. He glanced over at Riddle to see his reaction. 

The Slytherin looked as cool and collected as he always did. Though, Harry couldn’t help but notice that the tips of his ears were red. Riddle seemed to be blushing. He smiled smugly. 

It felt good to know that the boy was human. 

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession.” Slughorn’s eyes swiveled around the room. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.” 

Riddle sat up taller.

“And now,” said Slughorn, “it is time for you to start your work.” Behind him, a stick of chalk rose into the air, and began to write the instructions on the board. 

Riddle turned towards him. “I’ll gather our ingredients, Harry. You can stay seated.” 

“Are you sure, Riddle,” he teased. “I’d love to gather our ingredients for you. I want to help you.” 

The Slytherin looked at him blankly. “Don’t fret, Harry. I have it under control.” Riddle rose to his feet and left. 

As he waited for the prefect’s return, Ron sent him another questioning look. He grinned back at him. He’d have to tell Ron about his prank. They’d have to—

Riddle sat back down. Harry smiled charmingly at him. “Do you want me to ground the pearls into dust?” 

“Yes, you can do that,” Riddle agreed. 

They silently worked together on the potion. Harry attempted to sabotage it at every opportunity. He tried to throw in the rose thorns without mincing them, but Riddle caught him. He grabbed his wrist gently and redirected him. “You need to mince them, Harry. They cannot get thrown into the potion while whole.” 

He chucked in an extra rose petal, and Riddle sighed. “We can counteract the negative effects of the extra petal by stirring clockwise.”

Everything Harry did, the Slytherin had a solution to. It was infuriating. He quickly switched tactics. 

“Riddle,” he beamed, “you’re so talented! You’ve got quite a knack for Potions. You’re, uh, incredible.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“I’ve never seen anyone so talented before! You should become a potioneer. I’d do anything to be as good as you.” Harry made sure to invade Riddle’s space as he complimented him. 

“You’re talented as well, Harry,” Riddle breathed. 

The quietness of his voice had him pausing. 

Riddle looked at him. The steam from the potion made the Slytherin’s skin glow. He looked pristine. “You’re very capable,” his lips curled. 

Harry’s gaze darted between Riddle’s lips and his eyes. He felt his cheeks darken. What was he… no. No. He looked away. Curse, Riddle, and his perfect features! He had never met anyone so punchable before! He wanted to scratch Riddle’s face!

“Let’s finish our potion,” he grumbled.

By the time they had finished brewing, there were rose petals tangled in Harry’s hair and pearl dust powdered on his fingers. 

“You’ve made quite a mess today,” Riddle commented, eyeing his hair. “You’re usually more careful when brewing.” 

A knowing gleam had entered the Slytherin’s gaze. Dread filled him. He knew. Riddle knew. Harry swiftly stepped towards him. “I-It’s nothing! I’m not doing anything on purpose, uh, or anything. It’s April Fools’ Day! It’s a stressful day. I’m stressed.” 

“Oh no,” Riddle smiled, “we can’t have that. I don’t want you to be stressed, Harry. I better keep an eye on you.” 

“Yes,” he nodded, “you should. You should keep an eye on me.”

Wait. What? 

“I’ll stay close to you then.”

Oh.

Oh!

It looked like his plan had gone off without a hitch! He’d have Riddle confused and in his clutches in no time! He’d be humiliated! 

A thrum of satisfaction went through him. He didn't even mind when Riddle combed through his curls, removing the rose petals. 

He had the Slytherin right where he wanted him. 

***

They left Potion’s class side by side. It seemed like Riddle wanted to follow Harry as much as he wanted to follow him. They walked together to Transfiguration, another class the Gryffindors shared with the Slytherins.

Instead of sitting with Hermione and Ron, he sat with Riddle. Hermione sent him an exasperated look while Ron looked peeved. They’d understand his intentions soon enough. It’d be hilarious when they found out the truth. 

He spent the entire class complimenting Riddle and acting annoying. He accidentally broke Riddle’s quill, spilling ink everywhere. Riddle took the accident well and simply vanished the mess. 

Then, Harry stepped on his shoe, again and again. The Slytherin chuckled at him but did nothing. 

It looked like he would have to try harder. 

They eventually exited the Transfiguration classroom. 

“Let me carry your books, Riddle. I want to help you! Riddle,” he grimaced, “please!” He tried to make his voice as annoying as possible. He sounded like a high-pitched bird, one that had been doused in sugar.

“Yes, of course, Harry,” Riddle smirked. “You can carry my belongings.” 

The Slytherin then dumped his surprisingly heavy textbooks into Harry’s waiting arms. Harry now knew why Riddle was fit despite his lack of daily exercise. His extracurricular reading weighed a lot! 

He shifted the books around as they walked through the winding hallways of Hogwarts. Yet, as they rounded a corner, a third-year student came flying at Harry, a horde of cornish pixies chasing them. He stumbled backwards, the books tilting. Then, as he prepared for a loud crash, Riddle wrapped his arm around his waist, steadying him. 

The third-year zigzagged right by them, barely missing them. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry,” they shouted as they ran down the hallway, the cornish pixies following them closely. 

He felt Riddle’s grip tighten. “Are you alright, Harry?” The Slytherin pulled him closer. He could feel the heat from Riddle’s body emanating towards him. 

Harry felt oddly embarrassed. “I’m fine, Riddle. Really.” 

“Are you sure, Harry?” The Slytherin leaned down, his breath washing against Harry’s ear. He could smell the minty scent of his toothpaste. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He silently took in how close they were. “You can let go of my waist now.”

Riddle shook his head. “I think I’ll hold on. I don’t want you to lose your balance, Harry. You’re carrying some very expensive books, not to mention my schoolwork.” 

Ah, of course. Riddle would only care about his schoolwork. He was like Hermione in that sense, an evil and twisted Hermione. 

The prefect leaned in close again. His lips brushed against Harry’s hair. “You should be more careful, though.” 

Harry fought the urge to scoff.

He didn’t know how he’d handle a day of Riddle. 

Well.

It’d at least pay off in the end. Harry couldn’t wait to see the humiliated expression on the boy’s face. 

***

In contrast to the earlier festivities in the Great Hall, the students now ate their food silently and nervously. Everyone acted as if they would be targeted and pranked. No one trusted the food.

(Goyle and Crabbe acted as proud exceptions.)

Harry briefly glanced over at the Gryffindor section of the Great Hall, wondering if he would join his friends for lunch. Riddle led him to the Slytherin table, however. “You need to stay by my side, Harry. I’m still keeping an eye on you.”

They sat down together. One of the only ones who looked confident while eating was Riddle. He knew no one would dare to prank him. 

He smiled softly. Well, no one but him that was. The prefect wouldn’t see his betrayal coming. 

Riddle blew softly on his bowl of soup as steam rose from it. 

A wicked idea formed in his mind. 

“You’re going to burn yourself, Riddle,” he fussed. “I’ll cool it down for you!” Taking out his wand, he shot a cooling charm at Riddle's soup. The steam instantly faded and frost emerged on the sides of the bowl. 

“I’m sorry, Riddle,” he exclaimed. “I overpowered the charm!” Satisfaction writhed within him as he watched the Slytherin tentatively drink the frozen soup. It had to taste awful now. 

“It’s alright, Harry,” the prefect nodded. “We all make mistakes. Here,” he held his spoon towards him, “try some. I promise it’s still good.” 

Harry floundered silently, unsure of what to do. 

He clenched his fists together. He could do this. He could do it for the prank. 

Harry parted his lips and accepted the spoonful of soup. The spoon popped out of his mouth, his tongue darting out to catch a small bead of liquid. 

Riddle looked incredibly pleased. His ears had gone red again. 

Annoyed, he yanked the spoon from Riddle and offered the prefect another spoonful. “Try some more, Riddle,” he implored, his right eyebrow twitching. He had to keep it together. He couldn’t let Riddle switch the prank onto him. 

Riddle didn’t look annoyed, however. Instead, he stared at him, his gaze glazed. 

It had to be working! Riddle was, uh, dissociating! Yes. Yes! That had to be it. He had him now!

Riddle smirked as he fed Harry another spoonful of soup. Harry glared around the spoon in his mouth, his cheeks slightly red. 

He would grin and bear this to ensure Riddle felt humiliated. The dazed look in his eyes spoke volumes. 

His prank was going to be a success. 

***

The Slytherins looked on in horror as Tom Riddle and Harry Potter spoon-fed one another. 

“What a revolting display,” Blaise Zabini spat, his nose wrinkled in disgust. 

Pansy Parkinson’s mouth opened silently. She watched the two boys, flabbergasted as never before. “Do you think… no. No. No student would dare.” 

“What… hngh… are you thinking? Hngh… Pansy?” Gregory Goyle mumbled around a mouthful of food. 

Pansy turned her face away, repulsed. “Eat properly, Goyle. Do you think that they’ve been given a love potion? It’d be a daring prank.” 

Draco Malfoy suddenly sat down, his bag crashing onto the table. “The hallways have gone mad! A gargoyle chased me. Me! There is no worse occasion than April Fool’s Day! It is a mad man’s holiday… Merlin, what am I looking at?” 

“Riddle’s in love,” Goyle stuffed a fish stick down his throat. 

Draco Malfoy’s mouth closed with an audible click. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.” 

Goyle nodded in agreement. “Me too,” he said stoically. The Slytherin then swallowed another fish stick whole. 

Draco Malfoy watched Goyle apprehensively, his features distorted in shock and distaste. 

Pansy leaned towards Draco. “Who’s the fish stick between Riddle and Potter? 

***

“Repeat yourself again, Harry,” Hermione droned. She looked exhausted as they sat in the library. Sunlight trickled through the windows, warming their backs as they studied. Well, while Hermione studied. 

Riddle had gone to his Arithmancy class, leaving Harry alone for almost two hours. 

“His prank sounds great,” Ron mumbled, half asleep. The Gryffindor had chosen to rest on their table, his eyes closed. He looked like Crookshanks as he napped in the sun. 

Hermione’s face strangely looked pink as she watched Ron rest. She cleared her throat. “His prank doesn’t sound great, Ron. It’s clearly failing. It’s also immature. You shouldn’t be pranking Riddle; he’s a prefect! Knowing the Slytherin, he'll also want revenge on you. You’re needlessly putting yourself in danger!”

“I don’t think my prank is failing,” said Harry. “Riddle is clearly reacting.” 

“Now, then,” Hermione huffed, “how is he reacting, Harry? Tell me. You wanted him to become angry, right? You wanted Riddle to feel trapped. Is he acting as if he is trapped?”  

He thought carefully over their past interactions. “Riddle isn’t… angry,” he paused. 

Hermione beamed. “That’s right, Harry—”

“—He’s embarrassed though, right?” 

The girl slumped in on herself, collapsing. “You’re hopeless, Harry. Sure, he’s embarrassed. Let’s go with that.”

“Keep up the good work, Harry,” Ron yawned, his voice barely audible. 

“I’ll take your criticism into account,” he concluded. “I’ll focus on making Riddle angry.”

“He’s a Dark Lord in the making,” Ron pointed out, “that can’t be too hard.”

No. No, it couldn’t be.

***

He patiently waited outside of Riddle’s Arithmancy class. He had a new strategy in mind. He’d increase his physical proximity to Riddle. The Slytherin highly valued his personal space and appearance. If he continuously violated his personal space while ruining his physical appearance, Riddle would become enraged. 

The bell rang, and Riddle emerged from his classroom. “Riddle,” he waved at the Slytherin, calling him over. He couldn’t wait to see the boy’s reaction. 

Almost instantly, Riddle appeared by his side. The prefect loomed over him. His eyes swept over Harry almost possessively. Harry swore he could see a glint of red in the boy’s gaze. Yet, it faded quickly, disappearing out of sight. It must’ve been his imagination. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Harry,” said Riddle. “I didn’t know if you’d still be… acting as you always have… after my Arithmancy class.”

He breathed in slowly. Then, he leaned towards Riddle, placing both of his hands on the Slytherin’s chest. “Of course, I’d be here, Riddle. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be!” He dragged his hands across Riddle’s chest, up and down. Harry glanced up at the boy. 

Riddle’s ears looked red, redder than ever before. Yet, he didn’t seem upset. He cursed inwardly. 

“Your robes are disheveled,” he chuckled. “Here, I can help you!” Harry then ran his hands across Riddle’s body, doing his best to tousle his robes. He made Riddle’s tie crooked and wrinkled his shirt. The Slytherin barely reacted, however. 

He wanted to scream with frustration. Harry steeled his nerves. He had one last idea. 

“You have some dirt on your face, Riddle,” he exclaimed. Harry lightly licked the tip of his finger, his tongue curling around the digit. Riddle watched him intensely. His gaze seemed to follow Harry’s tongue. 

He then cupped Riddle’s cheek with his hand, his one finger rubbing away an invisible mark. A smirk twisted across his face. Confident, he stared up at Riddle, waiting to see his reaction. 

He’d be furious. He’d have to be angry! If anyone touched Harry like that, he’d be fuming with rage. He couldn’t imagine Riddle’s disgust with having his spit on him. 

The Slytherin’s cheeks went red. 

Yes! Finally! He’d done it. He’d made Riddle red with anger. 

“Your robes are disheveled too, Harry,” Riddle hissed. 

Huh.

He opened his lips to ask the Slytherin what he meant, but Riddle dragged his hands down his chest. Harry instantly froze. Shock descended upon him as Riddle grabbed his arms, squeezing them intently. A small noise left his lips as Riddle grabbed his hips. His hands felt large. His hands felt too large. 

Harry imagined he had to be blushing terribly. His face felt incredibly hot. 

Unsure of what to do, he tucked his face close to Riddle’s chest, panting as the prefect touched him everywhere. Of course, he’d find a way to humiliate Harry back. The massive git. 

He’d have to tolerate it, though. If he didn’t want to reveal his prank now, he’d need to pretend to… to what? He felt dazed as Riddle massaged his shoulders. 

The Slytherin suddenly leaned down. “We should go to Defense class, Harry,” he said into his ear, his lips touching him. 

Disoriented, he nodded. “Y-Yeah, mhmn, yeah.” 

Riddle looked satisfied. Too satisfied. 

He didn’t know how to take it. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. 

He’d reveal the prank soon. He’d reveal it after Defense. 

***

Snape stood at the front of the class, glowering. He looked angrier than usual. It wouldn’t have surprised Harry if someone had attempted to prank him. “Get in your seats,” said Snape. There was an undercurrent of displeasure in his voice. “Today is the day of the worst holiday celebrated by witches and wizards at Hogwarts. I will not tolerate any foolhardy attempts at mischief and frivolity.”

Ron sent him a pleading smile. It looked like the redhead didn’t want to spend the class alone. He could feel Riddle’s hand on his shoulder, leading him away, and Harry stopped. He pulled himself away from Riddle. Riddle instantly stilled. The prefect stared at him heatedly. 

A breath left him as Riddle’s eyes flashed red. The red one thought of when they thought of blood. The colour of a gaping wound, one still fresh. In one blink the red had vanished from Riddle’s eyes. 

No. No. It hadn’t ever been there to begin with. It was his nerves, tricking him. He felt off-balance. His mind knew that and wanted to make things worse. 

“I’m going to sit with Ron and Hermione,” he explained. “I’ll talk to you later.” He still had to reveal his prank to the Slytherin. 

Riddle’s features darkened. “You don’t need to sit with them, you can sit with me. I’ll provide you with anything you need.” 

Harry didn’t know how to take that. He didn't think Riddle would care. A thought formed in his mind, clunkily like the construction of a snowball. It could be possible that Riddle had figured out his prank and had decided to turn it around on him. In fact, it had most certainly happened. 

Riddle knew. 

He smirked at the Slytherin. “I’ll think I’ll still sit with them. Sorry, Riddle. We’ll talk after class.” Turning around, he moved towards Ron, sitting in his typical seat. Ron slugged his arm around him. 

“You’re finally back! I’ve missed you,” Ron suddenly coughed. “I’ve missed you the normal amount. The amount between good friends.”

Harry smiled, his eyes crinkling. “I’ve missed you too, Ron.”

“It hasn’t even been a day,” Hermione chimed in. “I’ve never met two boys as idiotic as you.” 

“Thanks, ‘Mione.”

“Really, ‘Mione?”

He ignored Riddle and his probing stares. He’d deal with the Slytherin after class. 

Snape then explained that they’d be performing a Shield Charm non-verbally. They had already mastered the Jelly-Legs Jinx and its non-verbal incantation, now they were onto harder spells. 

Ron and Harry found a corner in the room to practice in. Hermione stood up, her gaze searching for Neville. Yet, as the girl moved towards the boy, someone else glided onto her path. 

Riddle.

Harry breathed in sharply.

“What’s he doing?” Ron whispered furiously. His face had gone pale, his freckles stark against his complexion. Harry opened his lips, then closed them. 

“I-I don’t know,” he said. 

Hermione then shook Riddle’s hand. She had an annoyed look on her face. Yet, she followed the Slytherin across the classroom. 

“There’s no way that… no.” Ron’s mouth fell open. “No. No! She always partners with Neville! She can’t partner with Riddle! He’s evil.” 

They watched in horror as Avery approached Neville. 

“Poor Neville,” Harry grimaced. Neville looked as horrified as them. 

The two of them awkwardly began practicing with one another. Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was green in the face, his wand shaking. He would glance over at Hermione constantly, his lips thinning. 

Similarly, Harry couldn’t focus as well. He found his concentration slipping away as he watched Riddle perform his shields perfectly. 

Then, Hermione and Riddle switched roles, and Ron and Harry turned to stone. Riddle shot a spell at Hermione, then another one. Ron shook with rage, his fists clenched. 

“Riddle is an absolute prat,” Ron spat. “What’s he playing at? He wants to hurt Hermione, doesn’t he? Well,” he chuckled, “he won’t get the chance.” 

Hermione had done a decent job at blocking Riddle’s spells. Her skin was damp with sweat. Riddle, on the other hand, looked perfect. He had not moved a single curl out of place. 

Harry scoffed. Riddle always looked perfect. The prat. It’d been satisfying to dishevel his robes earlier. He’d have to do it again. 

The Slytherin then glanced at him. Heat rose in Harry’s cheeks as he realized he’d been caught staring. 

The class ended too soon for his liking. Snape ushered them out the door, a sneer on his face. It looked like the man wanted to spend April Fools’ Day alone. Ron dove towards Hermione, grabbing her and checking her over.

“Oh! Honestly, Ron,” Hermione cried, “I’m alright! You don’t need to fuss over me. Well,” she looked suddenly shy, “I suppose you could fuss a little.” 

A hand gripped Harry's bicep. He turned towards the person, who was unsurprisingly Riddle. “We should talk in private, Harry,” said Riddle. 

He steeled his nerves. It was finally time. “Yes, we should,” he agreed. “Let’s talk.” 

They snuck through the crowd, away from their classmates. Adrenal coursed through his veins. It was the moment of truth. He’d reveal his prank to Riddle, and Riddle, Riddle would want revenge. 

They entered an abandoned classroom. 

The desks were spread around haphazardly. Dust coated the furniture in thick gray layers. He coughed into his sleeve, his face reddening. “It’s April Fools’ Day, Riddle.”

“It is.”

“Everyone in the castle has gotten involved. The hallways are as dangerous as the Forbidden Forest.”

“I’ve noticed.” Riddle took one step towards him. Then, another. 

Harry took one step back. “I’ve even gotten involved this year.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Riddle stood in front of Harry. He had an almost wild gleam in his eyes. 

He could do this. Harry could pull through. He stepped towards the Slytherin and placed his hands on his shoulders. “I thought I’d pull a prank on you, Riddle. 

“You’re terrible, Harry,” Riddle droned. He had no fire in his voice, no irritation. He didn’t seem bothered. His arms wrapped around Harry’s waist. 

He felt his face grow hot. “I thought I’d humiliate you in front of everyone.”

“You’ve humiliated me thoroughly,” Riddle breathed into his ear. A shiver ran down Harry’s spine. “You’ve made me so angry.”

“A-Actually?”

Riddle maneuvered them until Harry felt a desk pressed against his back. 

“Yes, Harry.” His lips brushed past his ear. “I think I deserve revenge on you.”

He tensed. He knew this would happen. It didn’t matter, though. He’d be prepared for whatever Riddle threw at him—

The Slytherin kissed his neck, his lips unbearably soft. Harry’s eyes widened. No. No. There was no way that Riddle had… was… no. No.  

A breathless gasp left him as Riddle’s tongue glided down his neck. He felt hot. Too hot. He dug his fingers into Riddle’s shoulders, twisting the fabric. Harry buried his face into Riddle’s chest as the Slytherin bit his neck. The sharp pain left his head spinning. He wanted to pull away from Riddle and move impossibly closer. 

The Slytherin bit him again. 

“Riddle,” he breathed. His skin prickled. “You’re a prat. You deserved to be made a fool of.”

“I’ve never felt like less of a fool in my life,” Riddle replied. He kissed Harry’s neck again, his tongue peeking out, touching him. “I feel like a king.”

Riddle’s hands squeezed his hips. Then, as slow as molasses, one of them shifted, drifting towards Harry’s crotch. He could hear Riddle unbuckling his pants. He could feel his pants loosening. 

Harry’s world then swirled as he fell onto his back. The wooden desk creaked beneath their combined weight as Riddle pressed into him. Dust mixed into Harry’s hair as he threw his head back. He couldn’t stop whining. He felt soaked in heat. 

Riddle’s fingers trailed down his chest, heat trailing behind them. 

He shuddered. “Why would you want to,” Harry choked. He could feel Riddle’s fingers slipping beneath his waistband, wrapping around his length. “It doesn’t make sense—mhmn!” 

Pleasure bubbled in his veins, viscous and hot. 

Riddle kissed him again. His lips pressed against Harry’s perfectly. A sense of completeness washed over him. He felt whole. 

He moaned into Riddle’s mouth, his lips parting. The prefect pushed his tongue into his mouth. They made out messily. Riddle then began to pump his hand up and down as his tongue moved against Harry’s. 

His hips arched into the air, leaning towards Riddle. He felt his mind unraveling as Riddle gripped him firmly. Pre-cum dripped past his slit, sliding down his cock. 

The Slytherin pulled away from him, panting into his ear. “You're mine, Harry. You’ve always been mine. Your body knows it to be true.” He licked one of the bite marks on Harry’s neck, rolling his tongue. 

Harry craned his neck towards the boy. He writhed desperately. “You’re wrong. I don’t belong to… hngh… to anyone!”

“You belong to me.” Riddle stated it as if it was a fact, an undeniable truth of the world. One of the Slytherin’s fingers slid down his cock teasingly, its touch as light as a feather. 

His lips quivered. A small noise left him, then another one. He raised and lowered his hips again and again. 

“You’re doing wonderful, Harry.” Riddle sounded pleased, his voice almost loving. Almost. 

He knew what Riddle was. He remembered what the boy had done. 

Yet, even as his mind rejected Riddle and who he was, his hips met Riddle’s hand repeatedly. The Slytherin’s other hand then dipped in between Harry’s legs. A finger pressed against his entrance, and his eyes went wide. Riddle wouldn’t… no. 

The prefect’s finger felt strangely cold as it circled his hole. It felt wet as well. 

“Relax, dearest,” Riddle whispered against his neck. “You need to open yourself up to me. I promise you’ll love it.” 

Harry mutely shook his head. His cheeks flared red as his mind registered Riddle’s endearment. He didn’t understand what was happening, not anymore. He could recall the cold way Riddle had looked at him his entire life. The way hatred brewed to the surface in his gaze. 

He had always been dark, an uncomfortable presence. He sneered at Hermione and Ron, the same way as Malfoy did, insults perched upon his tongue. Riddle hated them. He hated Harry. 

The prefect slid his finger inside of him. It felt uncomfortable. Harry squirmed, his hips twitching. Then, Riddle curled the digit, and sparks raced down his spine. He choked on his own tongue. “R-Riddle! You shouldn’t, hngh, right there! Right there, please! Oh. Oh. ” 

A second finger pushed its way inside of him, then a third. Pleasure engulfed Harry, almost numbing him. He could only moan and twitch as Riddle spread him open with his fingers. 

He breathlessly rocked his body against Riddle’s hand. “Riddle, mhmn. Deep! I need to… to… hngh. I need you.” 

Riddle’s fingers then abruptly left him, leaving him empty. His hips chased after Riddle, a desperate whine leaving him. 

“I’ll take care of you, Harry,” Riddle kissed his chin. “I promise.” He then kissed his forehead, his lips lingering. 

Harry’s breathing was quick and uneven. He felt something distinctly hard press against his entrance, nudging into him slightly. Harry shook as he restrained himself and the urge to roll onto Riddle’s cock. 

“I promise you’ll love every second of this,” Riddle smirked down at Harry, his curls mused with sweat. “I’ll bring you bliss. You’ll never need anything except for this.” 

His cock then pushed into Harry’s hole, stretching his walls. The thickness of it left him shivering. His thighs shook as Riddle plunged into him. Quick jolts of pleasure burned through his body. He couldn't stop moaning. 

His body slid up and down across the desk as Riddle went faster and faster. The old desk creaked, and Harry feared it would collapse. 

Blinking back tears, he bounced back against Riddle’s cock, meeting his thrusts. The slow drag of his cock as he pulled away had Harry keening. Riddle had been right. He needed this. He needed it desperately. 

“You’re perfect, Harry,” Riddle grunted. “Absolutely perfect.” 

Harry bit down on his bottom lip, longing noises trapped in his throat. A pressure was building in his navel. It grew faster and faster. Then, in a fiery explosion of pleasure, he came. 

Cum painted his stomach, his shirt pushed upwards. Riddle groaned, his gaze fixated on the white mess. “Beautiful,” he whispered. The prefect swiped his finger across Harry’s navel, collecting the cum and tasting it. Riddle threw his head back as he groaned again. “You taste magnificent, Harry.” 

The praise had him hiding his face behind his hands. Riddle didn’t seem to mind. His thrusts grew more and more erratic, the wet slide of their bodies echoing throughout the room. 

His skin tingled uncomfortably as Riddle pounded into him. He felt overstimulated. Harry attempted to wiggle away, only for Riddle’s hands to grip his waist, trapping him. 

Riddle then twitched as he came. 

Harry spluttered as he felt his insides fill with cum. His insides felt soaked. Their heavy breathing rang through the air like bells. The prefect slowly pulled out of him, his cum spilling out of Harry. Riddle tenderly pushed the cum back inside of him while Harry trembled. 

He felt so wet. His thighs shook as Riddle tugged his underwear back up, helping him to his feet. He swayed in place as the prefect dressed him. His head felt fuzzy. He couldn’t focus on anything. He still felt hot. 

Riddle wrapped an arm around him. “I should return you to your dormitory.” 

Dazed, he nodded. Harry leaned his body on the Slytherin as they left the abandoned classroom. His legs felt numb as he walked. It was a strange sensation. 

For the first time in all of their years together, Riddle finally looked disheveled. Sweat coated his curls, and his skin flushed red. It brought him a flicker of satisfaction. 

He didn’t know what they were now. He had been certain that Riddle had hated him. He still felt confident in that. It could be a trick, and yet––

He didn’t know. Harry felt as if he didn’t know anything. 

A shiver went down his spine. He’d have to ask Riddle what they were. 

Bollocks. 

A gruff voice then suddenly screamed. “I’ll get you for this! You won’t get away with this! You… you troublemakers! Troublemakers!” 

As they rounded around a corner, they discovered a terrible sight. An explosion of mud had gone off in the hallway. The thick mud had splattered everywhere. Brown chunks of sludge dripped down from the ceiling, showering unsuspecting students in dirt. 

He could see a Slytherin girl sobbing, her robes ruined, as she sat in a pile of mud. The one who had screamed, Filch, kept slipping on the slippery earth, his shoes squeaking as he did so. Mrs. Norris looked miserable as she trudged through the muck, her fur clogged with mud. 

Fred and George stood off to the side, triumphant grins plastered on their faces. 

George winked. “Sorry, Filch—”

“Better luck next year! We promise we won’t tone it down.” Fred laughed, high-fiving his brother. 

“I think we can say, dear brother—”

“That our mud fireworks were a success!”

“To another year of glorious pranking!”

Another explosion of mud then went off. The brown sludge flew into the air where it then dispersed as a firework would. Lumps of mud flew towards them, yet Riddle held Harry close to him, whipping out his wand and casting a protective shield. The mud slid off the glittering spell. 

Harry felt his lips split apart into a wild grin. Then, he laughed. He laughed and laughed, his sides hurting. His face felt hot as a blush torched across his face. 

Riddle smiled at him fondly. 

He should have done that.

He should have doused Riddle in mud.

Shite.

Well. He still had next year to look forward to. In fact, if he acted fast, he could still—

“You should disperse those thoughts immediately, Harry.” 

He’d get him when he wasn’t looking. 

He could accomplish that.