Harry drew himself upright, stared at the wrought iron gates in front of him, and walked onto the grounds of Augustus Avery's home. The key in his hand grew cold when he walked past the barrier. Harry pocketed it.

He had spent the morning clearing his mind, masking his emotions. Underneath all of it, he was nervous. Not because he was afraid of Avery, but because they were going behind Tom's back to meet with a man he considered his enemy.

The chocolate frog version of Tom had made Harry agree to bring him along, and so he was now taped to Harry's ankle and covered by a long sock. He had refused to be left in the flat while Harry made this trip. Said it was too important. It wasn't their best plan, but it was the only one they had. If anything happened, at least the painting could alert Tom.

Their little house of cards would come tumbling down if that happened.

A house elf popped into being in front of him with a loud crack. "Master Avery is in the gardens." It walked away, guiding Harry around the side of the house and towards a heavily flowered and well-maintained garden. Avery sat at a white, wrought-iron table in the middle of it all, surrounded by pillars wrapped in climbing roses.

"Mister Potter," Avery said and drank from a golden cup. "I'm glad we could finally have this meeting."

Sitting down across from Avery, Harry glanced into the distant scenery of the Lake District. Of course Avery would live here.

"I apologize it took this long. Life has been rather hectic." He turned back to Avery. The man looked good for his age. Clean cut, white hair that complemented his complexion. Harry would even say Avery looked better than the similarly aged, painted version of Tom. Although, Harry imagined it was easy to age gracefully when you had the type of wealth Avery did.

"So I've heard. I was perturbed to hear about Miss Granger's injury. Shocking how easily a bright mind can be snuffed out like that," Avery said, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

Harry bit back a flinch. It didn't matter if Avery couldn't see him, he would not react to his bait.

"It is a pity Miss Granger was a muggleborn," Avery continued. "There would have been such an outpouring of support at her accident. Cries that we had just lost one of the brightest minds of our time."

Harry raised his nose in a way that was reminiscent of Draco. He didn't care for Avery using the past tense regarding Hermione. She wasn't dead and she could get better one day.

"I think it would have been preferable if she had been born in a world that did not value blood purity. A world where you didn't measure a person by how inbred they were, but by their deeds."

Avery cocked his head to the side. "An intriguing premise. How would you fare in that world? Would you be regarded as you are now amongst your peers? The Potter lineage has been fairly pure up until your parents' marriage. Would you still be able to maintain your connections based on who you are? Or are you only here because of what you are, Mister Potter?"

Harry pursed his lips, not liking how this conversation was going. "I am a halfblood Slytherin, I like to think I was able to gain my position through my intellect. I was barely given the time of day until I proved myself to my pureblooded housemates."

"You still have your patriarchal legacy to aid you."

"Are you going anywhere with this?" Harry asked curtly, his temper flaring.

Avery looked at him with his milky eyes, and Harry was suddenly uncertain if the man was blind at all. "You think yourself the master of your own destiny, and yet you refuse to see the privilege surrounding you, Mister Potter. To see the helping hands that have aided you in your quest to support Thomas."

Harry's brow furrowed. "What are you implying?" he said slowly, enunciating every word,

Avery took another long drink from his golden cup. "I'm such a rude host. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

He ignored the question and pressed on. "What have you done?"

Avery set the cup down and ran his fingers over its embossed edges for a moment before speaking again. "Thomas has been playing the long game, and sometimes I do not know which side he is truly on, outside of his own. He has always been enigmatic, and with you around, I see something else from him. I merely wish to protect you. If anything were to happen to you, I fear we would lose our grip on Thomas and the country."

Harry steepled his fingers and watched Avery. "You want to control me to keep him in line?"

"Of course not." It was said jovially enough, but Harry knew the man was lying. "I wish to keep you safe. It would be unfortunate if something happened to you and Thomas… snapped."

Avery took a deep breath and closed his eyes, turning his face into the cool wind coming off the lake. "You didn't know what he was like in his youth. A genius mudblood in Slytherin where no one would acknowledge or respect him. That kind of resentment can last an entire life."

Harry scoffed. "I know he proved himself to his peers. He was a prefect, a headboy, Slughorn believed Tom could be Minister of Magic. He is on a different level than anyone else." He paused, thinking of what Avery had said about privilege. "Are you implying he resents me for having a head start?"

"Merlin no," Avery said, laughing. "He loves you."

Harry flushed and turned away, biting his bottom lip. This was slightly awkward now.

"All I suggest is that you play it safer, Mister Potter. The situation with Miss Granger has led to quite a bit of issues."

Harry's flushed complexion went ashen in a moment. "Tom and I handled—"

" I handled it," Avery said, cutting Harry off. "There was much more that happened than you know. Rita Skeeter heard the entire conversation at the Three Broomsticks. We were lucky that Thomas noticed and captured her, but it still took quite a bit of work to bring her over to our side instead of killing her. We were also forced to locate her photographer who observed the whole event under an invisibility cloak. He was quite resilient against a memory charm. He is dead." Avery leaned forward, resting his arms on the table between them. "Then there's the staff at St. Mungo's who we had to imperius and obliviate to ensure Miss Granger's accident was considered that, an accident. Your carelessness is racking up a body count, Mister Potter, and I am being forced to clean it up. This doesn't even include what we had to do about the solicitors Miss Granger hired."

Harry hadn't noticed his trembling hands. He attempted to put up any sort of occlumency shield, and he felt his control sliding away as the rug was pulled out from under him.

"And then there is the situation with your father," Avery continued. "It would be so much easier to discredit and kill him, but because of Thomas' fondness for you, I am being forced to improvise."

"Do you expect an apology?" Harry snapped. "Killing shouldn't be your first choice for problem solving."

"Too true…" Avery ran his long fingers through his hair and sighed. "I feel we may have drifted away from the reason I invited you here."

"Indeed," Harry said, his voice acidic.

"Don't be like that… I wish for you to be my apprentice. I have no heir, no one to carry on my legacy. On paper, I am merely a moderately wealthy pureblood whose only job has been investing, but you know what I am and I know what you can become ."

Harry's breath hitched. He said nothing. He didn't know what to say. Avery knew so much about him, more than he had thought, and Harry knew barely anything of Avery.

"I have already proven I am a king maker, and I wish to shape you into a spymaster. You can be by Thomas' side and protect him from any outside forces that would do him harm."

"Why? He has you." Harry shot the man a long look, which was not returned back for obvious reasons. "Do you plan on dying anytime soon?"

"No one plans to die, and I hope my death is many years from now. However, I prefer to leave no eventualities unaccounted for. We are leading our kind into a brave, new world, and I have no desire for it to go off track." Avery stood up and turned his head to Harry. "I hope to have an answer by the end of the week."

He left the garden. Harry sat there, alone and uncertain.

##

Tom twirled one of Harry's ringlets around his finger, loving the inky darkness against his pale skin. Harry's hair was spread over his chest, with his head resting over Tom's heart.

Harry had come to his office bearing food and a demand that Tom put down his work and eat. They may have done a bit more than eating, given the state the room was now in.

Harry had been quiet, but assertive. Demanding in his neediness as he had straddled Tom in his chair and fed him a single strawberry. It had devolved into skin on skin and bodily fluids shortly after that.

Dropping his head back, he moved the curtain minutely, looking out the window. He hadn't even known what time it was, the sun had clearly gone down ages ago. Tom silently summoned the basket of food Harry had brought, and rifled around inside with his spare hand that wasn't in Harry's curls. Sandwiches, pumpkin juice and strawberries. A little picnic.

Pulling out of the sandwiches, he placed one on his abdomen, in front of Harry's face. "Get some strength before I take you for another ride."

Harry sat up and looked over his shoulder, a coy grin on his lips. "Again? So soon? I thought someone your age was lucky to do it once a week."

Tom lightly smacked his arm. "The cheek on you."

Harry smirked and crawled on top of him, dislodging the sandwich. "That's not the only thing about me that's cheeky." Harry leaned in and kissed him. Tom held him close, running his fingers through Harry's hair, enjoying the taste and scent of him.

With Harry, he felt more alive than he ever had before.

Tom wasn't able to say how long they laid there and snogged, but he would say the knock at the door was very unwelcome.

They broke apart and mutually glared at the door.

"Who is it?" Harry whispered.

Tom shrugged. "Someone who can fuck off."

"My Lord?" Barty's voice came from the other side.

Harry groaned.

If Barty was here at this time of night, it was probably important.

Tom pulled his robes over his lap to protect what modesty he had and draped his shirt over Harry's lap. "Come in," he said in a sing-song voice.

Harry spun around and slapped his chest in dismay.

Tom smiled.

The door opened, and Barty Crouch openly stared at them for a moment before turning around and locking the door with a heavy click. He smiled like the scoundrel he was.

"What brings you out at this hour?" Tom said, pinning some of Harry's robes down so the younger man couldn't cover himself up further. The desperate, little tugs he felt were more than amusing.

Barty licked his lips, staring at them with hunger. "We have identified fifteen candidates for the coronation. We thought it best that you make the final choice soon, so we may begin." He passed Tom a folder.

Tom opened it and looked at the list of names and their profiles. One of them had graduated with Harry.

Harry leaned over, likely exposing more flesh than he wanted, but he didn't seem to notice. "Why the hell is Zachariah Smith on a list?"

Maybe it was time to test his analytical skills. "Tell me, do you think Smith might be easily swayed to extremism if prompted? Could he be indoctrinated against me?"

Harry shrugged. "Smith is a centrist. Likes to talk a lot of shit, but won't commit to anything. I don't think he could go hard one way or the other." Harry squinted as he considered Smith. "He's more of a coward than anything else."

Tom shot Barty a look. "Take Smith off."

Barty nodded.

"You didn't answer my question." Harry poked him in the chest.

"Just a little surprise we have planned."

"For the coronation?"

"Caught that, hmm?"

"I'm not deaf," Harry bit out.

"Don't worry about it… Can you think of anyone who might be… resistant to our cause? The official one, that is." Tom ran his hand down Harry's back, hoping it would calm him.

Harry licked his lips, as if he was mentally tallying his schoolmates, which he was.

Tom watched Barty watch Harry. Barty's eyes were on the younger man, and he looked starved. Maybe, he had been a bit presumptuous to warn Harry away from Crouch. Barty knew better than to do anything more than look.

"Ronald Weasley, maybe?" Harry uncertainly suggested. "Neville Longbottom, potentially. He's certainly been more vocal since his father got injured… Are you creating enemies of the monarchy?"

"So quick on the uptake." Tom passed the files back to Barty. "Add those two to the list of potentials. Take a closer look at Dumbledore's fan base."

"As you wish," Crouch said, bowing and leaving them alone.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you up to?"

Tom let out a chuckle. I was going to keep it as a surprise to get a genuine reaction from you, but we may be developing a plot where I am attacked during my coronation by some rebels . And from there, we will trace it back to the editor at Witch Weekly and take advantage of the situation by passing a few emergency measures while we investigate."

Harry's eyes went wide, his jaw dropping.

Tom laughed and stuck his finger in Harry's mouth. Oh, everything was starting to go right.

##
AN: so idk if anyone actually reads this on here so i'm not inclined to continue to updated it on ffn and just make a total shift over to ao3. same fic name same fic title. not sure if ill delete it from ffn tho