Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written for the Quidditch League – Season 5 Fanfiction Competition – Finals Round 1

Finals Round 1 - Knockturn Alley

Usually, unusual, dangerous and scary people walk around here. Today, however, QL has descended en-masse. Some of you may fall under these categories, and so we look to you to guide our way. As for the rest, please be careful what you touch, you never know what could happen.

Each position is tasked with exploring a different aspect of Knockturn Alley.

CAPTAIN: Write about Msaw Ætare; there is no purpose linked to this shop, so it is up to you to decide what that might be

Captain of the Wimbourne Wasps

Word Count: 1086

A Cage Of His Own Making

Harry looked up as the bell above the shop's door sounded. He smiled, a small twitch of the lips, when he saw who had entered. It was hardly the first time this man had come into his shop. It wouldn't be last time either, of that he was sure.

"Good morning," he said, smile nowhere to be seen as soon as the man looked at him.

"Good morning," came the reply with a charming smile.

"Here again?"

"You know me, Mr. Ajal, I don't give up easily."

Those dark red eyes narrowed, but the smile remained just as charming.

"Just Ajal, Mr. Gaunt."

Harry contained a sigh. This had been completely unexpected. Maybe it shouldn't be, though. Gaunt was right. He did know Tom Riddle—which was who was standing in front of him—better than he knew anyone else. He should have known the second a Tom Riddle in his late twenties walked into his small shop. He should have known then that it was time to move. He had stayed, though, convincing himself that it had been mere chance. The second time, he had told himself that Riddle was merely curious. The third time, he had argued that Riddle would eventually get bored.

Red flags should have flared up long before the third time happened, but Harry was tired. He had been tired for a very long time now.

"Ajal…" Riddle leaned against the counter. "Will you say yes today?"

This time, Harry did sigh. "And to what would I be saying yes to, Mr. Gaunt?"

"Dinner."

Harry shook his head. "No strings?"

"Do I look like that kind of man?"

Harry stood up from his little stool behind the counter. "I don't think I should answer that."

Harry knew that everything Riddle did came with strings.

Riddle's eyes narrowed, and he pulled away from the counter.

"I supposed I'll just have to ask you again tomorrow," he said, and with one last smirk thrown at Harry, left the shop.

Harry closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the glass cabinet behind the counter.

"Back again." It wasn't a question, and Harry didn't even look up from the trinket he was enchanting. He remembered seeing something similar a few years down the line.

"You knew I would be."

Harry hummed and continued to work. He was surprised that Riddle remained silent while he worked.

Moments passed, and Harry found himself relaxing, losing himself to the magic he was weaving.

Magic had been the one constant in his life. After everything that had happened, everything he had lost, magic had remained. Familiar. Safe. After over seven decades, he didn't know what he would do if he lost his magic.

He sighed, closing his eyes, and let the magic flow its course.

He didn't know how much time passed, so he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a warm, large hand, rest on his upper back.

"You were really lost in the magic," Riddle said from far too close by.

Harry looked at Riddle from the corner of his eye.

"Do you enchant everything in here yourself?" Riddle asked, looking at all the knick-knacks spread on the shelves in his store.

Harry nodded, unwilling to speak least Riddle heard the way his heart was speeding from his tone.

"Hum." Riddle leaned a bit closer, and Harry felt his breath catch. "How long have you been in this store?"

"A few years," Harry answered.

A few decades. He had opened the store almost fifty years ago. When Harry had woken up in the past after he had been killed while on a mission for the Aurors, he had freaked out. Something which he thought was completely justified. After all, when one gets hit with a cutting curse in the neck and bleeds out on a forest ground, the last thing one expects is to wake up in the past.

Still, if nothing else, he was a survivor. He learned to adapt. Even so, he hadn't felt like he had been living since he had lost his friends and family. He had tried to form some sort of connection with the people in this timeline, but he couldn't.

He couldn't help but think about what would happen if he did establish any kind of bond. It wasn't something he could avoid, especially every time he looked into a mirror and saw his twenty-year-old face looking back at him no matter how many years passed.

Riddle hummed once more, pressing even closer.

"Have dinner with me."

Harry shook his head.

Riddle leaned down, and Harry could feel Riddle's breath against his left ear.

"I always get what I want, Ajal."

Then he was gone, and Harry, for the first time in a long while, felt alive.

"Ajal."

Harry looked at Riddle who was sitting in a small, green armchair that Harry had pulled down from his small apartment located above the store. He hadn't put it there for Riddle. He hadn't. It just added some charm to his little store, that was all.

"Death."

Harry narrowed his eyes, and Riddle's smile was all teeth.

"When I finished Hogwarts, I went to work at Borgin and Burks." Harry's eyes narrowed a little further. "I remember walking past this store almost every day and wondering at the name. Msaw Ætare. It took me longer than I care to admit to realize that the name didn't actually mean anything." Riddle leaned forward. "But do you know why I was so interested in this store in the first place?" Harry shook his head. "I saw you." Riddle got up, and the closer Riddle got to the counter, the more Harry felt like prey. "Ten years ago today, I saw you for the first time, and you look exactly the same today as you did then." Riddle reached over the counter, cupping Harry's cheek. "Have dinner with me, little Death."

"Why?" Harry was glad his tone didn't waver. "Just because I don't seem to age?"

Riddle smiled, all charm and seduction, and Harry hated himself for finding it enchanting.

"Because you're bored. Because this little store is your cage. Because you want me to unravel all your secrets. But most of all? Because I knew the first time I saw you that you were mine."

Riddle leaned in for a kiss, and Harry had no strength left in him to resist.

A.N.: Meaning of name Ajal - specified term or period, hour of death; death; fate, destiny