When Harry finally makes his way onto the airplane, he doesn't expect much.
He sits in the very front because he's able to do so now that he lives comfortably.
For once, he won't be the one hearing the loud engine rumbling from behind. It's a welcome change, but he knows that, this time, there won't be a chance of him sitting alone.
He expects the usual cries of a child somewhere or snoring from an old man. Maybe even some crazed individual making complaints about someone they're sitting next to.
What he doesn't expect, however, is a stranger to sit next to him.
A stranger who is strangely attractive in every which way.
The man is tall with long, long legs and wavy dark brown hair that peeks out from underneath the dark green baseball cap he wears. His face, strong and angular, is a perfect composition of what gods could have looked like all those years ago.
It leaves Harry inspired and speechless all at once, like he could draw the man and still remain unfulfilled.
He distracts himself with looking out the window to avoid staring at the stranger- to avoid trying to read his life from his face.
He looks familiar though, Harry thinks as the man gracefully sits in the middle seat, a sure picture of someone who is rich, maybe even famous.
They're about halfway into the flight when Harry finally decides to look at the man again.
He peers over to the left, passing it off as looking at the flight attendant when she walks by.
The man's eyes are closed, so he's not exactly sure what color they are, but he notices a small beauty mark underneath one of his eyes.
Cute.
He quickly sits back fully in his seat and turns his body towards the window when the man stirs. He's thankful he left his headphones in so it seems like he's not really paying attention, but he hears the shifting as the man grabs something. There's more sounds before the man settles back down.
He gives it a while before he decides to check on the man again. It's a nerve wracking ten minutes before he sits back fully in his seat instead of facing away from the man.
He looks out of the corner of his eye and into the blurry mass just outside the frame of his glasses; he sees that the man is wearing a hoodie now, one that has a logo written across it that he can't quite make out.
He can't risk looking at the man yet, his eyes might still be open and waiting for any sign of movement.
So, he waits.
He's begun to doze off when he feels something soft touch his head. Harry just barely turns his head when the green cap the man was wearing falls into his lap, and a full head of hair is pressed against his shoulder.
The first thing he feels is embarrassment.
A stranger is leaning on him.
Better yet, a hot stranger is leaning on him.
"Hello?" He whispers, gently trying to wake the man. There's no response, and the head is still resting on his shoulder and is practically in the crook of his neck. He's not a large man by any means, he's rather small, especially in comparison to the other man.
He swallows and feels reluctant. Very reluctant. He doesn't want to let it continue in fear of the man becoming embarrassed and taking off in a leave. He thinks about waking up the man, about giving him his spare sweater in the compartment above so he can sleep comfortably.
But then he thinks.
The man is probably exhausted or bone tired. The flight isn't that long anyways- maybe they'll land before he wakes and he can just wake him up and pretend it never happened.
Harry sits still for most of the flight, his breathing evening out as he listen to the dull thud of his heart in his ears that mixes with the low music playing in his ears.
He tucks the cap between his arm and torso and busies himself with admiring the sky and the thoughts that manifest into existence.
Harry wakes when the stranger begins to stir. He doesn't think about it as he looks over at the man, but he's shocked when he sees ice blue eyes looking back at him.
He bolts upright in his seat and opens his mouth to apologize for not waking him when the man holds out his hand.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, my name is Tom Riddle." He says simply. Charmingly. His voice is neutral yet feels warm like a nice day in the garden.
He can feel his face heat up in embarrassment as he takes his hand and briefly shakes it, letting go of it just as quickly as he'd held it.
"Harry, Harry Potter."
"I've never fallen asleep like that before, you have my sincerest apology." Tom says, but Harry's heart is pounding at the words.
Out of all the chances that he could have fallen asleep, the stranger- Tom had fallen asleep on Harry. For the first time on a flight. Ever.
"Oh, it's no problem at all! You needed rest and I didn't want to wake you." He manages out.
Harry takes notice of the way the waves spring back into place when the man runs a hand through his hair.
It looks soft- Snap out of it, Harry!
"Oh!" He says out loud as he comes to a realization. He lifts his arm and grabs the green cap before holding it out for Tom. He holds it gingerly by the brim.
He feels like a thief.
"I meant to give this back to you, it fell off when you..." he says weakly, his free hand gesturing towards the hat.
"Oh, yes. Thank you." Tom reaches out for the cap the same time it slips out of his grasp. Before he can process Tom ducking for the cap, he does the exact same.
Their heads knock into each other as Tom grasps the cap, and Harry curses under his breath as Tom lets out a hiss of pain.
"I'm so sorry!" He gasps out, his hand clutching the front of his head.
Great, right where his fresh scar was.
"It's alright, not your fault." Tom denies, head rubbing the back of his head to ease the pain.
"Harry, was it? You're bleeding... hold on."
Then he feels the trickle down his finger and sighs. He just hoped it didn't open.
A speckle of blood falls onto the lens of his glasses.
Tom retrieves a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wipes his way up Harry's thin fingers. His hand is bigger than Harry's and there's a small shiver that runs through him when his long fingers wrap around his wrist and pull it away gently. Tom's wiping at the spot above his eyebrow.
Harry watches as the white handkerchief stains red above his eye.
"Hold it there, dear." Tom murmurs, sending a pleasant flush into Harry's cheeks.
Gentle fingers pull the glasses off his face and, when they're placed back onto his nose, he sees the speckle of red has gone.
"Thank you." He sighs, wondering how the hell he'd made things go so wrong so quickly.
"It's my pleasure." Tom responds.
A few moments later, Harry removed the handkerchief and is glad to feel that the scar is still closed.
He breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at Tom, who smiles back at him in such a gorgeous way that it sends crazed butterflies into his belly.
They land not too long after and Tom gives Harry his number just before he takes his leave.
"To keep in touch." Tom had winked as he headed down the aisle. His figure is tall and imposing, but it makes Harry feel something different. Something warm and exciting.
Harry had clutched his phone tightly and gotten off the plane in a daze, his mind completely fried as he struggled to think.
Imagine his surprise when he looked up the man's name just to find out he was a very famous rock singer. One that wore smokey eyeliner that emphasized the cool tone of his eyes.
Oh, was Harry in for a treat.