[HPxTR] Frozen Coffee

Part III

Three days later, Harry was standing outside his local ice rink, a thick pair of woollen socks clutched in his hands. Harry hadn't been to this rink in ages, which really was inexcusable as it was only a fifteen-minute walk from work. He remembered coming here as a little kid, wrapped up in a big padded coat, his mum and dad each holding a hand as they led him around the ice. Harry hadn't expected to feel nostalgic, but he suddenly found himself much more excited to be skating.

Over the last few days, he'd thought about his interaction with Riddle and came to a conclusion: Riddle hadn't asked him out on a date. Harry had either misheard or Riddle was joking – there was no way that his cyborg boss who couldn't muster up a stiver of emotion would suddenly do a 180. He didn't know what Riddle was trying to achieve here, but Harry was determined to have the best time possible on the ice; Riddle or no Riddle.

He walked into the building, joined a queue and pulled out his wallet. It was only a couple of quid for two hours on the rink, and only a few more for the skate hire. Harry didn't realise it would be so cheap.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Harry didn't jump.

Warm breath ghosted over the back of his neck. Harry was annoyed to find that his heart rate sped up - he wasn't afraid of Riddle, dammit. He didn't even want to consider the other possibility.

"I've already bought the tickets. Let's go."

Harry pulled Riddle's hand off, and spun round to face the smirking man.

"Tickets? You were pretty confident I'd show."

Riddle smiled. "Of course, Harry. I knew you couldn't resist."

"Umm. Okay then. Let's go skate." Why did he have to sound so awkward? Now the bastard was smirking, again. Oh - Harry was still holding Riddle's hand. He dropped it casually, trying not to draw Riddle's attention but at the same time hating the fact that of course Riddle noticed.

Riddle laughed (he had a sense of humour?) and held out Harry's ticket, which he took, despising the fact that he now owed Riddle. Harry and his evil boss went down the staircases to the ice rink, along with several other families with young children who had recently purchased tickets. Harry grimaced.

"They're going to be a nightmare." He told Riddle, who was staring at the children with the same look of despair. "Crashing into walls or worse, us."

Riddle hummed, and slung his arm round Harry's shoulders. Harry stiffened.

"Don't worry," he purred, "I'll keep you safe."

Did Riddle just purr? This. Was. Too. Weird. Harry shrugged off the arm, and sped up down to the bottom of the staircase, away from his overly-touchy boss. Riddle had the offence to just smile – there was something about Riddle's constant smiles that made Harry just want to punch him in the face.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he sat down on a bench and untied his shoes, leaping up off the bench with his shoes halfway off his feet when Riddle sat down beside him. He tugged them the rest of the way off, Riddle smirking with one eyebrow raised, and hurried over to the skate hire.

"Size seven, please."

The lady working behind the counter picked up Harry's ratty trainers and ticket, before disappearing into the back. He stared obstinately ahead as Riddle joined him, placing his own shoes on the counter. Harry strengthened his resolve as Riddle edged closer to him, their shoulders touching. An expected burst of warmth rushed to Harry's cheeks as he became hyperaware of the light touch, knowing that Riddle had plenty of space to stand away from Harry.

The woman returned, a pair of blue skates deposited onto the counter. While Harry checked that the size was right, where it was painted on the sides of the boots, Riddle ordered his skates.

"Size ten."

Why was Riddle smirking at him? He was looking pointedly at Harry's boots, specifically where the size – oh, right. Funny.

"I'm not going to stoop to your level of immaturity, Riddle." He muttered, picking up his boots.

Riddle clasped a hand to his chest in mock indignation. "I have no idea what you mean."

Harry huffed, and his answer was just to walk away and sit down on a bench, where he pulled his thick socks over his thinner ones, before slipping a foot into a skate and pulling at the laces. They were garishly red, clashing horribly with the navy blue of the boot, and Harry wound them around the little metal holders before tying them off at the top. He was already starting on the next skate when Riddle sat down beside him and started to do the same.

By the time Riddle was finished, Harry was taking a few steps along the floor, testing the boots to make sure they weren't loose. No, they fit well – nice and snug around his ankle, almost uncomfortably tight but that was the way Harry liked it. Checking that Riddle was behind him, which of course he was, Harry and his annoying boss awkwardly made their way to the rink's entrance, wobbling slightly on their blades.