Work Text:
Harry took the box out from under his bed and spread the samples out, relieved that the Dursleys were out and he wouldn’t be caught with anything incriminating. In each small plastic bag there were trimmings of fiber, dried blood, and hair samples. Anything he could get off the man’s suits without his boss noticing. He was careful with each of them, wearing gloves to not contaminate the evidence and thanking god that he chose to take forensics as an elective.
Harry looked down, the dates he collected the evidence were neatly written on the front, with a note card recording the encounters he got the evidence. He debated taking it directly to the police once more, but he knew that wouldn’t help him.
Ted Dirlod was the name of the most frequent customer of Main Street Cleaners and Tailors, the only place that would hire Harry when his guardians demanded he get a job. It was a two mile walk from his house but anyplace closer had been listening to Petunia’s gossip too long to even give him a chance. The owner, Arabella Figg, had warned Harry about Ted his first day.
“There’s a customer, very nice and a good tipper too, that comes here quite frequently. His suits tend to have... questionable material on them but don’t worry about that. I’m pretty sure he’s a spy or undercover operative.” Her voice sped up in excitement as she continued, “So there’s nothing to worry about! I’m just letting you know so you won’t be alarmed the first time he comes in! Ted typically drops off and picks his clothes up at night, so you will probably run into him at some point. Just ignore the blood. He’s our best customer and we can’t have him feeling unwelcome.” Figg went back to ridding her husband’s clothes of the cat hair layered on them. Harry suspected that was the reason she opened the shop in the first place; it was too expensive to continue to pay for dry cleaning.
Ignoring the blood, it turned out was a bit harder than Harry anticipated. It was not exactly a small amount that spilled over Ted’s wool suit jackets. Rather, it seemed that he soaked the thing in red liquid before bringing it to them for cleaning. With what Harry later found he would have preferred that to be the case, but the metallic smell insured he couldn’t delude himself.
Mrs. Figg might have entertained herself with thoughts of James Bond but Harry noticed a trend. Ted dropping off his clothes tended to coincide with someone disappearing. Sometimes their bodies would be found, sometimes it was concluded that they ran away, sometimes the case went unsolved. Rarely did anything point to murder. Harry decided to start recording their encounters anyway.
The night Ted came in, clothes still bloodied was the day Harry decided he was going to start keeping evidence.
It was a quarter past midnight when the bell above the door alerted Harry that a customer came in. “Ted,” he acknowledged, before glancing up and taking a step back in surprise and horror.
“Harry,” The man acknowledged, pleasant as always, “Would you mind leaving an outfit outside the bathroom? I have had a bit of an... altercation tonight and would feel best to get out of these clothes. They will needed cleaned too, of course, so I was hoping I could leave them with you.” His handsome smile almost distracted Harry from the gruesome scene. Harry nodded wordlessly. Ted strode over to the bathroom (it was supposed to be employees only) and Harry went in the back to find his cleaned clothes. He knocked on the door and turned away as it opened, thrusting the hangers out towards Ted.
“Thank you,” Harry could hear the charm in his voice. A plastic bag was handed back to him, “Here’s what I needed to drop off. The door closed again and Harry hurried off to the backroom. Technically, he should make the ticket and tie it to the bag in front of Ted, but Harry did not think the man would mind in this case. If it was what Harry suspected, he thought Ted would be rather glad to have the bag out of sight.
Ted came out of the bathroom, looking completely unruffled. His hands were cleared out blood. There was not a hair out of place. If Harry hadn’t seen him when he first walked in, he would have thought him a regular wealthy, well-dressed gentleman. “Thank you,” Ted’s grin was a little sharper than Harry had seen before, his grey eyes a bit more wild, but he was composed. Harry glanced down at his hands as he passed over the receipt as well as the rest of Ted’s dry cleaning and noticed that there wasn’t even spots of blood underneath his fingernails.
“You’re welcome, sir.” Harry hoped Ted didn’t notice how fake his customer service smile was, or at least would pass it off as normal. Harry’s smiles had been getting stiffer and faker around him as the months wore on but Ted hadn’t given any indication of noticing so far.
“Still, a great favor,” Ted put a hundred pounds in the tip jar. “I hope I didn’t disturb you too much.” He was perfectly relaxed. Harry was on the edge of hysteria.
“It wasn’t the strangest thing I’ve seen,” Harry lied, although honestly he didn’t understand why so many costumers made their goods dry clean only. It was especially mind-boggling when you knew some of them weren’t meant to ever see the light of day.
Ted raised an eyebrow, “I am glad I am not in your line of work then.” He said and finally left the shop.
Technically, Main Street Cleaners and Tailors was open until two in the morning, but as soon as Harry was sure Ted’s car was out of sight, he flipped the sign to closed, locked the door, and went into the backroom. He grabbed the phone and dialed emergency services but stopped before he pressed talk. A breath in, a breath out. Was it the best decision? What if Ted or his associates (that Harry knew he must have) retaliated? What if he was overreacting? Harry severely doubted he was but it was possible.
Instead, Harry donned a new pair of plastic gloves, retrieved a new trash bag from the storage room, and started to take Ted’s clothing out. On the suit jacket there was a piece of unidentifiable grossness (Harry did not want to identify it but if he had to guess he would say it was brain matter) that Harry pulled off, making sure some of the wool fibers were still attached. He turned the glove inside out and plopped into the empty trash bag then put it aside. Next, he pulled out the shirt, unfortunately there wasn’t anything he could pull off it, but he turned the glove inside out and put it in the trash bag just the same. The blood could speak for itself. On Ted’s pants there were strands of hair (some still attached to skin which he valiantly ignored) which Harry collected. Once placing the clothes back in the bag and putting that in the ‘to-wash’ basket, Harry ventured into the bathroom Ted changed in.
He looked at the bathroom trashcan, which was filled with bloody paper towels and debated just taking the whole thing as evidence but decided it would be better to separate out what Ted used. Inside his trash bag of evidence, Harry placed the brownish-red towels, hoping that there was some of Ted’s DNA still on them. Once he finished, Harry shuddered, and stuffed the bag into his backpack before resuming flipping the sign to open and resuming work.
He walked past the police station on the way home that night, pausing outside of it before hurrying on to Number 4 Privet Drive. Harry feared that they would arrest him. He would be released once they processed the evidence, he was sure, but he really didn’t want to spend the night in jail or have Uncle Vernon get a call. His family was not tolerate and although they had never physically abused him (at least Aunt Petunia never had and Harry doubted Uncle Vernon’s actions would be found criminal instead of disciplinary), he would not put it past them if he pushed them too much. Besides, he already had a bad reputation. He didn’t need it to become worse because of a wrongful arrest.
Instead, once he was in his room, he pried up a floor board and let the bag languish there until it was joined by more trash bags. Eventually, he moved them into smaller plastic bags to save space. It took two months before Harry came to terms with why he was keeping the little collection. It was blackmail.
It had been nine months since that day and although nothing he received since had been as gory as that first night, it was still quite enough for him to have about three dozen sandwich bags of damning evidence and notes.
Both Harry and Dudley had completed their last year of schooling. His aunt and uncle had taken Dudley out to celebrate, leaving Harry behind and locking Harry in his room, of course. Mrs. Figg had insisted on giving him the night off so Harry had the time to decide how he was going to blackmail Ted Dirlod. Harry knew from the night he came in dripping with blood that the man was very dangerous. Harry knew that he could, and probably would, die for his actions. But Uncle Vernon had been boasting for the last two years about how happy he would be to kick Harry out once he turned eighteen. For the last year, he had a countdown displayed on the fridge. Today, he had been especially boisterous. Harry knew he had an expiration date. If Ted killed him it would definitely be painful but at least he would not waste away.
Harry selected five bags and put them in his backpack to take to work with him tomorrow. He then wrote a note:
Dear Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon,
For the past year and a half, I have been collecting evidence on a possible murder suspect...
Harry knew as soon as they found the evidence, which he would place in the cupboard under the stairs (his old bedroom and where the cleaning supplies were now kept) before he went to work tomorrow, they would call the police. No doubt thinking it was evidence of Harry’s own wrong-doing. Since the results of Harry’s standardized tests had come in, his school had been much less likely to believe the Dursley’s defamation. In fact, quite a few times social services was called on them. The Dursleys' would see the bags and think ‘vindication.’ The letter was mainly to the police despite its address. Harry very much doubted any of his relatives would read it.
The stack that he was leaving behind as collateral included what he collected the first night. It was the most damning, after all. What he took with him would still give Ted plenty to think about without sacrificing his ace if he did not come back from his shift.
It took a week of Harry placing the evidence when he left and hiding it when he came home for Ted to make an appearance. By that point, Harry had been a bit afraid he had switched to picking up his cleaning during the day.
“You know, I’m a little confused as to why you always come here looking like you are going to a black-tie event.” Harry told Ted, walking into the back room to not only collect his order but also his evidence.
“Have to look nice for you, love.” Ted responded. They had developed a surprising rapport lately. It had started with Harry forgetting to hide his homework when Ted came in and Ted correcting him on one of the answers before starting a conversation about the assignment. The fact that it was about In Cold Blood amused Harry, although he doubted Ted was as simplistic as the Cutter’s murderers. That he showed nothing but disgust, mainly focused on their methods and desires rather than their violence seemed to support that theory. When he was reading Wuthering Heights for class, Ted showed a similar disgust for Heathcliff’s emotions after Catherine’s death. Today, Harry brought another book with him.
“I haven’t read this yet,” Harry placed Black Mass in front of Ted on the counter, “Have any interesting comments before I start?”
“Bulger played them well,” Ted responded and Harry made an ambiguous sound in return,
“So I suppose you would approve of someone trying to make a deal for their protection?” Harry hinted, but tried to keep that out of his voice. Ted’s answer didn’t really interest him so he didn’t wait for the man to respond, “I hope you won’t hold this against me then.” He stated, “Especially when I say I have more and worse at my home.” It always hurt him when he had to refer to his residence that way, but hopefully soon that would be fixed.
Harry placed the five sandwich bags on the table, “The Dearborns,” he pointed to the first one, “Frank Bryce, Bertha Jorkins, Quirinus Quirrell, Dorcas Meadowes,” He continued down the line, pointing to each bag and identifying what murder he suspected they pertained to.
Ted raised an eyebrow, “Explain this to me.” He demanded.
“You came in on Saturday July 10th,” He pointed to the bag he identified as Bertha Jorkins, “This contains blood, hair, and fibers from what you dropped off that day. Ms. Jorkins was reported missing the following Tuesday. Her body was found in the woods. The reported cause of death was an animal attack.” Harry looked unimpressed, “I assume you bribed someone in the coroners office to write that down. The Dearborns,” Harry pointed to the leftmost bag, “Your clothes had an unusual amount of blood that day, even for you. The murders were reported in the morning news.”
“Besides your boss’s naivety, part of the reason I come here is because there is no video surveillance nearby. Not even traffic cams.” Ted threatened.
Harry took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes, “I know.” He grabbed Ted’s hand and scrapped his fingernails down it, making blood well up. “But I have collateral.”
“Easy to make that disappear.”
“Not if you don’t know where I live.”
“Easy to fix.” Ted looked absolutely menacing but Harry swallowed and continued on,
“Plus, everyone knows my last whereabouts,” Harry took a chance and reached out to Ted’s face. The man caught his wrist and squeezed it hard enough that Harry had no doubt a bruise would form. It was not as good as the skin under his fingernails but it would do, “I have enough back-up to make sure you are at least suspected of murder.”
“I have good lawyers,” Ted brushed off, letting go of his wrist. Harry quickly stepped back. This way at least Ted would have to move to catch him.
“I’m sure. But once you are suspected of something, an eye will be kept on you. I imagine it would be inconvenient.” He took another deep breath, “I don’t want much and you don’t look like a man who likes inconveniences. I think it would be easier overall to just bargain with me.”
“What do you want?” I’ll get it back anyway, Tom thought as he stared at the little (literally, he was short and underfed) teenager that dared threaten him, you don’t even have my real name. He had actually been growing fond of Harry. The kid seemed to have at least some smarts, and he could admit that this scheme was as clever as it was brash and deadly.
“Support until I can find a job.” Such a foolish request. Tom was feeling kind so he would help him out a bit:
“You have a job,”
Harry flushed angrily, “Starting July 30th, I want housing and enough money to provide for my basic needs plus any reasonable necessities I would need to live above the poverty line and attend university. Examples would include an apartment and utilities costs, clothing, groceries, textbooks, a phone, and textbooks.”
“So just that?”
“The examples is not inclusive of everything I need-“
Tom cut him off before the boy could work himself up trying to think of everything he might need. “Why?”
“Does it matter?” Harry asked.
Tom made a so-so motion with his hand, “If you have a reason I might make your death less painful.”
“My relatives are going to kick me out on my eighteenth birthday. I want to make more of my life than being a homeless beggar.”
“Most people do.” Tom relaxed his stance slightly, hoping Harry would drift forward making him easier to capture. He wasn’t that stupid it seemed. Harry kept the same defensive stance and actually moved a bit backwards.
“This is a surprise.” Tom admitted. He hadn’t realized he had gotten so complacent for one thing. He’d have to thank Harry for bringing his attention to that before he killed him, “Based on our talks I would have thought you would hand over everything you had to the police right away.” Tom surveyed him once again, wondering if that was in fact what Harry did and he was wearing a wire to get a confession. But Harry wasn’t lying about what he wanted. The type of desperation Tom could read in his eyes made him doubt this was a set-up.
The resignation Tom found also made him doubt Harry thought it would work. It was a Hail Mary. Harry wasn’t hoping for it but he expected he would die.
Well, Tom did hate being predictable. “Give your two-weeks notice to Arabella.” He told Harry, “I’ll have a contract when I return in three days. You can either accept it or forfeit your life.”
Harry still seemed distrustful, as he should, but nodded, then gestured to the bags still on the counter, “I assume you will want to take those with you?”
“A gesture of good faith from you, I am sure.” Tom collected the plastic sandwich bags- really, it was undignified- and his dry cleaning. “I’ll see you soon, Harry.” He did not turn as he backed out of the shop and green-eyes stayed locked with his the entire time.
Tom laughed once he was back in his car. He was going to have two contracts prepared for when he next saw Harry. One to deal with the blackmail and the other a pre-nuptial. He might wait a bit to present Harry with the second one but the boy captured his attention and attraction, something genuinely difficult. It seemed like a good idea to keep him.