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Tom had been fully expecting this night to be as boring as any other prestigious pureblood ball.
That was, until he saw Harry.
How he hadn’t remembered that it was Harry who would be taking on the Black House’s heirship, he had no idea.
Harry was standing awkwardly on the other side of the room, clutching a full champagne flute like it was a life-line. He was pulling one of those dazzling smiles he only used when he wanted someone to fuck off, but other than that, the rest of his face was obscured by a sloppily crafted cat mask.
Tom smirked. It was showtime.
Abraxas, who had been badgering on to him about some kind of Ministry scandal, followed his plotting gaze and sighed at the recipient of Tom’s attention.
”You should leave him alone, Riddle. He’s clearly already out of his element and- oh, you’re leaving. Find me later!”
Because Tom wasn’t listening. He was already halfway across the room. Abraxas just shook his head in resignation and wandered over to Avery.
Tom stopped a few feet to the side of Harry, waiting for him to finish his conversation. When it became apparent that Harry was too shy to tell the stranger to go away - honestly, what kind of pureblood was he? - Tom sighed fondly and approached him.
Tom knew the exact moment that Harry recognised him.
At first, the man wore a plain, bland smile he used with strangers he was forced to socialise with - Walburga was a fierce woman when she had to be. Then Tom smiled pleasantly back at him, and Harry froze.
”Excuse me, could you please give us a moment?” Harry asked the aged witch beside him breathlessly, before grabbing Tom’s forearm and pulling him away without waiting for an answer. Tom caught a glance of the affronted and slightly confused expression on the lady they’d ditched, and shot her an apologetic but charming smile that left her flustered.
Honestly. Old women were so easy to play.
Tom turned back to Harry, who’d dragged him over to a deserted corner of the ballroom, and smirked gleefully at the annoyance that was written plainly across his expression - Harry had always been easy to read, even with the majority of his face covered.
”What’re you doing here?” he demanded in a hiss, but Tom only smiled disarmingly at him. Harry wasn’t fooled.
”Hello, Harry. Long time, no see.” he said happily instead of answering. Harry frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, and Tom’s eyes were drawn to the well-fitting robes like a moth to a lamp.
”Answer the question.” Harry growled bluntly, and Tom held back a chuckle. An angry Harry was about as threatening to Tom as a disgruntled kitten.
”I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he began delicately, and Harry snorted. How rude. Walburga would have a fit. “It is the night of your heir inheritance. Did you really think I’d miss it?” he asked, making a show of sounding offended; he even put his hand over his heart in mock sincerity.
Harry rolled his eyes behind the mask.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the reason he was here. To be perfectly honest, he hadn’t even paid any attention whatsoever to the name of the Household when he’d been asked to accompany Abraxas - he hadn’t deemed it to be important. Now, he wished he had.
Because this was Harry.
”I don’t believe that for a second.” Harry stated, looking at him sceptically. Tom blinked innocently, and Harry narrowed his eyes at him before turning to watch the rest of the bustle in the room.
"Why ever not?" Tom asked, eyebrows furrowed in false confusion. Harry scoffed, and Tom fought the urge to laugh.
"Because you don't care about me, Riddle. Admit it. I bet you didn't even know this was Wal- my party, did you?" he asked bitingly, still refusing to look at Tom. Tom said nothing, because Harry was completely correct. "You're here for connections," Harry continued thoughtfully after a moment, and Tom turned to look at him. "You want to get in the good graces of as many higher-ups as you can, so that you have a good chance in your political career," he paused, clearly thinking. "No, you're not here for me. You're here for someone better than me."
His eyes drifted towards the Minister of Magic.
But Tom's attention hadn't left Harry.
"No one is better than you," he murmured, and he believed it.
Harry scoffed again, but Tom could hear the anxiety and confusion behind it. "You just said I'm better than you. No take-backs."
At this, Tom did laugh. Leave it to Harry to rely on humour as his coping mechanism for uncomfortable situations. They were silent for a while after that, watching Sirius Black try to rope his brother into starting a conga line, but Tom wasn't content. This wasn't like them; they should be bickering, they should be teasing...
So he took matters into his own hands.
"Nice mask," he commented, and Harry gave him the side-eye. "You painted it yourself, of course. No self-respecting mask-maker would craft something like that." he paused.
No response.
"It seems like you bought a craft mask, is that correct?"
Harry gritted his teeth. "Maybe."
Tom hummed with a smile, but Harry wouldn't look at him.
"A dig at Walburga, perhaps? Trying to make her notice you're not a snooty rich pureblood like she wants you to be?"
Tom knew he was right. Ever since he could remember, Harry had always been trying to prove that he was different. He didn't want the vast amounts of money he possessed, he didn't like coming to prestigious balls and dressing in lavish cloaks from abroad, and he definitely did not like the blood purity propaganda his family prided themselves on. Harry and Sirius combined came up with as many plans as possible to subtly get back at their mother, and this seemed like one of them. Wearing a mask made of card, painted themselves.
"Not even acrylic," Tom observed quietly, and felt a small surge of satisfaction when Harry winced as he bit his tongue.
"Did you gloss it? No? Hm, what a shame."
"I think the paint is chipping. Right here, no- there."
As proud as Tom was for these jabs, they still elicited no reaction.
When in doubt, resort to flattery, that was Tom's motto.
"Though, your hair does make up for the hideous mask. You actually managed to tame it tonight. I offer you my congratulations." This wasn't entirely true. Harry's hair was still messy, but clearly Walburga had had her attempt at styling, and so now instead of looking like a bird's nest, it looked artfully careless.
"Thank you." Harry growled, teeth still clamped together.
"Ooh, not very friendly," Tom smirked.
Harry shook his head and stared resolutely into the side of Sirius' head. Tom was mildly surprised it didn't catch fire from the ferocity of his expression. Tom himself couldn't be happier. He was so close to getting Harry to snap...
"Riddle, I heard the Minister is leaving soon. If you want to make his acquaintance, I suggest you stop bothering me and go over there already." Harry ground out.
Tom couldn't help feeling offended, and made sure Harry knew it.
"How rude of you. I told you, I came to congratulate you. The Minister just so happened to be here. Besides, even if I were originally here for connections, that is no longer the case." Tom could see Harry's confused frown, the way his eyebrows scrunched up and his nose wrinkled, and he smiled. "You're much better company than any one of those old Ministry idiots."
Tom swore he could see a smile behind Harry's mask.
"Of course I am. I'm your best friend, after all." Harry said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
"Exactly."
"Poor Abraxas."
"Abraxas Malfoy is a close and useful acquaintance. I consider few people friends, Harry, you should feel honoured to be one of them."
"Just a friend?"
Pause.
Rewind.
"Just a friend?"
"Just a friend?"
"Just a friend?"
So Tom did hear that correctly. How curious.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're insinuating, Harry."
Oh Merlin, was he smirking?
"Of course you don't. Do you need me to be a little more... forward with my intentions, Riddle?"
Tom swallowed. He hadn't been anticipating this. How could he have forgotten how much Harry affected him? He stayed silent. Not because he wanted to, but because he was well and truly speechless. Harry had always been the only one capable of such a feat.
Harry faced him then, eyes alight with something Tom couldn't name, and stepped a little closer to him. "It may be easier to just show you. Would you like that?" he purred, and Tom so desperately wanted to say yes.
He hadn't realised that he, too, had leaned closer, until Harry abruptly stepped away. He walked backwards a few paces, before exiting the room and heading in the direction of the bathrooms.
Of course Tom followed.
If Harry returned to the ball ten minutes later with hickeys running down his neck then that was nobody's business but his and Tom's.