A/N: So I said at the beginning that Harry isn't dark in this, but then a lot of people were confused because he was acting smart/charming/manipulative.
Lemme explain: I like a good dark!Harry story here and there. I like the atmosphere they give off and the cleverness they bring. I have, however, never understood why Harry needed to be the next dark lord hatchling for this to happen. Or why every of his friends needed to be bad.
So let me try to rephrase: Basically picture a Slytherin!Harry but without the I-have-all-my-followers-right-here-and-we're-going-to-take-over-the-world-at-like-ELEVEN-and-oh-also-the-guy-who-murdered-my-family?-totally-hot-like-ten-out-of-ten-I-am-so-evil-I-kick-ass-literally-all-the-time.
There's nothing wrong with those stories, there just are a lot like them already out there so there's no point in me writing another one. But like I said, I very much like the 'vibe' coming off of dark!Harry stories in general, so I'll try to re-create those, but it's still Harry-I-just-want-to-protect-my-friends.
Enough ranting, I hope any of that made sense or well...read on and see I guess ^_^.
Thank you so much for all your reviews :)!
Enjoy :)
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The power of names
By the time Harry woke up the next day, a package had made its way to the doorstep of his trailer.
The circus tended to sleep in, as their nights were often long, so it was closer to noon than morning when Harry discovered it.
He opened it to find one whole set of clothes, exquisitely fabricated and smelling pleasantly. At first he thought nothing more of it, surely Malfoy had all kinds of spare clothes lying around, but when he tried them on it became clear that there was no way the clothes were anything but new. They fit him perfectly.
It hardly surprised Harry that Lucius had gotten his measurements so accurately. The lord certainly had been ogling him enough.
He wondered what would happen if he just didn't show up this evening. The clothes alone were worth a fortune, hell, selling the coat would probably allow the whole circus to take a night off. And blondie must have paid another hefty sum to have them made so quickly.
Would the two lords actually hunt him down again if he didn't go? Or was one set of fine clothes not worth the trouble?
But, Harry thought, staring at the opened invitation for tonight's gala, that would mean he admitted defeat. He'd told them he would go, so he would. He'd sell the clothes afterwards for sure though, they were ridiculous to keep around.
He changed into his standard shirt and trousers, folding the fine materials neatly on his bed, and went out to help around the circus.
There was always so much to prepare and organize that had nothing to do with their shows. The people here also needed to live. They had their share of sickness, repairs, cooking, cleaning and babysitting, just like any other household. Theirs just happened to be a bit bigger.
If you found yourself with spare time on your hands you trained. Especially now that they had stayed for so long in one place, they couldn't allow themselves to become stagnant. People wanted to see different, new things, yet at the same time some classical acts were an integral part of the show.
And even when they weren't inventing new tricks, one needed to stay on top of one's game. The animals needed caring. A magician's fingers needed to stay nimble. An acrobat's body needed to be in top shape.
Harry went through his routine and did his chores around the circus like any other day. He told Molly early on that he wouldn't take part in tonight's show, so she could adjust the program accordingly. The members had a pretty flexible schedule overall. Of course, one had to work in order to live, but if you took one night off once in a while no one would question you.
Harry had taken great care to not tell her while Hermione was still within hearing distance. While he loved the brilliant girl above anything, she would have instantly wanted to know where he was going and would have had a detailed list of arguments ready why he shouldn't.
He knew all these reasons already. Had gone over benefits and risks in his head last night. He had still arrived at the decision to go, and that's why he changed back into the fine clothes by eight o'clock in the evening, two hours before the event was supposed to start.
He took some time to make extra sure his scar was covered flawlessly with makeup. He had hoped it would disappear completely over the years, but the blasted thing stubbornly refused to leave.
It was fine around his friends, circus members simply wouldn't blink twice if they saw a scar and most importantly they didn't - couldn't - know the meaning behind Harry's.
Highborns however… The nobles might be able to connect the dots. Harry wasn't going to risk that.
He wasn't sure if blondie would sent him yet another surprise, some means to take him there maybe. But Harry wasn't going to stay around to find out, deciding that he might as well walk through the city.
The idea to just walk up to the pompous party, while all the lords and ladies in their neat little carriages arrived with servants receiving them, pleased Harry immensely. There was nothing more amusing than seeing the confused horror that entered the highborns eyes when things didn't go according to proper protocol.
Directions were obviously unnecessary. Everyone knew where Riddle's manor was.
The mansion stood a bit isolated on a hill in the highborn quarters, a magnificent garden shrouding it from watchful eyes.
While the man undoubtedly was a crucial component in any high society party, the doors of his own home tended to stay shut. When he did open them only the crème de la crème were invited.
The remote location and his lack of enthusiasm for hosting such gatherings himself, led to the overall consensus that the man was a bit of a recluse. How he could be described as both a socialite and a hermit was beyond Harry.
How he knew so much about him in the first place? Rumours. Rumours everywhere.
Riddle had taken over the gossip mill in a sweep when he first appeared about one year ago.
Handsome, charming, intelligent and most importantly, single. Which caused a frankly ridiculous amount of rumours dedicated to find an explanation as to why such a smashing lord at his age was not yet at least engaged.
One would think the interest around his person would stay in the highborn courts, but no, they spread out even in the slums, the name 'Tom Riddle' more likely treated as a myth than a man. A story, a fairytale to tell in order to pass the time.
Harry was honestly quite looking forward to at least catch a glimpse of the man. With the gossip blowing him up into epic proportions, the lord could literally only disappoint. Harry found it sobering to realize there was a physical body attached to the prominent name.
The walk took him almost one and a half hours. As their circus was literally at the edge of the city, he had to march through the quarters of every possible social standing.
Rotten, skewed houses and dimly lit streets gave way into solid blockhouses and squares. Moving even further came the single houses with beautiful gardens around them, which slowly morphed into luxurious mansions and spacious parks.
By the time he arrived in the better-off regions Harry was grateful for his clothes. They had earned him odd looks at first, then covert glances from the middleclass, now they let him pass by unnoticed.
He wouldn't be able to hide behind them forever. He was well aware that once he actually stepped into the gala everyone would immediately notice him as foreign.
The elites kept a close eye on each other, a face that couldn't be matched immediately to a name would stick out like a sore thumb.
Whether they would instantly label him as lowborn, or whether they would assume he came from far away, would determine the answer to the lords little debate.
The gate in front of the long winded path leading up to Riddle manor and the gloomy tree branches hanging low over the big bushes gave the estate a peculiar feel. It was a place sensible people did their best to avoid.
He approached it nonetheless and walked up to the two servants standing guard. Even they were dressed in well-fitted, expensive clothes. Serving a lord was a very socially acceptable thing to do, even for highborns.
"No trespassing," one of them called out immediately upon noticing Harry's approach. "Lord Riddle is hosting a gala tonight and if any of you snotty-nosed brats-...Oh, uhm, apologies sir, but this gate is off-limits."
Harry wordlessly handed them his invitation. His clothes identified him as highborn, the invitation would have them assume he was one of the nobles.
The poor man looked like he'd been struck by lightning, apparently not quite able to process what was happening. "Oh. Oh! But sir- I mean- milord! Guests use the entrance at the back, it provides a much better access for your carriage…uhh…"
He'd noticed Harry's distinct lack of carriage, date or attendants.
"I- I mean-…They always go around the back…usually," he finished lamely, looking to his friend for guidance, who appeared just as clueless as to how to handle Harry.
"Well can I use this path instead?" Harry asked pleasantly. "It leads to the house just the same, does it not?"
"Err, uhm, y-yes. But-but it's dark sir, I mean, milord! You could trip!"
"And my bones will surely shatter from the impact, my brain splattering across the cobblestones as my skull bursts open," Harry nodded gravely.
Both servants had gone pale, neither of them apparently familiar with humour.
"Not to worry," he continued cheerfully, snatching the invitation out of the numb hands of the servant and moving past them. "I'm sure you are capable enough to clean up the mess."
He pushed open the gate and slipped in before they could react.
It was probably the best advantage you got as a noble. If your behaviour didn't fit with the expectations, people didn't know how to handle you. Even if you were annoying, people couldn't do much, always needing to stay polite and careful.
The small path leading up to the manor was dark, the torches standing on the sides unlit.
As he neared the top he could see the other, wider path full with carriages and highly illuminated.
On the spacious porch in front of the building people started to mingle, meeting their acquaintances before entering, letting their servants take care of their carriages and horses.
Harry however arrived at the adjacent side of the manor, outside of the bright area.
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice startled him out of his observations. It was too close for Harry's liking, as he had thought himself quite alone. He wasn't usually the one taken off guard.
A man sat on an elegant lawn chair, his features only minimally illuminated from the light that came out of the half-opened door behind him. He hadn't even looked up at Harry, his eyes fixed on the book in his hands, the light just sufficient to make the pages visible enough.
Harry realized the man had sat so still against the manor's dark wall that he had simply slipped past his notice.
"So I've been told," Harry said, catching himself. "Apparently there's a proper way to approach houses now."
The man did look up at that and Harry could only barely make out his face.
There was this quiet, confident aura around the man, in the way he held himself still and relaxed in his chair while Harry stood. He was quite obviously not a servant, though Harry's mind couldn't conjure any explanation as to why he wouldn't join the other lords in the front.
"Your first time?" the man in the shadows asked.
"Very much so," Harry answered. "You must have gone through the procedure quite often though, if it bores you enough to read a book."
"I prefer books to people."
"Even though they are written by people?"
White teeth flashed as the other gave him a sharp smile. "Maybe precisely because of that."
Harry's eyebrows rose sceptically. "And you've abandoned the well-lit, cosy atmosphere of the manor for the dark cold outside because..?"
"The noise."
"Ah," Harry made in understanding. The constant chattering of the lords and ladies was loud enough to hear from their spot. It would be worse by a thousandfold inside.
"And the sky is remarkable tonight," the man added, almost like an afterthought.
Harry looked up reflexively and his eyes went wide. He realized they stood high enough for the stars to be bright and clear, despite the city smokes. It wasn't a sight he saw often, their location always in the deepest pits.
"It's beautiful," he whispered, his delight genuine.
"It is," the man agreed, his head tilted in contemplation as he scrutinized him.
Harry cleared his throat. "Well then, my apologies for interrupting. I shall go re-join the others and pretend to be terribly flustered for taking the front gate."
"You do that," the man said amused. "Although I find it very hard to imagine you embarrassed."
Harry started acting almost out of reflex.
His head dropped sheepishly, his feet shifting nervously while his hands seemed to fight the urge to twist the hem of his coat.
By all accounts he appeared to be a young man fidgeting from distress and trying desperately to hide it.
The man suddenly leaned forward in keen interest.
Harry smirked at him from below his fringe. "Good enough? Do you think they will be fooled?"
"I think you could fool almost anybody," the man said pensively.
Almost.
For some reason, that little word grated on Harry's nerves.
Ignoring the stab of annoyance, he discarded his posture and bent down into a low bow instead. "Thank you kindly for the vote of confidence, milord."
The gesture clearly caught the man off guard, as no highborn would ever bow in front of a stranger without a proper introduction and the assured certainty that the other was of higher standing.
If he hadn't already, he surely had given the man cause to doubt his standing - or sanity - now. But he couldn't help it, he loved screwing with people's perception.
"I see I might not be the only one wishing this boring farce would already be over."
Harry looked up at him, surprised. He hadn't exactly shown much respect for being invited here yes, but he hadn't expected the other to admit so to a stranger.
"One more eccentric idiot hosting a gathering for arrogant fools, we will survive it," Harry shrugged nonchalantly.
Another flash of white, another sharp smile. Something about the man unsettled Harry, though of course, that could have been due to the fact that he was half hidden in the darkness. He couldn't read him at all like that.
"The evening has already become much more interesting thanks to you."
"Glad to be of service," Harry gave back without missing a beat. "Try not to freeze to death, milord. You just might be the only person I like talking to in this place."
He turned around and left without giving the other a chance to dismiss him.
He headed for the brightly illuminated porch in front of the main entrance of the mansion, quickly scanning the crowd for his new…acquaintances.
Lucius was ridiculously easy to spot and Severus Snape lurked just behind him.
"Ah our experiment!" Lucius exclaimed pleased when he saw Harry approach.
Harry suppressed a sigh and dropped into a bow again. People won't find anything strange with that, blondie was a Malfoy after all.
"You have yet to tell us your name," Lucius continued, his eyes already sweeping Harry's figure again, assessing the clothes.
The lord would have to tone that down a bit if he didn't want to broadcast his interest to everyone standing in the same room.
"One would think my name hardly matters in a place like this," Harry answered coyly.
Lucius chuckled. "It can still be used to sate our curiosity."
"Harry Evans."
His mother's maiden name slipped easily out of his mouth, after so many years of using it. Not even his friends knew he was born a Potter.
That name would have had a significantly different effect on Lucius. One that would have gotten Harry killed before morning.
As it was it only earned him a small nod.
"Lucius, who is your guest? I thought I told you to introduce me to any dashing young man of your circle," a women interrupted, her hand slipping casually into Lucius unoffered elbow, batting her eyelashes at the powerful lord.
Harry could see Lucius' thin eyebrows twitch once at her use of his first name.
Nonetheless he smiled charmingly at her. "A circus acrobat, milady."
Well, he had known blondie had a flair for the dramatic. The poor lady's face was locked in shocked disgust and she briskly turned around and left without another word.
Harry didn't watch her go, being rather more interested in the pleased little smirk on Lucius lips. Dramatic and cruel.
"Does that not defeat the purpose of me being here? Milord?" he asked curiously.
"We wondered how to introduce you and after extensive discussion we settled on a compromise. Tell the truth if asked directly, let them assume what they want otherwise," Lucius turned back to Harry. "And I thought I had asked you to call me Lucius."
"That might cause quite the confusion," Harry pointed out drily.
"Yes, isn't it wonderful?" Lucius beamed.
Harry snorted quietly to himself. Lucius obviously loved being the centre of attention. Everyone would come to him for answers once rumours started to spread. He would be holding the secret, the power over everyone else.
"Well then, go and enjoy your evening, Mr Evans." Lucius gestured towards the door that led inside the luxurious mansion.
Harry gave him a playful smile as he passed him. "I'm sure I will make the most out of the night, Lucius."
.
.
One could hardly believe the boy was anything but a highborn. If Lucius hadn't seen him at the circus, amongst the dirt, the animals and the ragged people, he would have considered himself mistaken.
As it was, the young man had undoubtedly not only been there, but also behaved very much like he felt at home there.
People grew up rich or poor, it was a simple fact of the world. Some might come on hard times later in life, or rise above their station, but everyone was born in one of the two.
However, Harry Evans navigated through the high society with the same ease as the circus. He was neither uncomfortable to be out of his element, nor star-struck at the extravagance of the noble court.
He remained blasé at the luxury around him, clearly not striving to one day live like that.
Why.
No matter how graceful for a lowborn, no matter how accepting of his humble fate, Lucius had at the very least expected him to get a taste of the sweet life. Once he'd seen how easy the highborns had it, how could he possibly go back to being a circus performer?
The young man had obviously honed his talent to charm people, that alone should have been proof of a certain ambition. It should have been clear to him that even as the lowest of the low, his looks, cleverness and aptitude would provide him enough to rise in society.
But no, Harry remained dismissive of it all. Maybe the boy truly didn't want to belong with the nobles, despised them maybe, but then why could he dance with them so effortlessly?
Everything about him was just so… excitingly mysterious.
"Might I suggest you at least glance in another direction every five minutes or so?"
Lucius laughed softly at the dry tone of his friend.
"Ah but dear Severus, everything else here is so very dull."
Severus stepped up beside him, following his gaze across the room to Harry.
A few seconds ago a group of young men had approached him.
Being younger and more reckless than the older adults meant they were more direct in their advance.
From the way they scrutinized him, Lucius guessed Harry had been 'forced' to reveal his true nature.
Youths who were probably participating in such an important event for the first time got easily drunk on their power.
To discover that the equally young man in front of them was in fact so low on the social ladder they should have never even met face to face, woke their need to bully and tease.
Since Harry stayed impossibly patient and obedient, they became simultaneously more daring and yet also grew more confused as to how to treat him. Harry seemed to comply with everything, while remaining more graceful than they could ever hope to be.
What to do if your prey doesn't feel preyed upon at all?
Lucius really wished Draco's nasty cold wouldn't have prevented him from attending. It was one thing to watch other scions make a fool out of themselves, but when it came to his son Lucius grew very protective.
He wondered whether Draco would have known better than to underestimate the lowborn. Then again, his sheltered upbringing might have led him to do just that. Anyways, Harry would have provided a good learning opportunity.
"He is beautiful," Severus remarked factually.
"Do you think so?" he asked casually.
His friend shot him a dark look. "And very much still lowborn."
Lucius gave him an amused smile. "I'm just studying our experiment."
Severus sneered back at him. "I'm sure you do."
.
.
The boy's name was Blaise Zabini.
His aristocratic features were bred to perfection, his dark skin a welcomed change from the pristine whiteness all around them. From the look in his eyes down to the shoes he was wearing, everything screamed of an easy life.
He also happened to be a particularly stubborn jackass.
Worse yet, he had a flock of little noble friends with him that seemed to hang on his every word and would just about jump from the roof to get him to look in their direction.
He had endured their constant mockery for at least fifteen minutes now. Many others would have snapped after one, but Harry knew his place in the world. And he liked it too much for them to ruin it.
So what if he bowed and went to his knees, always polite while he let them insult him? They held no sway over him. His deference reduced them to idiots.
"So do lowborns have any features that are, you know, missing? Like parts of their brains?"
Complete idiots.
While he was indeed very good at keeping his composure no one could last forever. Time to show the little rich boys a bit of fire, or they would still be going on come tomorrow.
"Well, not exactly missing…" Harry said, fidgeting with his hands nervously, intentionally lowering his voice.
Zabini leaned in closer to hear him, his cruel smile growing wider, hoping to finally get some kind of rise out of him. So far Harry had refused to acknowledge his inferiority and it drove them crazy.
"But there's that fact about…uhm, our anatomy…it's a bit embarrassing really," Harry scratched his head sheepishly.
Now the whole group crowded him excitedly, just to hear him confess something shameful.
"Aww, you can tell us," Zabini grinned and the others laughed.
"Well…" Harry began again, then straightened suddenly and looked him directly in the eyes. "Our cocks are abnormally large you see."
Zabini's eyes went impossibly wide, the others staggered back as if Harry had hit them.
Harry just smiled pleasantly.
Then Zabini groaned and hid his face in his hand, before laughing in earnest. "All right circus boy, you win that round."
Which round had he lost?
"You mean your dick is small?" Harry asked wide-eyed and clueless.
Now the whole group was snickering.
Zabini shook his head in fake exasperation. "Can you stop saying these things with a straight face? We have standards around here."
"Oh my mistake then, I didn't know you people were so gentle you forgot you had a pair."
The crowd positively roared with laughter.
"I suppose that solves the mystery what, ah, position, you hold in the circus. Clown isn't it? Do the lowborns really love dick jokes that much?"
"Acrobat actually, sir."
"Acrobat?" Zabini stepped closer again, smelling an opening. "You're good at bending over then?"
"Forwards and backwards," Harry replied instantly, with an innocence no one believed anymore, making it doubly hard for the others to hold in their mirth.
"Would you mind terribly to demonstrate?" Zabini smirked and took another step closer.
Harry stared up at him unfazed. "We have standards," he echoed, earning another round of laughter.
He had to hand it to the Zabini boy, blondie would have flushed scarlet by now.
But the laughter had continuously been on Harry's side for some time now and it was clear that it grated on Zabini's nerve. He couldn't risk losing face, and he looked this close to do something stupid. That would end unpleasant for Harry if he didn't do something now.
So Harry averted his eyes and quickly slid out of his coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as well.
"A demonstration then," he said calmly to the dark skinned boy.
The crowd started jeering and hooting at him.
Zabini looked placated, though his eyes were assessing him a bit more sharply than before.
If he had anything else than air in his brain, he had noticed that it was Harry's free compliance which prevented a nasty crisis.
Harry started on the ground. Highborns liked people around them to be on the ground. He enjoyed the air much more, often disregarding anything but the most basic floor exercises, but these people had no idea what real skill was.
A handstand here, a cartwheel there, finish it off with a simple backflip… A child could do better. A child growing up in the circus that is.
He grabbed some fruits off the nearest table and started juggling them, just for the hell of it.
It was far beneath his real abilities but Harry didn't mind. Oh he could play the fool for them, if he wanted to. If it was done graceful enough their sneer would turn into awe.
And he could laugh behind their backs for admiring simple party tricks that didn't even cost him any concentration.
Highborns might spit on the poor people, but they couldn't help but be fascinated by talents that were actually useful. All they ever got out of life was sitting around, eating their expensive food and discussing the latest fashion trends. Harry almost pitied them.
The small crowd around them clapped politely when he gave them a finishing bow. Harry could see most of them would have done so enthusiastically, if their upbringing hadn't robbed them of showing strong emotions.
Some other people in their vicinity turned their head curiously, wanting to know why they were clapping, but could only see a group of young men standing in a cluster now.
"Impressive," Zabini commented, trying to sound bored.
"Almost as impressive as your mental vacancy," Harry smiled brilliantly. "Sir."
He grabbed his coat and slipped out between the others, knowing it would be better for both of them if Zabini didn't have the chance to reply.
He spent some time mingling near the buffet.
Most of the guests didn't dare to ask him directly where he was from. They tried to coax it out of him with hints and other questions, but never actually asked. Harry of course took full advantage of that and never gave them what they wanted.
The few ones that did ask laughed his answer off as a joke. Now that Malfoy wasn't there to tell them, they thought Harry had just an odd sense of humour. Some doubt still seemed to linger.
He grew bored after a while and decided to explore the mansion instead.
He had seen some of the other guests go upstairs or use the adjacent rooms, so Harry guessed as long as it wasn't explicitly stated or locked he was free to go anywhere.
He soon discovered that the rooms on the second and third floor looked very much like the ones on the first. Everything was open and richly decorated, often there was also a small table with more food in it.
Some rooms were occupied by guests, others were deserted, but they all looked pretty much identical and perfect for holding large galas.
He hadn't even found a bathroom yet. He started to wonder whether highborns even needed to shit like normal people.
It wasn't until he got to the fourth floor that Harry saw closed doors. He tried to open some of them and found them locked.
The chatter of the nobles was dulled up here and Harry allowed himself to take a deep breath. The night was young still, surely Lucius would forgive him for abandoning his post for a few more minutes.
Curiously he strolled along the corridor, admiring the paintings that hung on the walls and the flower bouquets that were arranged expertly in their vases.
At the end of the corridor was a large set of double doors, almost as big as the main entrance outside. Disappointed Harry already resigned himself to going back down again, when the knob turned under his hand.
Surprised, he stepped in, wondering why this large room of all places wouldn't be locked.
The room behind the door was indeed large, the ceiling reaching all the way up to the roof. It was rather dimly lit compared to the corridors, but its purpose became clear immediately.
Rows upon rows of high shelves, fully stacked with books and scrolls occupied every space in the big room. Instead of a luxurious chandelier hanging from the ceiling, there were only smaller lamps standing in the corners near the shelves or on little tables.
A few ladders led up to a second and even third balcony that ran all along the walls, bookshelves taking up every place even there.
Harry was more of a practical hands-on type of guy, books didn't really do it for him, but even he was awed at the sight and atmosphere of the large library. Slowly he made his way to the middle of the silent room.
"You shouldn't be here," a silky voice spoke up from one of the corners.
Harry whirled around, recognizing the voice immediately. He really shouldn't have been surprised to meet him in the library.
The man was sitting again, again with a book in his lap, though this time the lamp next to him illuminated him much better.
"Would you believe me if I told you I was just looking for the bathroom?" Harry asked with a sheepish smile.
When the man saw that he had Harry's attention he put the book away and approached him.
He was dressed finely, but compared to the rest of the gathered lords his style was very simple, timeless.
Timeless was also the word Harry would use to describe his age. For the life of him he couldn't guess if the man was barely twenty or nearing his fifties. Nothing on him or around him was personal, nothing gave Harry even the barest hint of his character.
He had aristocratic features alright, but the edges were a bit too sharp, his smile a bit too caustic, his eyes a bit too intense. Dangerous.
Harry could feel the small hairs on his arms and back rising.
The man cocked his head curiously, drinking in Harry's subtle change in posture. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."
"I'm assuming you people have a different standard as for what passes for pleasure," Harry said warily. "But I suppose it's nice, yes."
"You people," the man repeated slowly, deliberate. "Is that inherent inferiority speaking?"
So the man had come to a conclusion about his social standing. Too bad, he had liked confusing him.
It turned out he might just be like any other attending lord, living their days away without use, getting their only real enjoyment from insulting those of lower standing.
And yet. Something about the man was off. There was too much intent there, too much purpose.
And stranger still, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that the man enjoyed his casual cheekiness, intentionally coaxing it out of him.
Harry smiled. "If anything it would be the opposite, milord."
The man came to a halt right in front of Harry and he had to force himself not to take a step back. The man stood a bit too close for a casual conversation, forcing Harry to crane his neck up.
"An acrobat, I heard."
The man hadn't even been downstairs at the party.
Harry laughed. "Good gods, how do you people spread the word so fast? It's like you're telepathically linked."
"A scary thought."
"Ridiculous, actually. No one would develop any original thoughts," Harry remarked, then let his eyes grow a bit wider in naïve wonder. "You do have original thoughts I hope?"
The man leaned down a bit, his expression an odd mixture of annoyed offence and curious amusement.
"How does it feel," he murmured slowly, eyes never leaving his. "Knowing I could buy your whole circus and parade you around as my performing monkey?"
Harry's smile didn't falter, even though his eyes were spitting fire.
"And how does it feel, knowing I would refuse?" he asked charmingly.
The man took another step, leaving Harry no choice but to move backwards until his back bumped against one of the shelves.
The man looked pleased and Harry narrowed his eyes in irritation. Somehow their talk about stars had changed into something else very fast and Harry hated the loss of control it brought.
He'd had no problems with the nobles downstairs, what was different about this one? He wasn't responding like he should. Unpredictable.
"I shall have you in my colours," the man smirked. "Bending to my every whim."
The sheer arrogance of the bastard almost threw Harry off his game.
But he took a deep breath and leaned a bit forward, standing on tiptoes to get closer to the other's face.
"Never," he whispered sweetly.
The man's smirk only grew wider and for a few seconds all they did was stare each other down.
"What is your name?" the man asked finally.
Harry shrugged. "Insignificant."
The man's head tilted to the side, studying him. "Not if I ask for it."
"You haven't given me yours either," Harry pointed out flippantly.
The man might have enjoyed a certain degree of disrespect, but this was too much. The change happened instantly, like flicking on a light switch.
Harry's head was slammed violently against the shelf behind him, a constricting hand practically choking him.
The suddenness of the physical aggression startled Harry more than the actual pain.
Why on earth would someone like him resort to such measures? It wasn't graceful, wasn't clever. It was brutal.
"Your name," his voice was the pure opposite of his body, still completely calm.
Harry glared at him and merely continued to breathe heavily. The hold tightened, forcing his chin to bend further upwards, exposing more throat to choke.
For the first time in a very long time Harry could feel a spark of inferiority blooming inside him. Not yet helplessness, but apprehension at the lord's sheer dominance, applied so effortless.
"Harry," he bit out.
The hand pressed a bit harder around his throat, an impatient warning.
"Evans. Harry Evans."
The lord released him as suddenly as he had grabbed him. He simply drew back his hand and stepped out of Harry's personal space like nothing had happened.
"I don't think you were on the invitation list."
Obviously, no one with that name would be.
"Lucius-…" Harry had to cough from talking too early after the harsh treatment. "Lucius Malfoy. A matter of philosophy, or so he claims."
The man hummed thoughtful. "He always did have a good eye, our dear Lucius."
Harry snorted derisively. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should."
The man straightened and began moving leisurely towards the doors of the library.
"Well then Mr Evans, I personally recommend the treacle tarts, they're excellent. I hope you enjoy your stay at my home."
The man might have as well slapped him in the face.
"Your-…? You are-"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," the man answered amused, turning back around to look at him. "Or should I say, the eccentric idiot hosting this gathering of arrogant fools."
Harry swore under his breath.
"Language Mr Evans, you're in polite society."
Harry scowled at him and tilted his head up defiantly, showing the visible marks of Riddle's polite treatment.
Riddle's eyes roamed over his throat with thinly veiled glee. He surprised Harry by turning away from the door, to once again step up in front of him.
A hand lay itself exactly over the marks, but gentle this time, nothing but a faint touch. Harry tensed up but refused to move.
"They look good on you."
A hot flash of anger roared up in him at the man's audacity and Harry dropped his act completely, snarling at him.
Strangely enough Riddle's pleasure only seemed to intensify. His hooded gaze became piercing, his smirk satisfied.
"Good evening, Mr Evans."
.
.
A/N: Okay so, the thing is I wrote quite a lot of random parts of this story already (on that weird writing spree I mentioned), and I thought I would get to put a big part of them here now but...uh, didn't happen at all.
So I guess you'll get a third chapter before I can let this rest for a bit? Don't get too used to it ;)
