A/N:

based on 'heathers: the musical', which i know many love and adore. i shall attempt to do it justice.

expect heavy/dark themes in this story: murder, homophobia, homophobic language, suicide, bullying. i will do my best to warn for heavy content as it comes up, but consider those to be blanket tag for this story.

also also, don't expect regular updates for this one, oops. this is more self-indulgent than anything else lsjkdgsfdhkl

Summary:

All his life, Harry has been beaten and bullied—both at home and at school. When a lifeline manifests in the form of a deal with Bellatrix Black, Harry latches onto it without thinking of the consequences. Not long after, Harry begins to question how far he is willing to go to maintain his newfound popularity at school.

New student Tom Riddle is handsome, charming, and dangerous. On the second day of school, he flattens Dudley and Piers in the middle of the school cafeteria. Harry has all the reasons in the world to stay far, far away from him.

It's a damn shame that Harry doesn't.

.

Damaged

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Chapter 1: No Man's Land

A sharp, manicured fingernail dug into the soft, delicate skin under Harry's chin, tipping his head back. Harry grit his teeth, clenched his hands around the binder he held against his chest. As if it would protect him.

If Bellatrix Black wanted to ruin his life, there was little he could do to stop her. She was the undisputed queen of Hogwarts. She was, as labelled by the student body, a mythic bitch.

Now, Harry had spent his entire high school career avoiding detection. Or, at least, attempting to avoid detection. Being noticed had never been high up on his list of priorities. Number one in his mind had always been, and would always be, to stay as far away from his cousin Dudley as humanly possible.

But today was different. Today he had seen an opportunity to scrape a favour from the infamous Black sisters. The late bell had rung, leaving all three sisters ensconced in the bathroom. Harry had not known what they were up to in there, but what he had seen was Mrs. Umbridge making her way down the hall, clipboard at the ready, prepared to unleash detention hell upon their heads for daring to linger after the morning bell.

One quick forged hall pass later, and Harry had watched Umbridge scrutinize his pass with a sickly smile on her face. He'd been horrifically afraid that she would spot his forgery and put him in detention—something that would not end well for him, not in the least because the sisters would likely hate him for failing to save them.

A week's worth of detention would be another black mark against him in the Dursley household. Harry couldn't afford to lose his precious after-school time to detentions. He had chores to do, and then homework on top of that.

Thankfully, Mrs. Umbridge had accepted the hall pass and told them to hurry along. Harry had never felt so relieved. His risky, half-assed plan had paid off, and now he could see about getting something out of it for himself.

That said, he was not sure what had prompted him to stick his neck out in the first place, let alone for the Black sisters. They were not exactly nice people, and his entire scheme was idiotic as hell. Harry was lucky to have escaped unscathed—which led to his current situation. Here he was, his neck successfully stuck out. Hopefully the sisters would just let him claim some small favour and escape without further repercussions.

Bellatrix leant in, her expensive perfume wafting in his direction. There was little doubt in Harry's mind that Bellatrix considered herself to be the hottest girl in the school. And that might have been true, if not for the smouldering wreck of her toxic personality.

As it was, anything she tried on him was not going to work.

"Just let me sit with you at lunch today," Harry said, willing his voice to be strong and confident. "And you don't have to talk to me, or look at me, or anything. I just want people to see that you tolerate me so they'll leave me alone."

If Dudley thought he had an in with the Black sisters, then Harry could leverage it. He would get Dudley to abandon his usual game of shoving Harry into lockers during break periods and tripping him in gym class.

"You know," Bellatrix said, voice sultry and thoughtful, "I've always wanted a gay best friend."

Harry gaped, floundering. "A—what?"

"Tidy up that mop you call hair." Bellatrix released his chin and dragged her eyes up and down his frame. "A change of clothes." Her nose scrunched, and she gave the loose sleeve of his jumper a prod. "Something more… form fitting. And you could really be someone."

First of all, he was bisexual, not gay. Second of all—

"Narcissa, don't you think little bitty Harry has hidden potential? Look at those eyes. Those cheekbones."

"He does have nice bone structure," Narcissa said slowly, eyeing him. "That's very important. If I took a scalpel to his cheeks, like, plastic surgery, I wouldn't even need to carve off any baby fat. He's all angles."

Now that was because of malnutrition, not because Harry felt he was particularly attractive or anything. "Listen," Harry said. "I don't need a makeover. I just want people to see me as less of a target."

"People like your cousin?" Bellatrix tsked at him, appraising. Her hand stretched out to push at his bangs. Harry flinched at the touch; she withdrew her hand slowly, her eyes narrowing. "I don't suppose we could lose the glasses."

"I need them to see," Harry said hotly.

"Don't say I didn't try," Bellatrix drawled. She snapped her fingers. "Fine. Send your measurements to Narcissa. We'll have something by tomorrow morning. Be prepared."

Tomorrow? Harry's head was already spinning. "Wait—"

"You want to stop being a loser? This is your chance. Yes or no, Potter."

Harry swallowed. Life was miserable enough at the Dursley's. If life at school could be even a little bit better… Harry imagined the look on Dudley's face when he saw Harry sitting with the school's three most popular girls. Not just sitting with them, but talking to them. Being their friend.

It would be worth it. It would be worth whatever hell he got from his aunt and uncle, surely.

"Yes," Harry said. "Okay, yes."

Harry woke the next morning to his Aunt Petunia pounding on his door. Blearily, he rolled over and jammed his glasses onto his face. Then he caught a glimpse of the clock. It was... half an hour before his alarm was set to go off.

"Harry! Harry, your friends are here asking after you!"

Neville was here? Harry sat up, still disoriented by the rude awakening. "I'm up," he shouted back, hoping that she would leave before her high-pitched wailing gave him a headache.

Then he stumbled over to the window that looked out at the front lot of Number 4, Privet Drive. There was a Porsche in the driveway. There was a Porsche in the driveway, and sitting in said Porsche were the Black sisters.

Bellatrix caught sight of him in the window and smacked her palm down on the car horn. "Get out here, Potter!"

Harry winced at the sound of the horn, which had probably woken up every house in the neighbourhood. With clumsy hands, he cranked the window open and called out, "I'm coming!"

Not ten minutes later, he was hopping down the stairs, jacket half-pulled over one arm, backpack dangling precariously from his left hand. Once his feet hit the bottom of the stairs, he bolted for the door, unwilling to stick around and find out what trouble he was in with his aunt and uncle. Maybe they would cool down while he was at school. He could hope.

Andromeda opened the passenger door for him. "We've got an hour before class starts."

Harry slid in without complaint. "Okay," he said, buckling his seatbelt and wrapping his arms around his backpack, which he kept on his lap. "Where are we going? Or, um, doing."

"We're fixing you up," Bellatrix said. Then her foot must have hit the gas pedal because they went shooting out from the driveway and onto the pavement. Harry, who was still only half-awake and trying to make sense of things, jolted violently in his seat.

Narcissa was scrolling through something on her phone. From this angle, it looked like a list typed into a notes app. She did not look up as she said, "Please do not tell me you wash your face with water. Or worse, with bar soap."

Andromeda caught the look on his face. "Don't answer," she advised. "She'll only go ballistic."

"Shut up, Andy," snapped Bellatrix. "Harry, dear, you're going to listen to what Narcissa tells you to do, and you're going to take what I give you, and you're going to be grateful, do you understand?"

"Er, yes."

Bellatrix's eyes flashed to the rearview mirror, staring him down, and so Harry nodded rapidly for good measure.

"Excellent. We're well on our way to making you into somebody who's worth something."

All summer, Harry had kept himself sane with dreams finishing his senior year of high school and earning a scholarship to somewhere far, far away. His one wish was that he would never have to look at or think of the Dursleys ever again.

"You are in capable hands," Narcissa said seriously, twisting her body to glance over her shoulder from the front seat. "You should see the outfits we've put together. Do you have any idea how hard it was to find blazers in your size?"

"I can't pay you for any of this," Harry felt compelled to say.

Bellatrix laughed, pitched and maniacal. A second later, both Narcissa and Andromeda joined in; combined, the sound was almost harmonious.

"Oh, Harry," said Bellatrix. "Don't be naive." Her voice sharpened at the end, flattening out. "There's nothing I can't afford. Your ascension to popularity will be the pinnacle of my success. After all, if I can turn you into someone desirable, I can do anything I set my mind to! This school lives and dies by my hand, don't you see? I can make you into anyone."

Anyone but himself. Harry inhaled a deep breath. One last year of school. He could do this. He would do this, and then he would leave it all behind.

Exactly an hour later, Harry was wearing the strangest set of clothes he'd ever worn in his entire life. Bellatrix had confiscated the jeans and t-shirt he had been wearing, saying that she planned to burn them in her fireplace. Harry wasn't entirely sure if she was kidding about that or not, and he was too afraid to ask for his clothes back in case she changed her mind about helping him and decided not to give back his clothes.

Very vividly, Harry could recall two years ago when Dudley had stolen his gym bag and left him in the locker rooms in only his boxer shorts. People had laughed at him then. He didn't particularly want to repeat the experience with a bunch of girls.

Nervously, Harry tugged at the jacket Narcissa had picked out for him. It was... bright blue. Not at all a colour he would have chosen for himself if given the chance. Harry preferred to blend into crowds, not stand out from them. And the jeans he was now wearing—Bellatrix had said they would make his legs look longer—felt uncomfortably restrictive.

But after the sisters had finished fussing over him, they had forced him to look in the mirror, and he had to admit... he did look pretty nice.

Harry had never imagined his hair could be tamed into anything resembling tidiness. Andromeda had gone through four different brands of hair gel before they'd stumbled across something that both worked and didn't make him look as though he'd just stepped out of a rainstorm.

"Chin up," Bellatrix directed as she steered her car into the lot. "No talking. If someone speaks to you, you wave and smile and keep walking."

So Harry kept his chin up. He smiled and waved and did not speak. In a way, Bellatrix's directions were a blessing—if he had tried to interact with anyone, he would have made an idiot of himself. Which, he realized, was probably why she had told him to keep his mouth shut.

People stared at him as he walked by. Harry caught snatches of their whispers and fought the urge to hunch his shoulders and hide behind Narcissa. It seemed that most of them did not recognize him, even with his glasses on. They thought he was someone else. Someone new.

The weird, dream-like quality of his bizarre popularity held until he made eye contact with Neville. Neville, who did a visible double take before he came ambling over.

"Um, I'll be a minute," Harry said to the sisters. "I'll see you at lunch?" he added hopefully.

Bellatrix shot him a look of vitriol, but she nodded once and turned away. Narcissa and Andromeda followed her, their triad falling into perfect step together. Harry watched them depart, wondering if he looked even half as graceful walking next to them. Probably he looked like a newborn colt on wobbly legs.

Harry took a breath and went to face Neville. "Okay, I can explain," he said. "Um, this is just... a new look? Nothing else has changed, I promise."

Neville shrugged. "I mean, sure, Harry. I think you look great. And it's great that they're letting you hang out with them."

"I don't expect it to last."

"So long as you know that." Neville stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You know, it's just... we all used to be friends. Back in primary. But they're not the same people anymore. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I won't. I know what I'm doing, Neville, really. I'm sure Bellatrix will get bored of me eventually, and then things will go back to normal."

"Back to normal," Neville repeated. "Back to being nobodies who get their lunch trays knocked out of their hands and their feet kicked out from under them."

Harry winced. "Something like that."

The first bell rang, shrill as usual. Harry felt guilt lodge itself into his throat. He wouldn't be sitting with Neville at lunch today. He wouldn't be sitting with Neville for who knew how long.

"I'll... I'll talk to you later," Harry said. The dejection in his tone was poorly disguised, he knew, but he wasn't about to lie to his best friend.

"See you later, Harry. You better go before you're late to class. First period biology is on the third floor."

They had each other's schedules memorized. The pang of regret inside of Harry grew several more notches. But if he could get any amount of popularity out of this, even just as a castoff from the Black sisters, it would help him. And that would help Neville, too. That was what he had to tell himself.

Harry Potter didn't have to be a nobody anymore. He could be safe and protected, at least while he was at school. He could have something in his life that wasn't just about surviving. That had to be worth fighting for.

"Harry, come here." Bellatrix snapped her fingers at him from across the aisle. "I need you to write me a note."

"Er—" Harry glanced at the front of the room, where Slughorn was delivering a review lecture on lab safety.

"A note. Now. I won't repeat myself."

Andromeda, who was sitting next to him, elbowed his side. "Do it. Get out some paper. Slughorn won't notice a thing."

Reluctantly, Harry snapped open his binder and pulled out a sheet of loose leaf paper. "What do you want me to write?" he whispered.

"Piers Polkiss' handwriting," Bellatrix said decisively, examining her fingernails.

Did girls actually need to do that? Look at their nails? Or was it just one of those intimidating things? Harry wasn't sure.

Bellatrix's head swiveled in his direction as if she had sensed his gaze on her. "Are you ready or not?"

"Yes," Harry said quickly. He gave his pencil a wave in the air to demonstrate his eagerness.

Bellatrix's severe glare melted into a look of satisfaction. "Hello, beautiful," she narrated. "I've been watching you and thinking about us in the old days…"

"Who is this for?"

"Did I ask, Harry? Shut up and do as I say!"

Harry flinched and cast a glance at the front of the classroom. Slughorn was still lecturing, unaware of any wrongdoings going on at the back of his classroom.

Bellatrix sniffed and straightened her blazer. "As I was saying: I was thinking about us in the old days, and I want you to come to my homecoming party next weekend. Miss you, Piers. Add an 'XO' at the end."

Harry wrote out the note as he was told, then folded it in half and handed it over. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach as the piece of paper disappeared into Bellatrix's book bag.

"It's just a harmless note," muttered Andromeda. She was facing the chalkboard, pen poised in hand as she took down rapid lines of notes. "It doesn't mean anything."

If it was harmless and didn't mean anything, then why did he still feel so terrible?

By lunch hour, everything was surreal again. People waved at him in the hallways. Girls asked him where he'd gotten his new clothes. Harry had never been the focus of so much attention before. It felt really nice. He didn't have to hunch his shoulders and duck his head. He could stammer his way through responses and get smiles in return.

Harry followed Bellatrix into the lunch line, and for once he did not need to keep an iron grip on his lunch tray for fear of losing it to the floor.

And so he drifted along, watching the food dropped onto his plate by the cafeteria ladies, his brain fully on autopilot. He was halfway through the process when he was alerted to a commotion behind him.

In the middle of the cafeteria, Dudley and Piers were shouting at another student. A new student, Harry noted. Dressed in... a full-length woolen coat? Alright for the autumn weather, but rather strange for the indoors.

Though Harry was a distance away, he found himself drifting closer to hear what was happening. Dudley was spitting words out—words that Harry was only too familiar with. He was used to slurs thrown his way, to being called a freak, a pansy, a fag.

Andromeda's hand caught on his elbow. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "Are you crazy? They're about to start throwing punches."

Harry shook her off. "I—" He didn't really know what he was doing. But the fight about to break out was nearing its boiling point, and Harry had to see what happened. He just... had to.

New Kid had his hands balled up into white fists, jaw ticking with restrained violence. Though his coat hid most of his body from view, he was tall. Harry hoped this bloke had a good right hook. Dudley certainly wouldn't hold back. Years on the football team, while a detriment to Dudley's grades, had done wonders for his physique. Harry knew how hard Dudley and Piers could hit—it would be awful to see this new student decked to the ground on his second day of classes.

Then it happened. Dudley stuck a hand out and shoved, hard.

It was a move designed to intimidate. Harsh words and harsh actions that shattered confidence and made for easy targets. New Kid stumbled back a half step, eyes flashing, and Harry was struck by the expression on his face.

Pale skin, angular features, dark eyes and hair. But beyond that—an unsettling blankness. Harry might have described it as cold, or empty, or numb. That gaze was hollow, filled only with a distant irritation. Like Piers and Dudley were irksome flies that had gotten in his way.

"What are you gonna do, huh?" sneered Dudley. "Go crying to your boyfriend?"

New Kid bared his teeth in a lifeless grin that would have cowed greater men than Piers and Dudley, if they had the brain cells to experience proper fear.

Piers drew his fist back to land another hit, swung with all the force of a senior quarterback, and—

—missed.

Harry watched, awed, as New Kid spun out of the way, caught Piers' arm, and twisted it downwards with an effortless viciousness that could only come with practice. Any harder and the bone would have snapped.

It was beautiful.

From there the fight exploded. A flurry of thrown punches and kicks, attempts at headlocks, and general bullshit that Harry had seen Dudley and Piers pull on any number of freshmen throughout the past two or three years.

Dudley and Piers had always relied on their brute strength to win fights. They did not have a speck of cunning in them, and that was made clear from how they were getting their asses kicked.

"Holy shit," said Bellatrix, who had finally deigned to turn around and take in the commotion. "Who is that kid?"

'That kid' was currently slamming his foot into Piers Polkiss' ribs.

"No idea," Harry breathed. But he wanted to find out.

A/N:

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