A/N:

thank you to the ever-wonderful dutch (itsevanffs on ao3) for the beta on this chapter :)

Chapter 2: A Matter of When

A week went by. Harry spent as much time as he could at school with the Black sisters. Aunt Petunia gave him a lecture on 'using protection' because they would not be giving him a cent if he 'knocked some girl up', which were quite possibly the most horrifying sentences he had ever heard leave her mouth in all sixteen years of hell he'd endured at the Dursley's.

Dudley seemed baffled by Harry's sudden popularity, but the monkey living in Dudley's brain did have enough intelligence to note that messing with Harry was now a bad idea. Not only that, but Harry and Dudley had come to a new agreement regarding their interactions with each other.

Even if it was only because Dudley thought Bellatrix Black was hot, Harry would take what he could get. The mundane fact of Bellatrix's favourite perfume—Chanel Coco Mademoiselle—earned Harry a reprieve from harassment at home. Harry promised to provide more information as soon as he could get it.

Speaking of things happening at home… Harry had a brand new gym bag full of neatly-folded outfits that he did not dare show to his aunt or his uncle. Every morning, Harry woke early and changed before his relatives could see him. The last thing he wanted was to be questioned about his sudden good fortune. Dudley wouldn't dare breathe a word of this, either, not so long as Harry was his new 'inside source' on the lives of the Black sisters.

But information on Bellatrix wasn't the only currency Harry was dealing in lately. Bellatrix had him writing and forging all kinds of notes and letters. Harry grew numb to the shrill orders delivered upon him, to the various signatures of parents and faculty he was made to scrawl out during classes and lunch hour. He was used to the ear-splitting call of—

"Haaarry!"

Harry winced and leant back to look around the edge of his locker door. "Yes?" he asked, turning to face Narcissa.

"Bellatrix needs you to haul your ass to the cafeteria."

Harry doubted that it was really that urgent, whatever it was. "Yeah, sure. Just a minute."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't be late. She won't like it."

Harry averted his gaze to his locker. If he was being honest, he was only stalling. Today he'd seen Pansy Parkinson run out of gym class, crying. While he couldn't be absolutely sure about what had happened, Bellatrix's pleased smile spoke volumes. Harry could only think of all the notes he'd written over the past few days, wondering if Pansy's misery was caused by his own hand.

Bellatrix Black might be weaving her masterful web all over Hogwarts High, but Harry was the one producing the silken threads.

"Should have kept your head down."

Harry nearly smacked his forehead into his locker in his haste to close it and whirl around. "I'm sorry, what?"

New Kid was standing a pace away, hands in his pockets, bland expression on his face. "You don't need to cater to them. It makes you weak. You're better than they are. Prove it to them."

The conflicting statements danced around in Harry's head. Was he being insulted?

New Kid was already leaving, evidently finished talking now that he had said his piece.

"Hey," Harry said, irritated, slamming his locker shut and taking a few steps forward. "You don't get to just judge my life choices and walk away like that. I didn't even catch your name."

A smirk and a sideways glance over the shoulder. "I didn't throw it."

Harry was speechless. He watched the retreating form of the trenchcoat, frustration was burning in his chest. Not only frustration at his fixation, but frustration at himself for being drawn to it.

Whatever. If this guy didn't want to share his name, fine. Harry didn't need to know it.

Despite his commitment to ignoring New Kid, Harry grumbled over their interaction all the way until his fourth period. If the Black sisters noticed he was more spaced out than usual, they said nothing.

"Harry, I was speaking with your aunt the other day—"

What?

"—and she invited us all over for after-school snacks! Isn't that delightfully pedestrian?" Bellatrix beamed.

"Erm…" Both Narcissa and Andromeda were also smiling at him. Harry picked up his water bottle and drained it. Then he smacked his lips, debating how to answer. Dudley would be over the moon with this news, surely. "That's great, Bellatrix. When—when were you talking to my aunt?"

"Oh, Harry. Isn't it obvious?" Bellatrix's smile was borderline deranged; Harry was sure that no one could possibly be that happy about speaking to Petunia Dursley. "Your aunt and my mother both attend PTA meetings on Saturdays, and so I took the liberty of asking for an introduction! My mother is in charge of those meetings, after all, and so I may need to impress upon your aunt that it will be in her best interests to allow you some more freedoms this weekend."

The homecoming party. How could he have forgotten? Harry had dreaded asking for permission to leave the house that late at night. He had prepared a list of plausible excuses (read: lies) that would have allowed him to leave after dinner, but now he wouldn't have to use any of them.

"Right," Harry said breathlessly. "The party this weekend." He had never been to any of the blowouts Piers hosted for the students in their year, and so he did not know what to expect.

"I promised Piers I would help with the snacks. That means I need you to do the heavy lifting."

"Okay. I can do that." Enough snacks for the students in their senior year. Well, not quite. Enough snacks for those in their senior year who were popular enough to be invited.

"Good! So this afternoon will be spent at yours, and Saturday afternoon we will come and fetch you."

"Great," Harry said. He was kind of looking forward to it. His first real high school party. "I'll be ready."

"And by the way, Harry, is Neville coming to the party?"

"Er, he wasn't invited." That was putting it nicely, really.

Bellatrix pursed her lips. "He is now. Make sure he knows."

"Wow. Um, thanks! I'll tell him." Harry jerked his head in a nod. This was better than he could have hoped for; not only a better life for himself, but one for Neville, too.

Bellatrix gave his cheek a pat. "Good boy. Now be a dear and write me this note—"

Harry took out his notebook and hurried to comply.

After class, Bellatrix drove them all to Number 4, Privet Drive. Harry was apprehensive, but if anyone could handle his aunt, it would be Bellatrix. The car pulled into the empty lot with a squeal as Bellatrix slammed on the brakes. Harry glanced at the front windows, which displayed an empty living room. Dudley was at football practice, and Uncle Vernon was at work.

Harry got out of the car, and Andromeda followed him. Even after spending a week sitting with her in most of his classes, Harry did not know her very well. She was rather quiet.

"I'll get the door. Keys?" Bellatrix held out her hand.

Harry fished them out of his pocket and handed them over. Bellatrix snapped the keyring up with a violent motion that made Harry flinch back. Then Bellatrix shut the driver's side door and strode to the front of the house, her heels clicking on the pavement. Narcissa followed a half-step behind, adjusting her skirt as she went.

Before Bellatrix could even touch the doorknob, the door swung open, revealing the thin, pale face of Harry's aunt.

"Mrs. Dursley, how lovely," Bellatrix simpered.

"Welcome, girls," Aunt Petunia said, a patented hostess smile on her lips. "Why don't you come in and set your bags down?"

"Oh, we won't be staying for too long," Narcissa said, "but thank you for the hospitality."

"You see, we're very excited for the homecoming party that Piers is throwing for all of us seniors," Bellatrix said. "I know Dudley will be helping Piers with the preparations, Mrs. Dursley, and my sisters and I will come to fetch Harry to help us with our part! After all," she added, pouting, "Harry has been kind enough to offer his aid with heavy lifting—only if he's not needed here at home, of course. We wouldn't want to impose."

"Of course! I want you kids to have fun," Aunt Petunia said quickly. "Senior year is very exciting…"

Harry was a bit in awe of just how Bellatrix had the situation wrapped around her finger.

"That's settled, then! We'll be by tomorrow afternoon." Bellatrix flashed a brilliant smile. "Harry, you best be ready by four, alright?" She gave his arm a condescending squeeze.

"I'll be sure to shove him out the door," Aunt Petunia promised, levelling a stern glare in Harry's direction. "You ladies know how boys can be."

Harry stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and did his best to smile.

Narcissa tittered with laughter. "Mrs. Dursley, you are too funny. Thank you for being so understanding."

Petunia's smile went wide; Harry doubted that anyone here believed it to be genuine. "Anything for friends of Dudley and Harry."

Saturday morning, Harry woke after a fitful six hours of on-and-off sleep. There were too many things going on in his brain. Thoughts of tonight's party and thoughts of a certain smirk-mouthed bastard.

Ugh. Harry did the mental equivalent of slapping himself in the face. He was awake now, and he knew from past experience that there was no point in attempting to fall back asleep when he was this wound up.

Harry rolled out of bed and went to wash up for the day. On his way there, he grabbed the bottle of expensive face wash that Narcissa had given him. He didn't recognize the brand, but it probably cost more than all of his other toiletries combined. Harry rubbed at his eyes and stifled a yawn. How was he supposed to have known he had dry skin? Grumbling, Harry went through his 'new and improved' morning routine.

Once he was done, he turned his attention to his duffle bag of clothing. This particular bag he'd made for a class project in his freshman year. It had served him well over the years, and he was admittedly attached to it. Now it was home to several hundred dollars worth of clothing.

Harry unzipped the top and peered into its depths. Regardless of what he picked, it was probably going to be the wrong choice. Bellatrix would expect him to try, though, which meant he had to make an effort.

He didn't have much time to linger—the sisters would be here any moment now. Harry grabbed a pair of black jeans and a navy button-down shirt. After struggling into those and checking his reflection in a mirror to make sure he looked presentable, Harry snatched up his wallet and keys before rushing down the stairs.

If he was standing in the lot when Bellatrix arrived, all the better. Maybe then she wouldn't feel a need to honk her car horn loud enough to wake the dead.

Unfortunately, Harry wound up fresh out of luck. As Bellatrix's Porsche came into view, she blasted her horn at him. He was already standing here, facing her, waving! What more did she want from him?

"Harry, don't you look dashing?" Bellatrix trilled at him once she was close enough to speak. "Get in."

Harry scrambled into the backseat. "Er, thanks?"

"You're not leaving your hair like that, are you?" Bellatrix continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Because it's awful."

Harry fell silent at the whiplash comment. "I can fix it," he said slowly.

Bellatrix flashed him a grin and wiggled her fingers at him in her rearview mirror. "Beautiful, Harry. We'll make a man out of you tonight, won't we, girls?"

Narcissa started to laugh. A brief second after, Andromeda joined in. Harry slouched in his seat, then remembered he wasn't allowed to do that and sat up. It was going to be a long afternoon.

After making trips to no less than three different groceries stores, they ended up at a 7-11. There were less than two hours to go before the party was supposed to begin, and Harry was already exhausted. Partly because he'd been made to carry everything, but also because being around Bellatrix was like standing on the outskirts of a hurricane—there was the constant, niggling fear that utter disaster was imminent if he set a toe out of line.

As Bellatrix pulled into the 7-11 parking lot, Harry wondered what on earth they still needed for the party. The entire trunk was stuffed with pop cans and bags of chips. His mouth was painfully dry and he hadn't eaten anything all day. Which was definitely unhealthy, even if it didn't seem to bother any of the girls.

The car jerked to a halt, but Bellatrix did not turn the engine off. Instead, she turned her gaze to the rearview mirror—to Harry. "Corn nuts," she said briskly. "Three bags, barbeque."

Andromeda opened her wallet and handed him a few bills. Resigned, Harry opened the door and got out. At least while he was inside the 7-11 he could have a few minutes to himself.

"Can't have a party without corn nuts!" Narcissa trilled after him as he made his escape.

Harry shoved his way into the store. Fluorescent lights and convenience products aplenty. Quickly, then, he located the section for salty snacks and began pawing through the selection for corn nuts. Barbeque, barbeque. It took him a few moments of rooting around, but eventually he uncovered some stragglers hiding behind a dozen bags of the original flavour. Harry yanked them out and kept a tight grip on them.

Then he stood up and was promptly overwhelmed by a mild dizzy spell. Harry steadied himself, using the shelf for balance. Fucking hell. Maybe he ought to get something to drink before he wiped out on the linoleum floor like a moron.

Harry swung around, blinking owlishly, and located the corner of the 7-11 that housed the drink machines. He needed something with a good amount of caffeine. Maybe mountain dew. That was the type of sugary monstrosity he ought to consume before he went back into battle. Harry walked over to where the cups and lids were kept, and was halfway reaching for a medium-sized paper cup when an all-too-familiar voice interrupted him.

"Care for a Slurpee with that?"

Harry assumed 'that' was referring to the copious amounts of corn nuts clutched awkwardly in his right hand. Slowly, he turned around. "No, but if you want, you can pay for my mountain dew."

Harry's sarcasm was welcomed by a derisive scoff. New Kid raised a brow at him in an expression of mild amusement. "Toxic waste that will kill you sooner than those girls you call your friends will. Now, was that cherry or lime I heard?"

"Neither." Harry swung back to the cup dispenser, intent on ignoring New Kid, and shuffled over to the appropriate drink nozzle.

Before he could twist the handle, however, a hand bumped his out of the way. "Tom Riddle."

It was like an electric shock. Harry nearly dropped his cup as he stumbled back half a step. "Excuse me?" Harry said, annoyed.

"I am ending the suspense." Tom smiled blandly and stuck his hand out. "My name is Tom Riddle."

Reluctantly, Harry shook hands. Tom's hand was cold to the touch, probably because of the Slurpee he was holding, and his grip lingered longer than Harry would have liked. But the shake was firm and perfunctory in all other aspects, even if Harry felt a tad apprehensive. Was it his rampant imagination at play, or did Tom's disinterested gaze hold a hint of intrigue?

"That fight last week sure was something," Harry said as he reached for his Big Gulp cup. The incident continued to occupy his mind on a regular basis, and now that Tom was here, Harry found he was unable to hold back his curiosity.

"The extreme tends to make an impression." Tom's grin widened into something that Harry could only describe as sharklike. The implication was not lost on Harry; Tom was no stranger to violence. If anything, this implied that he enjoyed it. Not to mention that this was the most emotion from Tom that Harry had witnessed since that fateful afternoon in the cafeteria.

It ought to have put him off Tom for good—Harry'd had enough violence in his life to be sick of it—but Tom fascinated him. He could not help but be taken in by the aura of detachment that Tom exuded. What was it like not to care for consequences? To flip the switch of apathy and take down bullies twice his size like it was nothing?

"So what brought you to town?" Harry asked, fiddling with the rim of his paper cup. "We don't get many new students around here," he clarified.

The amusement from before wiped itself off of Tom's face. "My father works in deconstruction." Tom shrugged. "He's taken on some large projects here. Once the check is cashed, we'll be on our way."

The callous delivery was unsettling, but Harry was determined to plow on nevertheless and keep the conversation alive. "You move around a lot," Harry said, then winced. Great job. He was digging the knife in and giving it a twist. "That really sucks."

Tom didn't seem to mind; he raised his cup in a mockery of a toast. "And so you see why popularity doesn't matter much to me. Soon I will be nothing but a distant memory in the rearview mirror of your boring suburban lives. You'll go on to some second-tier college and forget you ever met me."

Harry had lived in this dumpy town his whole life. All he ever dreamed of was leaving—this dream was what kept him going whenever his life got unbearably awful. It was difficult for him to empathize with Tom's sentiments.

"Uneventful can be a blessing, too," Harry argued. He lifted his handful of corn nuts and gave them a shake. "Sometimes you have to live for the little things."

Tom eyed the snacks with nothing less than disdain. Whatever he was about to say, however, was interrupted by the obnoxious blare of Bellatrix's car horn.

An ear-splitting shriek of "HARRY!" grated on their ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Example number one of why eventful isn't always better," Harry said, gesturing grandly to the exit.

Tom looked at the Porsche parked outside of the shop. When he looked back at Harry, his gaze was darker than before. "Then leave the party. Stay here."

"Here?" Harry raised his brows before he could help himself. "You can't just say that after you've shat on my snack choices."

"There's plenty to like here," Tom responded flatly. He nudged Harry aside and began to fill a new paper cup full of cherry-lime slush. "Tell me you'll have more fun with them, and I'll leave it be. But you hardly need to look deep inside yourself to find that I'm right."

The sad part was, Tom was probably right. Harry had no idea what to do with himself at a party; he had never been to one before, and he suspected that most of the evening would involve him carrying the Black sisters' things for them.

If not for the fact that he'd promised Neville he'd be there, Harry might have agreed to stay. Might have. He wasn't entirely smitten with Tom's 'cool guy' attitude. But Tom was nice enough, and had offered to buy him a drink. Harry could afford to give a little.

"I think you'd have to sell me a little more on the qualities of a 7-11 first," Harry said dryly.

Tom placed the lid on top of his cup, pressing down around the edges to secure it in place. "The appeal is different for everyone," Tom allowed, "but if you prefer the mundane as you say, you must admit there's something satisfying about the consistent layout. Same storefront, same aisles." He paused and lifted a sardonic brow. "Same snacks."

Harry snorted, which was likely the response Tom had wanted. "Alright, I can agree that there is something nice about knowing I can get a pack of spearmint gum whenever I visit."

"I've been to ten schools over the course of my illustrious high school education," Tom said. "Every 7-11 is the same, coast to coast, in most cases down to the tiling." He gave his foot a deliberate tap on the floor, drawing Harry's attention to his nondescript black leather boots. "Wanderlust loses its appeal when you never stay anywhere for more than a few weeks. You learn you're better off not setting roots down."

"I'm sorry you have to go through that," Harry said. He hadn't thought of it that way—never having any friends. At least Harry had Neville as a friend.

Tom rolled his shoulders with a casual, artful motion and slid the newly-filled Slurpee over to Harry before picking up his own. "I don't mind it anymore. Brain freeze helps to chase those thoughts away. Better than tossing myself off the nearest pier, at any rate."

Now that was a level of morbid that Harry wasn't sure what to do with. No doubt he sometimes had such thoughts himself, but it was different to hear them spoken aloud in such a careless way. For Harry, those thoughts were restricted to the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs, to the quiet of his room at four in the morning when everyone else was asleep. To those brief moments where his vision swam in and out and he worried his ribs would crack under the weight of Dudley's foot.

Harry watched as Tom took a long pull of his drink. "That stuff'll give you cavities, though," Harry said, an attempt to return some levity to the conversation. "What's your mum got to say about that?"

Tom smacked his lips. "My mum, as you put it, is dead."

Ah, shit. Harry coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't be. You didn't have anything to do with it, and I can take care of myself." Tom picked up the second Slurpee cup, rotating it in his hand and eyeing the reflection of fluorescent lights that clung to the clear plastic dome. Then he held it out to Harry. "Here, try it."

Harry was hard pressed to refuse after sticking his foot in his mouth not ten seconds ago. He accepted the cup and took a sip. Cold slush rushed into his mouth, a burst of cold and too-sweet flavour. Cherry, lime, and cola if he wasn't mistaken. It didn't taste bad; it was like having pop but in an icy format.

"I don't see what the—" Harry broke off as something stabbed at his head, a dull throb of pain that could only be brain freeze. "What the fuck? Ow." He set his cup down so he could rub at his temples. "Fucker."

Tom smothered an amused smile behind his own cup. It was, dare Harry think the words, unfairly cute.

At the front of the shop, the door opened with a loud noise, the bell above ringing out with the usual unpleasant chime that signalled customers entering the shop.

"Harry! What is taking you so long?" Bellatrix snapped out. "Corn nuts?"

Embarrassed, Harry held out the bags he still had clutched in his free hand. "I just need to pay," he said weakly.

Bellatrix slid her disapproving gaze from Harry to Tom. Her lips spread into a large, fake smile. "Then say farewell to the edge lord here and get moving, Harry."

Harry raised one awkward, snack-bag filled hand in Tom's direction and grimaced. "See you."

Tom's expression did nothing to mask what he thought of the situation—namely, that he thought Harry was being an idiot—and Harry had to agree it was a fair assessment. Bellatrix was treating him like her lapdog. It was humiliating, in a way, but it was better than being bullied.

Besides, Harry reminded himself, this would only last for the rest of the school year. He had put up with worse before at home. This was nothing compared to that. He was getting something out of all this. Protection from Dudley at home and at school. Harry didn't have to like Bellatrix to take advantage of that.

Harry paid for the three bags of barbecue corn nuts and the Slurpee that Tom had poured out for him. He did not look over his shoulder as he left, but he could feel Tom's eyes following him to the door.

Part of Harry hoped that Tom might make an appearance at the party, but given Tom's opinion of the Black sisters, it seemed unlikely. Still, Harry could hope. A little hope never hurt anyone.

Narcissa had the car door open for him as he exited the 7-11. Harry swallowed around the nervousness in his throat and slid into his spot next to Andromeda, hating how his jeans stuck to the plastic seating.

"Got a boner for the new kid, Harry?" Narcissa asked, eyeing him.

Harry spluttered, nearly spilling his Slurpee on himself in the process of fumbling with his seatbelt. Narcissa dropped her judgemental gaze to his drink, then slowly lifted her eyes back to his face.

"No," Harry said. "I've only just learned his name now."

"You know what I heard?" Bellatrix said loudly as she revved the engine, twisting her torso so she could back up the car. "He and his father have taken up in the large manor up the hill. The one that some people used to say was haunted." Her smile twisted, adopting an ugly edge. "Do you remember, 'Cissa? How silly we all were, thinking such a thing."

Narcissa sniffed and fell silent, turning to face the window.

"The Gaunt house?" Andromeda commented, frowning. "That lot's been empty for ages."

Back when they'd been kids, they had dared each other to try and sneak past the gates. Everyone had believed the house was haunted, and maybe people still thought that, honestly. The entire area was downright creepy. It gave Harry the chills, too, but he had taken advantage of the manor's reputation. Dudley and his brutish friends had a healthy fear of the supernatural, which made the house the perfect place for Harry's escape.

Harry knew where the fence was rusted and broken. He'd hidden in the yard a few times, surrounded by brambles and overgrown bushes. The discomfort of minor cuts from the thorns was nothing compared to the immense satisfaction he'd felt at successfully evading a beating.

The rest of the car ride was filled with idle gossip that Harry did his best to tune out. Instead, he fixed his attention on the streets around them—streets that led to one place that Harry had never expected to be welcome. Piers' was Dudley's friend; the last time Harry had visited this neighbourhood must have been in kindergarten, before such things as grudges and bullying existed. Even now, the neighbourhood's neatly-trimmed hedges were enough to send Harry's stomach hurtling into anxiety-induced upset.

"That's going to melt if you don't finish it."

Harry jolted back to awareness. Andromeda was looking at him. "Oops," he said. He raised the straw to his lips and took a slow sip, mindful of the shocking cold from earlier.

Andromeda's sisters were both seemingly occupied—Bellatrix with driving and chatting, and Narcissa with her phone screen. It struck Harry just how different the three of them were, not only in personality, but in appearance. Bellatrix with her jet-black hair, Narcissa with a blonde-brown mix, and Andromeda's dark reddish-brown that gleamed amber in the sunlight.

"Skittish little thing, aren't you?" asked Andromeda.

Harry took his time in smacking his lips and lowering his cup. "I don't know what you mean by that."

Her eyes narrowed. From this distance, Harry could make out each of her mascara-coated eyelashes in great detail. "You hate it when Bella honks the car horn. You flinch when she snaps at you. You stand with your back to the wall."

A sick feeling washed over him, dread crushing down on his chest like a lead weight. Harry ignored it as best he could and took a shaky sip of his drink, hoping that the brain freeze Tom had spoken of would help him out. "I don't know what you mean," he repeated, dragging the words out.

"If you say so." Andromeda sat back, her expression once again impassive. "We're almost there."

Harry shrank down in his seat, his clammy hands clasped tight around his condensation-covered Slurpee cup, and counted the seconds until he could get out of the car.

A/N:

i've been threatened not to give this story a sad ending mwahahaha. we'll see how i feel when i get there. in the meantime, all my love to everyone