.

.

The ballroom was spacious and elegant in its simplicity. The floor was wooden and covered with a large red carpet. The walls had actually been painted over rather than covered with wallpaper- a minty green color with silver swirls and black borders. The windows were left uncovered , the grey and black drapes tasseled off to let the full moon shine through. Across from the entryway was a set of dark brown French doors that led out to the balcony.

On the octagonal floor many old men and women- and some children- danced, dark tailcoats and rainbow dresses and pale petticoats swishing about with every movement.

And in the center of it all was Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Both Riddles were dressed in matching black suits, with grey waistcoats, green ties, and white button-down shirts that were always too tight. Tom had a silver rose brooch on his lapel while Voldemort had a white one. While Tom was in the center of the room speaking with the other nobles, Voldemort was in the corner, ignored and nameless except in passing.

Until the doors creaked open, and a familiar set of footsteps passed by his ears.

Tom stopped in front of him, unable to tear his gaze from the suddenly effeminate boy before him. Those green eyes he'd come to know and associate with Harry seemed brighter than ever, framed by thick, feathery lashes and surrounded by pale skin. His normally unruly hair, already fairly long, was tamed with a green and grey hairband which matched the dress- the dress he'd chosen for him-perfectly.

Harry curtsied, and for a split second, Tom wondered when and where he'd learned to curtsy without stumbling. Then he bowed in response, low, and took Harry's hand, whereupon he lightly brushed his lips across his knuckles.

"My Lady. Would you honor me with this first dance?"

Dark eyes peered up into emerald green, silently daring him to refuse. Harry blushed lightly in spite of himself and nodded.

"'T'would be an honor, M'Lord."

"Perfect..."

Tom's voice displayed his pleasure, and Harry tried hard to fight down the burst of emotions as he was lead to the center of the room.

And then they were off, dancing and twirling with the other guests in a perfect 1-2-3-4 rhythm.

There was no idle chatter between them as there was between other couples, so concentrated was Harry on not trampling his Lord's feet.

And then, just as he was getting used to the movements again- his mother had taught him to waltz and didn't know the lead part- the song changed and they had to step into another dance. This next dance was unfamiliar to Harry, but it was easy enough to follow as long as he reminded himself to mirror Tom's movements.

Voldemort went out to the balcony.

That dance, too, ended, and Tom gently pulled Harry with him to the long table set against one wall. There was a small group of nobles at one end- Harry recognized the Blacks (and especially his godfather Sirius) and also Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange- and perhaps, on another day, he would've despised most of them. But they were the only familiar faces besides the other servants and the masters of the house, and they were in the way of the treacle tart, and my didn't that sound pleasant right now!

His nerves were getting the better of him, but Harry reminded himself that as far as everyone else was aware, he was the obedient woman on Tom's arm, and so he was able to play the part again.

From their place off to the side- and how dreadfully boring it was there, too!- Lily and James watched Tom Riddle carefully. Well, Lily watched. James was busy trying to come up with what to say when Sirius came up to them- as he inevitably would- and also wondering just where Harry went off to. As a servant, he'd be there, too, of course.

Lily was wondering the same thing, of course, until her green eyes caught sight of a woman dancing with Tom. Those raven locks she'd recognize anywhere. And thus, her worries were put to rest. But she wouldn't tell James that. He would have difficulty believing her, and she secretly enjoyed seeing their son like this.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Things were better this way, she knew, regardless of what Harry- er, Harriet- decided to do.

XXxxXX

And so, the night drew to a close.

As he did every night, Harry helped Tom prepare for bed. They both knew that Tom was easily able to get himself ready for bed, but the older man secretly enjoyed Harry's hands on his body, and thus hadn't ordered him to stop.

The man lay down silently, the barest hint of a smile on his handsome features as he closed his eyes and took Harry by surprise, grabbing his gloved wrist. He was still in the dress he'd worn for the ball.

"My Lord…?"

"Hush, Harry. Allow me this, for but a few moments."

It might've been the wine talking, or perhaps not. But Tom was a little bit intoxicated, and so Harry indulged him.

"…Of course." Harry's eyes shone brilliantly in the moonlight as he kneeled beside Tom's bed, enjoying, for a bit, the warmth of his hand.

Neither of them really knew how much time had passed, but eventually, Tom fell asleep, and only then did Harry dare to pull his hand away and leave the room. His other master would still be up for a while yet.

Harry blew out the candle on Tom's bedside table and quietly left the room. Maybe he'd still have time to change into something more comfortable?

He made his way to his quarters, but was stopped in the hall as someone cleared their throat.

"Ahem- pardon me madam, but I must insist that you take your leave."

Harry turned and saw his father in a nice black suit with gleaming silver buttons.

He blinked, unused to seeing him in such attire.

"Dad? Don't you recognize me? It's me, Harry. Your son."

Now James was the one blinking.

"Beg pardon?"

"Tom had me pretend to be his escort to tonight's party," Harry explained, "and I only just got him to bed. May I change now?"

James nodded, taken aback, and Harry continued on his way.

Upon entering his room, he realized that at this hour, there probably wouldn't be a point in changing unless he wanted Voldemort to see him in his nightclothes.

He changed regardless, into a white collared shirt and black trousers. Something he could stand sleeping in while also keeping to the professional clothing standards for all members of staff.

As if waiting specifically for him to finish, the bell from Voldemort's bedroom rang out.

With a sigh- because he had hoped to have just a bit more time to himself- Harry left his bedroom and went to the secondary study, where Voldemort awaited his presence.