Tom took a sip of Scotch, watching over the brim of his glass while Draco fussed with his hair in the mirror.

"Good job you're checking your hair for flyaways again, Draco," Blaise commented, giving Tom a sly smile. "Astoria will run a mile if you have a single strand of hair out of place."

Draco flipped Blaise off through the mirror.

Theo snorted. "I hope not, otherwise Draco will have to spend yet another year working up the courage to ask a different girl out."

"It will be fine," Tom drawled idly. "Astoria strikes me as...unobservant, shall we say?"

"Clueless more like," Theo added with a wicked grin.

"Can all of you shut up, please?" Draco hissed, turning around to glare at his friends. "And don't show me up tonight; I want my first date with Astoria to go perfectly."

"I'll warn you though," Blaise smirked. "I know Daphne puts out on the first date but I've heard her sister is a prude. You won't be getting any tonight."

"Astoria isn't a prude; Daphne's just a slut like you," Draco argued. "Besides, you're going alone tonight so you won't be getting any either."

"I can and will pick up any girl I want to," Blaise said smugly.

"Aside from that blood traitor Weasley girl," Theo murmured. "You couldn't get her into bed if you tried."

"She's there tonight, so challenge accepted," Blaise retorted, eyes glittering with confidence. "And Tom will be in luck, too."

"Will I?" Tom asked, finally joining the conversation. He enjoyed listening to the banter of the people he supposed were his friends, but he didn't care enough to join in. "If you think Harry will fall in bed with me after tonight you really don't remember him very well."

"He's a hippie though, isn't he? I'd invite him on a date—uh, not Harry specifically," Blaise added hastily as Tom fixed him with a dangerous look; they all knew Harry was off limits. "But any hippie would do. They're all into that free love shit which means they're easy and kinky."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Draco was right; you are a slut, Blaise."

Theo snorted. "I don't know why you're bothering to take Harry anyway. He's a blood traitor and a weird one at that, running around protesting and crying about werewolves and house-elves."

"You know why I've invited Harry," Tom pointed out, narrowing his eyes. "Or are you questioning my means, Theo?"

"Not at all!" Theo answered quickly. "I know you know what you're doing."

"Good," Tom purred, taking another sip of his whisky. "I have a feeling tonight is going to be a very good night."

Tom waited outside the ballroom with Draco and Lucius by his side. Blaise and Theo had gone ahead, neither of them having dates for the event.

Draco's father was rather more interesting to Tom than Draco. Lucius was rich and powerful, and had many friends who were also rich and powerful. He was also loyal to Tom, respecting him as a superior, and had introduced him to many valuable connections.

"Astoria said she'd be here at eight," Draco said anxiously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "It's just turned eight now."

"Women like to be fashionably late," Lucius answered, laying a hand on Draco's shoulder comfortingly. "Why do you think your mother and Aunt Bellatrix aren't here yet?"

Lucius gave Tom a grateful glance at the mention of Bellatrix, who Tom had been able to release from prison along with her husband and brother-in-law. The Lestranges were unwaveringly loyal to Tom, and very invested and skilled in the Dark Arts.

Harry hadn't arrived to the ball yet either, but Tom didn't believe that Harry would cancel on him without warning; he was too noble for that. But turning up late to irritate Tom was certainly something Harry would do.

"Hello, Draco," came a soft voice as Astoria approached, her curvy body clad in a modest purple dress, with her blonde curls falling gently to her shoulders.

Astoria did look the part of a Malfoy bride, and though her common sense was lacking she was at least a pureblood and had a respectful job as a journalist for the Daily Prophet. Tom did think she would be a good match for Draco, though Tom didn't particularly care for her.

"Hello, Tom...Mr Malfoy," Astoria added, nodding at them as she spoke.

Tom held back his scowl—because they'd loosely known each other at school Astoria believed them to be friends, and didn't treat or address Tom with the respect he deserved.

"You look lovely, Astoria," Draco said loudly, the volume of his voice making Lucius wince. "You...what in Salazar's good name are you wearing?!"

Draco was looking over Tom's shoulder as he spoke, prompting Tom to turn around where he saw Harry waiting with a pleased grin on his face.

Tom didn't know whether he wanted to cast Cruciatus on Harry and watch him writhe for being so insolent, or rip Harry's clothes off and fuck him against the wall, because Harry so boldly daring to defy Tom turned him on in ways Tom really didn't appreciate.

Not only had Harry left the tacky Muggle nose ring in despite the fact Tom had told him to take out, but Harry had also pulled his long hair into a messy bun on top of his head, and he was dressed in a red plaid suit, the trousers clinging tightly to his legs and tucked into leather buckled boots that looked like they belonged to Sirius Black and his motorbike.

Unknown to Harry, his choices would work out in Tom's favour eventually, but until then Tom had to parade around in front of rich, powerful, and influential people, accompanied by his date who looked like a washed up potions addict.

"Hi everyone," Harry greeted, ignoring Draco's insult. "It's been so long since I've seen you, Draco! How's your arse? It must be sore, still having a stick up it after all this time."

Astoria giggled, and Tom watched as Draco's expression went from furious to mortified.

"And you!" Harry exclaimed, turning to Lucius who eyed Harry with great disdain. "You must be Legolas...I mean Lucius."

Astoria laughed harder, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, I love Lord of the Rings," she beamed.

"Lord of the Rings?" Draco repeated. "What's that?"

"A book series," Harry answered with a sly grin. "A Muggle book series."

Tom watched as Lucius blanched at the new knowledge that the girl his son was smitten with had some form of investment with Muggle culture.

"Well," Tom said charmingly before Lucius or Draco could hex Harry. "Shall we go in?"

He offered his arm out for Harry, prepared to act like the perfect date and gentleman regardless of how Harry dressed and acted. Tom had a reputation he wanted to uphold, and Harry wasn't going to ruin that for him.

Harry eyed Tom's arm warily for a moment but linked his own arm through Tom's, giving him an obviously strained smile. "I did tell you I wasn't going to play pureblood tonight, so I hope you're not planning on parading me around like a trophy wife."

"The only place Tom will be parading you is to the nearest broom cupboard, to keep you hidden from sight," Lucius muttered darkly.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, only moving forwards to stop from falling over as Tom continued on regardless. Lucius didn't know about the Dursleys and the cupboard they locked Harry in, so his words were accidentally perfect for a cold response.

"I see where Draco gets his charm from," Harry retorted, recovering quickly, though Tom could still feel the tenseness in Harry's body.

Even after all these years apart Harry was easy to read, his body language betraying all of his emotions. Tom didn't feel emotions often, or if he did they were easy to push down and ignore—though when he couldn't ignore them they hit him strongly and with great power. Harry, on the other hand, was weak to giving in to even the smallest emotion.

In fact, most of the people Tom worked with were the same way as Harry; slaves to their emotions. Draco, Blaise, and Theo were the people that Tom considered to be his friends, but they often irritated him, and even older adults like Lucius and Umbridge were as equally pathetic when it came to containing themselves.

It was why he was so fond of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was rather like Tom in temperament, although admittedly time in Azkaban hadn't done wonders for her sanity.

The ballroom was crowded with people who were illuminated by glowing balls of luminescent magic; shades of pink, blue, purple, green, and yellow giving light to the otherwise dark room. An instrumental band were playing jovial music, loud enough to be heard but soft enough so that people could conversate over them.

People looked happy and carefree, and that was how Tom wanted them to be. Carefree people didn't pay attention to what was going on around them properly, and that suited his needs just fine.

"Wow, you put a lot of money into this," Harry commented, looking up at the banners and the streamers before his gaze finally landed on the ice sculpture of Umbridge which made him crinkle his nose in disgust, and Tom couldn't blame him for that. "What paid for it? The money that could have gone to the unemployed, or the money that could have gone to emergency funding for newly bitten werewolves?"

Tom scoffed. "Where do you think the money I put forward for you agreeing to come with me tonight went? I'm joking, of course," he added quickly as Harry gasped and tried to tear his arm away from Tom's. "You're so easy to wind up."

Harry's cheeks flushed. "Forgive me for not seeing the funny side in the Ministry's cuts."

Tom lowered his head to whisper into Harry's ear. "We're at a fundraising event, Harry; we're raising money to help people. This is supposed to be a fun event; just relax."

Harry shivered, but finally managed to pull his arm free of Tom's grasp. "Helping certain people doesn't cancel out the people you haven't helped. But you're right; I'm not going to fight you at a charity event so I might as well make the most of this propaganda ball."

"Such a cynic," Tom tutted lightly. "I told you before anyway, I simply want to talk to you; catch up, as it were. I'm not parading you anywhere, but I would like to introduce you to some of my colleagues."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed with a short laugh. "Meet your colleagues? They're the last people I want to meet! Especially Lady Lucifer."

Tom couldn't help but smirk at Harry's nickname for Umbridge, and his smile only deepened when he saw the woman in question approaching them, clad in horrendously bright pink as usual. He couldn't help but admit that he was intrigued to see Harry's reaction to her; Harry clearly had no problems restraining his opinions, but whether he'd stay quiet for the Minister was yet to be seen.

"Minister!" Tom greeted with a false smile as Umbridge reached them, her beady eyes narrowing with disgust as they landed on Harry. "Lovely to see you."

"Minister Umbridge!" Harry said in a high pitched voice, turning around and not bothering to hide the venom in his expression. "We were just talking about you."

"You must be Tom's…friend," Umbridge said, looking Harry up and down disdainfully. Her gaze lingered on the nose ring and then on his scrunched up hair, before she plastered a false smile onto her face. "Tom has told me all about you."

"And I have read all about you in the newspapers, of course," Harry replied, his voice equally as falsely sugary sweet. "I'm a massive fan of the way you continuously and systemically oppress minorities. Wouldn't things be better if the only people who had rights were only the richest purebloods?"

"Hear, hear!" an old man cheered from nearby, and Harry scowled deeply at him, though it went unnoticed by the man in question.

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter," Umbridge said, poison lacing the sugar in her voice. "But I think you deeply misunderstand what the Ministry is trying to achieve."

"No, I understand just fine," Harry replied darkly. "You're trying to achieve power for the rich and powerful, and the ability to deceive everyone else into thinking you're somehow doing these things for their benefit. I get it though; when you wear such garishly bright pink all the time it's no wonder you're blind."

Tom finally decided it was time to intervene before Umbridge arrested Harry on the spot. Even though Tom had explained his reasoning to her about why he'd invited Harry, he could still see the fire of rage burning in her eyes.

"Minister, you remember what I've told you about Harry?" he said apologetically. "I'd leave him to his way of thinking for now."

Umbridge huffed, but her expression softened as she looked Tom over. "You're right, Tom; you're always so level-headed and considerate to those some would deem-" she sneered as she looked Harry up and down again-"lesser."

Thankfully being the Minister for Magic meant that Umbridge soon had her attention caught by somebody else, and she left before she or Harry could kill each other. And though his reasons for hating her were vastly different to Harry's, Tom was glad to be rid of her; he really did like to spend as little time as possible with Umbridge.

"What have you been telling her about me?" Harry asked with a huff, hand on his hip. "And more importantly, how have you spent so long working for that she-devil and not wanted to murder her yet?"

"Who says I don't?" Tom retorted, lips quirked. "And I've not told her much, Harry; only about how much you care for minorities."

"If you feel like you have to comment about somebody caring for minorities rather than assuming it's a given characteristic, I think you're spending time with the wrong kind of people," Harry said dryly, and Tom pursed his lips at Harry's irritating insistence.

"Harry," Tom said, trying to keep his voice calm despite his desire to snap at Harry to be quiet. "I want to have a nice time with you tonight; let's not argue. I know we have some differences but we used to get on so well...don't you want to have just one night together where it's like old times?"

Harry's expression softened, and he gave Tom a small smile. "I suppose I can make an effort to not comment on your flaws, so long as you don't make me talk to Lady Lucifer again."

Tom snorted. "Of course; I would rather like tonight to go smoothly, which means I'd like to avoid a murder scene where possible."

"You know where we can kill it, though?" Harry retorted, grinning and extending his arm to Tom. "On the dance floor."

Tom grasped Harry's hand firmly. "I'm leading."

"You would say that," Harry said, rolling his eyes, but he didn't argue as Tom guided him over to the dancefloor.

Draco was slow dancing with Astoria, and Blaise was making an attempt at getting Ginny Weasley to dance with him.

"He'll be lucky," Harry commented, noticing where Tom's gaze had wandered. "Blaise is good looking, but everyone know he's a conceited arse."

Tom shot Blaise a glare as jealousy surged through him, and he ignored the bewildered look Blaise gave him in response, instead wrapping an arm round Harry's waist and roughly pulling them close together.

Harry let out a cry of surprise as their bodies met, and the sound made Tom want to devour Harry's lovely lip. His gaze dropped to Harry's mouth, and he licked his own lips hungrily at the sight of the plump, red flesh that Tom yearned to sink his teeth into.

Tom glanced back up to find Harry watching him wide-eyed, frozen in Tom's hold like a deer caught in headlights...or, more fittingly, like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a predator.

Tom smirked, pressing his hand flat against Harry's lower back so they were completely flush together. "I would ask if you actually want to dance and not just stand here, but I'm rather enjoying this silent side of you."

That seemed to shake Harry from his reverie, and he fixed Tom with a cocky grin though it was clearly strained.

"You're the one who wanted to lead," Harry pointed out, placing his hand on Tom's shoulders. "So lead."

They hadn't danced together for years, but even now they still moved easily together, swaying to the music like second nature. Despite his anger Harry really did submit beautifully, allowing Tom to guide their dance obediently and obligingly, not making a single stumble or misstep.

As they danced through several more songs, sharing light conversation, Tom couldn't help but think it felt right having Harry in his arms, following him, and it only served to further Tom's bitterness that Harry had turned his back on him. They belonged together, if only Harry would stop his infuriating campaign supporting Muggles and Light magic and come round to Tom's point of view.

Until that happened though, Harry was his enemy.

"I need to borrow you for a moment, Harry," Tom said as the evening began to draw nearer to its close. "Come with me?"

Harry's cheeks were flushed, and his lips even rosier. His eyes narrowed at Tom's suggestion but he nodded reluctantly with a roll of his eyes, allowing Tom to pull him through the crowd. His eyes met Umbridge's on the way and she gave him a sly smile and a nod, and Tom was pleased to note she was surrounded by many of the senior Aurors, lawmakers, and Wizengamot members.

Tom gestured at the band to stop playing as he pulled Harry up onto the stage—somewhat roughly as Harry had tensed up when he'd realised where Tom was leading him.

"Excuse me, everyone, may I have your attention?" Tom announced, and the crowd fell silent at his words.

Tom had always been able to command a crowd easily; public speaking had never made him nervous, and he thrived off the devoted attention that large groups of people doted upon him.

Harry was looking at him with a mixture of apprehension and suspicion, but he didn't flee off the stage. Tom had known he wouldn't, because Harry wasn't a coward and always took up a challenge no matter how much of a risk there was to himself.

"You all know me, of course," Tom stated, catching Draco's eye in the crowd and giving him a pointed look. Draco winked, oblivious to Astoria looking at him in concern. "But this," he added, gesturing at Harry, "is an acquaintance of mine, Harry Potter. And Harry here, well, Harry has been running around with that group of protesters who keep causing a nuisance here in our Ministry."

There was a low rumbling of disapproval at the mention of the protestors, bringing an amused smirk to Tom's face. Harry narrowed his eyes at him but still made no move to flee, but that was probably wise—to run now would make Harry look weak in front of a room full of people, some of whom were exceedingly powerful in the political world.

"And as you can see," Tom pressed on, "Harry dresses in a very outlandish sense, and has argued with the very Minister for Magic herself tonight as he lacks in decorum and propriety. However I didn't bring Harry up here to call him out, but to demonstrate a warning. You see, Harry is a half-blood who was orphaned and forced to grow up with Muggles."

Tom glanced at Harry who suddenly looked horrified, his eyes wide as he shook his head slowly at Tom; he hardly seemed to be breathing, but Tom paid him no heed.

"Those Muggles," Tom said dangerously, "withheld knowledge of Harry's magical ability from him, verbally abused him, psychologically abused him, struck him physically as discipline, and gave him a tiny cupboard for a bedroom, sometimes locking him in there for days at a time...all because they hated Harry for being magical. And worst of all, they convinced Harry that he deserved it, and that they were the victims in the situation for having to live with a wizard in the house."

Tom paused again, smiling at the angry muttering flowing through the crowd. He took another look at Harry who was still slowly shaking his head, tears glittering in his eyes as he looked at Tom with too many emotions on his face to tell them apart.

"We are here today," Tom stated with finality, "to raise awareness and gather support for magical children who are abused by their Muggle caregivers. And Harry here is the perfect example of what happens to abused children who are left in that situation...they become hippies who follow meaningless campaigns to try and fill the emptiness in their own lives, and in doing so add nothing worthwhile to society. This is not what we want our magical children to become, is it? Stabbing metal through their faces and taking low-level jobs so they can dedicate more time to needless activism? We here at the Ministry are doing the best for everyone, and to fight against us to fight against the whole Wizarding World. But don't blame Harry for his actions...he is a victim of Muggle brutality against wizards, and he deserves only pity."

A large round of applause sounded, though a handful of people looked angered by Tom's words but they were nobodies—Mudbloods and blood traitors who could easily disappear if they chose to cause problems. Astoria was also frowning, and Tom wondered if Draco knew that the girl he liked was not only dim-witted but a Muggle sympathiser too.

As the applause died down, Tom turned to Harry, who was still frozen and had tears shining in his eyes, and gave him a cold smile.

"Anything you'd like to say, Harry?" Tom offered cruelly, expecting Harry to finally flee in anger.

Instead Harry nodded and stepped up to the front of the stage.

"Yes, actually," Harry spat, forcing a smile onto his face as he looked out across the crowd. "I just wanted to thank you, Tom, for using my childhood plight to bring awareness about what can happen to abused children. You did forget to mention, though, that neglect is also a terrible thing that can happen, and you'd know all about being neglected, wouldn't you?"

Tom flashed Harry a dangerous smile, but Harry ignored him. Like Harry before him, Tom couldn't run or stop Harry in what he was saying because it would draw more negative attention than good; Tom simply had faith that his reputation was far more respected and the public would take Tom's word over Harry's.

"Most abused and neglected children don't turn out as a danger to anyone but themselves," Harry continued. "But there are a few—like Tom—who are nothing but cold-hearted bastards with zero capacity for compassion, and who use charm to manipulate everyone around them and in actual fact don't give a single fuck about anyone but themselves. And you know, Tom invited me here as a date tonight but the truth is Tom won't ever know how to have a healthy relationship, and I have no intention of going home with somebody who doesn't give a damn about me so...anyone want to take me home tonight? All that childhood abuse and hippie nonsense has left me an easy fuck and kinky as hell."

Umbridge had finally had enough, sending a stream of Aurors towards them, but Tom held a hand up to stop her, watching icily as Harry jumped down from the stage where he was immediately approached by a leering Fenrir Greyback.

Harry looked back towards Tom, sticking his middle finger up at him and mouthing "fuck you," before linking his arm with Greyback's and allowing the sleazy werewolf to guide him out of the ballroom.

Tom knew he shouldn't be jealous of Greyback, who was nothing but a barbaric, animalistic half-breed, and that Harry couldn't possibly have a good time with him, but all Tom wanted was to run after them and snap Greyback's neck for daring to touch what belonged to Tom.

He wanted to run and grab Harry before he allowed a werewolf to sully his body, or slice off Greyback's slimy little cock before he could get it anywhere near Harry.

Instead Tom simply stayed composed on stage and gave the crowd an amused smile, as though Harry's departure hadn't affected him in the slightest.

"Well, let's all give generously tonight, shall we?" he teased, getting a rousing round of laughter and applause in response.

Tom left the stage with one thought in mind; if Harry wanted to play around with werewolves, then Tom was going to play with them too—only he had a very different game in mind.