As the tension in the ballroom settled into a strange, watchful calm, Tom didn't even bother to hide the way his sharp grey eyes lingered on Harry. It was as if he were cataloging every movement, every flicker of expression, and every subtle reaction. The unease in Harry's chest deepened with every passing second, especially when Tom casually placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder, keeping the boy close.
"You won't mind staying a while longer, will you, Mr. Potter?" Tom asked, his tone polite but edged with something unyielding. It wasn't really a question.
Harry forced a thin smile. "Of course not."
"Perfect," Tom said smoothly, his gaze flicking to Barty and Snape, who stood a few steps behind him. "Make sure Mr. Potter is well-accommodated, and that Sirius doesn't wander off. I will go and socialize."
Harry's stomach sank. He knew what this meant. There was no way Tom was letting him go—not until he'd figured out who Harry really was and what his intentions might be. Still, with Sirius looking up at him so trustingly, Harry couldn't find it in himself to push back.
As the charity ball began in earnest, Harry found himself shuffled from one grand room to another. The soft hum of music and chatter surrounded him, but it all blurred into background noise. Barty and Snape trailed at a discreet distance, while Tom made no effort to hide the sharpness of his focus whenever he glanced in Harry's direction.
But Sirius, oblivious to the tension, clung to Harry like a lifeline. The boy's questions came rapid-fire, his curiosity as boundless as his energy.
As the charity ball began to wind down, the music softened into a gentle waltz, and Harry found himself near one of the massive windows overlooking the glittering city. He needed a moment to breathe, to process the surreal turn his life had taken. The chandeliers above him reflected light across the polished floors, and the hum of conversation formed a distant backdrop.
Sirius went to grab some more food with Barty, which left him with Snape, alone. Luckily, it wasn't long before he returned.
"Found you!"
Harry turned, startled, to see Sirius grinning up at him. The boy held a small plate in one hand, stacked precariously with lemon tarts, and his curls were slightly askew as if he'd been rushing.
"Didn't know I was hiding," Harry said, arching an eyebrow.
Sirius shrugged, popping a tart into his mouth. "You weren't, but I wanted to find you anyway." He gestured to the ballroom with his free hand. "These people are boring. They just talk about money and politics and stuff I don't care about."
Harry chuckled, crossing his arms. "What do you care about, then?"
"Adventures," Sirius said immediately, his grey eyes sparkling. "Running fast, climbing trees, going places no one's supposed to go." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I bet you've been on a lot of adventures."
Harry froze for a moment, the weight of Sirius's innocent assumption hitting him like a punch to the chest. The boy had no idea. No idea of the battles Harry had fought, the losses he carried, or the sacrifices that still haunted his nights.
"Something like that," Harry said finally, his voice quieter than he intended.
Sirius tilted his head, clearly picking up on Harry's shift in mood. "You look sad," he said, his voice softening. "Why?"
Harry blinked, startled by the boy's perceptiveness. "I'm not sad," he lied, offering a faint smile. "Just… thinking."
"About what?"
"About you," Harry said, deciding to shift the focus. "You've been through a lot for someone your age, haven't you?"
Sirius hesitated, his grin fading slightly. He toyed with the edge of his plate. "I guess. Papa says it's nothing I can't handle, but sometimes…" He trailed off, his small shoulders shrugging as if trying to shed an invisible weight.
Harry crouched slightly to meet Sirius's gaze. "Sometimes it's okay to admit when something feels too big to handle," he said gently. "Doesn't make you weak."
Sirius stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Do you ever feel like that?"
Harry's lips quirked in a sad smile. "More than you know."
The boy's grey eyes lingered on him, filled with an understanding far beyond his years. "Maybe that's why you were there," Sirius said suddenly, his tone thoughtful.
Harry blinked. "What do you mean?"
"That night," Sirius said, his voice dropping to a whisper as if sharing a secret. "When the bad men were there. You came out of nowhere, like magic. Maybe you were supposed to."
Harry's throat tightened. He didn't know how to respond to that, not when Sirius was staring at him with such trust, such unwavering belief.
"I just happened to be in the right place," Harry repeated, his voice steady but quiet.
Sirius tilted his head, unconvinced but too polite to push further. "Well, I'm glad you were."
"I'm glad, too. Anyway, how are you? This is your first time being in the public eye, isn't it? Are you enjoying all of this?" He gestured to the grandeur of the ball, hoping to shift the focus.
"It's boring." Sirius wrinkled his nose. He then leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'd rather be with you."
Harry blinked, startled by the boy's bluntness. "Why's that?"
Sirius grinned, his expression mischievous. "Because you're interesting. And you don't treat me like a baby."
The sincerity in the boy's words tugged at something deep in Harry's chest. He felt a pang of guilt as he remembered his godfather—the Sirius he'd known, who had loved him like family. This Sirius was so young, so innocent, and so unlike the man he'd lost.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Harry said softly.
Sirius grinned and held up his plate. "Want one?"
Harry blinked, startled by the abrupt shift in tone. "A lemon tart?"
"Yeah!" Sirius said brightly. "They're my favorite. Father likes them, too, so I always get extra."
Harry hesitated, then reached out and took one from the plate. "Thanks," he said, offering a faint smile.
Sirius beamed, his earlier seriousness forgotten as he devoured another tart. "You know," he said between bites, "Father says I'm supposed to be brave, but I think you're the bravest person I've ever met."
Harry froze, his breath catching. "What makes you say that?"
"Because you saved me," Sirius said simply. "And you're not even scared of Father."
Harry nearly laughed at that. "I wouldn't say that."
Sirius leaned in, lowering his voice again. "Father doesn't trust people easily. But I think he likes you."
Harry glanced across the room, where Tom stood engaged in conversation with a group of dignitaries. Even from a distance, Harry could feel the intensity of his gaze every time it flicked in his direction.
"Not sure about that," Harry muttered.
"Trust me," Sirius said confidently. "Father doesn't talk much about feelings, but I know him better than anyone."
The boy's earnestness made Harry's chest ache. He reached out, ruffling Sirius's hair lightly. "You're a good kid, Sirius."
"Yeah, I know," Sirius said with a cheeky grin. "But don't tell Papa I said that."
"Your secret's safe with me."
Their moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Harry glanced up to see Tom approaching, his expression calm but his grey eyes sharp.
"Sirius," Tom said, his voice even, smile faint but genuine. "I believe Mr. Potter has had enough of your questions for one evening."
Sirius pouted but didn't argue. "Fine," he muttered, setting his empty plate on a nearby table. He gave Harry one last grin before scampering off into the crowd.
Tom watched him go before turning his full attention to Harry. "He's taken quite a liking to you," he said, his tone unreadable.
Harry straightened, meeting Tom's gaze evenly. "He's a good kid."
"Indeed," Tom said, his lips curving into a faint smile. "I look forward to learning more about you tomorrow at dinner, Mr. Harry."
Harry inclined his head slightly, unwilling to give anything away. "Likewise."
As Tom turned to follow Sirius, Harry exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. Barty, who had been following behind Tom, turned to him. He took out a card from his breast pocket and gave it to him before going to follow Tom.
It was an address.
Shit
He thought he would have an excuse to not go but with this, he couldn't simply not go without disappointing Sirius. He also knows that it won't just end with this—not by a long shot. Tom Riddle was like a wolf circling its prey, and Harry had just become his next point of interest.
And Sirius, with his unshakable trust and innocent questions, wasn't making it any easier to stay in the shadows.