Chapter Text
ACT 1
Tom Riddle gazed at the television screen with fascination. The theme song of the television program melted in his ears and he pursed his lips, glancing down at his hand. The champagne was filled half-way to the brim, Tom distracting his gaze for a mere moment, deciding to bring it to his lips. The taste of bitter nothingness hummed down his throat as he glanced back up to the screen. Beside him, on the blood-coloured couch was his adopted father, Dumbledore.
Dumbledore licked his lips of his red wine, Tom scrunching his nose at it. There was something about the way people drank different types of alcohol that irked him. Watching him take a sip of his beverage certainly did nothing to appease him. Dumbledore’s eyes didn’t move from the screen but Tom knew he understood he was tracking his movements. “Tom, do you have something to say?”
That. He hated that. Hated the way Dumbledore would say his name. Ever since he was younger, he said Tom as if it was a swear nobody should say. His features didn’t smooth over as he debated conversing with him. In the end, he spoke frugally. “Nothing in particular, I’m just wondering about when my internship at Borgin and Burkes is going to commence is all.”
“Those two victors?”
“Yes, from 3.”
Dumbledore turned his head to him. Tom continued carefully, words choosen with precise calculations. “You allow them to work with Capitol to create entertainments for the Capitol. I applied like you suggested and I got in.” Tom drank another sip of his champagne. He cleared his throat before he began to speak again. “Borgin and Burkes are well-acquainted with us, and since they’ll be here for the Hunger Games as Victors; I’ll be working underneath them for when the Games commence. However, when that really starts depends on when the games start.”
The President of Panem gives him a sly but otherwise untouched look. Distant but understanding. He hummed, nodding at him. “After today, once all the names of the tributes are accounted for - it will only be a week before the actual games begins. But, if you like, you can start working with them before the games commences. District 3 has seven victors. I’m sure two out of the seven can be gone for the time whilst the games happens.”
“Who do you think is going to win this year?”
“We’ll have to wait and see, Tom.”
He scoffed. “I mean, from the percentile of all the seventy-three games so far; the estimation of what the chances of each district winning this year are.”
Dumbledore gave him a stern look. “Tom, why are you asking questions you already know the answers to?”
“I’m curious is all.”
“Curiousity, mhm?”
The condescending way Dumbledore talks to him makes him want to disappear. However, the advantages of having the man around - like taking his spot as President makes him bite his tongue and hum along, even if he disagrees with the answers and comments he makes. When he’s president, Dumbledore is the first thing that goes; he swears to himself. Better for Panem that way; and himself, goes unsaid. “Yes, I’m curious. Perhaps I like to be enlightened on District 12’s unlikeliest again this year.”
“As you know, District 12 has won one out of the seventy-three games. Leaving it in last place with one point three-seven hundredths chance of winning this year.” He spoke grimly about 12 like always and Tom wanted to dig up everything there was to know about his telling tone but held his tongue. The more he spoke, the less likely of a chance it was going to happen. “With twenty-two victors, District 2 has a thirty pecent chance of winning this year.”
“The two 2’s.” Tom said fondly. “How’s Lupin going to make fun of himself again this year?”
“Remus Lupin?”
“Yes, Bella is beginning to call him the howler with how he trips over constantly, drunk at each games. She finds it quite funny.” Tom sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “Not much of a chance of any District 12 tribute to live whilst he’s ‘trying to take care of them.’”
Dumbledore stares at him with a twinkle in his eyes. Tom hates it everytime he does that.
“How are your school friends going, Tom?”
The television screen flashed to Barty Crouch Junior as he began speaking about the 74th Hunger Games introducing the concept for the year. Tom thought about Dumbledore’s question. It was awfully ridiculous. “Bella’s alright. She’s in the festive mood again this year. Dressed in all black, but Narcissa is keeping her together. Lucius has told me that his father - who particularly likes me, said that the games this year was going to be a forest scenery. Him being the head game maker and all but it’s rumoured so far of different scenarios so you don’t have to worry.” Dumbledore bowed his head slightly at him in gratitude no matter how thin it was. Tom soured but held his tongue. “Andromeda is doing her usual spiel about the inhumane the games are, but Narcissa again; is controlling that situation. The poor woman.”
Not that he actually felt any sympathy for her at all. “The Carrow Twins are all excited. Bella and Alecto were speculated the odds again, but Bella wants to spend lots of money on betting this year since she’s eighteen. Alecto is still seventeen so less luxury.”
“Tom,” Dumbledore tilted his head to the screen. “The ceremony is about to commence.”
At once, he kept his mouth shut, loathing him.
However, he did want to see the tributes. Like always, District 1 comes first. Barty Crouch Junior who was only nineteen and in his second year of his career since taking over his father, loudly speculated the names of the tributes. “And the name of the first tribute, from District 1; Persephone Ryde!”
The girl that popped up onto the screen couldn’t of been younger than sixteen. Healthy, pale, and with slim muscles - the confident teenager smirked at the camera as she was chosen. It was obvious to both Tom and Dumbledore that she trained in the secret academy Districts’ 1, 2, and 4 had. The girl was picked from the bowl of names which meant, it was pure luck she was chosen. However, nobody complained and she would be allowed to continue. Barty continued. “And the male tribute from District 1… Benedict Torres!”
At once, a single boy spoke up and volunteered. Persephone gave the boy a smirk as he walked up to the stage confidently. Barty paused before reevaluating his original statement. “No, we have a volunteer.” He poked. “And his name is, Alistar Fenlon!” Cheers came from the audience - Barty, not only live, but infront of a real audience.
The boy had silver white hair unlike his bronze companion. His lips where thin and red, skin paler than Persephone’s. However, he had more muscle and was bigger. They were almost identical heights. Tom’s eyes navigated every little detail about the two tributes in interest. The Hunger Games was interesting, no matter the sour layers; the complexity outstanding. Tom lavished the information he got about the country from the games each year. Savouring it. Dumbledore seemed to understand this well as he hummed. “What do you think?”
“I’ll have to wait until I see all the tributes before I make my final decision.”
Dumbledore’s eyes become thinner with thought. Tom pursed his lips, taking another sip of his champagne. District 2, so far came out with the strongest competition. The boy, Valor Whitlock, was tall—an estimated six feet two, whilst his partner was five-ten. Still pretty good in terms of odds. Valor seemed lethal. Eyes blue with toxicity, teeth always shown. The boy looked hungry for murder. On the other hand, his partner was seemingly the more intelligently lethal one: Susan Bones. The girl had brown hair, lighter than Valor’s boy she had sharp eyes that flashed with understanding. If anyone was going to be a victor, it would be her, Tom could tell.
She was also muscular. Unlike District 1’s girl, Persephone, she had more mass than the five-eight girl. However, comparatively to everyone else, they were probably the most strong girls out of the lot. Tom could see the career pack unfolding immediately.
Dumbledore seemed smug when Tom turned his head to him to see him looking back at him. “Are you and your Knights of Walpurgis going to try and predict the outcome of the Hunger Games again this year?”
“I wasn’t wrong last year, was I?”
“No, but even for you; it’s a little inhumane.”
Tom said nothing at his comment. What Dumbledore didn’t like was his sadist group. Because if everyone was desensitised to the game and thought it was all an adventure to see who won and who to love, than everything of what the games stood on would be covered. But unfortunately, he found that hard to stomach and find friends in. Fortunately, he did find friends - and they all like the little game of trying to predict the outcomes like him. Bella, not so much; she just had an enormous bloodlust (and no doubt would be a victor if in the games), Lucius was a bit sick every time the games came around (and he would die if put in the games) so not him either, Narcissa was more intuitive about the outcomes but she kept her mouth shut since one sister was addicted and the other was actively against. (She would hold her own.) Evan Rosier, who was a year younger than him like to join in on the fun. And so did Nott. They were both understandably happy to participate with his predictions - and so were considered allies.
Barty Crouch Junior was in on the predictions but kept his distance as he had to be unbiased. Alecto and Amycus were not predictors but like hearing the outcomes of what the consequences had. Lots of banter happened in the Knights of Walpurgis room, which was their main sanctuary in their high school. Nobody was allowed to come in unless previous discussions were made.
Superiority was absolute with the Knights of Walpurgis.
Dumbledore nodded his head at the District 3 tributes. “What would be the chance?”
“At what?”
“The District 3’s male tribute this year is Esteven Graves’ son, Silver. Pity.”
Silver Graves. Tall, muscular, and nonetheless the son of Esteven Graves. Tom narrowed his eyebrows with interest at the teenager. Seventeen and Graves’ son; a tragedy. Narcissa would be wailing. Tom glanced over his impressive characteristics. Pale skin, probably because he’s inside all day doing technological work, brown-rustic hair; with a plenty of freckles. He snickered. Evans would be thirsting over the teenager with Narcissa after she got over mourning his death. “Such a tradegy,” he commented. “Narcissa won’t be happy with this.”
“I can imagine. The Blacks are close with Esteven since of their gifts to him.”
“Bella won’t be gifting him anything. She’ll have her eyes set for two. However, Narcissa might try and help Silver.”
Lux Redd was the female tribute for District 3. She seemed more technolgical than anything and really, that meant she had no chance at survival. Neither said anything whilst the next tributes came onto the screen. District 4. Barty Crouch Junior enthusiastically announced the female tribute from 4. Pearl Darley was nothing to scoff at, Tom thinks. Picked and head held strong, she walked with confidence up to the stage. Her skin was dark, burnt from sunburns, and her cheeks had a soft blush. Sunkissed from being in the sun all the time.
The boy tribute, Laurent Crawford, was nothing unusual for a male tribute of District 4. Attractive, like the female. Agile, packing more skills than muscle, but Tom found it awe-dropping what a line-up they had so far. Such an interesting group of people. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that all three career tributes were going to link-up. Six formidable opponents.
He bit his lip in eagerness.
“Thoughts, Tom?”
“Interesting.”
“Of course.”
To Tom, District 5 came apparent that nothing beside the main career pack would be interesting - with the strongest lot of the tributes. Their names, as irrelevant as it was going to be were, Romilda Vane and Royce Briven. By 6, Tom had his eyes only on his champagne. He turned to Dumbledore, placing his glass down. “I’ll be back.”
Heading to his bedroom which was down the hall, in the private mansion of the President, he went and grabbed his phone. Sitting on his bed with his back straight, he tapped the group chat that was buzzing with text messages. Narcissa was calling, and so was Bella and everyone else. To keep up appearances, he answered and joined. “Hello.”
“Tom, this is so bad!” Narcissa cried out-loud. “Silver’s chosen.”
“Sissy, it’s not so bad.” Bella snickered. “We get to see him in action.”
Evans murmured. “Yes.”
“Keep it in your pants, Evans!” Lestrange joined the conversation. Bella laughed to his comment.
Lucius sighed, “no longer interested Tom?”
“Mhm,” he said solemnly. “After 5, everyone else is going to become dull. Maybe ten or eleven will pull something off which body mass but I won’t be surprised if nothing comes of it.” Bella laughs at his statement, Tom having to move the phone from his ear so he wouldn’t get lasting ear damage. He spoke to Nott. “Statistics?”
“So far I think 2 has the highest chance of winning. Valor seemed vicious and Susan radiated confidence and intelligence. Both have a stronger body mass than 1 and 4. But, like always 1 and 4 are tight competitors. I do think the career pack will either split or become bigger with seven this year. Silver truely adds to the competition.”
“D’you reckon he’ll win?”
“The statistics call 4 at the moment.”
“Ten?” Tom murmured. “That’s high.”
“Valour, 5. Susan, 6. Alistar, 5. Persephone, 4. Pearl, 5. Laurent, 4. If we’re talking out of twenty-four. It’s like 16 percent, but truely as I’m basing this off of just their own individual percentiles; the math doesn’t exactly adds up but who cares. It’s what I’m saying their chance of winning is based on the attributes.” Bella snickered. “Evans, 3 might be yours this year. Sorry, ‘cissa.”
Narcissa scoffed, sniffing. “You guys suck.”
“Don’t worry Narcissa. Silver won’t go down without a fight.”
“But he might die!”
“The statistics are saying it’s higher than one. That’s better than nothing.”
Alecto cleared her throat. “How is Andromeda?”
Bella huffs, Tom relaxing against his bed’s doona with gleaming interest. She was an very interest topic to speak of. “‘Romeda is pissed off like usual. She is ignoring the games tonight, but she won’t be able to hide from it forever. Sissy and I are on the couch with Ma and Pa, whilst she’s trying to take food from the fridge; listening to the names just so she knows who we are talking about when speaking of the games.”
“Bella, remind Andromeda that she is welcome to come to any meetings we have, okay?”
“I can do that, Tom!”
“Hey, President’s boy.” Evans speaks up, boldly. “Chance of an outlier district?”
“Less than 1.”
“Alright then.”
Nott scoffs. “We haven’t even seen them yet.”
“I’m certain it won’t be any higher than one.”
“How assured.” Bella said dazedly.
Tom took his phone and headed to the connected bathroom to his bedroom. It was large. Extremely so. There was two sinks which Narcissa, Bella, and occasionally Andromeda liked hanging around when doing their makeup for whichever event they were hosting at the mansion. Tom had both a bathtub and spa (but the spa was on the outside porch that was connected to his bedroom and bathtub so really, there was only an inside bathtub and shower in his bathroom.) Evans loved the spa; always, somehow, drunk whenever all of them where in it at night, during the after party of celebration - and Nott liked to read in the spa in the mornings, Tom finding him there whenever he slept over.
His bathroom was precious to him. The cleanliness of the bathroom was something he appreciated and everyone seemed to abide by his preference, the girls never leaving anything over, the boys never doing anything drastic. Tom opened up a draw and grabbed his comb, brushing his hair. It was seven o’clock in the evening and after the reaping, he was going to head to dinner with his friends to converse about the results.
Realistically, the reaping happens at twelve o’clock but no one in the Capitol is that excited in the morning and have work so they push it back to be at seven when people are settling down, about to eat dinner, and have something exciting to talk about. He returns back to the living room with his hair comb, clothes perfect, and champagne almost gone.
Dumbledore examines him. “You’re about to leave?”
“Dinner’s at eight. I’ll be out until late tonight.”
“Don’t return too late, Tom.”
He doesn’t retort, knowing whatever he decided would be his own decision. They were up to District 9; two of the children, twelve and thirteen respectively. Tom didn’t say anything but Dumbledore murmured. “How unfortunate.” Tom gave him a sharp look - knowing he had a hand in creating the games so his comment was extremely sarcastic. Even though, the empathy that seemed to be lurking in his eyes always was dimmed. The two teenagers from 10 seemed to have a higher chance at winning than the two from 9. The girl was eighteen, and the boy was sixteen. She had not a lot of muscle but from the look of her clothes, seemed to be quick. After all, 10 was lifestock. The boy, although was tall and slim, was missing an eye.
Tom knew his chances would be lowered significantly but the girl, she could even be potentially put into the career pack. Her name was Imelda Garcia.
11 was next and Tom held the phone to his ear. “10G, chances?”
Nott was on it. “Two, but that’s better than one. Not much hope for the boy though.”
“He has limbs, I’m sure he can wield them.” Bella complained.
“Sissy, he’s missing an eye!”
Tom could feel the eye roll that came from Bella directed at Narcissa. Neither said anything more. Evans grumbled. “11 doesn’t look too bad either, although the girl is young.” On the screen was the two tributes from District 11. The girl had black, textured hair, and she had dark skin. She was small, and thirteen if his estimates were to come back right but she seemed tough. Small limbs, but had the power to do things with them. Evans sighed. “He’s eighteen.”
“Lots of eighteen year-olds this year,” Nott commented with gleaming intent. “And seventeen year-olds.”
“Silver, seventeen. Alistar, seventeen. Persephone, sixteen. Valor, seventeen. Susan, eighteen. That girl Lux from 3 is fifteen which isn’t the worst but comparatively won’t make it into the career pack.” Nott read from his laptop he was surely estimated the odds on. “Laurent from 4 is eighteen. Pearl is seventeen but is going to turn eighteen during the games.”
“How on Earth did you find out that information?” Narcissa choked, Bella laughing in the background.
“I have my sources, my dear. Tom?”
“Continue.”
“Yes, sir.” Nobody in the call battered an eye at the term, Tom finding out that from a young age - anyone who knew he was going to become the President of Panem was to treat him with the upmost respect. Nott was a power source, and Tom was going to collect all the cards that he could. He continued with his investigation. “Royce from 5 is sixteen but the girl, Romilda is only fifteen. The two from 6, McCoy and Hearst are twelve and fourteen. There is an seventeen year-old from 7 but she has anger management issues from how the reaping went so I don’t think she’ll be able to join the career pack at all. The other from 7 is twelve so… one of the largest age gaps to date for this games yet.”
“8’s girl is fifteen, 8’s boy is thirteen. 9’s girl is twelve and 9’s boy is thirteen. But we come to the real surprise. 10 might have a chance at winning. 10’s girl, Imelda is eighteen so she’s amongst the high end. Sucks for her though since next year she wouldn’t of had to participate. And 10’s boy is sixteen which is better than anything under. The eye thing sucks though.”
“And 11…” Bella draws out, almost purring. “Eighteen year-old boy, huh? Sucks for the little thirteen though.”
“He’ll protect her.” Narcissa states. “Districts like 11 stick together.”
“Oh?” Lestrange murmurs. “So sure, ‘Cissa.”
“They’re from the same District; they’d be more connected.”
“Shut up guys!” Bella screams, “12 is about to be announced.”
Nott snickers. “Nothing good ever comes from 12, Bella. And you know that.”
She did not retort back for once and Tom was eager to see 12 as Dumbledore had connections to the District. What was it about 12 that had Dumbledore so allured to it every year? He bit his lip in concentration. Barty Crouch Juniour spoke on the screen. “And for District 12’s girl tribute… Sedges Pine!” Bella hissed in excitement.
“Oh my, she’s like almost eighteen!”
“Eighteen, more like seventeen, Bella.” Nott comments.
“Still, that’s like such a better chance than all the twelves and thirteens they get every year!”
“Guys, District 12’s boy tribute. Hush.” Evans allowed no complaint as Barty spoke.
Barty took his time with the last tribute like always.
“And for the male tribute from District 12… Harry Potter!”
Tom fell silent.
The line fell silent as the boy from District 12 showed up on the screen.
At first, Tom couldn’t see his face. Harry’s head was faced down toward the ground and Nott gasped on the line. “He has to be about seventeen. What luck for 12 this year.” Tom’s heart stuttered as he observed the familiar, unruly hair from his childhood. It couldn’t be… but that untameable hair was recognisable. With a sun burnt, tanned complexion, the teenager slowly made his way up to the stage. He heard a ‘hurry up, boy’ from the Mayor of District 12 and Tom blinked slowly.
Turning to the camera and lifting his head slightly, all the moisture from Tom’s mouth disappeared. Dry, and chest heaving at the sight, he gaped at the screen. Emerald eyes stared at the screen with heavy hatred. The kindness of the boy, once at the orphanage was gone as he stood, reaped to be the male representative for District 12.
“No…” he spoke without thinking. Why was he there?
Turning to Dumbledore, the man still looked at the screen with interest. As if he couldn’t recognise him. This was his boy. The boy who Tom looked after, and the boy who kept Tom sane. This—no, this couldn’t happen. But, this was the Hunger Games. It was all about chance. Standing up, he finished what was left of his drink. He turned off the phone and its call, turning to Dumbledore. “Albus, once Borgin and Burkes arrive. I’ll start my internship immediately.”
Dumbledore turned to him. “Of course, Tom.”
Tom nodded at him before taking off.
Wearing his green thick coat that hung heavy at his neck and shoulders, he travelled to the high-end restaurant, CarMichael with little issues. His driver was a cunning man: Pyrites, who drove Tom everywhere. His salary was high because of it, but neither said anything about the scandals the other would do to create a bond of secrey. Pyrites bidded him a goodbye as he stood in front of the restaurant. Nobody batted him, the President’s successor, as he walked up to the front of the restaurant. The waiters held the door for him as he entered, following the heat hostess to their private room on the top floor.
Entering last to the room, he found his seat at the end of the table. Nott was beside him and on his other side was Bella. Narcissa was beside her, and Lucius was beside her. Tom sat, glancing around at the room. The table had all twelve of their private members, with the only exception of an empty seat being at the other end of the table. It was Barty’s.
Nott handed him his iPad. “Barty will arrive in twenty minutes. Late as always due to the job.”
“It’s alright, his job has been taken account of.”
Bella laughed. “I’m totally betting on pretty girl, Imelda from 10.”
“Not 11, Bella?” Lestrange smirked at her direction; as if his crush wasn’t obvious. “Rex seemed like the obvious option for you.”
She rolled her eyes, holding up her glass of red wine at him. “It would’ve but no, I think my girl, Imelda is going to have a lot more interest this year for me.” She put a hand on Narcissa’s shoulder. “My poor Sissy is probably going to be hung up on trying to save Silver this year, but I think either the career pack or Imelda is going to win.”
“I place my bets on Susan.” Nott states. “She’s clever, I can tell.”
Alecto rolls her eyes. “But 2 always holds the most promise. I think Pearl might win.”
Tom paused when his eyes found themselves planted on District 12’s male tribute: Harry Potter. With the picture Nott had collected of each tribute, he could see it clearly now. The nine year-old boy, Harry had been when Tom had left the orphanage. Dressed in polished, cream clothes, with the only speck of colour being the scarf Tom gifted him for his ninth birthday. His jade scarf. Which Harry always wore with the exception of summer. Now, he wore hardly what he wore at the orphanage. Ratty, tattered clothes: scars across his arms and legs. Skin worn and with noticeable marks of skin trauma from the sun. Tom couldn’t move his eyes from him. His boy, the boy who took care of him - and Tom him; how could this be? How could this happen?
Tom blinked and drank the champagne he was given leisurely. Not wanting to rush, wanting to think over his thoughts on the situation. Harry Potter. Tom never knew his name. All he knew was those eyes, his curly hair, his soft touch. He narrowed his eyebrows.
Bella snapped him out of it. “Tom, who do you think will win this year?”
Normally his answer would be immediate, this time he was silent.
Evans snickered. “Hard for you to predict this year?”
“No,” he shook his head. With all the information they had gathered so far, either Susan Bones from 2 would win; or Silver from 3; or Imelda from 10; or Rex from 11. Those were the main 4 options of who would win that his companions saw. But Tom wanted Harry to win - he wasn’t supposed to be in the games; he was a Capitol Citizen. He shouldn’t be in the Districts, nonetheless District 12. Not in those clothes, not skinny, and certainly not as if he saw death.
The orphanless boy of his childhood was about to go through the Hunger Games, a system Dumbledore set-up, and Tom was about to watch him die without an inch of assistance. He gulped. He couldn’t. Couldn’t watch him die; couldn’t let this be the end for him. Not Harry.
He narrowed his eyebrows, thinking. It was a terrible thing whenever he thought - because nobody else could keep up. He turned to Nott. “I’m incredibly bored. This year, the games will have a large career pack and strong teenagers that will set the games apart. Unfortunately, either the games will progress for a long time or a quick bloodbath will reduce them to nothing will come of this year. Lucius, your father, Senior; he knows the ins-and-outs of the Games, correct?”
“He is a Game Maker this year.”
“Mhm…” Tom begins to think to himself. “How many victors know the President?”
“All, you’d presume.”
“And me?”
“Anyone who matters.” Nott replies for Lucius.
Tom concocts a scenario that he realistically imagines that all his knowledge would fit into. Everyone is silent whilst he tells them what he is thinking about. “Being behind the scenes is something I’m already going to do this year with Borgin and Burkes since I’ve got my internship with them, but I think connecting with the victors would be interesting. Does anyone have any particular victors in mind?”
“Cedric Diggory from District 4,” Evans says immediately. “Could you get me an autograph?”
“Yes,” Nott agrees. “Cedric Diggory won only a few years ago. He’s beloved by the Capitol. Getting an in with him could be a clever idea.”
Nott began to write down on his laptop, names of various victors who would be good to connect with. Tom felt a plan concocting already. His chest still felt heavy and tight but with this plan, he began to feel more relaxed. In control. Bella snickers. “If you can, you should totally try and talk to Silver for Sissy.”
“Could you Tom?” Narcissa speaks up. “I really want to wish him well.”
“I could try, Narcissa, but I’m not sure if I’ll be allowed to speak with the tributes.”
“I’m sure you could.” Bella shakes her head, taking a sip of her wine. “You’re beloved by everyone too - you certainly could talk to them if you so dared. I reckon you should definitely talk with them.” Tom gave her a glance of interest. They recommended he should talk to the tributes but to be able to, would seem like cheating. He wondered how he could talk to them; him, without sparking conflict. Indirect contact, then… notes? Maybe.
Evans grumbled. “Which victors are coming this year?”
“A lot,” Nott explains. “The 3rd Quarter Quell is next year.”
“Attendance isn’t mandatory but it is for whatever challenge is coming next year, regardless of the new input of the challenge.” Tom puts the iPad down and grabs his wine to take a sip. “It’s always mandatory for the Quarter Quell unless someone is near dead.”
Evans leans on the table. “You really should converse with the beloved victors. They’d love you.”
“Mhm… who should I start with first?”
“Borgin and Burkes, obviously?” Nott rose his eyebrows. “They’ll be the ones your with first so you should be able to converse with them and ask about other victors. Ask their opinions. If not, go off on your own. I’m sure that won’t be an issues, Mr. President.”
Bella snapped at him. “He’s not the president yet, Nott. Don’t say that, you know Tom doesn’t like it.”
“But he does have restricted access passes literally everywhere.”
Tom doesn’t say anything more. He looks back down at the iPad at Harry. If he was somehow able to converse with the tributes, converse with Harry - maybe he has a chance at winning. The deadbeat, Remus Lupin won’t be able to do much for Harry or the girl, Sedge. He bites his inner-cheek. Notes. He should definitely start with notes and appearances.
Bella sighs at her phone, holding it up to show Narcissa. “Andromeda’s losing the plot again.”
“Seriously, if the girl wants to be one of them: she should just go.” Lestrange tells them.
Narcissa glares at Lestrange. “Shut up, Lestrange. Just because Andromeda’s compassionate, doesn’t mean she needs to be banished to such a fate. She’s just misguided is all. Our parents are thinking about sending her to the Ladies College because she thinks her boyfriend, Ted is being a bad influence.”
“Ladies College.” Alecto whistles. “She’s up shits-creek.”
“Honestly,” Bella rolls her eyes. “Lestrange, keep your tongue trained.”
Lestrange bashfully flushes at the comment, Bella winking at him and smirking before turning her gaze back to him. Tom tries to calculate what he is to do next, Nott speaking up. “Are you thinking about returning back to the President’s tonight or come out of the den and partying with us?” Bella raises her glass with intent, and Narcissa sighs, but smiles softly - Lucius ready to do anything Narcissa was going to do, and Lestrange the same. Evans gave Tom a weighted look and the Carrow Twins both smirked with interest.
Barty would no doubt come and get pissed at any chance so… Tom came a conclusion. “Alright.”
It only meant he wouldn’t have to return until late tomorrow if he did.
Standing up and taking his arm, Bella began to speak to him about the newest addition to their group, this teenager - only fifteen called Regulus Black. Apparently, the Black girls’ cousin was interested in joining and was in the elite group of the middle school they all went to before their high school. Now that he was old enough was thinking about joining. Tom had no disregard, knowing the Black brothers somewhat of a mystery. No one knows what happened to the eldest brother, Sirius, but the youngest, Regulus was still apart of the lineage that was the Blacks.
Everyone followed behind them both, all cramming together in the elevator as they went down. Once they were all down and on the streets with their glasses of wine and champagne, they ran into Barty as he got out of his car. “Tom! Bella! Narcissa!” He ran up and gave Bella a side hug and kiss before bowing his head at him. “Tom, how are the results coming along?”
“All fine.” Nott answers for him. “He’s thinking about mingling with the tributes and victors this year, can you believe?”
Barty laughs and kisses Narcissa on the cheeks who is beside Lucius, before handshaking Nott. “Of course I can believe. I asked him last year if that was something he wanted to do with me but he turned me down.” Tom gave him a sharp look. He knew the reason why he didn’t want to do that with him last year. He got into an incident at school that almost killed a girl so he wanted to stay on the downlow so Dumbledore wouldn’t say anything more about his situation, and revoke his privileges. “Regardless, I’m really glad for a behind man this year if that’s the case Tom.”
“He’s interested in the tributes this year.” Evans supplied.
“Why not? With a career pack so large, who wouldn’t be?”
Tom walked with Bella, ignoring the boastful man behind them, Bella clinging onto him with great comfort. She was wearing a black dress that went down to her ankles, with black high-heels on, and a blood-red necklace she received from her mother on her thirteen birthday. “So Bella.” Tom began. “You and Lestrange?”
“Courted but not yet married. You know how my parents are.”
“I do. And Narcissa?”
“Lucius isn’t a bad match - being her boyfriend and all, but I wonder when they’re going to tie the knot. Sissy isn’t very adamant on marrying yet since she got a scholarship to go to Grimaldi’s University for medicine. You were thinking about going to Grimaldi’s as well. How is that coming along?” Tom thought about her question briefly.
“Grimaldi’s has already accepted me as a student for next year.” He tells her. “And you?”
“I was thinking about Grimaldi but also Laver’s.”
“As long as it’s not Ladies, you’ll be fine, Bella.”
She laughs with both sadness and sadism. “Andromeda. Poor Sissy. What a girl, no?”
“Interesting, yes.”
They make their way to the club, Vos, reknown for the best entertainment and luxurious drinks of all Panem. Outside, the line was ginormous and some of the citizens won’t be able to get in until the morning, but because of his Presidency-to-be card, he gets in anywhere. As a result of that, his friends get in alongside him. The superiority of the Capitol, he likes to reminisce. Bella winks and blows a kiss at the line, walking in with Tom, everyone behind them following along. The bouncers keeping everyone out as Tom walked in with his lot.
Inside was all vomit material to Tom.
Fire displays, watercoloured-stained drinks, red carpet, warm and cold air conditioners, neon lights, noise that exceeded the healthy hearing range, and nauseous acts of people kissing, getting sexual, and fucking all around them. It’s sort of like a club but since it’s the Capitol, it’s certainly got the motto “do whatever you like - we don’t kiss and tell.” The secrey of the club was telling since everyone forgets what happened in the morning unless you don’t drink: the secrey was in the drinks, so powerful the memories of the night fades but Tom has access to the actual drinks that doesn't make him and his friends forget. Although, sometimes he doesn’t tell his friends which are spiked and what aren’t so he can retain information whilst they forget.
He goes upstairs, Bella laughing at some of the sexual-preformed acts on the way. “Gosh, it’s so refreshing.”
“What is, Bella?”
“The freeness of the club: you wouldn’t get this anywhere else.”
He supposes not, but he likes the upstairs since there is less sex all around. Occasionally there is some, and for some gag jokes, Evans or Lucius or Barty, like to buy people to preform for them but besides that; there is less reason to vomit upstairs. And it’s quieter. Much. Tom likes it quiet. He hears better. Today, Barty stayed downstairs with the Carrow Twins whilst Nott, Tom, Bella, Lucius and Narcissa got settled in their usual spot. Lestrange went to go grab them drinks (that weren’t spiked) and Bella rested her head on his shoulder.
As much as he hates touch, Bella’s okay. She keeps all the other women away and they know each other enough not to do anything he doesn’t, or she doesn’t like. And besides, Tom has known about her crush on him ever since he met the girl in their primary grade - but confessed he wasn’t all about that. Ever since, they’ve been close but never closer. They don’t need to be.
And with Lestrange now in the picture, it won’t be any different, he doesn’t think.
Lestrange knows the complexity of their relationship. He won’t do anything to change it because he knows Tom gets the luxury of less women when Bella’s around, and Lestrange doesn’t have to worry about Bella mingling with any of the other guys if she’s around him. Their trust is woven through the complexity of their wants and needs: and nobody will say anything different, not if Tom has a say about it.
Evans sits beside him, eyeing Tom with interest.
What is there to say about Evans?
There was the known fact he was all about Tom as much as Nott was. Whilst Nott was intelligent with the way he gained Tom’s attention, Evans was less pushy about it. Lingering stares, soft touches: it was all about “make your move” with the two of them. Neither have done anything, but Tom knows Evans wants him. However, Evans wants Tom to say something about it. He hasn’t. And he doesn’t think he ever will. Whilst Tom does find Evans convenientally attractive, he doesn’t have the need to speak upon his feelings because there are none. Evans would break at the thought. As a result, no movement.
Bella watches Evans like a snake for Tom. If she’s all over him, Evans won’t say anything. Nott won’t say anything. Narcissa will only laugh with interest. And Lucius, the seemingly only intelligent male amongst them will keep his distance. The Carrows weren’t of anything special to Tom and they understood that so nothing came of them, but Barty…
He was an interesting case.
Barty liked everyone and anyone: didn’t matter who it was: where they came from, he was a sexual beast. After confronting Tom again and again, they’ve come to a standstill but Tom knows it won’t stop Barty from asking again - but all they know is that he’s particular with his tastes. What they don’t know is that he finds it repulsive. However, if they know he’s never had sex in his life before - they’d find him to be a… well, a virigin, and that’s awful to think about: but actually having sex is worst in his opinion. Maybe Bella, she’ll probably understand but…
He crinkled his nose in disgust.
Lestrange returned with the glasses along with a hostess who placed them in front of them. “Drink up guys!” He took a glass, and another, passing that one to Bella as she leeched off from Tom’s shoulder. He kissed her cheek and Tom watched, before taking a glass of his own. It looked like a regular shot but something about the blue neon colour spooked him. Something about the artificialness of the drink irked him but he spoke no complaint as he held it in the air. Barty rushed up the stairs, grabbed one of the shots and cheering: “to the 74th Hunger Games!”
“May the odds be ever in your favour,” the table - and other tables around them that had a lot of other guests cheered, all in excitement for the games. Tom spoke quietly, not needing to be loud for the message to get across. He gulped down the repulsive drink, Bella choking beside him. “Gosh,” she blurted out. “That’s awful!”
“How amazing,” Barty laughed, ditching them again - the Carrow Twins watching in amazement as the announcer ran back down the stairs where they came up from. Tom blinked, realising what Barty had been wearing. He flushed and scrunched up his nose, repulsed.
Evans bursted out cackling at his reaction. “Tom, seriously? How are you surprised?”
“He’s an announcer, he should at least have some sane attributes about him.”
Bella connected back with Tom, Evans scowling instantly whilst she answered for Evans. “Barty is a sexual creature. Just leave him and his ability to reproduce alone.” Tom rolled his eyes, taking another drink and scoffing it down. He wanted to forgot that sight before the night was over, for sure. Lestrange snickered and Narcissa laughed.
“So,” Lucius speaks up. “The Games. Excited for you involvement, Tom?”
“I suppose so. I just have to find a way to mingle without the President catching a hold that’s what I’m doing.”
“Oh, did Daddy not—“
Tom threw the glass in his hands at Evans, missing him by an inch as it crashed behind him. Evans stared at him bewildered, Narcissa saying nothing of the incident and giving Evans fond eyes whilst Lucius gaped at the attempt of assault. Bella laughed, crying into his coat. Lestrange spoke of nothing and Nott only had his mouth opened like a goldfish. “Shut up, Evans.”
He stood up, releasing Bella from his hold before retreating back down stairs with a glass in his hand. Good luck trying to remember the night when their privilege for a lack of non-spiked drinks is revoked. Tom heads down, trying to avoid Barty - gaping when he sees him on a table, involved in such lewd acts it makes Tom want to vomit and rip his heart out. He pauses for a moment, watching, and flinches when something touches his arm.
“Tom,” he hears Evans. He turns and glares at him.
“Evans. Leave.”
“Tom, I—I just wanted to apologise.”
Tom didn’t say anything, glancing back at Barty, repulsed and moved through the crowd as Evans followed him. He held his forearm and Tom said nothing about it as he found his way out the front door. People began to chatter about him in the line, and Tom and Evans left down the street. Tom’s legs moved him away from the club, no longer wanting to be repulsed by the sight as he sat down at a bench in the park. Parties were happening all around but at least no sex was happening in such a public place. Children raced around and Evans sat next to him.
Evans sighed, touching his upper arm again. “I’m really sorry, Tom. I know you don’t like Dumbledore.”
“Why be such a bug then?” He asked, glaring at him. “Why taunt me?”
He’s going to release a beast if he continues.
Evans says nothing.
“I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”
Tom stands up. “Don’t follow me.”
Evans is about to say something else before Tom takes off, not looking back. His pace was a little quicker than usual but nothing more than his usual walking speed but the intent of getting back was more extreme. He found himself in the garden, walking around the mansion to distract himself, the guards letting him in as he relaxed away from everyone else. Harry. He was going to meet Harry after nine years. Tom’s gut turned; and he vomited by the thought - or possibly by the drinks in his system. How was he going to do this?