Harry had little time to protest when a drink was shoved into his hand and he was firmly manoeuvred by Dorian to dark empty corner.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, nose wrinkling at the strong smell of the beverage.

"Just stay there for a minute," Dorian ordered absently, staring out into the crowd of Slug clubbers in what was probably an attempt to find Tom.

Harry sighed and leant against the wall, swirling the drink in the glass. "What is this?" he said somewhat moodily, frowning down at the unlikely colour.

"It's wine," Dorian sighed.

"But it's green."

"I never knew you were so judgemental. Ah, here we are."

Tom had been located.

Harry watched as Dorian approached the heir of Slytherin and conversed with him quickly in hushed whispers.

He frowned, wondering if this had something to do with Chris, who was, as far as he was concerned, still suspiciously absent. How funny it was, he thought, that he was so unlucky as to have been included in a party of marginally Dark wizards and witches in a time when Grindelwald, rather than Voldemort, was at his worst.

Giving in to the prickly sensation of being stared at, Harry looked up to discover Tom evaluating him intently. The boy came forward as their eyes met, a devious smile forming on his face.

"You look nice," he murmured, tracing the collar of Harry's, or Dorian's, shirt.

Harry fought back a blush, mentally stabbing himself for feeling like an adolescent schoolgirl. "It's Dorian's fault," he accused.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Dorian complained, stealing the drink from Harry's hand.

"Don't tell me you're going to drink that," Harry said, eyeing the green liquid in the glass.

Dorian frowned at him. "It's wine," he repeated.

Harry stared at him in despair. "But it's-"

"Rosier!" interrupted a screech, the owner of which turned out to be Bulstrode. "Where did you get that wine?"

Dorian eyed her suspiciously. "Why are you asking me? I saw you with some earlier.."

Tom was suddenly preoccupied with something else and Harry took that as his cue to escape.

He managed to ask everyone he encountered but no one appeared to have seen or heard of Chris since the day before.

An hour of wandering around sipping green wine passed and Harry was beginning to feel fed up and dizzy. Where was Chris? Why was he gone? Why had no one seen him? And why hadn't Tom or Dorian come to bother Harry in the past hour?

The hall seemed to have expanded and now contained the entire club, with green alcohol and music to 'liven it up', as Dorian put it.

Harry downed another glass of green and then decided that he had definitely had too much to drink. He leant against the cool wall with a sigh, wondering when he would be permitted to leave. A girl standing to his right was watching him interestedly. On seeing him stare at her she moved nearer.

"Hi," she said.

Harry managed a noncommittal grunt.

"We haven't met, have we? I'm Meredith. You're Harry, aren't you?"

"I need to sit down," Harry told her, feeling a headache coming on.

"Yes, yes, of course. Let's sit here."

She took his hand and they sat at the nearest table, a huge nearby pillar putting the dancing out of view.

Harry sighed his relief.

"It's getting hot in here, isn't it?" Meredith was saying, not removing her eyes from Harry's face.

"Yes, very," he muttered.

"I hope we can be friends. Don't you?"

Her chair inched closer and Harry grew to be alarmed.

"I have too many friends," he said unapologetically, turning his empty glass upside down in a mixture of boredom and frustration.

She frowned, apparently forcing herself to misunderstand him. "So have I," she insisted abruptly. "I'm sure we have a lot in common, though. We're both in the club, after all."

"We are?"

She laughed. "Of course we are, we're here, aren't we?"

"No." Harry rose, located the bar, and headed towards it. If he was going to have to endure several more hours of this insanity, he'd rather do it unconsciously.

About twenty minutes later, Harry was back at the table which Meredith had thankfully abandoned. His headache came back full force and he blacked out. When he awoke, Cedrella was leaning over him with a glass of something undistinguishable. Without comment he drank it obediently and staggered to his feet.

She only frowned and took back the empty glass, watching as he staggered away.

Harry was about to seek out the toilets when his arm was taken a firm hold of and he found himself among Tom's group.

"Harry, how are you feeling?" Tom said, slipping his arm around Harry's waist.

"Wonderful," Harry managed, almost giving in to the urge to flatten his fringe over his scar because of the intensity of the Slytherins stares.

Tom introduced his friends, and Harry vaguely recalled conversing with them. He found himself isolated with Tom, and wished he was back in the future with Ron and Hermione.

"What is it?" Tom said quietly, brushing Harry's hair behind his left ear, the other arm pulling them flush against each other.

"Headache, s'all," Harry murmured, closing his eyes.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No. S'green."

Tom smirked. "Yes, it is," he said agreeably. "Would you like some water?"

"Um…No."

"Harry." Dorian appeared carrying two drinks. "Here, have this." One was shoved into Harry's hand.

Harry frowned at the drink. He wished it away. It vanished with a small pop. Harry smiled. Then the headache returned full force and he decided he had been here long enough. He proceeded to stagger out of the hall, down the corridor and into the nearest classroom, where the silence was glorious to him.

He leant against a desk, and was too drunk to jump when arms wrapped around his waist.

"Are you drunk, Harry?" Tom's amused voice broke through Harry's hazy mind. He had obviously been followed.

Turning his head, Harry could perceive Dorian entering with a bottle. He sighed. "Go away?" he asked them both.

Dorian snickered. "No?" he said.

Harry frowned at the floor. Tom pushed his chin up and kissed him. Then Tom was gone, and Dorian was there.

"How are you doing, Harry?" he said.

Harry released an almost hysterical laugh. Dorian's smirk was blurry and distant.

Right, Harry thought. If he couldn't have Chris, he'd have his only other friend. "Where's Anton?" he demanded, then received a kiss in reply.

"He's in my room," Tom said from behind.

"Oh." Harry was in a dream, his vision blurred as he was gently but firmly pushed onto his back on the desk and his shirt pulled off.

When he opened his eyes, he stared into Tom's dark intent eyes directly above him.

Kisses followed, accompanied by groping and rubbing, until Tom moved away and Harry was pulled, swaying, onto his feet.

Minutes seemed to pass like centuries; everything for Harry was a blur, especially since his glasses had been tugged off. And then vanished the rest of his clothes and he was with the two people he liked and hated most. But that didn't make sense, and Harry didn't want it to.

Then, to his immense relief, everything slowly went black.

The party had dimmed down a bit. It was early morning, and Dorian was satisfied in more ways than one. Edging around the numerous that littered the hall, he approached Tom.

"How is he?" Tom said quietly, turning to face him.

"Sleeping. What about-"

"Not here. I have had enough of this party. I'm sure you have no qualms about leaving?" he asked, even as Dorian followed him out of the room.

"It is tiresome."

"Yes."

They walked to the common room in silence, the quiet in the corridors cloaking them.

It was empty inside.

"What have you done to him, exactly?" Dorian said finally, unable to restrain his curiosity.

Tom looked at him with a smile. He sat down. "I simply modified his memory."

"Oh?" Dorian smirked, sprawling on the floor. The effects of the alcohol were finally wearing off.

"He has never met Harry."

"Very clever. And how is Harry going to react to that?"

Tom shrugged and looked into the fire. "He will be angry. But only for a while." He smiled to himself.

"You're still going to go through with the…"

He received an intense stare. "Why wouldn't I?"

"It just appears to be having some unpredictable side-affects, is all."

"Yes, but thankfully they are not severe."

"He's fainting all over the place."

"The potion is working, however."

Dorian sighed. "I wish you weren't so sure of yourself."

Tom smirked at him. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"He is going to have an enormous headache, in the morning," Dorian mused.

"What do you care?"

Dorian smiled and moved closer. "I rather like him, unlike you."

"Did I ever say I didn't like him?"

Dorian knelt between the boy's legs and rested his hands on Tom's knees. He smiled.

"Surely you don't like him more than me?"

Tom smirked in answer.

"Don't make me jealous."

"You'll have to show me first how much you like me." Tom's knees fell apart.

Dorian smiled and showed him.